It's the wedding night! The title says it all 🤣

Question of the day:

Sweet or salted popcorn? 🍿

Enjoy ✨

Someone needs to put a muzzle on that bitch.

As soon as the car pulled up outside the hotel, I got out leaving my fuming wife behind.

Her family were already waiting there for her anyway so I'm sure one of them could get Millie and her stupid dress out of the car.

I hated that dress.

Didn't she think ahead? She really had to choose a dress with so much unnecessary fabric.

The top half was really nice. The lace hugged her body and her curves perfectly. It showed the right amount of skin without being too revealing for a church wedding.

But still, the V neck made it difficult not to stare too much during the ceremony. It's not like she would have noticed anyway, she was too busy looking at everything else but my eyes.

And the skirt...well it made her look like a princess - which is why I fucking hated it.

That infuriating woman is anything but a princess - despite being known in the underworld as the Princess of the Greek Mafia.

But she looked so damn beautiful when she walked into the church.

The moment those doors opened I could hear her laughing with those two idiots until they realised everyone was watching them.

Her hair was up, apart from the few loose strands that framed her face. Her make up was much lighter than I would have expected, but it was perfect. As she walked in, the white of her dress gave her olive toned skin an ethereal glow.

She was fucking beautiful.

And I hated her.

I hated the way her hands felt in mine and the way she refused to meet my gaze throughout the entire ceremony. I hated how amusing her nervousness was and how easy she was to read. I hated that innocent shock on her face when she realised we weren't going to kiss. I hated her thick Greek accent when she spoke to me.

I hated everything about her and it was killing me.

We'd been married for less than an hour and I was ready to strangle her.

"Costa?"

"I need a drink." I stormed past my family who had gathered in the lobby.

"Wait, we're taking pictures first." Riviera was the brave woman who grabbed my arm to stop me from heading straight to the bar.

What is this fucking obsession with photos? Why would anyone want to remember this day?

I stopped in my tracks, glaring at her hand on my forearm. My entire body was tense but my sister was never fazed by my anger. Neither was my two year old niece, Elena, who giggled when she saw me from her mother's arms.

"Let go of me. I'm not taking pictures with her like this is some happy wedding day."

My sister's wedding day four years ago was a happy occasion. She actually wanted to marry her husband and move to Portugal. Everyone enjoyed it, unlike this one.

"I don't care. You think I want to take pictures with that bitch? I don't. But, our family has a reputation to protect and I won't let you throw a tantrum when so many of our closest allies and enemies are watching." The thing about Riviera was that even though she's married to the leader of a Portuguese cartel, she was able to stay neutral. That's because she loved her husband and she loved us.

Millie hated us and we hated her. I'd never be able to trust her because she would always put her own family first.

That's just another thing my father overlooked when he rushed into this alliance.

"Look, the quicker you do it, the quicker you get it over with. It's just one day, then you can act like she doesn't exist. That's what I'm going to do." She shrugged, struggling to manage her daughter in her arms.

"Why do you hate her so much? You don't even live in Sicily anymore." I frowned, taking my niece in my arms to help her out.

"She's making you miserable. From what Rocco told me she's a spoiled little rich bitch. Plus, she's an outsider who I don't trust." It's hard to get into my sister's good books. I don't think she'd actually ever spoken to Millie and she already hated her.

"You don't think Rocco might have been exaggerating?" My brother hated Millie from the moment he laid eyes on her. I wouldn't be surprised if he made it his life's mission to turn everyone against my new wife.

"Oh, please. I'm a girl, I can see it from a mile away. There's a reason she's known as the Princess of the Greek Mafia. That bitch is going to spend all your money and make you miserable for the rest of your life until you become fat and bald."

My sister also loved to exaggerate things, a lot.

"Okay, that's not going to happen." I shook my head, genuinely laughing for the first time that day. "You don't think I'll become a depressed grassoccio, do you, Elena?" (Fatso)

I directed my question towards my niece who giggled in response, nodding her head.

That didn't count. It's not as if she could even understand the question.

"See, you're doomed. Now, come on." Riviera all but dragged me towards an outdoor courtyard where our families were already gathered.

I pulled my arm out of her grip, begrudgingly following her to the garden area. A fountain was trickling away in the back where the photographer had set up.

"Okay, can I have the bride and groom first, please." The photographer was too busy fidgeting with the lens on her camera to notice the daggers I was glaring at her.

"Go on." Rocco shoved me forward, quickly stepping back when I turned back to scold him.

"Non toccarmi." (Don't touch me.)

