Page 28 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
My voice gains momentum as I speak, all the frustration of the last few days pouring out. “And finally, I don’t even live in Las Vegas. My home is in LA. Mylifeis there. You should haveexpectedme to run.”
He looks at me with the most confusing mix of desire, irritation, and something that might be understanding. It’s like watching a storm roll in, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
“I honestly thought you’d be too scared to run from me.”
My stomach does that familiar flip-flop, the same sensation I get when a roller coaster drops from impossible heights. The feeling of being out of control and in just a little bit of danger. It’s a sensation I know well, one I’ve chased my entire adult life, and Lorenzo’s words bring it roaring to life inside me.
He’s the ultimate risk, isn’t he?
A criminal who can have me kidnapped in broad daylight without fearing the consequences. A man who’s killed people and is currently in a war with other criminals. All of thatshouldmake him terrifying enough to send me running.
But there’s something in the way he looks at me that’s even more unsettling than all of that.
He looks at me like he never wants to let me go.
Scary. Thrilling. Dangerous. Exciting.
This man is pushing every single one of my buttons, and I hate that I like it. I’m a rational woman, despite my tendency to jump off perfectly good bridges and out of perfectly good airplanes. I know that all the reasons I just laid out are valid.
So why does my pulse quicken when he steps closer?
Lorenzo gently tugs on my arm until he’s holding my wrist in his hand. With shocking tenderness, he starts applying the cream to my reddened skin. It’s cool and immediately soothes the burn from Declan’s rope.
I study his face while his attention is focused on my wrists. His forehead is creased in concentration, jaw clenched tight. At first,I think he’s angry, but then his eyes flick to mine, and I see something else entirely.
Worry.
My breath catches in my throat.
“My wife should never be in pain,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
The heat of my anger shifts into something else entirely as his fingers move over my skin with infinite care. There’s something intimate about this moment that makes my throat tight. Something that feels bigger than the physical attraction crackling between us.
“Lorenzo...” I breathe, not sure what I’m going to say. There’s something taking root deep inside me despite all my very valid reasons why it shouldn’t. “Why did you marry me?”
He meets my eyes for a heartbeat before looking away. As he caps the tube of cream, unease crawls up my spine. He’s hesitating, and after everything I’ve seen—the blood, the violence, the casual way he talks about enemies—what could he possibly be hiding that’s worse?
Finally, his gaze finds mine again. He cups my face with one hand, and I can’t resist leaning into the touch.
“I knew I was going to marry you the moment I first saw you.”
I want to tell him that’s not an answer. That it’s a pretty line designed to distract me from the real question. But he leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips, and my brain short-circuits for a moment.
When he pulls back, his expression is deadly serious.
“You need to understand something, Mia. There are risks to being married to a mafia don. I will always have enemies. The kind that won’t hesitate to use my innocent wife to get to me. You need to stay close to me to be protected.”
My instinct is to argue. To point out that I’m being punished for something I never chose. I was dragged into this situation, becoming the wife of a criminal without understanding how it would affect every aspect of my life.
But what’s the point? He knows my objections. I know he’s determined to make this work, even if I don’t understand why.
Besides, there’s that hand in the box to consider.
The image flashes through my mind again; pale, severed, sitting in tissue paper like some grotesque gift. I can’t stop thinking about who it belonged to. Is the man still alive? Can you even survive losing a hand like that?
The pain. The blood. The fear.
I don’t know why that hand was sent to Lorenzo, but if it belonged to someone he cares about, if that man is being tortured just to drive Lorenzo crazy…wouldn’t it be even more effective to send him pieces of his wife?
