Page 34 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
I sigh as I turn on the oven. “That’s the second hurdle I’ll face once she’s committed to me. Then I tell her everything.”
“I’ve told you from the beginning, I don’t like this plan. Too much depends on her feelings for you and her acceptance of a truth that will rock her world. It’s not solid.”
Few men would question me like this, but that’s why Santino is my consigliere. His advice is valuable, even when I choose not to take it.
“I know, but this is the path I’m on. There’s no turning back.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is so important, Lorenzo. We could beat the Bratva on our own, but at what cost? Time, money, lives. With the cartel backing us, we could crush them before things escalate.”
He’s right. The cartel has a reputation for being effective at eliminating rivals. My organization is powerful, but adding their resources and reach means the Bratva won’t stand a chance.
I could have approached Miguel directly, asked for a mutually beneficial partnership. But alliances built on trust last longer than those based on convenience. Family ties. Marriage bonds. Those create partnerships meant to endure.
“We’ll get the cartel on our side,” I assure him. “Mia’s connection is a well-kept secret, but if I play this right, it’ll change everything when the truth comes out. Have some faith.”
“You know I’ll always back your play.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll check in later.”
We end the call, and I stand in my kitchen, staring at my phone as a heavy feeling settles in my limbs. The emotion is so unfamiliar it takes time to recognize.
Guilt.
I started this thinking of Mia as nothing more than a useful piece on the chessboard. A way to get what I needed from the cartel. But that was before I knew her laugh, before I watched her steal sunglasses just for the thrill, before I felt her fall asleep on my chest. Now talking about her like she’s just a tool presses on something sore I don’t want to name.
I should have told Santino that. He’s not just my consigliere, he’s my closest friend, and he deserves to know that this has become about more than just the alliance.
She’s mine. I just hope she’ll accept me when she learns the real reason I married her.
13
MIA
I wakeup in bed alone, but Lorenzo’s side is still warm, so he hasn’t been gone long.
I stretch my arms over my head and groan as my shoulders pop like bubble wrap. Jesus. I’ve never had sex like that before—the kind where a man takes complete control of your body and somehow makes you grateful for it.
I should be horrified by how much I liked it. Should be questioning my feminist credentials or whatever. Instead, I’m lying here with a dopey smile on my face, replaying every second of Lorenzo’s “punishment.”
Something shifted between us earlier. When Declan dragged me back here kicking and screaming, I was ready to fight Lorenzo on everything until he caved and let me annul this disaster of a marriage.
Now? Now I’m actually considering giving this a real shot.
Which is either the smartest thing I’ve ever done or proof that great sex can literally scramble your brain. Jury’s still out.
I swing my legs out of bed and reach for my clothes when the bedroom door opens. Lorenzo walks in wearing gray sweats and nothing else, which is frankly unfair to my concentration. He grins when he sees me, and my traitorous heart does a little flip.
“Did you have a good nap?” he asks.
“Best I’ve had in a while.” The heat that flares in his eyes tells me he knows I’m not just talking about sleeping.
“You don’t have to put those back on,” he says, nodding at my wrinkled outfit. “I filled the dresser and half the closet with clothes for you.”
I blink. “You did what now?”
When I pull open the top drawer, it’s stuffed with shirts. I grab one at random and unfold it to reveal a Fleetwood Mac tee.
My favorite band.