"Tua moglie sta aspettando." (Your wife is waiting.) Rocco smirked pointing towards Millie who was fussing with her stupid fucking skirt again.

"Damian, stop."

"I'm trying to help you." Damian snapped, attempting to fix the long train on the back of her dress.

"It's already fine. Stop messing with it." She glared at him, but it was different to the ones she gives me. I could see the love in her eyes while she bickered with her cousin. With me, her eyes go cold and it's like a part of her shuts down.

"Is this better?" He grinned, standing back to his full height.

"No! It was good before you started messing with it." She looked like she was on the verge of stabbing him.

"Oh relax, Maleficent. No one cares about your dress anyway."

"I care." She frowned, turning back to face the photographer. She held her bouquet while her mother adjusted the veil that was attached to her hair.

"Costa." Millie's mother gestured for me to go and stand next to her daughter. With a sigh I handed my niece over to Tristano since I didn't trust Rocco not to drop the two year old on her head. I'm sure he's already done it before. That's why Elena never stops laughing.

The pictures were torture.

I would have preferred any of the torture methods we use in the Sicilian Mafia over taking photos with my wife.

We stood in a few different poses and in each one she was tense and rigid. She managed to smile as if she was the happiest bride, but anyone could tell it was fake.

Up close, her brown eyes were void of any emotion when she stared into my eyes for one of the photos. She flinched when I put my hands on her waist for another photo and she even moved her hand away when I tried to hold it for a different pose.

This photographer clearly wasn't paying attention to the lack of chemistry when she demanded different poses from us.

"Okay, now just a loving kiss and-"

"I think we have enough." I cut the photographer off, taking a much needed step away from Millie.

Her delectable floral perfume was clouding my thoughts.

"Oh, okay. Well, we can start with the brides family and then we'll have some with the grooms family then we can mix it up."

"Take some of her alone first." There were two reasons I suggested it.

The main one was I needed a drink and a break from having everyone watch me take photos with that infuriating woman.

The other was that she clearly wanted some photos taken judging by the millions of selfies she was taking in the car.

But the main one was that I got to leave her to do it alone for a few minutes. After I took a step away for that glass of whiskey, the next hour was followed by pictures and then speeches in the hall.

The marriage might have been void of any love, emotion or true commitment, but we had to keep up appearances with all the traditions.

We had most of our allies and even some enemies at the wedding who were watching our every move. The alliance with the Greeks was supposed to make us stronger than ever before and that's how we had to act.

After the speeches was the dinner.

There was a clear split with Millie's family on one side of the head table and mine on the other. The two of us were in the middle but we barely said a word to each other. The only people that seemed to be enjoying themselves were our fathers.

"You're not eating." Millie nudged my arm, gesturing to the full plate in front of me.

"So? You don't need to start acting like my wife." When Rocco scoffed on the other side of me, I'm sure I saw Julius narrow his eyes at him from across the table.

"I'm not. I want your prawns." Without skipping a beat, Millie used her fork to take one of the red prawns off my plate.

Apparently we're close enough to share food now.

The red prawns were locally sourced and definitely the best prawns in the whole of Sicily. Clearly Millie agreed judging by how many she ate. While she was busy engaging in a whispered conversation with Damian, she shamelessly stole not just one prawn from me, but four.

For someone with such a perfect figure, she sure eats a lot.

I could actually just sit and marvel at how much she eats.

She ate her own red prawns starter and then most of mine. She stole my potatoes during the main course and then ate one of my cannoli, after eating her two of her own for dessert.

By the time it came to our first dance I think she was ready to sleep.

The dance was as awful as the pictures were, if not worse. She wasn't as tense as earlier, but that was mostly due to the amount of wine and champagne she'd drank throughout the evening.

What made it was worse was the way she relaxed in my embrace as we danced to the live music. Apart from a few short stare downs, we hardly looked at each other or said a word, but she was definitely at ease. It was too comfortable for my liking. Like being so close was suddenly normal or even acceptable.

The rest of the night was a blur of alcohol, idle conversation and watching other couples dance.

Millie spent most of her time with her family unless she was being polite and engaging in conversation with my extended family.

My siblings and the twins avoided her at all costs. They all hated her for their own reasons, not that I could blame them.

Rocco had a number of reasons I don't care to list.

Tristano didn't like what she about our mother that day we first met her in New York. He also hated her out of loyalty to me. His twin, Riviera already explained why she hated my new wife.

The twins hated her because of the way she unknowingly trashed their plan to take down her marriage to Viktor Kozlov. Even though everyone thought it was my plan, they put a lot of thought into their screwed up plan so they took her criticism very personally.

