The Don and the Wife

(3) champagne and brown eyes ♡

Chapter 3

champagne and brown eyes ♡

The music of my own reception is becoming too much to bare, the noise a dull pounding in my head.

My arm is laced with Cavallaro's as we make our way around the reception hall, greeting guests and accepting congratulations on our nuptials.

I can't help but let my gaze flicker back over to his face, it is as though I am drawn to it, like I want to ingrain every detail into my mind incase I never get to see it again. Of course, that isn't the case, I will be seeing him and his ridiculously gorgeous face for the rest of my life and there is no way around that simple fact.

"Is there something you wish to say, sirena? Or are you just looking?" His slate grey eyes turn to look down at me as his deeply accented voice sweeps over me like a chilling breeze leaving goosebumps in its wake. These are the first words he has spoken directly to me since our vows two hours ago and it catches me off guard.

Sirena, meaning siren; I choose to ignore the nickname.

A thick brow arches and I realise that he asked me a question, "I'm surprised, I suppose. You're taller than I thought and there aren't many people who are taller than me, particularly when I wear heels this high."

"You are the one who is surprised?" He says almost mockingly, "Imagine my shock when I saw you, tattoos up and down your arms, piercings all over your face." A large hand lifts to flick my earlobe which has earrings lined up and down it — they are hardly all over my face.

Shrugging carelessly, I peer up at him in silent challenge, "I guess I've never been good at doing as I'm told. Actually, when someone tells me I can't do something, I have a tendency to do everything in my power to do exactly that."

"Is that so?" He murmurs, eyes now casually drifting around the room.

"Yes," I declare proudly, straightening my back as I grow annoyed by his apparent lack of interest in talking to me, "and if you have an issue with it, Cavallaro," his eyes snap back to me, "Allora suppongo che dovrai solo superarlo."

Then I guess you'll just have to get over it.

Grabbing my champagne flute from the bar, I turn away from him in the hope of finding either Violet or Caterina so I can begin actually enjoying myself.

But any ideas of fun are thrown out the window when a cold, strong hand wraps around my arm and tugs me so I'm pushed against the bar.

My champagne spills over the edge of the flute and I glare up at his stone cold face, "I was going to drink that."

He plucks the glass from my hand, placing it on a passing waiter's tray, all the while keeping his icy gaze on me. His hands rest on either side of me, trapping me against the bar as he stares down at me, "You are not to be drunk on our wedding day."

Shrugging, the thin diamond strap of my dress falls down my shoulder, his eyes track the movement and I ignore the heat that blossoms in my chest, "I'll do as I wish."

His gaze snaps back to mine, "You'll do as you're told," he growls, "you will follow my rules."

My hazel eyes falls to the bulge in his tux jacket where his gun is, "Yes, because you are such a rule follower."

His head leans down, our mouths breathing the same air, "You have an attitude, piccolo sirena, I don't put up with attitudes."

Little siren.

My thighs clench together at his roughly grated words, "So then what, Cavallaro? You want me to be the submissive, controllable wife?"

He doesn't respond so I lift my head up an inch, he rears back but I remain undeterred, "Because," I whisper, my lips now softly stroking his as I speak, "that is not who I am now nor who I ever will be."