Page 91 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“Yes and no. When his dad died, Remus took over as the new Don, or Head, of my family.”

My mind whirls with disbelief. “Head of your family?” My bunny nods.

Taking a moment, I sort through everything she’s told me, as well as everything I’ve picked up. She’s Italian, that much I’ve worked out. Okay, that makes me sound more sure than I am, but what she said to Fabian sounded Italian, and the way her accent changed when she first told me what the letters in her brand mean.

“Are your family members of the Mafia?” I finally ask, having no other conclusion.

The corners of her lips turn upward in an almost-smile. “In the Mafia?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and looking up at me from beneath her long, black lashes. “My family is the original Mafia. We’re the very reason for every hair that raises in fear when people use hushed tones to discuss the crimes of the very institution I was born into.”

I thought I was prepared for her answer, but now that I have it I know I wasn’t. What the fuck do I say to that? “And Remus is the Don?” I ask. When she nods, I continue. “But it was his dad that forced you into the marriage with Fabian, and then later helped you out of it?”

“Yup,” she confirms.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

I tighten my grip on her wrists. “Don’t play dumb with me, sweet bunny. You’re much too clever to pull that off. Why did he set you free?”

She swallows audibly. “Fabian was… well, he was plotting against the reigning Prime Minister of Italy. Someone who had Romulus’, my uncle’s, backing. I gave him evidence so he could stop the coup in time, and as a thank you he granted me a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Yes, and I used it to ask for my freedom from Fabian and the Russo family.”

“Why did he go back on his word?”

She lets out a hollow laugh. “He didn’t. I guess I just wasn’t specific enough in my wish. I did get my freedom both from Fabian and the family. He took me away when I was seventeen, and sent me to America when I was eighteen. Set me up with a fat bank account and made me almost untraceable. But—”

I cut her off. “But you didn’t get your divorce.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hear the mistake. “You didn’t ask for a divorce. You asked for freedom.”

“Exactly. And I didn’t ask for it to last forever, which I’m assuming is the reason for the ten years I got.”

Right, so the devil really is in the details, even when dealing with family. “What happens now?”

“Remus told me we have to stand in front of the Senate. It’s a… counsel of sorts. And they have to approve of my marriage to you. If they do, that’s it. I’m free forever and they can’t ever take it back.”

My tone is grave as I ask, “And what happens if they don’t approve? Because I don’t care who your family is. You’re my wife.”

She gulps. “Then they kill you and give me back to Fabian.” Her voice quavers, betrays her nerves.

“So you really weren’t in a relationship when we got together?” I ask, frustration creeping into my voice.

I know it shouldn’t matter, but I can’t help the need to get absolute clarity. I have to know she didn’t cheat on her husband with me, even if her husband is… was someone as sick as Fabian. Shit, this entire situation is so messed up and I’m focusing entirely on the wrong things.

“No,” she almost shouts. “I’ve been separated from Fabian for almost ten years. We hadn’t spoken until he showed up at the Sabertooths’ sponsor event, and we sure as hell haven’t been intimate or anything.”

I search her eyes for any hint that she’s lying to me. But there’s none. She looks back at me with complete honesty written all over her features. “Okay,” I relent. Taking a deep breath, I finally say, “I believe you.”

“Really?” she mumbles, averting her gaze like she’s afraid I’m about to take it back.

Moving my hand to her chin, I lift it up until she has to look at me. “Really,” I confirm.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with my mouth. I claim her lips in a hard kiss. Our teeth clash, our tongues fight, and I swallow the sobs wracking through her. Each and every one goes from her mouth and into mine, where I absorb them.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispers when we come up for air. “I couldn’t… it was… please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” I vow. “I’ll never fucking leave you, and I won’t let anyone take you away. I don’t care if you’re Lucia Carter or Lucia Russo. All that matters is that you’re mine.”

---