Before we knew it everyone was leaving the hall and we were the last two families left. Riviera had also left with her husband by this point.

We were preparing to leave when Julius addressed me directly for the first time all day.

"So, what's your plan now?" Julius's question no doubt had Millie's ears perking up while she collected her purse from the main table. This woman was too stubborn to ask me what was happening next but I'm sure it had been killing her all evening.

"I don't have a plan." I sipped on my Campari, resisting the urge to laugh when my wife stilled momentarily.

She couldn't even hide that she was listening in.

"No plan? You're not doing anything special for my sister?" Julius was trying to appear friendly, but any sane person could tell he was trying to interrogate me.

"Like I said, I don't have a plan. We're just going home after this."

That was always my intention.

This wasn't some romantic wedding or the best day of my life. In fact it was the complete opposite. The faster we get back to the house and settled into our new normality, the better.

"You sure you don't want to stay here at the hotel for one night?" Tristano frowned at me, still disapproving of my decision to go straight home.

"I'm sure."

"Oh, come on. You should spend your wedding night alone with your wife." Rocco smirked, joining the conversation.

"Shut up." I hissed, just daring him to say something stupid.

"We've already told them it's a bad idea, Costa." Aidan spoke and Gio nodded his head in agreement.

"No one likes a pair of kiss asses." Rocco glared at the twins. "He should just enjoy a twelve hour honeymoon with his wife here."

I'm ready to kill Rocco.

"Wait, so you're not taking my sister on a real honeymoon?" I might be adding Julius to that list too. It would also upset my new bride which is always a plus.

"I don't have time for one." That wasn't totally a lie. While I would rather pull out all my teeth than go on a honeymoon with Millie, I was also extremely busy with work.

"Nonsense. The two of you should go away for a few days, maybe even a week." If my father was looking to get in my good books again after forcing me into this marriage, he was definitely going the wrong way about it.

"Like I said, I'm busy." I flashed him a subtle glare, but when he's been drinking he never picks up on hints. He wouldn't have picked up on it if I outright told him to stay the hell out of it.

"You can take a few days off. Think of it as a wedding present from your father." He smiled, saluting his glass up to me.

"How about Paris? The City of
Love?" Rocco only had the balls to make a suggestion because he was standing furthest away from me.

"Or somewhere exotic. Perhaps the Maldives?" Tristano added with a stupid grin playing on his lips.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Millie finally gave her input, her gaze shifting nervously in my direction. "My company is already transitioning with me moving here. I can't afford to-"

"It'll be fine, Millicent." Her father cut her off, his eyes becoming a lot harder when they landed on her. "You should make the effort to spend time with your husband. After all, your duty is to him - not a publishing company."

"My duty? I don't have a duty to anyone." I guess I shouldn't have been surprised she had the guts to argue back with her father in front of both of our families.

"Have I not taught you that your role in this life is to serve your husband when you get married? To please him? To have his children and raise them?"

Damn. I struggled to contain my laughter at her expression but I hid my smile behind my glass of Campari.

"Are you being serious? I'm way more than just a fucking wife or a potential mother. You used to believe that too until you got lured in by the Accardi family and their disgusting fortune." Millie spat those words out, earning herself a glare from each member of my family, but especially her father.

"You need to learn some respect, you-"

"Dad, don't. Everyone's been drinking tonight, let's just leave this conversation for tomorrow. Hopefully everyone will be in better spirits." Julius quickly jumped in, attempting to diffuse the argument before it got out of hand.

"We're leaving tomorrow." Nicholas Darmos then dropped the bomb that no one else was expecting.

"What? We're not. We still have a couple of days." Julius frowned, clearly expecting to be spending the next days helping his sister settle in here.

"No, I've moved up the departure date. The jet is scheduled to take off at 10am tomorrow." Just like my own father, the old man was cold and stubborn when he was trying to prove a point.

"Tomorrow? Why? There's no rush for you all to leave." I'm sure Millie would be more than okay with her father leaving, just not the rest of her family. She was almost desperate for them to stay, probably so she didn't have to face all these changes on her own in one go.

"The wedding is over and everyone has to get back to their lives, Millicent. Your life is here now, ours in New York." I might hate my new wife, but I sure as hell hated her father more than I hated her.

The look on her face was the hurt of someone who was facing the ultimate betrayal. He was effectively cutting her out of their lives in front of everyone. And he knew full well that we weren't exactly her biggest fans, to put it lightly. He was throwing her to the wolves after he took every benefit that he could from the marriage alliance.

"Well, in that case you should probably get going back to your hotel. You have an early flight in the morning." She might have been hurt, but she handled it extremely well.

