A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 11

If Aria thinks for one minute she’s going to continue working for her father, she’s delusional. She probably should have spent some time researching who she was marrying. If she had, she wouldn’t be trying to argue with me on this.

“You’re not working there. I don’t know why you’d even want to. Your father traded you off in a business deal, Aria,” I grind out. “I get it. I do. My father did much worse things and it’s hard to comprehend that a parent would do anything that would see their child harmed. But the world’s a cruel place and evil walks amongst us daily.”

“I need to work,” she says, seeming to ignore the edge in my tone that tells her this is nonnegotiable.

“Why?”

“Because I like to eat. I’m also partial to electricity and keeping it turned on in my apartment,” she sasses.

“You’re moving in with me. For the next twelve months, you’re my wife, my responsibility. You don’t need to work.” I shrug. It’s not like I can’t afford to support her.

“I already told you I’m not mooching off you. I like working,” Aria says.

“Your father owns a marketing company, right?” I lift a questioning brow while changing tact.

“Yes.”

“Do you work on the campaigns?” I ask.

“Yes,” she replies hesitantly.

“Okay, you can come work with me.” That was an easy solution. We could use a marketing guru at Cinque.

“Work for you? How? Doing what? Do mafia guys need to advertise their services?” Aria’s eyebrows draw down in confusion. It’s cute.

“We own a whiskey distillery and you’d be working with me. Not for me,” I correct her.

“I can look for another job. My father’s probably not going to want me around when he finds out about this anyway.” Aria points between the two of us. “Let’s circle back to this living with you thing. That’s not happening. You agreed no sex.”

“Correct. I’m not going back on my word, Aria. But how do you expect people to believe that we’re married if we’re not living together?”

“I don’t even know where you live. Why can’t you move in with me instead?”

“There are safety protocols we have to follow and your apartment doesn’t cut it,” I tell her. “It’s not safe. I’ll cover your rent for the next year.”

“I don’t actually pay rent,” she says sheepishly. Odd, considering a second ago she was stressing how much she needed to work to keep the electricity on.

“So your father covers your expenses?” I ask, curious as to what the whole situation is.

“No, my friend Drew bought the apartment. He lets me live there and refuses to let me pay him rent.”

I like this Drew guy less and less by the minute. “Have you fucked him?”

“What? No,” she says.

“Then why would he buy you an apartment?”

“He’s my friend. He bought two, next door to each other. My father didn’t want me moving out and refused to help me. So Drew did.” She shrugs.

“He wants to fuck you,” I tell her.

“No, he doesn’t.” Her face scrunches up.

“He does.”

“Not every guy who does something nice for me wants to sleep with me,” Aria argues.

“Yes, they do.” I laugh.

“You don’t,” she says.

“I said I wouldn’t, not that I didn’t want to, darling.”

Aria’s face turns a bright red, and now I’m wondering what else I can say to get this kind of reaction from her.

Guilt immediately washes over me. I can’t be flirting with her. It’s wrong.

The waitress comes over with our order. I can’t eat. I’ve lost my appetite. “So where do you live?” Aria asks as soon as the woman walks away again.

“Toorak.” I leave out the part that it’s my brother’s house. Vin and I are both still there, while Marcel and Gabe have flown the nest and gotten places of their own. Which I’m going to have to think about doing as well. Because as much as we can fake this whole marriage thing, it’d be a hell of a lot easier without an audience.

Aria rolls her eyes. “Of course you live in Toorak.”

“What’s wrong with Toorak?”

“Nothing. I grew up there. It’s just… over-the-top, flashy wealth.” She lifts one shoulder.

“Eat. We can stop by your apartment so you can pack a bag,” I tell her.

“I can’t come with you today. I have things to do. Besides, no one knows we’re married yet,” she says.

I look at my watch. I couldn’t have timed the blaring of both of our phones better myself. I might have put out a social media blast announcing my nuptials. I needed to get the word out and figured what better way than to do it all at once?

“You might want to answer it,” I tell Aria while pressing connect on my own call as I push up from the table. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.” I know Gio’s about to give me an ass chewing and I don’t need her to hear it and get scared off. Especially now that she’s moving in with us. “What’s up, bro?” I ask, bringing the phone to my ear.

“What’s up? What’s up?” he repeats. “What the fuck is this, Santo? You got married? What the fuck did you do?” my big brother yells down the line.

“I met someone. We hit it off and decided to tie the knot.” I keep my voice calm, nonchalant.

“You just went off and got married? To Aria fucking Swan. Why?” he asks. “What are you up to?”

“Is it so hard for you to believe that I…” My throat goes dry. Fuck. “That I met someone I like and wanted to marry her?”

“You met someone you like? You don’t marry a woman you like, Santo. You marry someone you love,” he says.

