Accidental Bride by Cristina Lollabrigida

ChapterTwo

Thanks to Drake Walker’shard work, his career was at its peak. He achieved more by thirty-six than most men in his profession. He was prosecuting Marcello, the son of notorious mafia boss Anthony Russo, for arson and murder. Winning the trial—heralded as the case of his career—would make his dreams of becoming an assistant U.S. attorney come true.

Marcello was looking at a thirty-five to eighty-year prison sentence if convicted. Drake thrived on law and order and was determined to see a Russo pay for his crimes. His drive left little time for hobbies or planning a wedding. His only contribution was paying the invoices as they rolled in for the two-hundred-thousand-dollar wedding day.

Drake began dating Riley in middle school, and they’d dated through most of high school. It was never love for him. He broke things off when he left to study abroad and never once regretted the decision.

Riley came from old money. And like Drake, she was no stranger to the status and obligations that came along with it. However, her parents fell victim to embezzlement and lost their fortune. Marriage to Drake would’ve elevated her family status once again.

Socialites thrive in the same circles, and the two reconnected at a charity gala. They rekindled their romance at Bitsy Walker’s strong urging. Always the dutiful son, he thought maybe this time would be different between him and Riley and proposed a couple of months later.

His fiancée was a free spirit and moved abroad for a work opportunity a few weeks later. They hadn't seen each other in the year since she'd left. She had changed in the twenty years they'd been apart, and there was no love lost when she contacted him two weeks ago to call off the wedding.

Drake and Riley had never experienced intimacy as teens and, though engaged, hadn’t consummated their relationship. They were settling for a marriage of convenience, not love or kink. Being aware of Drake’s sexual proclivities, Riley had suggested he could develop a relationship with a submissive outside their marriage as long as he was discreet with his interactions and avoided scandal.

It should’ve been a perfect arrangement until a stunning redhead entered the courtroom and sat dutifully on the defense’s side. Drake intentionally turned his back on the stand to watch her, eyes rapt with attention. On more than one occasion, he sank into those doe-like emerald eyes, indulging in a private fantasy.

Drake wasn’t a cheater. The ring he’d placed on Riley’s finger meant commitment—which included fidelity, regardless of if he remained unfulfilled. With her calling off their engagement and someone else wearing his ring, Drake was riddled with emotions he couldn’t name.

Alessandra Russo was the one woman he craved but could never have. She plagued his dreams and left him so enraged with need that his cock was almost chafed. Now that they were married, would her green eyes shimmer beneath those dark lashes as her ruby lips wrapped around it?

His body shook with fury standing before his unwitting wife. He’d never forgotten how her luscious curves felt pressed against his body, and he’d never mistake her for Riley. Still, he’d convinced himself that the fiancée he hadn’t seen for a year was beneath the veil.

Drake got caught up in the moment at the altar when Alessandra was so close he could smell her amber and jasmine perfume. A fantasy slipped off his tongue before he could stop himself, and he swore he could see her blush.

He said yes. He claimed her as his. In the cold depths of his soul, his beast roared with rapture. So why was he so pissed?

She should’ve never been his bride. They were a match made in hell. Looking but not touching was all he was allowed. Alessandra stood before him as his wife, a conflict of interest, as he was now prosecuting his brother-in-law.

He needed to fuck her brains out and leave her screaming, shaking, and begging for more, but he couldn’t consummate this marriage. They would have it annulled immediately if he wanted to salvage his career.

Until then, he would play the only card he could and pray Alessandra never discovered the truth.

“Where is my fiancée?” he asked again. “I was supposed to marry Riley today.”

“It’s a funny story, actually.” Anthony Russo, a man in his mid-fifties with a full head of gray hair and goatee, walked into the bridal suite. His dark beady eyes were cold and calculating even as he smiled.

Anthony was dressed more appropriately for a funeral in his black three-piece suit and tie. Dons never wore color when conducting business. Dressing in black was seen as a symbol of power and a way to blend into this lifestyle.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Russo?”

Drake knew he’d locked the door behind them and wondered if Anthony had the key. He kicked himself for letting his guard down. Of course, a woman of Alessandra’s status wouldn’t be married without the protection of her father. Armed guards likely sat in the pews to ensure Tony’s plan went off without a hitch.