An awkward air of silence fell around us as we made our way through the hall and the hotel lobby.

Since her family were leaving tomorrow morning, Millie stopped for a long goodbye while the rest of us waited...and waited.

And fucking waited.

At one point Damian took Millie's hands, shaking his head at her.

He was telling her not to cry.

They mostly spoke in Greek, but it was quite clear they were having some emotional talk.

"She's going to cry for sure." Aidan nudged Gio, with a really bad attempt at whispering.

"No, she's not. She'll cry later when she's alone. There's no way she'll let herself cry in front of everyone here." Giovanni had a point. Millie was stubborn as hell. I doubt she'd ever let me, or any of my family, see her cry.

Crying and showing vulnerability makes you weak. That's what you're taught growing up as a child in the Mafia. Unless it's around your closest family in private or over a really bad situation, you just don't cry.

"One hundred dollars says she's going to cry." Aidan clearly didn't think she was strong enough to hold it together.

"We're in Sicily. What the hell is that going to do for me?"

"Fine, one hundred Euros then."

"Sure." Gio grinned and the two of them turned back to look at Millie who was now hugging Damian. Her face was buried in his chest while he glared at me over her shoulder.

These Greeks really like to hold their grudges.

"I would have bet one thousand." Rocco sighed in irritation, leaning against a pillar in the lobby. "The longer she drags this out the more likely she is to cry."

The twins always looked up to us, and for some reason that included Rocco. So when Aidan realised he could have made more money out of this bet, he tried to fix his mistake.

"Bro, can we change it to one thousand?"

"Nope. Now get ready to lose." Gio laughed, clearly missing the whole point.

"You know if you win, you'll get one thousand Euros too, right?" I nudged Gio with my elbow, giving him a 'wake up' look. The two idiots have a lot to learn. You have to be a natural hustler if you want to survive in La Famiglia.

"Oh, right." He laughed sheepishly. "Okay, Aidan. We'll change it to one thousand."

Now Millie was speaking to her brother, but she still wasn't crying. She was sad, but she wasn't crying yet.

"How about you raise the stakes.
Instead of the money, the losing idiot has to be a slave to the the winning idiot for the whole day tomorrow." Rocco whispered his suggestion which quickly had the two idiots sizing each other up as if they were going to battle.

They quickly agreed, not realising they'd just become my brother's source of entertainment for tomorrow. Regardless of which twin lost, Rocco would get to watch them bicker all day.

"Wait, someone's getting a tissue."
Tristano alerted us in a hushed tone to Millie's mother taking a tissue out of her purse. "False alarm, she's just getting it for herself."

Aidan sighed in disappointment, clearly having his hopes crushed when Mrs Darmos dabbed at her own eyes.

"It's not like she's dying. Why is this taking so damn long?" Rocco was never patient. I think that was clear when he shoved Millie all those months ago in New York when she refused to move out of our way.

It fell quiet for a moment while they continued with their goodbyes. Unsurprisingly, Millie refused to speak to her father again. She hugged her mother for the final time and then Damian's parents.

When she turned back to Damian and Julius, again, the two Greek mobsters looked like they were about to cry.

"Get ready to be my bitch, bitch." Aidan whispered, rubbing his hands together as the scene unfolded.

"Tha me kaléseis akóma, sostá?" (You'll still call me, right?) I had no clue what she was saying, but she still wasn't crying much to Aidan's disappointment.

"Óli tin óra. Allá ópote mas chreiasteís, Mílntrent, tha eímaste edó. Aplós kaléste í steílte mínyma." (All the time. But whenever you need us, Mildred, we'll be here. Just call or text.)

"Entáxei. Mi me xechnás." (Okay. Don't forget about me.) She gave them both a teasing smile, although her expression gave away how hard this goodbye was for her.

"Why the hell is she smiling?" Aidan huffed in annoyance, a lot louder than he probably intended.

"Because she's a strong bitch." Gio grinned victoriously, watching her step away from her family without shedding a tear. "At least she's good for something. Come to my room at 6am sharp tomorrow."

Giovanni doesn't wake up that early but I know he'll be sleeping peacefully knowing Aidan is waiting outside to serve him.

"All girls cry. Why couldn't she just cry like a normal girl?" Poor Aidan seemed traumatised at the thought of what he's going to have to go through tomorrow.

"Don't be a sore loser." Tristano smacked the back of our cousin's head. Then he turned to me. "If I don't see you at home, Costa, try not to destroy the poor girl on your first night."

Tristano smirked, quickly following Rocco and the twins out of the lobby before I could shoot him with my gun.

