Bride by Initiation: Secret Society Mafia Marriage Pact (The Underworld Book 1)
Bride by Initiation: Chapter 21

The Next Day

Tingles tease me, and I groan. ‘Just like that, my pulse.’

Zara smirks, slowing her rotation down. ‘What about this?’

‘I said not to stop.’ I slap her bottom, but it’s not very hard.

She tousles my hair, her pussy circling my cock at the same tormented speed, and then swipes her tongue against my lips.

I grab the back of her head and force her to keep kissing me until she’s whimpering and quivering around my erection.

I grab her hip, mumbling, ‘You little brat.’

She giggles.

I move her faster over me, thrusting deeper into her.

‘Sean,’ she breathes, her eyelids fluttering.

I smack her ass harder, and she moans, her body convulsing over mine.

‘You like that,’ I taunt, then smack her again as I thrust up.

‘Fuck!’ she cries out, her eyes rolling.

‘This is what happens when you’re a naughty little brat. I have to remind you who’s boss,’ I grit through my teeth, pushing my pelvis as high as I can, our sweat merging.

‘S-Sean!’ she stutters, her voice hoarse, face bright red.

I slam her down one more time onto my cock, and a loud moan fills the air. Her entire body collapses over me, shaking intense tremors.

I hold her close, moving her hips faster, closing my eyes, blurting out, ‘Sexy little brat.’

‘Sean,’ she barely gets out, pushing her face into my chest.

And everything is fucking perfect.

She’s perfect.

I still can’t believe Zara’s my wife, but she is, and I’ve not spent a moment wasting it.

The adrenaline builds in my cells, expanding them to the point they can’t hold any more.

I smack her again as my throbbing erection slides deeper into her dampness.

She moans, her eyelids fluttering.

‘That’s it,’ I praise, swelling inside her until she’s vibrating harder against me and whimpering.

Zings tease my nerves. Bolts of endorphins run down my spine, and my balls tighten.

The doorbell rings.

Her eyes fly open.

‘They can go away,’ I state, raising and lowering her hips.

The doorbell rings again, and a loud pounding sound fills the air.

I shout, ‘Fucking go away!’

Her eyes widen.

I urge, ‘Come on, my pulse. You got a little bit more in you.’ I thrust harder and slap her ass cheek.

‘Sean, I… Oh fuck!’ Her eyes roll again, and her body convulses harder than ever. Her arousal soaks my pelvis.

I praise, ‘You fucking naughty little brat!’

A constant stream of rings comes from the doorbell, along with hard pounding.

‘Go away!’ I shout again, then my balls shrivel. A whoosh of adrenaline bursts out of my cells. I grunt, pumping hard and thrusting through it until I’ve drained everything I have into her.

Her convulsions slow.

We try to catch our breath as the doorbell and pounding continue.

‘Jesus fucking Christ. Go away!’ I yell out again.

Still flushed, Zara looks up and winces. ‘Maybe we should get that?’

‘Fuck them.’ I push my lips against hers.

She giggles against my mouth.

The ringing and pounding doesn’t stop.

I tear my mouth off hers, spouting, ‘Jesus Christ.’

She rolls off me and rises.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask.

She grabs her robe and puts it on. ‘I’m going to go see who’s at the door.’

‘Like fuck you are,’ I say, jumping up.

She arches her eyebrows. ‘Why not?’

‘You just fucking squirted all over me,’ I point out. ‘My wife’s not going to the door smelling like she just got fucked.’

She smirks. ‘Really? Want to bet?’

‘Don’t test me,’ I warn.

She begins strutting toward the door.

I step behind her and spin her against the wall.

She gasps.

‘You keep your naked, sexy ass, smelling like pussy juice, in this room.’

Her lips twitch. ‘You do realize you have my scent all over you now?’

I grin. ‘You can squirt some more on me later. Don’t you dare leave this room.’

She giggles. ‘Yes, dear hubby. But go before whoever it is breaks the front door down.’