“Yeah, I tried to do that once and it didn’t work out too fucking well, now did it? I’m bringing Aria home today. I don’t want anyone treating her like she’s not welcome,” I tell him.

“You’re serious?” he balks.

“Yes. She’s my wife. You can either respect that or we’ll find somewhere else to live.”

Gio has this irrational fear of us all moving out. He’s a control freak and hates not being able to see all the pieces on his board. He also just loves family, which is why I know he’ll treat Aria with respect.

“Fine, bring my new sister home, but don’t think for a minute I’m buying your bullshit, Santo. Whatever you’re up to, I want to know.” Gio cuts the call and I walk back inside.

Aria glares at me as I reclaim my seat across from her. She’s still on the phone, but she looks pissed. Guess she’s not happy about the announcement either.

“Drew, it’s fine. I have it under control,” she says into the phone.

“You married a stranger, Aria! What the fuck were you thinking? You don’t know this guy! Are you fucking nuts?” The voice belonging to someone quickly climbing up my shit list is screaming through the phone’s speaker.

Reaching over, I snatch the phone out of Aria’s hand before she can respond. “Drew, is it?” I ask.

“Who the fuck is this? Put Aria back on,” he spits out.

“I’ll put her back on, only because she seems fond of you. But if I hear you raise your voice at my wife or speak to her with anything but respect again, I’ll rip your tongue out of your mouth before shoving it up your fucking ass. This is your only warning, Drew.” My expression is eerily calm as I press Aria’s phone into her palm and wrap her fingers around the base, while she continues to stare at me with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

“Drew, I’ll call you later. I’m a little busy. I’m sorry,” she says before hanging up on him and turning to me. “What the hell did you do?”

“I’m not going to sit by and let anyone disrespect you, Aria. You’re a De Bellis now. No one talks to a De Bellis the way he was talking to you,” I explain matter-of-factly.

“He’s my best friend, my only friend. You can’t threaten him like that,” she tells me.

“It wasn’t a threat, darling. I’m more than prepared to deliver on that promise.” I smirk at her.

“You put out a social media blast? You didn’t think to maybe give me a heads up or—I don’t know—discuss it with me first?” Aria is fuming. It’s adorable how she’s trying to rein in her anger and not lose her shit on me. I wonder what it’d take to tip her over that edge.

What I should be asking myself is: Why the fuck do I want to see that? And why is the thought of her going off on me making my dick hard?

And there’s that rush of guilt again. I need to get a hold of myself. I can’t tarnish Shelli’s memory like this. And certainly not because I can’t keep my dick under control.

“Seemed the best way to get the word out.” I lift a shoulder into a half shrug. “Are you finished? We should go. We have a lot to do today.”

“Like what?” she questions nervously.

“First, we’re going to your apartment so you can pack a bag. Then we’ll go and see your father and let him know whatever deal he had in the works, it’s no longer happening. Then I’m taking you home to meet your new family.” I smile. She has no idea what sort of crazy she’s just married into.

Aria’s an only child. She’s not prepared for the four brothers and four sisters I’ve just instantly given her. Most days, they’re too much for me to fucking deal with. But they’re family, and in ours, that means a fucking lot. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my brothers or their wives.

“We don’t need to stop at my apartment. I can run back later. Let’s just get the rest of this shitshow over with first,” Aria suggests.

“What’s at your apartment that you don’t want me to see?” I ask her.

“How do you know I don’t want you to see something?” she counters.

“You have a tic in your left eye when you’re nervous.” I point to her face. It’s a tiny tell, but I’ve noticed it.

“Fine. I don’t want you to run into Drew. He’s my best friend, my only friend, and I don’t want an altercation between the two of you,” she says.

“You’re wrong, you know.” I stand and tuck my chair against the table. Aria follows suit.

“Wrong about what?” she asks me.

“That he’s your only friend. He’s not, because now you have me.” I smile at her.

“We don’t even know each other.” She laughs.

“We’re married. Pretty sure that makes us at the very least friends.”

“My father’s been married six times, not counting my mother, and he has never once been friends with any of his wives,” she says.

“That’s why those marriages didn’t work. Every great marriage starts with a great friendship,” I tell her, and I mean that. Shelli was my best friend. The one person I felt like I could confide in no matter what. Sure, I had my brothers. But I always felt like I had to be strong for them. With Shelli, I could be myself. “How are you supposed to spend the rest of your life with someone you don’t even like to be around?”

“One year, not the rest of our lives,” Aria is quick to correct me.

“I’m sure by the end of that year, you and me are going to be the best of friends.” I open the passenger-side door for her.

“You don’t have to open my door. It’s weird,” she says.

“Yes, I do.” What kind of life has she been living that she thinks it’s weird for me to open doors for her?