Yes, I had a gun strapped to my waist on my wedding day. You can never be too careful. If there was one time an enemy would attack, it's a wedding.

Her family helped her into our awaiting car and we finally left the hotel grounds in silence.
It was actually the most awkward silence I'd ever experienced in my 28 years on this planet.

For the first few minutes I was busy on my phone until I finally looked up, frowning at the unfamiliar scenery.

"Dove stiamo andando?" (Where are we going?)

"A casa, signore. Sto prendendo una strada più veloce. Dovrebbe volerci circa un'ora." (Home, sir. I'm taking a quicker route. It should be about an hour.) The driver replied.

It made sense since our house was outside of Palermo. So, I sat back and relaxed while Millie watched the scenery next to me.

The drive went by in silence and by the end I'm pretty sure she was asleep. When I looked over she was relaxed in her seat with her head resting on the window ledge.

So I busied myself working again.

About 80 minutes later the driver turned onto a deserted road, driving down towards the coastline where a gated bungalow stood.

It was a bungalow style villa but definitely luxurious. It stood on its own with no neighbours.

Just the villa, a beautiful garden, and the waves on the shoreline right behind it. The car slowed as the gates opened and the guards let us in.

At this point, realisation very quickly dawned on me.

"Quello stro-" (That fu-)

"Siamo arrivati, signore." (We have arrived, sir) The driver pulled up in front of the villa, turning to look at me with a smile.

The only reason I didn't put a bullet in his head for listening to Rocco and driving us to the middle of nowhere was because he was an old man. He didn't seem like he did it on purpose, he was just following his orders - the orders from the wrong Accardi.

It was way past 11pm already, I didn't have the energy to argue about it.

I'll just get us a car tomorrow.

"Millie."

"Millie." This time I nudged her causing her purse and her phone to slip from her grip and onto the floor of the car.

The movement caused her to flinch and her eyes shot open. She didn't even miss a beat to give me that familiar accusatory glare.

"Why would you do that?" She snapped tiredly, eyeing her things resting on the material of her wedding dress by her feet.

"I didn't do it on purpose." Having a wife is like dealing with a toddler.

Why would I even do it on purpose? I have better things to do than throw her shit on the floor.

I got out of the car leaving Millie to gather her things and then get out with the help of the driver.

I wasn't about to help her with that stupid dress again tonight. I've had enough of it and her.

"This is where you live?" She frowned, looking around at the deserted surroundings of the bungalow. "It's not very big. How do you all fit inside?"

Is she trying to be funny? I can't tell if she's trying to be funny.

Plus, she's already seen my fucking house at the engagement party.

"We don't live here." I sighed, walking up to the front door with my wife trailing behind me.

"You could. It's quite nice." She murmured, looking around at the marble decor. The front door opened into the open plan living area where the kitchen was also situated. Huge floor to ceiling windows overlooked the sea just outside.

"So if you don't live here then what the hell are we doing here in the middle of nowhere?"

Do all Greek women ask an unnecessary amount of questions or is it just my wife?

"My brothers set it up." I murmured my reply, grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey from the bar in the living area.

I took the two items with me down the only hallway - the one that led to the master bedroom which also overlooked the water. There were doors that led to a terrace area outside.

On the four poster king size bed was a letter written in Rocco's distinct handwriting.

'Happy mini honeymoon. Your car will be back on Monday at 3pm. See you in two days, fratello.' (Brother)

The murderous thoughts I had towards my brother were only fuelled when I saw a few hold-all bags left in the corner of the room.

"There's only one bed." She stopped in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at the large king size bed.

"Really? I thought there were three." I scrunched up the note tossing it across the room in Millie's direction.

I saw her dodge the paper ball in my peripheral vision, but she didn't comment on it. She had bigger problems, apparently.

"We're not having sex."

Excuse me?

"I'm sorry, what?" I turned to frown at her, only to be met with the harshest glare I'd ever seen on her.

She's sexy as hell when she's angry.

"I know what you're expecting, Costa, and it's not happening. I don't care if it's our wedding night, I abhor the archaic traditions in the Mafia and this is the worst one. Men are supposed to have a virgin on their wedding night - it's revolting. So, I won't sleep with you. If that's why you brought me here then-"

"I didn't bring you here. I told you, my brothers set it up." She doesn't know when to shut up and just think for a second before she speaks. "Just relax, would you? I don't care if you're a virgin or if it's our wedding night. I have no interest in having sex with you, ever." I shook my head, my voice dripping with disdain.