I groan, annoyed at whoever is outside. I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, then rush to the front door.

‘Jesus Christ. Stop fucking doing that,’ I bark, then jerk the door open and freeze.

Byrne arches his eyebrows, taunting, ‘Is something wrong with your doorbell?’

‘No, there’s nothing wrong with my doorbell. Is there something wrong with your finger?’

‘You weren’t answering.’

‘I was busy,’ I state.

He chuckles, glancing at my towel. ‘I can see that.‘

‘What is so important?’

‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’

I grumble, ‘Fine, whatever.’ I step back.

He enters the foyer, shuts the door, and wiggles a book before me, stating, ‘I brought this for you and your bride.’

My gut dives. I don’t like surprises from The Underworld. Maybe someday I will, but right now, I still don’t trust anyone. So I cautiously ask, ‘And what would that be?’

‘It’s the laws that your father wrote.’

My chest tightens, and my heart races faster. I gape at it.

He wiggles it again, as if it’s a carrot, asking, ‘Well, don’t you want to see what laws he created that govern us?’

I glance at him, admitting, ‘I don’t know. Do I? I feel like this is a trick.’

He squints. ‘There’s no trick, son.’

‘No? Are you sure about that?’ I question.

‘Aye, why would I trick you?’

‘Why wouldn’t you trick me?’

Hurt fills his expression. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

I don’t say anything.

He crosses his arms. ‘Have I not had your back the entire time?’

‘Have you?’ I ask, still suspicious.

Anger flares, replacing the hurt. He points up at me. ‘I have. And your dad would be disappointed that you question my loyalty when we were so close.’

I blurt out, ‘You say you were close.‘

‘We were,’ he insists in a stern tone.

I study him closer, asking, ‘How come my mom doesn’t know about you?’

His eyes widen. ‘You asked your mom about me?’

I shake my head. ‘No.’

‘Good. She doesn’t know about me, and we need to keep it that way.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Because you shouldn’t involve your mom in things she shouldn’t be involved in,’ he states.

‘So there’s nothing in here that my mom knew about? My dad never said a freaking word to her about any of this?’ I question, replaceing it hard to believe, and grab the book.

He hesitates.

Chills run down my spine. ‘Ah. So there is something my father talked to her about?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t know what goes on in a marriage.’

I scoff. ‘Really? For some reason, I think you probably know what happens in mine.’

He wrinkles his forehead. ‘No, I don’t, son.’

I stay quiet, giving him a challenging look.

He speaks first, announcing, ‘These are the rules. You and Zara need to memorize them. Your father wrote them. Every law has a reason behind it, and there’ll be times when those rules will come into play. It’s only then you’ll understand why they’re there.’

‘More riddles,’ I snap.

‘Did I do something to you, lad?’ he questions.

I just look at him.

He adds, ‘You seem pissed off at me today.’

I think about his question, then I think back on all my interactions with him. I don’t have a reason to be upset with Byrne. So, I apologize. ‘I’m sorry. You just caught me at a bad time.’

‘Really?’ He glances at my towel and back up, grinning. He offers, ‘Sorry about that. And, lad, enjoy your honeymoon stage while it lasts.’

‘While it lasts?’ I question.

He shrugs. ‘Sure. Everybody fucks like rabbits at the start, but then life happens, and you slow down.’

I puff out my chest, declaring, ‘My dick’s not slowing down.’

Amusement fills his greens. He chuckles. ‘I hope you’re the one man who can uphold that statement, son. If you have any questions, let me know.’ He turns and walks out the door.

I glance at the book. It’s black, with the skull and flowers design embossed in gold.

I open it up, thumb through the pages, then close the door.

Zara comes out with a towel around her head and her silk robe on, questioning, ‘Who was it?’

‘Byrne.’

She tilts her head. ‘Who’s Byrne?’

My gut dives. I realize I’ve never talked to her about Byrne. She must not know who he is.

She sighs. ‘Sean, don’t tell me you’ll keep things from me. We were both inducted into The Underworld. We don’t need secrets between us anymore.‘

I hesitate.

