Page 15 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
“I suppose it is.”
“And it’s notouranything. I told you, I don’t want to live with a stranger.”
Stranger.
The word grates against my skull like fingernails on a chalkboard. She has no idea how wrong she is. I know what she orders at coffee shops, what makes her laugh, how she looks when she thinks no one’s watching. I know her better than she knows herself.
But she doesn’t know me at all.
“Why don’t we fix that?” I suggest. “Ask me whatever you want to know.”
She tilts her head, considering. “You’ll answer my questions?”
“I won’t lie. But I might not be able to answer everything. Some things take time.”
“Like why you wanted to marry me?”
I give a sharp nod, expecting her to push. But Mia surprises me.
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
The corner of my mouth twitches. She’s testing me, wanting to see if I’ll lie now that she’s asked something that matters. Smart girl.
“Yes.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and charged. Mia stares out the windshield, and I’d kill to know what’s running through that sharp mind of hers.
“How many?”
I consider the question. “I don’t know. I’ve lived this life since I was old enough to hold a gun. My father was Don before me, a real hardened son of a bitch. And I always knew I’d inherit his crown. I grew up around violence, did what was expected of me. Sometimes that meant pulling the trigger. And when I took over...” I shrug. “Every order I give counts too, doesn’t it?”
Her gaze locks onto me now, studying my profile with laser focus. My skin burns under her attention.
“I guess it does,” she says softly. “I’m surprised you think of it that way.”
“Why? Because I’m supposed to be some emotionless thug who doesn’t give a damn about collateral damage as long as his empire prospers?”
“Well...yeah.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Hate to disappoint you by not living up to the stereotype, but I do give a shit. I’ve killed, and I’ve ordered killings. I’ll do it again without hesitation. But Idon’t get off on it. I don’t feel like God when I end someone’s life. I live in a world where it’s kill or be killed, where holding on to power means making impossible choices. Even when someone deserves it, when they’ve betrayed me, I carry the weight of that decision.”
“And you do other illegal stuff too?”
“Depends what you mean by ‘other stuff.’”
“Don’t deflect.”
I chuckle despite myself. She’s got teeth, this one. “I’m not, baby. But the answer’s more complicated than you’d think. Do we commit crimes? Hell yes. We provide most of the drugs and weapons on the street. Illegal gambling—and yes, that’s still a thing even in Vegas. But there are lines we don’t cross. Human trafficking is one of them. Our enemies deal in that shit, but not us.”
“Enemies?” Her voice goes tight. “Am I going to be in danger because of you, Lorenzo?”
There it is, the question I’ve been dreading.
“Right now we’re at war with the Bratva. Russian mafia. They’re smaller than us, only control a slice of the city, but their leader’s a greedy bastard who wants to expand into our territory. I’m obviously not going to let that happen, but there will be fighting. More killing. More loss.”
I pause, weighing my words. She needs to understand how serious this is.
“As my wife, you’re a target. Kozlov, the Pakhan of the Bratva, is a cold-blooded son of a bitch who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me.”