When it comes to children we can just go to a clinic. Or we can use a surrogate, whatever the hell works better. Regardless, I will never have sex with her.

It will open the door to too many problems - especially if she really is a virgin.

"Well then, where are you sleeping?" Her eyes followed my movements as I took off my suit jacket. I unclipped the leather holster, tossing my gun on the bed.

"Where do you think?" She narrowed her eyes at me while I removed my waist coat and finally my tie.

"I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you, Costa."

"Okay." I shrugged, pouring myself a glass of whiskey. Just a few more glasses and I might be lucky enough to forget this conversation in the morning.

"So you're sleeping in the living room?"

Does she come with an off button?

"No. Unlike you, I'm very much aware of our reality."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She finally came further into the room still in her stupid wedding dress.

"We're going to have to share a bed eventually, Millie. We might as well get it over with on a night where I've drank enough that I might just pass out quickly."

"Costa-"

"Sleep in the living room or on the floor if you want. I don't care. Just shut up now." I had my back to her but I could still feel the waves of annoyance and tension she was exuding.

I've never been in a bedroom with such an angry woman. Usually it's a very enjoyable experience.

Is this one of the realities of marriage?

A moment later I could hear her rattling around behind me while she unzipped her bag that had been left by my brother - or brothers.

All her things had been delivered to our house a few days ago so someone must have packed her bag for her to have it sent here.

"What the fuck is this?" I'm seriously going to kill my brothers, then Millie, and then myself.

"What's the matter now?" I headed over to where she stood looking though her Louis Vuitton hold-all bag.

"It's all lingerie." She exclaimed, lifting the different colours of lace out of the bag to show me.

"It's not funny!"

It really was.

"Costa stop laughing. You better hope they packed me real clothes or you'll be going out in the morning to buy me some." She was now angrily rifling through the bag of lace before she unzipped another bag. This one had a few normal pieces of clothing along with some shoes and her make up and shit.

"Happy?" I rose an eyebrow at her waiting to see if she was going to continue complaining my ears off.

"No. I need to borrow a shirt to sleep in."

"Fuck no." First she steals my food now she wants to borrow my clothes? We'd been married for like six fucking hours.

"I don't have anything to sleep in."

"You can sleep in your underwear. It's okay, I don't mind." I smirked, knowing exactly the reaction I would get out of her.

"No way." She scoffed. "If you think I'm ever wearing anything like this in front of you, you're crazy."

"One day you will. Just mark my words, principesa." (Princess) Did I want her to? Of course not. But it was fun as hell to play with her. With a smirk, I picked up a red lace thong. "Red is my favourite, by the way."

She immediately snatched it out of my hand, swatting my chest with it. "I don't care. Save it for the other women in your life, maláka." (Asshole)

All I could do was laugh.

I had no idea what the future of our marriage would hold. I didn't know if I'd choose to have a mistress on the side like every other man does in La Famiglia.

I always thought it was demeaning to women to keep another woman on the side, or multiple women. Now I've realised what these kinds of marriages are actually like.

There's no love, or even care.

Millie and I couldn't stand each other let alone have sex or some kind of physical relationship.

If I somehow fell in love with another woman, then I'd probably consider keeping her on the side. It's not like I could ever divorce Millie. But for now, I didn't need the hassle of having a mistress, let alone a wife.

The thoughts of sex and other women would just have to wait for the distant future. I'm not as desperate as other men to get my dick wet every day or every other day.

I have self control which will just have to carry me through the next few weeks as I adjust to having a wife.

Although it was in the middle of nowhere, the bungalow-style villa was extremely impressive. It was a grand, Mediterranean style building with an open-plan living area and kitchen, a huge bedroom and en-suite.

But no matter how big or lavish the villa was, the tension between us was overwhelming.

After my rant about wedding night sex, Costa was silently drinking his whiskey out on the terrace while I removed the millions of hair pins from my hair.

It was a painful, tedious task.

Then it came to the dress.

It's great choosing a low back button up dress until you have to get it off and the only person to ask is your nemesis-husband.

I'm sure he already hated my dress after the effort it took to get it in and out of the the car all day. I tried everything possible, but it was no use. Unless I wanted to dislocate my shoulder trying to undo the buttons myself, I had to swallow my pride.

"Costa." I nervously approached the terrace doors, noticing his shoulders tense as soon as he heard my voice.

"What?"

"Can you undo the buttons on my dress?" A silence followed with the only sound being the waves crashing in the distance. Costantino kept his back to me for the moment, probably contemplating how to say no to me.

I was about to give up when he finally finished his whiskey, as if he needed the Dutch courage to help me.

