Where Dark Hearts Devour: A forbidden mafia romance by Victoria Holliday

Author:Victoria Holliday [Holliday, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

I thank God when Penelope helps me into my dress, because my fingers are too clammy and shaky to do it myself. We’re behind a thick velvet curtain, but I can feel Cristiano’s presence as though he’s standing inches away breathing hot air onto my neck.

“Have you been starving yourself, Miss Castellano?” she hisses, my lack of appetite clearly an inconvenience to her. “I’ve never had to take a dress in so many sizes. This is going to be double the work.”

“Then Savero will pay double for your time.” Cristiano’s voice sails over the top of the curtain, and the blood drains from the seamstress’s cheeks.

“I apologize, Mr. Di Santo.” Her fingertips fumble with the pins. “My surprise got the better of me.”

“Let me see the dress.”

His instruction makes us both jerk our heads up.

“Um, Mr. Di Santo, I believe that may be bad luck,” Penelope responds, with wide eyes fixed on me.

“It’s only bad luck if it’s the groom who sees the dress. I am not the groom.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d detect a trace of bitterness on the edge of his tongue. As it stands, I’ve amused Cristiano enough throughout breakfast to know he’s more than likely relieved to not be marrying me.

Penelope continues to stare at me until I realize she’s asking if I’m okay to do this. I nod once, and she lets the gown fall to its full length. She walks around me, nipping and tucking the edges into all the right places, until it looks like I was born wearing the beautiful garment. Then she stands to one side and pulls back the curtain.

I have my back to Cristiano, but I can see his reflection in the floor-length mirror. He’s sitting on the black velvet couch, his knees spread and his elbows resting on them. When the curtain pulls back, his expression is stunned.

Then, as he takes in the backless dress, the waist dipping low toward my buttocks, the skirt clinging to my hips and my thighs before floating outward in a graceful fishtail, his gaze darkens, a treasonous glint drawing in the light.

I’ve seen those eyes before.

He held them over me right before he slammed his fist into his kitchen island.

I move my focus back to the bodice of my dress and concentrate on counting the glass beads and pearls—anything to avoid the rolling thunder in his eyes.

“Is it to your liking, Mr. Di Santo?” Penelope asks nervously.

I listen to the beat of my heart.

B-bum, b-bum, b-bum.

Then he answers.

“It’s exquisite.”

My stomach liquifies, and I lift my gaze to meet his. His stare is no longer indifferent. It’s frighteningly possessive, and I have to look away. I stroke my hands down my hips, distracting myself with the beautiful finish and the craftsmanship.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Di Santo?” Penelope asks.

I look over my shoulder to see Cristiano’s back disappearing in the direction of the exit.

“I have to make a call,” he replies without looking around. Then he yanks open the door and leaves.

My stomach drops.

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