Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 235

Gianna's POV

We broke apart, both breathing hard. Dante's entire body went rigid with frustration.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, then louder, "Not now, Marco."

But it was too late. An older couple was already approaching from the villa, both beaming with genuine joy.

The man was much older, with grey hair and warm brown eyes.

The woman beside him was petite, with kind features and graying hair as well, pulled back in a neat bun.

"Mr. DeLuca!" the man called again, his Italian accent obvious. "We couldn't believe it when you called! It's been what, three years? Four?"

"Five." Dante's hand possessively gripped my waist. "Marco. Lucia. Thank you for preparing everything."

Lucia's eyes were already locked on me, widening with surprise and what looked like delight. "And who is this beautiful girl?"

I leaned closer to Dante, my lips brushing his ear, my voice just loud enough for him to hear. "Your staff?"

"Caretakers," he murmured back, his breath warm against my skin. "They maintain the island when I'm not here."

"And how often is that?" I whispered, genuinely curious despite my body's desperate need.

"Not often enough." His hand tightened on my waist. "Last time was five years ago."

Before I could ask why, Lucia spoke again, her eyes dancing between us with obvious curiosity. "Well? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

I suddenly became very aware of how I must look. My hair was probably a mess from the helicopter ride and our frantic kissing.

Heat crept up my neck as I tried to smooth it back with one hand, tucking the wild strands behind my ears. I felt their eyes on me, and I pressed closer to Dante's side, seeking refuge in his presence.

Dante's thumb rubbed circles on my hip.

"This is Gianna," he introduced finally. "My wife."

The effect was instantaneous. Both Marco and Lucia froze, their mouths falling open in perfect synchronization.

"Your wife?" Lucia gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

"Wife?" Marco echoed, looking between us with shock written across his features. "That's a wonderful surprise!"

"Thank you, Marco," Dante replied. "We appreciate you both being here."

Lucia's eyes filled with tears, genuine emotion washing over her features.

She pressed both hands to her heart, shaking her head in wonder. "I never thought... we thought you would be alone forever. But this..."

She gestured at me, at us together. "This is a blessing."

Marco nodded, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "We're so happy for you, sir. Truly."

Warmth spread through my chest at the way they were looking at him, at us. There was relief there. Hope. Like they'd been worried about him for a very long time.

I thought about what Dante had told me, about his first wife, about the loss he'd carried. These people had known him through that. They had seen him alone, grieving. And now...

But before I could dwell on it, Lucia rushed forward, her earlier shock giving way to overwhelming warmth.

"Welcome, welcome, dear!" She grabbed my hands, squeezing them tightly. "Oh, you beautiful young lady. You've made him happy again. I can see it."

"It's lovely to meet you both," I managed, genuinely touched despite my body's screaming need. "The island is beautiful."

"It was on short notice," Lucia added, still holding my hands. "But we have everything ready. Fresh linens, the master suite prepared, flowers everywhere..."

"And the kitchen is fully stocked," Marco chimed in. "Whatever you need, we have it."

"I want..." I bit my lip, looking past him toward the villa, toward the beach beyond it.

The turquoise water sparkled in the afternoon sun, the sand white and inviting.

Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze.

I was amazed at the beauty.

"I want to see the island first."

"Gianna..." His voice was pure warning, his hands tightening on my waist. "I've been patient. I've waited..."

"I know." I slipped out of his grip before he could stop me, dancing backward a few steps. "But we have all afternoon. All night. And I've never been to a private island before. Your private island."

He scowled, his eyes tracking my every movement. "You're playing with fire."

"Maybe." I took another step back, then another, moving toward the path that led to the beach. A mischievous smile tugged at my lips. "Or maybe I'm just enjoying the view. You did say only you and your father know about this place. That's... kind of dangerous and romantic in a secretive way."

"Romantic." He was in disbelief, but I could see the heat in his gaze intensifying. "You think keeping you on a private island where no one can hear you scream is romantic?"

"When you put it like that..." I turned slowly, taking in the lush vegetation, the villa, and the glimpse of the ocean beyond. "Yes. Very romantic."

"Gianna..." He started toward me, his movements fast.

I laughed and bolted.

I ran down the path, my sandals slapping against the stone, adrenaline and arousal making my heart race.

I heard him behind me.

"You're going to regret this," he called out, but there was amusement mixed with the frustration in his voice now.