I MARRIED A GANGSTER: [2018 EDITION]

Nineteen

It was midnight when we arrived at our honeymoon spot. It was a three-hour flight, so I knew that at the least we were still in Italy. Francesco holds my hand as we walk into the waiting car.

A man stands outside of the car waiting for us to comfortably get in the car. As Francesco slipped in, they exchanged a few words to each other in Italian, but I was too tired to attempt to decode whatever they were saying.

Francesco slipped into the backseat with me and grabbed himself water.

"I can't wait to get this dress off." I sigh, leaning on his shoulder tiredly.

"It's beautiful. I prefer you with it on." Francesco says easily.

I look up at him in his eyes, "Is that what you prefer? It's your wedding night and you prefer your wife to stay dressed?"

"You're being incredibly suggestive, you've had too much to drink you think?" Francesco asked.

Rolling my eyes, I say, "I didn't drink a lot because your sister managed to get me plastered the night before."

Francesco laughs, "She is very persuasive. Did you enjoy yourself today?"

"I did, but I still don't feel like anything has changed."

"You've just signed yourself over to the devil for eternity." Francesco teases and I didn't comment.

Francesco sighs, "I'm glad you chose to stay with me. I have planned the next two weeks in detail as I spoil you, just as you deserve."

I smile, "I don't need you to spoil me. But I would like to get to know you better, this time not your family's past but yours."

"I'd rather not indulge."

I run my fingers over the scruff on his face looking at his now impassive gaze. He had already shut down before I could even attempt to chip away at his stone exterior.

God, why was the man that I love so much so pained?

I slowly lean towards him and give him possibly the last kiss he will allow me to give him for the next few days.

His hands find my hips as he squeezes them gently as kissed me back with little to no urgency.

I pull away and rest my forehead on his and take a deep breath, enjoying how amazing he smelled, like home.

"Francesco," I sigh, "I already know."

Francesco's rhythm on my hips stilled instantly and his entire body tensed. Before Francesco could react, the car had stopped, and I heard the driver's door open.

Moments later, Francesco's door was opened by the driver who shot the both of us a smile, completely unaware of the situation he interrupted. Francesco pulls the both of us out of the car and nods towards the driver.

No words or signs of emotion were expressed as he tightly holds my arms and enters a stone building that looked as old as the city. I still had no clue as to which city we were in, but I was now one hundred percent sure we were in a city in Italy.

Once inside, Francesco nearly forces me into an elevator and violently presses a button. The elevator wastes no time in taking off towards the third floor.

While we ascend, I turn to Francesco and grab his arm, "Don't be mad at me." I plead.

Francesco only looks at me with a glare. If looks could be killed, I would be struck down right where I stood.

I let go of his arms and made my way toward the corner of the elevator. The ding of the elevator sounded so much louder as the doors opened. Francesco steps off of the elevator and walks hastily towards where our room.