Her voice turns stern. ‘Sean, we’re married. Out of all the people in the world, you and I cannot have secrets from each other.’

She’s right, I decide. ‘Byrne’s a man in The Underworld. He claims he was my father’s best friend, but my mother doesn’t know him.’

Zara gapes, then questions, ‘You asked her?’

I shake my head. ‘No, but he says she doesn’t know, and I shouldn’t ask her.’

Zara asks, ‘How do you know he’s telling the truth?’

I admit, ‘I don’t.’

She bites on her lip, then points at the book. ‘What is that?’

I sit down at the table and pull a chair out.

She takes a seat next to me.

‘He says it’s the laws of The Underworld my father created.’

Zara rubs her hands together and beams. ‘Ooh, this ought to be good!’

I chuckle. ‘You’re crazy.’

‘Why am I crazy?’

‘I don’t know. Some things make my gut turn, and you spin it around into fun.’

‘Well, it’s better we know than not know, isn’t it?’ She arches her eyebrows.

‘I don’t know. Is it?’

‘I think so,’ she replies, and opens the cover. In a dramatic tone, she reads, ‘Welcome to The Underworld. The main goal is to get a seat at the table. Every level presents a challenge, but only the bravest and most deserving can earn a seat where they belong.‘

I take a deep breath.

She glances at me and wiggles her eyebrows, teasing, ‘Are you the most deserving and bravest?’

‘No doubt,’ I answer, then quickly kiss her.

She continues reading. ‘There will always be 666 members who have a seat at the table.’

I jerk my head backward. ‘666?’

‘Yep.’

‘Isn’t that number a sign of the devil?’

‘Yes and no. In Revelations it’s the mark of the beast, which had seven heads and ten horns, coming out of the sea. It’s said to rule over all nations and tongues.’

An uneasiness shifts in my stomach.

She adds, ‘It’s a symbolic worldwide political system.’

‘Didn’t know you were so informed on the history of symbols,’ I tease.

She laughs, then says, ‘It’s also an angel number, representing a spiritual encouragement to refocus. We often focus on trivial things, obsessing over them to the point we lose sight of what’s really important. So they say when you see 666, it’s an angel nudging you to reassess the situation.’

I stare at her.

She questions, ‘What?’

‘How do you know all this?’

She shrugs. ‘It’s interesting to me. But it kind of makes sense why your dad would choose it.’

I arch my eyebrows.

She adds, ‘He brings both ideologies into play.’

Confused, I ask, ‘How’s that?’

‘Well, if he really wanted to bring enemy families together, then he would need a new political system to rule over the families as one. And maybe he thought bad things were happening because families had lost sight of what’s important and focused on trivial things. I don’t know. Just makes sense to me,’ she states.

I ponder her statement then praise, ‘You’re really smart.’

She bats her eyes, beaming at me.

I point at the book. ‘What else does it say?’

She continues, ‘Memorize these laws. They are the rules that will guide you. They may not make sense initially, but every one is put forth to protect you and your loved ones. Each ensures your survival. Abiding by them will create peace throughout The Underworld and eventually outside it. Signed, Sean O’Malley, Founder.’

I touch my father’s signature, and the hairs on my arms rise, thinking about him holding this book and writing in it. I look away when emotions catch in my throat.

Zara puts her hand on my thigh. ‘Sean, are you okay?’

I take a deep breath and nod, admitting, ‘Yes, but this is hard sometimes. For so long, I buried so much of my father. I wanted to be him and remember him, but I also didn’t want to, if that makes any sense.’

Compassion fills her expression. She replies, ‘It does. Do you want to do this at a different time?’

I shake my head. ‘No. Keep reading.’

She returns to the book, flipping the page, announcing, ‘There will always be 666 members who have a seat at the table. Revelation 13, with regard to 666: The mathematical results of ‘taking God’s name in vain’ and ‘changing times and laws’ requires there are to be 666 members at the table at all times unless an unstoppable imbalance occurs. Should it happen, it must be filled on the seventh moon.’

