Page 3 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
The bluntness makes her flinch, but I’m done sugarcoating this. She needs to understand her situation. Our situation.
“What kind of chapel would marry us while I was that drunk? Aren’t there rules?” Her voice climbs higher with each word. “Did I actually sign something?”
I chuckle, the sound echoing off the walls. “You did. Your signature looks like a drunk spider fell into an inkwell, but it’s legally binding.”
She sinks onto the corner of the bed like her legs have given up on her. Those big brown eyes stare up at me with a mixture of confusion and something that might be fear. The same eyes thathaunted me from the moment I saw her photograph three weeks ago.
Good. She should be a little afraid.
Not of me hurting her, I’d cut off my own hands before I’d let harm come to her, but of what this means. What she’s stumbled into.
“I don’t understand how this could happen,” she whispers.
There’s vulnerability bleeding through the cracks in her anger, and it pokes at some buried instinct I usually ignore. I’m not used to feeling protective over anyone who isn’t blood. But here I am, fighting the urge to sit next to her and promise that everything will be fine.
Instead, I take another sip of coffee and give her the truth she’s dancing around.
“You want to know what kind of chapel marries two people in the middle of the night when one of them can barely stand?” I set my cup down with deliberate care. “The kind that doesn’t ask questions when I make the call.”
Her eyebrows scrunch together. She’s quick, I can practically see the gears turning behind those eyes. “Are you saying you have some kind of influence in this city? Are you a politician?”
The laugh that escapes me is sharp enough to cut glass. “Politicians wish they had my kind of influence,dolcezza. My methods are far more...direct.”
I watch recognition dawn across her face. “Are you saying...” She swallows hard. Licks her lips. The gesture is innocent, but it makes my cock twitch anyway. “Mafia?”
She whispers the word like it might summon demons.
I nod. “I’m the Don of the Andretti family.” I straighten to my full height, letting her see precisely what she’s married into. “Every dollar that moves through this city, every favor traded, every debt collected, it all runs through me. And now, Mia, that includes you.”
The color drains from her face so fast I’m half-convinced she’s going to faint. I step forward instinctively, ready to catch her if she falls, but she’s tougher than that.
She’s tougher than I expected.
“You have nothing to fear from me.” My voice gentles without my permission. “You’re my wife now. That makes you untouchable. Every man who works for me will protect you with their life.”
Instead of looking reassured, she looks pissed off again.
Perfect.
“I’m not your wife.” She springs to her feet, pacing the length of the room. Each step lifts the hem of her dress just enough to reveal bare feet with red-painted toenails. “Or your queen, or your anything. This is a mistake.”
“No mistake.”
“We were drunk!” She spins to face me, skirt flaring around her legs. “People do stupid things when they’re drunk. We can get this annulled, right?”
There’s hope in her voice. Desperate, clinging hope that makes something twist in my gut.
“I wasn’t drunk.” The words come out harder than I intended. “I knew exactly what I was doing last night.”
Her confusion is almost painful to watch. She has no idea what she’s stumbled into. No clue that she’s been useful to me since the moment I learned she existed. No understanding that marrying her was the first step in a plan that’s been months in the making.
And she sure as hell doesn’t know that watching her for the past week has turned cold calculation into something dangerously close to obsession.
“Here.” I grab her coffee from the dresser, extending it toward her like a peace offering. “Mocha with whole milk and two pumps of caramel.”
She takes it automatically, then freezes. “How did you?—”
“Did you take the aspirin I left on your nightstand?” I cut her off smoothly, nodding toward the bottle sitting next to a glass of water.
