Page 62 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
Pictures of her cascade through her fingers. Shots I took while following her around Vegas, images from the security cameras I had installed to watch her in LA, photos I printed from social media and studied like a lovesick teenager. Mixed in are other things. Personal things.
Her sunglasses. The ones I watched her steal from that boutique. A receipt from her favorite coffee shop. A hair tie that smelled like her shampoo.
Her panties from the first night we met.
Jesus Christ. Looking at it through her eyes, I can see exactly what I am. What I’ve always been, even when I told myself it was just part of the plan. Just business.
I’m a fucking creep.
“Mia.”
Her name comes out like gravel, rough and broken. She spins around, and the fear in her eyes is worse than any bullet I’ve taken. She stumbles backward, her face white as bone.
I’ve seen that look before. On the faces of men who knew they were about to die.
She’s terrified of me.
“W-what the fuck is this?” Her voice cracks on the words. She holds up the panties like evidence in a trial. “Why do you have these? And the pictures and my sunglasses...”
My mouth opens, then closes. For the first time in my adult life, I’m speechless.
“It’s not what it looks like, baby.”
The words taste like ash the moment they leave my mouth. God, I sound like every cheating husband in every bad movie ever made.
“Oh really?” Mia’s voice climbs higher. “Because itlooks likemy stalker tricked me into marrying him.”
“It’s not like that.”
But it is. It’s exactly like that, and we both know it.
“Then what is it like?” She’s shaking now, her whole body vibrating with rage and fear. “How many women have you followed around in the past?”
Is that jealousy I hear? No. Impossible. She’s just trying to figure out if she married a serial killer.
“Fuck.” I run my hand through my damp hair, water droplets hitting the floor like tiny bombs. I’m supposed to be unshakable. but I can’t seem to pull that off as I face down my fierce wife.
“I’ll admit it,” I say, the words feeling like they’re being dragged out of me. “I watched you before we officially met. I’ve never done something like that before. There’s never been anyone else that I wanted to possess the way I want to possess you, Mia.”
Her eyes go wide. Wrong word choice, Lorenzo. Really fucking brilliant.
“I know it’s messed up,” I continue, digging myself deeper. “But I can’t help it. I like seeing you go about your day, watching you without your knowledge. I like knowing that you belong to me.”
“Why?” The word explodes out of her. “Why me? Why would you pick me?”
And there it is. The question I can’t answer. Not fully. Not without destroying everything.
Because the truth is, it started as business. Cold, calculated business. I needed something from her family. Something she doesn’t even know about yet. I picked her because she could give me what I needed.
But somewhere along the way, between watching her steal those sunglasses and hearing her laugh at something on her phone, and watching her live like she was daring the world to stop her, it became something else.
It became obsession. It became need.
It became love, though I’m not sure I’m ready to admit that, even to myself.
But she’s already looking at me like I’m the last person in the world she can trust. I can’t lie to her. Not now.
“Mia, I?—”