“Hello to you too, son. Congratulazioni on your nuptials. I came to deliver my wedding gift to the blushing bride and groom.”

Anthony pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. Drake snatched it from the man's hand, pulled out a letter, and read it aloud.

Drake,

I’m sorry to do this on our wedding day. I’ve made an important decision and hope you’ll understand and forgive me in time. We aren’t meant for each other, and we both know this marriage is a mistake. I know that I don’t satisfy your needs.

I am not under duress and am safe. Please don’t try to track me down. Mr. Russo helped me realize that I deserve to live on my terms. He has generously offered to finance my dreams. It’s a gift that I can never repay. His only request was I step away from you for good.

You will easily find another bride since a marriage of convenience is all you want. But you’ll have to do that without me. We deserve better than to settle and hold one another back. We need to find our own bliss—best of luck in your career.

Be happy for me, please.

Sincerely, Riley.

Drake crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it on the ground. His ire turned from Alessandra to Anthony.

“What the fuck is this? A Dear John letter? You made her do this? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even sound like her. What did you do to her, Russo?”

“I gave her a gift. Something she wanted more than marriage. It was the chance to finance her dreams, as she eloquently stated. You should be thanking me. I gave you a faithful woman. She’ll make a good wife. She was trained for this.” He turned toward his daughter. “On your knees, Alessandra. Show your husband what a good submissive woman you are.”

“Papà, please! He doesn’t want to be married to me. Don’t make me do this,” she begged.

Anthony’s mocking grin slipped in a second as he grabbed his daughter by the shoulders and roughly shoved her to the floor. “I said on your knees, Alessandra. Do not make me repeat it.”

Shocked to see that Tony had the audacity to treat a woman in such a way caused Drake’s protective instincts to kick in. Recalling the bruise on her cheek, he shifted in front of Alessandra with his fists clenched. He’d be damned if anyone lay a hand on his wife. “Don’t you dare touch her!” he hissed.

Alessandra sobbed behind him. “Yes, sir.”

Drake turned toward Alessandra. His eyes darkened with arousal at the sight of the gorgeous redhead on her knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she remained still, on display in her dress. His gaze lingered on her full breasts that threatened to spill from the corset. If only they were alone, Drake would've pulled down her dress and tasted her supple olive skin.

There was a purity to Alessandra that Drake wanted to sully. He wanted her mouth wrapped around his cock while her tears mixed with her saliva, providing extra lubrication. Drake bit back a groan as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He ached to spank her and let the sounds of flesh against flesh and her cries fill the room. He wanted to feel her silky, naked skin beneath his palm and watch her turn a lovely shade of pink. But this was neither the time nor the place.

Dark desire slipped into his voice as he issued his first order. “Alessandra, humble.”

Though she sobbed in humiliation, Alessandra did as instructed. She prostrated herself in her wedding gown and lowered her forehead to the dingy beige carpet. Her fingertips graced the tip of Drake’s four-hundred-dollar cap-toe Oxfords as she stretched her arms before her.

“She will serve you well. From my understanding, your ex-fiancée didn’t share your tastes. Your wife responds well to a firm master. Now that you’ve received your gift, why don’t we discuss business.”

Alessandra moved to rise, but Drake barked at her, “Alessandra, stay.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled.

Drake followed Anthony into the hallway, where things immediately became heated. Though a head shorter than Drake, Anthony exuded a menacing air. Unfortunately for the mob boss, Drake wasn’t easily intimidated.

“What the fuck is going on here, Russo? What did you do with Riley?”

Anthony laughed, “You already read Riley’s letter. You know better than anyone the answer to that question. You should be focused on starting your marriage on the proper foot. I assure you it cannot be annulled. A marriage scandal and quick divorce won’t reflect well on the future assistant U.S. attorney’s record. Now that you’ve married into the Russo family, I believe they refer to it as a conflict of interest.

“As my son-in-law, it’s time to discuss a quid pro quo arrangement. Jenny Nguyen is our in-house attorney. You need to stay abreast of the District Attorney’s movements.”