He turned around, his green eyes meeting mine in the dim lighting. Without a word he came back into the bedroom, closing the sliding door behind himself.

The action cut of the generous supply of cool air that was desperately needed when I turned my mostly bare back to face him. I could feel the heat of his body as he came up behind me - much taller than me now that I'd removed my heels.

A weird sense of dread and anticipation filled me until his fingers finally made contact with delicate lace of my dress. The buttons began below the half way point of back and came to an end just above the waistband of my underwear.

One by one, he undid the eight buttons that closed the dress. It felt so intimate, even though it wasn't. He took his sweet time, allowing his fingers to brush against my bare skin.

By the eighth button, my entire back was bare for him to see.

It the was the most I'd ever been exposed to a man. I'd never even had my first kiss, let alone been in a bedroom alone with a man before.

Unlike the romance stories I'd read, the whole 'undo the back of my dress' thing didn't lead to us having some kind of breakthrough in our relationship.

In fact, it only seemed to make Costa close off even more.

All of a sudden he took a step away from me and cleared his throat. I didn't dare turn around to see his expression. Instead, I held the front of my dress to my chest as I made my way into the bathroom to change.

Unfortunately, I'd been too concerned about getting out of my dress that I forgot to plan what I wanted to change into.

I felt accomplished after I'd finally hung my wedding dress up in the bathroom and taken a much needed shower. I washed off the make up, perfume and all the hairspray and product from my hair.

The tension in my body evaporated after the hot shower that loosened and relaxed my muscles. I was so relaxed I almost forgot about the future leader of the Sicilian Mafia on the other side of the door.

However, the relaxation was quickly replaced with dread when I realised my situation.

"Someone must really hate me." I almost whimpered, resting my forehead against the wooden door.

My body was currently wrapped only in a fluffy white towel which could have definitely been longer.

I'll remember to mention it to his brothers if they ever plan to kidnap someone else and send them to a luxury villa for a forced honeymoon.

I took at least five deep breaths, gave myself a pep talk, and said a quick prayer before I opened the door.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed typing away on his phone when I stepped into the bedroom. He had his back to me but I could tell he was no longer in his suit. Now he'd switched to a black fitted T-shirt.

"Um...about that shirt." I'm sure he wanted to kill me and to be honest, at this point, I wouldn't blame him.

At least I would be dead before the embarrassment of him seeing me in a tiny towel could catch up with me.

"Choose one from my bag."

Damn, I really didn't expect that. I thought he would have said no again.

I padded across the wooden floor of the bedroom and over to our things in the corner.

Costantino kept his back to me the entire time I dug through our bags for my underwear and then a shirt that would be long enough to wear to bed.

He didn't turn around once, not even to check what I was doing when I accidentally dropped a load of his things on the floor. I'm not sure if he was trying to be a gentleman, or if he was just too busy or tired to care.

But I did appreciate it. I still hated him, though.

After I spent ten minutes drying my hair, I was finally ready for bed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I was on my knees in the middle of the bed when Costa finally turned around to glare at me.

"Making a pillow wall." I aggressively smacked the pillow again to fluff it up before adding it to the wall I was creating.

"Do you have to be so damn annoying? It's a huge bed. Just stay on one side and I'll stay on the other."

"No thanks. I don't trust you." For all I knew he could have been planning to stab me or kick me off the bed during the night.

The pillow wall would make that harder for him.

The intense heat of his glare followed my every move while I created the wall using four large pillows.

"Can you turn your lamp off?" I shuffled to get comfortable on my side, completely ignoring the way he was killing me with his green eyes.

"I'll turn it off when I'm ready to sleep." He muttered, turning back to look at his phone.

"Well, when is that going to be? I'm tired." The early morning and emotionally draining day was definitely catching up to me. Getting into bed was a relief after a long day of being in a heavy wedding dress and high heels.

"It would have been earlier if you didn't take an hour to get ready for bed."

"It's not my fault I needed to take a shower. I couldn't sleep with wet hair so I had to dry it and do my skin care and-"

"Do I look like I give a damn? Just shut up already." He snapped, turning to scowl at me again.

"Are you always this grouchy at night?" I would have thought he'd be a night owl.

Mafia men tend to work late into the night and sleep until the late morning or early afternoon. Their clandestine work was naturally centred around the night. It's easier to make shady deals in a dark alleyway or in a quiet room in the back of a night club.

"No, just when you're around, Principesa." (Princess)

Why does he keep calling me Princess?

"You'll need to work on that, Costa. I can't be stressed when I go to sleep and right now, you're making my stress levels rise."

