Page 84 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

He’s holding something in his hand, and I can see a croissant placed on the dresser in the usual spot. I sit up slightly.

“What’s that?”

He tosses it at me.

It’s a swimsuit. A bikini, actually, and the thought of wearing it out on the lake while it’s this cold makes me wince.

“What’s this for?”

“Put it on.”

“Marco…”

“Put it on, or I will put it on for you,” he rumbles.

The door shuts.

I stare at the bikini. It’s my size, which is unsurprising, and it’s black. Also unsurprising. Marco isn’t exactly a colorful guy, so it stands to reason that his taste is similarly morose.

I don’t want to do whatever this is. I don’t…

“Put it on or I’ll put it on for you,” he growls through the door.

“It’s freezing out there,” I snap back.

“We’re not going to the lake in the winter.”

“Where are we going?”

“Put it on, and you’ll see,” he snarls.

Ugh.

My hands move, almost of their own accord, out to the bikini. Marco’s supplied me with an entire wardrobe since I got here. I have a shirt that I could cover this up with, so I don’t just prance around in a bikini wherever we’re going.

“In ten seconds, Roisin, if you don’t have it on…”

Insufferable man.“Fine. I’m going,” I yell.

I’m so annoyed with him, I am going to wear the biggest, baggiest set of clothes over this that I can find.

Ten seconds later, I whip open the door, covered in a giant sweatsuit and wearing the damn bikini. My hair is tugged into a messy bun, and I haven’t brushed my teeth.

It’s a clear symbol forwherever we’re going, I’m going to go but I protest.

Marco doesn’t even bat an eye. He grabs my hand, and tugs me toward the garage. When I ask where we’re going, he turns and winks.

Winks.

“You’ll see. Do you trust me?”

Bloody hell.

The answer is still fucking yes.

The car ride is several hours. We weave deep into the mountains. Marco chose a different vehicle this time, a rugged Range Rover that looks like it can conquer entire nations on its own. Eventually, he takes a turn up a tiny path that looks more goat path than road, cranking on the vehicle’s four-wheel drive system. The Range Rover snarls, leaping up the tiny road, and eventually I see a sign.

Bagni di Craveggia.

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