Drake grabbed Anthony’s collar. “You son of a bitch! Your son is guilty. I know he acted on your orders. He deserves to do time, and you deserve to rot in hell.”

Anthony pushed Drake off and adjusted the lapels of his jacket. “Is that any way to speak to your father-in-law? When can I expect my son’s release and the charges dropped?”

“That won’t be happening!” Drake said with conviction.

“No? A copy of your marriage certificate has already been sent to my son’s attorney. She’ll be contacting the clerk for the first possible hearing date,” the older man sneered.

“How could you use your own daughter as a pawn in your twisted scheme? It seems she and Riley are the only victims here.”

Anthony laughed, “Riley accepted half a million dollars to leave you. It only took a single offer. She didn’t bother to negotiate for more. I guess your relationship wasn’t worth much.”

“I don’t care how it looks. I’ll file for divorce tomorrow. I know a judge willing to push through the paperwork and finalize it immediately. He’s here as my guest. Perhaps you’d like an introduction? Surely you can appreciate my working relationships with Cook County judges.”

“I’ll kill her.” The stone-cold face of a killer made Drake’s heart stop.

“She’s your daughter!” Drake might be a merciless bastard, but he was looking into the soulless eyes of the devil himself.

“Alessandra served her purpose to save my heir. After today, I have no further use for her. If you divorce her, she becomes a loose end. In my business, loose ends are dangerous.

“It’s not a good idea to keep your bride waiting. I’m sure you want to celebrate. She’s worth the price, and I've never had a complaint about her services. Alessandra’s trainer prepared her for such an occasion. While he was heavy-handed, there was no permanent damage.” Anthony pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket. “I had her tested to ensure she was in pristine condition and ready to consummate the wedding night. I’ve been assured her pussy is still tight.”

“You’re disgusting,” Drake spat.

Considering himself victorious, Anthony walked down the paneled hall, whistling a tune that Drake vaguely recognized. Drake clenched his fist as he watched the other man disappear around the corner. Things between them were far from over.

Alessandra had clearly been eavesdropping and jumped away from the door as Drake re-entered the bridal. He flicked the lock again and turned to his wife.

“I’m sorry for all of this, Drake. I know you hate me,” she said as her lower lip trembled. “If you let me go, I’ll leave. You’ll never have to see me again.”

White-hot panic clawed at Drake’s throat at the finality of Alessandra’s words. He was used to being in control, and this situation was slipping through his fingers quicker than sand. He needed to know Alessandra was tangible—his—and not some beautiful mirage. He removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and cautiously raised his hand to her face. Even though he dabbed lightly at her tears, she still flinched beneath his gentle hand.

He silently cursed her father for doing this to her, to them. For better or worse, Drake and Alessandra were married. A single piece of paper had fucked up his whole life. If his life was going to shit, he would relish the ride.

Drake leaned in and kissed Alessandra on the forehead. A whimper escaped her at the contact. Their eyes met, and Drake knew their inexplicable connection was undeniable.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Alessandra, but I promise I’ll protect you,” he vowed, and he intended to keep that vow forever.

Alessandra shook her head and stepped back to distance herself from him. Drake yearned to hold her in his arms and have her soft feminine curves yield to his hardened planes. He tugged her close, not allowing her to pull away. He ran his nose against the delicate skin of her neck, nuzzling at a sensitive spot behind her ear while inhaling the warm amber and jasmine scent of her perfume.

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he spoke, causing her to tremble in his arms. She latched onto his muscular biceps for support. He couldn't deny how good it felt to be her anchor.

“I thought I told you to stay. You’ve been a naughty girl. Disobedient little girls earn punishments.” His seductive promise sent a shiver down her spine.

Alessandra regained her wits and pushed out of Drake’s arms, wheeling on him. “This isn’t the time or the place for your games, Drake Walker!”

“You’re right, bella. It’s time to head home and enjoy our wedding night.”

There was a reception waiting at The Drake Hotel. Four hundred guests had RSVP’d and expected to celebrate his nuptials in the grand ballroom. The luxurious Goldcoast suite with a view of Lake Michigan was reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Drake Walker. As tempted as he was to take his wife, their marriage was a farce, and he couldn’t face everyone tonight.

