Betrothed To The Mafia Lord novel Chapter 71

Sofia’s POV

Luca and I have never had an actual conversation together, except those different moments where we just had to speak to each other, not because we wanted to speak to each other.

We’ve also never had a meal together, except for the one we had shared on our wedding day where I had been too nervous to eat and had only kept sipping water and eating a little bit of cake because of the thousands of pictures which got taken that day.

I could remember the cake tasting like sand on my tongue on that day and how I had washed it down with the fruity champagne on the table. That was the first day I had taken champagne as well, because I’ve never been allowed to drink it back at home because apparently I was still too young for an alcoholic drink.

The champagne hasn’t tasted alcoholic one bit– not that I had a clear idea of what alcohol tastes like, but I had a hunch that it was going to be tasting really horrible, with how sharp and strong it smells. I was almost sure that even if alcohol had been in the drink, that it wouldn’t be more than one level of it. I had been too worked up to put in something in my stomach other than water because of a lot of things, the first reason on the list was the fact that Luca was by my side throughout the whole wedding event and that alone had kept me really nervous, and I had jolted and tried my very best not to brush my bare arm against the fabric of his suit jacket.

Another reason was because I had been really nervous about how my wedding night was going to play out and how I was going to shed so much tears and go through so much pain once it’s time for him to consummate the marriage. Another reason was because the thought of Leaving my brother and never being allowed to see him again had left me in lots of pain, coupled with the fact that I was sure my parents wouldn’t ever agree for him to come visit me here at home. Me going back home to check up on him was completely out of the question, because it’s like one of the written laws here in Italy, that once a bride is married, she shouldn’t go back to her parents house until like after a few years – if not, people are going to assume that some that happened between the husband and wife, or that he was no longer interested in the bride and had asked her to return back to her father’s house.

The rumors would not have been a lot, assuming I had been married off to a general or the son of one of the generals in high posts here in the mafia. But unfortunately for me, I had to get married to the boss of all bosses– to the mafia lord.

And come to think of it, assuming anyone had told me right before I got married, that I wasn’t going to get hit by my husband in my first week of marriage– I would have laughed at the person right there in the face, because I had been thinking I was even going to start my marital home by crying pathetically after he has forcefully taken my virginity.

But here I was, one week into the wedding, and I was still with my virginity, my husband hadn’t made any kind of move on me, nor had he tried to kiss or touch me intimately. He has stayed on a particular side of the bad and I have stayed in mine each night… and that sure was something.

A lot of things had happened in a short span of a week, that it was almost feeling like a month in my own head.

I climbed off the bed and stretched my hand up in the air, and yawned slowly into my left bicep before stretching my legs out one after the other. I picked up my phone and checked the time once again.

It was past ten.

I turned around and headed straight for the bedroom’s door, pulling it open and stepping out of the room before pulling the door shut behind me. I made my way down the stairs and hummed absentmindedly beneath my breath, running my hands over the designs on the wall around the stairs as I carefully took each stair case one at a time before finally arriving at the last floor.

I made my way straight into the kitchen and Matilda as well as Sarah, turned around in their seats to stare into the doorway of the kitchen, the moment they heard the light pats of my footsteps.

“Hello Sarah, hello Matilda.” I said to them as I made my way further into the kitchen and paused a few feet away from them beside the counter.

“Hello dear Sofia, good morning.” Sarah replied first, staring at me with a small smile playing across her lips, which I reciprocated immediately by allowing the sides of my lips to pull up into a smile.

“Oh Sofia, good morning.” Matilda replied with a wide smile on her face and I chuckled at the facial expression on her face.

Matilda always looks excited.