Confused, I admit, ‘That sounds like a lot of gibberish to me. Mathematical results with a name, times, and laws? Makes my brain hurt.’

She bites on her smile and shrugs. ‘I know. But that’s what it symbolizes and what your dad wrote.’

I rub my hand over my face then ask, ‘Okay, what about the seventh moon? Why does that matter?’

Zara doesn’t answer right away, but then snaps her fingers. ‘Seven is another number like 666.’

‘It is?’

‘Yes. In Genesis 1, seven represents a full and complete world. That would make sense.’

I mutter, ‘Or bad luck.’

‘Or good luck,’ she offers.

Silence falls between us for a few moments.

Zara’s lips twitch. ‘Was your dad into witchcraft?’

‘Not that I’m aware of,’ I reply, but the uncomfortable feeling returns.

‘Okay, well, the seventh moon it is.’ She flips the page and continues to read all the rules.

Most are about loyalty and trusting your fellow brothers and sisters. Then we get to an amendment. The original rule states both husbands and wives must have a seat at the table. My father added, ‘unless grandfathered in,’ and wrote ‘amendment #1’ next to it.

My gut churns. I glance at Zara, feeling uneasier.

She softens her voice. ‘Do you think your mom didn’t know anything, or do you think she’s lying?‘

My chest tightens. I admit, ‘I want to believe her. Maybe she didn’t know, or maybe she didn’t want any part of this.’

Tension fills the air.

‘Why would my dad grandfather himself in if he thought this society was the answer to a peaceful world for his children? Wouldn’t he want my mother by his side?’

Zara says nothing, her expression full of compassion.

‘She has to know,’ I decide.

‘Sean, you don’t know for sure,’ she warns.

I leap up from the table. ‘I’m going to New York.’

‘Now?’ Zara questions.

‘Yep.’ I go into the bedroom and toss on some clothes.

‘Sean, you’re acting irrationally.’

‘Why am I acting irrationally? I need to talk to my mom.’

‘Sean, I don’t think your mom knew anything. It seems to be painful for her too, bringing up your dad all the time and making her relive his death. It couldn’t have been an easy time for her, knowing her husband had been murdered and having two young children to care for on her own.’

My heart beats faster, and my gut dives. ‘Yeah, I know it was horrible for her, but I still need to talk to her.’

‘But what if she knows nothing and then you talk to her about stuff you shouldn’t? The Omni will know!’

‘I’ll figure out how to talk to her about it without revealing anything,’ I claim.

‘That’s not possible.’

‘It is,’ I declare. I kiss Zara on the forehead and brush past her.

‘Sean, you can’t just fly off.’

‘I can and I will,’ I state as I leave the apartment.

I text my driver on the elevator ride to the lobby. Within minutes, I’m out of the building, in the SUV, and heading toward the private airport. I text my flight crew to get ready, and when we stop on the tarmac, I quickly get on the plane.

It takes a couple of hours to get to New York. When I get there, I go directly to the Marino compound.

I still have gate access, so I get to the front entrance and walk inside. I run into Dante’s father, Angelo.

His face lights up when he sees me, and he grins. ‘Sean, what are you doing here?’

He’s in his nineties, and still mentally sharper than anyone I know. He’s also very mobile, thanks to this strict exercise program and diet his daughter, Arianna, insists on.

I hug him, replying, ‘It’s good to see you, Angelo.’

He hugs me back and then cups my cheeks. ‘I don’t get to see you very often. I remember when you were little, and now look at you. You’re all grown. A true man.’

‘Thank you. Is my mom here?’

He releases me. ‘I think she’s in the sitting room.’

I nod. ‘Thanks. I’ll replace you later, okay?’

‘Sure.’ He pats me on the arms.

I brush past him, heading down the hallway. I enter the sitting room.

Mom’s at her desk, working on her computer. She looks up. ‘Sean, what are you doing here?’