He’d apologize to his parents tomorrow, unsure how to explain everything. But tonight, he couldn’t wait to get Alessandra naked. He planned to use a crop on her ass until it was bright pink. Once her pussy glistened, he would taste her sweet nectar, licking the juices that ran down her thigh. Then he’d punish her mouth before making her ride his cock into oblivion.

“Home?” she gulped.

Alessandra sat in the limo with her hands politely folded in her lap. Her posture was ramrod straight, and her eyes stared ahead, seeming to take nothing in, or maybe she was taking in everything. Either way, she didn’t speak a single word, throwing a wet blanket on his mood.

Drake’s professionally-decorated penthouse offered a sophisticated vibe. The vaulted concrete ceilings added to the loft appeal. An open floor plan was a modern classic, and he loved the all-hardwood flooring. An architectural staircase led to his king loft with a large balcony that included access to a large private roof deck. In the congested city, having space to breathe was a necessity.

He often ate at the breakfast bar, which separated the kitchen from the living room. The dining room table was reserved for entertaining guests, which wasn’t often with his work schedule. Drake used the wood-burning fireplace often during the cold winters. The stone hearth added a welcoming touch, making it the room’s focal point. If it ever became too cold, the loft had heated floors.

Growing up in the suburbs, Drake often took the Metra downtown. He fell in love with the city during his many excursions. When he returned from Italy, the first thing he did was rent an apartment. He bought his penthouse a few years later. The West Loop penthouse was far from the Lake Forest home he grew up in, and he was proud to call it his.

Alessandra’s head swiveled in awe. “I didn’t expect a bachelor pad to be so welcoming,” she said. “Did your fiancée live here with you?”

Drake became livid when Alessandra mentioned Riley. The two women weren’t synonymous, though his wife’s tone implied otherwise. He wondered how much to disclose. There was a lot Alessandra didn’t need to know, but there was no hiding the walk-in closet full of Riley’s things. He had allowed her to move her belongings in before she left for Europe, so she didn’t need to rent storage space.

“What the fuck do you think?” he barked.

“I’m sorry, Drake.” Alessandra gently touched his arm. Drake looked at the point of contact, which made his heart pound. “I swear I had no idea what my father’s plans were. But—”

“But what?”

“Maybe we can make this work. If you want to try,” she said shyly.

Drake moved suddenly, pressing flush against Alessandra. The move caught her off guard, and she took a cautious step back. He advanced, continuing to close the distance until her knees hit the couch. He smirked as Alessandra’s skirt pooled around her as she toppled backward. Drake leaned over her, caging her with his hard body.

“You think we can make this work? Enlighten me, what would that entail?”

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered.

She squirmed beneath his intense stare and heat. When she attempted to look away, Drake grabbed her chin forcefully. Desire knotted Drake’s stomach as he leaned closer to the siren. Their lips were so close he could almost taste her. Every fiber in his being warned him this was a bad idea until Alessandra’s tongue timidly licked her lips. Couldn’t she see the beast she tempted by simply existing in his space?

Drake pounced. His kiss was commanding, punishing, dominating, a promise of things to come—things that would destroy her. His cock twitched, and he pushed his hips against her, making her feel it. Would she be wet if he lifted her skirt and tore her panties from her body? She sagged against him, allowing him control. She was perfect.

There was no denying the spark between them. But there was also pain, betrayal, and humiliation. Drake needed to punish Alessandra. It was the only way to lance the festering wound. He bit Alessandra’s lip and tugged, adding pain to her pleasure.

“Drake…” she moaned.

The breathy way she said his name broke the spell. He pulled away, needing a moment to compose himself.

“Fuck!” He ran his hand through his hair. His eyes were magnetically drawn to her heaving chest. It was painful to pry them away. “You can stay in the spare bedroom. I’m sure you’ll find something suitable to wear. Tomorrow we can move your shit in. I suppose you can stay here until I figure out how to get us out of this mess. To clarify, I never want to see you again once this is resolved.”

Alessandra’s face fell as his words cut her. She didn’t deserve to be tied to a craven like him. If only Alessandra knew how broken and twisted Drake was inside, lost in the bleakness of his own soul. Pushing her away was the only way to save them both.