Page 58 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
“No.” I reach for her hands, coaxing her fingers to release their death grip on the fabric. “Because I’ve been thinking about it, and I can’t apologize for what happened. I don’t regret it. I don’t feel bad about it. I wish you hadn’t seen it, but you need to understand something.”
I thread our fingers together, grounding myself in her warmth.
“I will kill anyone who threatens you. Every. Single. Time. Without hesitation, without mercy. That’s not going to change.”
She stares at our joined hands, and I can see the wheels turning in her head.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” It’s my favorite question to ask her. I’m addicted to the way her mind works, the connections she makes, the way she sees the world.
“I’m...conflicted.” She looks up at me, and I see the war raging behind her eyes. “I know I should just be horrified. You killed a man with your bare hands, Lorenzo. But...”
“But?”
“Part of me felt...protected. Safe. And I hate that I feel that way.”
Relief floods through me. She’s fighting it, but she isn’t as shocked by violence as she wants to be.
“These are the people who sent me body parts, Mia,” I remind her gently. “Piece by piece, like some sick game.”
“So two wrongs make a right?”
I let out a dark laugh. “Sweetheart, there are way more than two wrongs between the Bratva and my family. This war stretches back decades. They’ve never forgiven us for taking and keeping control of this city, for being stronger, better connected. What you saw last night? That was justice.”
She shudders, and I can tell the reminder of that severed hand isn’t helping her mental state. But she needs to understand this world, needs to accept it, because it’s never going away.
“They would have hurt you.” I run my thumbs over her knuckles, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin. “Done terrible things to you just to make me suffer.”
Another shudder runs through her, and I can’t resist anymore. I pull her into my lap, tucking her head under my chin and running my hand up and down her back. She doesn’t fight me, doesn’t argue.
She melts into my embrace like she knows, on some cellular level, that this is where she belongs.
Hope blooms in my chest. Maybe she slept alone last night, maybe she’s struggling with what she saw, but this—this surrender, this trust—tells me everything I need to know.
An idea strikes me. Something to get her away from all this darkness, give her time to process without the constant reminder of danger lurking around every corner.
I tilt her chin up with my finger, meeting her eyes.
“Tell me something, my bride. Do you want to go on a honeymoon?”
23
MIA
“Really?”Excitement bleeds into my voice like I’m twelve and someone just offered me a trip to Disneyland. “You want to take me on a honeymoon?”
Lorenzo’s grin is pure sin. “Of course I do. We’re married, aren’t we?”
I roll my eyes hard enough to see my brain. “If you want to call it that.”
The truth is, somewhere between the forced proximity and the mind-melting sex, this whole arrangement has started feeling less like a kidnapping and more like...well, a marriage.
Not that I’m ready to admit that out loud. A girl’s got to have some pride.
“I do want to call it that.” His voice becomes serious, almost reverent. “You’re my wife, Mia. And it’s time I took you somewhere to celebrate that fact. So where would you like to go?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Iget to choose?”
He kisses the tip of my nose, and the gesture is so unexpectedly sweet that my heart does this stupid fluttering thing. “Of course. I know I come off as a controlling bastard most of the time, but it’s mostly for your own good. When I can give you freedom to make your own decisions, I will.”