‘I need to talk to you.’ I shut the door.

She rises. Her face turns pale. ‘What’s wrong? Did something happen to Fiona?’

I hold my hands out. ‘No, Fiona’s fine.’

She releases an anxious breath. Even though we’re adults, and Dante always assures her of our safety, she still worries about us.

I grab her hand and pull her over to the couch.

She sits, and I follow.

She softens her tone. ‘Sean, I know things were bad when we were in Chicago. I’ve been trying to think about how to get things back on track so there’s no hard feelings between our family and the Marinos. I don’t want that for you and Zara.’

My heart swells. I admit, ‘I know we did it the wrong way. And I’m sorry for that.’

She blinks hard. ‘Why did you do it like that? You know we love Zara. We would’ve been ecstatic for you had you done it correctly.’

My stomach churns. ‘It just happened. You know how people in love are stupid and make bad decisions sometimes.’

She pins her eyebrows together. ‘Well, when did you two start dating? And why did you keep it a secret?’

I take the easy out. ‘You know how Fiona is.’

Mom nods. ‘Yeah, I do.’

‘Mom, I need you to focus, okay?’

‘On what?’

‘I need you to tell me what you know about Dad and the skull.’

She sternly asserts, ‘Sean, I’ve told you all I know. Why do you keep insisting I know more? I don’t. And if I did, I would tell you. But even Dante says you shouldn’t have put that symbol on you.‘

‘Dante doesn’t know anything,’ I spout.

‘Stop it. Dante’s been a second father to you. You love him as one.’

Guilt eats me. She’s right. I sigh. ‘I know, but people don’t make a big deal about nothing. So what’s the real story?’

‘I’ve told you all I know,’ she insists, hurt filling her expression and voice.

‘You haven’t,’ I accuse.

She starts to cry. She shakes her head with disappointment, grief, and anger in her expression.

‘Mom, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you.’

She sniffles and looks toward the window. ‘Thinking about your father and how he died is painful. And I never liked that skull.’

‘Why?’

She turns toward me. ‘All it did was… It was painful for him when he got it, and it got infected, and it was disgusting. Then he went and tattooed it. It just seemed like self-mutilation to me. I’ve never understood it, Sean. And now you’ve gone and done it too, but you also put it on the back of Zara’s neck. How could you allow that?’

More remorse fills me. But I know I had nothing to do with that decision. What I wanted didn’t happen. It was out of my control. So I add, ‘I didn’t force Zara to do anything.’

‘You’re her husband. You’re supposed to protect her.’

‘I tried,’ I say, and immediately regret it.

She studies me closer. ‘You tried what, Sean?’

‘Just to get her not do it, but she wanted to because I did,’ I quickly lie.

Mom shakes her head in disappointment.

It rips at my heart. Yet I beg, ‘I need to know what you knew.‘

‘I’m so tired of you accusing me of knowing something more. I’ve been honest with you,’ she insists and gets up. She puts her hand on her hip, and points at me. ‘You’ve never known how to let things lie, Sean. And you need to because I know nothing. I’m so sick and tired of being accused of things. I take full blame for what I did when you were a kid—full blame. But this? This isn’t on me.’ More tears fall from her eyes, and it just makes me feel horrible.

I rise, deciding she doesn’t know anything. Disappointed, I hug her, adding, ‘I’m sorry. I’ll drop it.’

She retreats and studies me.

‘I will,’ I lie.

‘Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so much like your father.’

‘Meaning?’

She takes a few deep breaths, then states, ‘You’re just as stubborn. And it tended to get him in trouble. So be smarter than him, Sean. Don’t dig into things that have nothing to do with you, only to hurt those you love.’

I ponder her statement.

She adds, ‘But he also did everything to protect your sister, you, and me. So lean into that, and ensure you protect your wife at all costs. Do better than you’ve recently done.’

More guilt hits me. I cave. I vow not to bring my mom into this anymore. She doesn’t know anything, and for some reason, my father didn’t want her to.