Salvatore

6. Alone?? with a MAN? Scary

I immediately go on my phone, ignoring Dante. Not that he makes any attempt to speak anyways.

I go through all my wedding pictures and text my friends. We are now 100 percent certain that the Dante I'm married to is the same one from high school by comparing the yearbook picture of him to pictures of him today. It's the same guy.

We drive in silence for what feels like forever. Eventually, we end up in a gated community. Dante opens the gate with a password, and then continues the drive. I press my face against the glass taking in the opulence of the mansions around me.

Some of these houses are bigger than my entire high school, each more intricate and vast than the next. Finally, we get to a house on the end of the street which borders a small forest. There's yet another gate, at this one Dante rolls down the window, and the man standing guard lets him in.

Then we're off down an annoyingly large driveway (what is the purpose of having such a big driveway?) and I gasp as I take in the mansion. It's white brick with dark roofing and framing. It's the kind of house you'd expect a celebrity or someone of that caliber to live in.

Dante finally stops the car in front of the fountain, because of course there's a fountain, and gets out heading to the front door.

What an asshole. He didn't even offer to help me out, but I'd expect nothing less. With some level of difficulty due to the layers of my dress and the fact that my leg is asleep, I manage to get out, grab my bag and hobble to the door.

I let out a little whistle as I get to the front door, which is being held by an annoyed looking Dante.

I frown. "What's your problem dude?"

He seems taken aback. Clearly people don't argue with him which is a shame. He seems like he needs to be put into place.

He slams the door and stalks over to me. "What did you say?"

I take a concerned step back, because when a huge guy is coming towards you, you move. Also, I've been rugby tackled too many times so it's an instinct at this point.

He seems surprised at my wariness and shakes his head, stopping immediately. "You don't have to worry about being hurt by me, I would never hurt a woman." he says, somewhat proudly.

What the heck? I wrinkle my eyebrows.

"Big whoop," I say sarcastically. "Do you expect me to just fall at your feet and rip my clothes off because you said you won't hit me? Are you actually stupid? That's below the bare minimum."

His nostrils flare and it's clear his temper is rising. "What was that?"

"You heard me," I say, undoing my heel. Maybe I should throw it at him. "Oh, also just so you know, we," I gesture between us for emphasis, "are not sleeping together tonight. Just making that clear."

He still seems shocked that someone is talking back to him. Well get used to it buddy.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I had a long day so if you could point me in the direction of my room, that'd be just peachy." I start walking towards the grand staircase since he doesn't say anything. "Whatever then, I'll find my own way."

I hoist my bag over my shoulder, and use my other hand to lift my skirt so I can climb the stairs. "Not sure why you're so angry when you're the one who wanted this whole marriage thing in the first place? Literally, why are we even married?" I grumble, not really under my breath.

Finally, he seems to recover. "I married you because I require an heir."

"Aren't you like nineteen?" the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "There's no way I'm giving you an heir, especially right now. I need to beat teen pregnancy."

"Fine," he says finally, "I will not touch you unless you want me to."

I sarcastically clap. "And the gentleman of the year award goes to you.." I turn around to look at him. "Also, you went to Jefferson high last year, right?"

"What?" he says, caught off guard.

Clearly he has hearing issues so I repeat myself. "I'm like 95 percent sure we were in the same Algebra class last year, you were that guy that was never there."

He scoffs, and crosses his arms. He's honestly so hot but too bad his personality sucks. "At 17 I was running a mafia and torturing hundreds so I doubt we were in high school together."

"Okayy edgelord," I roll my eyes. "High school is tough for everyone, no need to act extra."

He stalks menacingly towards me. "You wouldn't be so callous with your words if you knew the things I've done. Do you want to know why they call me Ace," he laughs humorlessly. "If I told you, you'd have nightmares for weeks."

Since idk when to shut up, I say. "Who calls you that?"

"What?"

"Is what all you say?" I ask, the strap of my bag falls down my arm and I aggressively hoist it back up. "Who calls you Ace? Is it like a nickname you want people to call you? Or do people actually say it? Because I dunno, but to me Ace seems like the name of a little dog or something."

His nostrils flare and anger flashes in his eyes. "Your beloved Nonno never told you the stories of Ace Rossi? He never told you of the men I've tortured and the lives I've taken?"

I ignore him and continue walking up the stairs. "My Nonno actually never said anything about you because as you know, I wasn't raised in the mafia, but honestly, I don't think he knew you existed until you, like, shot him, which btw, not cool."

I don't wait for his response, darting up the rest of the stairs and running into an empty room. I do value my safety just a little bit, so maybe it's time to shut up. I lock the door behind me and turn to face the room.

"This is niccceee," I whisper under my breath as I walk around the room.

This room alone is the size of half our old apartment. The bed is queen sized at least which is crazy to me since I've only had a twin bed and the walk-in closet is HUGE. I almost drool imagining the amount of clothes I could fit in there.

I don't unpack my things yet because I plan to look for the biggest room tomorrow, but I walk around oohing and aahing over the room. The attached bathroom is actually stunning. It has one of those big glass shower things with a built in bench and the vanity has so much storage space.

I grab my pjs from my bag when I realize that I have a minor problem. My dress won't come off. I debate going to ask Dante for help but realize that I would rather eat glass than talk to him again tonight, so I improvise. I unbend a wire hanger from the closet and use that to undo my own wedding dress zipper. Wow. I am such a girlboss.

After a long shower and my skincare, I finally sink into the soft bed. I text my parents goodnight and then before I know it I'm asleep.