Costa scoffed as he rose to his feet off the bed. "Do you always have a response to everything?"

This time I didn't reply, but not because I didn't have a response - I did. I was forced into silence by the heavenly sight of his toned body clad in nothing but a T-shirt and his boxers.

This was the first time I'd ever seen him properly in anything but a full suit and he didn't disappoint.

The black fitted T-shirt hugged his muscular chest, shoulders and arms perfectly. It showed off his trimmed waist and a faint outline of his six pack. His T-shirt and boxers also revealed some tattoos on his perfectly defined arms and one on his toned leg.

The ones on his arms were a few symbols and there was a sentence written in cursive writing on his thigh.

He stopped to put his phone on charge before turning to face me.

"You know it's rude to stare, right?" He was amused, but I could sense irritability too - probably from the lateness of the hour.

If you ever get caught staring, there's only one way to get out of it.

Deflect.

"You're really telling me what's rude? Are you forgetting you're the asshole who-" My sentence was cut off by the sound of my ringtone coming from somewhere across the room. "Hey, can you pass me my phone?" I gave my husband a sweet smile, nodding towards my clutch which was far, far away from me.

"Get it yourself." And I previously thought I couldn't hate this man more than I already did.

Costantino went into the bathroom laughing at the deathly glare I was sending his way.

On a side note, his laugh is something I could listen to all the time. That thought alone makes me sick.

With an exaggerated groan, I pushed away the covers and got out of the bed to go and retrieve my phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Miss Darmos of Rhea Publishing? Someone from your company forwarded your number to me."

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"I'm a literary agent in New York, I'm looking for a publisher. One of my top selling authors is just about to finish a novel and she's looking for someone to publish her work."

Owning my own company was one of the achievements in my life that I was extremely proud of. Even at just four years old it was already on the way to becoming hugely successful. But that wasn't without hard work and long nights - even my wedding night.

As soon as I realised what kind of call this was, the exhaustion of the day hit me even harder than before. But still, I grabbed a notebook and my glasses. I use them when I'm doing lots of reading or if my eyes were really tired like they were at that moment.

Then, I got back into bed to continue talking about what his client was looking for.

These first conversations with a client always took a long time. There's so much to learn about the client and then I have to explain what my company could offer them.

Choosing to reschedule the call was something I hardly ever did. It doesn't give a good first impression. If I want someone's business I have to let them know I'll always be there to cater for their needs when they call.

I was still talking when Costa came back to find me scribbling away in my notebook. He came over to the bed while giving me a weird look, perhaps for taking a business call at 11pm. Or maybe he just wasn't used to the idea of someone else working hard apart from his family.

I think we spoke for at least another thirty minutes while he waited. Surprisingly, he remained patient the entire time.

"Sorry." I yawned, closing my notebook after hanging up the phone. "He was calling from New York, it's only 6pm there."

"Is this going to happen a lot?" He frowned, watching me put my things on the nightstand. I took off my glasses, rubbing my tired eyes.

"Probably. My company and my team are still based in New York, even if I'm here." The transition had already become messy and extremely unorganised and I hadn't even been married for twelve hours yet.

"Do you think it will survive without you?"

"I don't know." I shrugged at Costa who was on the other side of the pillow wall. "I've done everything I can but if I'm not going to the office regularly that's when problems usually arise. It might just all fall apart in a few months."

That was the first time I showed him any kind of vulnerability, even if it was just surrounding the future of my company.

"Just come with me to New York whenever I go." He shrugged casually, turning off the lamp by his bed.

Mine was still on so I could still see him clearly and he could see the confusion written across my face.

"Whenever you go? What the hell does that mean?"

Costa smiled, taking his time to get comfortable on his side of the bed while I sat there awaiting his answer.

He fluffed his pillow, lay down and then refluffed the stupid thing all over again.

"It means, I don't live in Sicily full time. I spend half my time in New York, or travelling to other places."

Did this bitch really just...

"Hold on, I've had a really long day so let me just get this straight. You're saying that all this time I've spent panicking and
preparing to live in Sicily full time when in reality-"

"You'll probably only spend 40% of your time here." He was so proud of himself.

So fucking proud.

"You have no idea how badly I want to kill you right now."

Costa released the most beautiful, boisterous laugh that had my lips twitching involuntarily. He had the kind of laugh that made you want to laugh with him, or at least listen to it for ages.

"Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea and the feeling is mutual. Can you turn your lamp off now?"

I have no idea how I'm going to survive this marriage. But one thing is for sure - I hate this man.

At what point is it appropriate to start shipping them? 🥹

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