Page 86 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
After this break from him, I expected to have a healthier view of his stalking behavior. I thought that if I didn’t have to talk to him every day, or see him and fight off my attraction to him, I’d be able to make myself feel disgusted by what he does.
I thought wrong.
Every time I go somewhere and feel his eyes burning into me, Ilikeit. My heart does this stupid fluttering thing that makes me want to spin around and catch him in the act.
Telling myself it’s wrong doesn’t change that. I can’t shut down my emotional or physical reaction to knowing he’s watching me. It makes me feel cared for, treasured in a way that probably says terrible things about my psychological state.
The fact that he’s sticking around just to linger in the shadows of my life? It should creep me out.
Instead, it makes me feel even more special to him.
Maybe this part of me was always waiting for someone like him.
The more I think about him obsessing over me, the less I give a damn about what anyone else would think. No one ever has to know that Lorenzo stalks me. That’s an aspect of our relationship that can stay between us, filed away with all the other secrets that come with marrying into the mafia.
So why do I keep trying to talk myself into being angry with him? Because other people would be?
Fuck that. Since when do I care how other people would react in my situation?
What matters is how I feel. And maybe it’s fucked up, but I like being watched by my possessive husband. It’s how he expressesthat he cares about me, that he’s here for me even when I send him away.
My heart does that fluttering thing again.
Today, I’m at an outdoor market with two of my brothers and their wives. According to Santi, who’s only two years older than me, it pops up once a month and I happen to be lucky enough to have arrived just in time.
The market takes up several blocks on a main street in town—booths and tents set up along the road selling food, clothes, crafts, and even furniture. There’s so much to see, vibrant colors and rich smells that should be captivating my full attention.
But I’m distracted by that familiar feeling of awareness creeping down my spine.
Lorenzo is here. He’s watching again.
I swing my head around to look behind me, scanning the crowd of people milling between the stalls. None of them are my husband, but the feeling doesn’t fade.
I crush the disappointment. If I still feel like I’m being watched, he’s here somewhere.
I’d love to catch him in the act. See that intense stare that makes my knees go weak.
“Mia, come look at this.” Elena’s voice snaps me back to reality. She’s the wife of my oldest brother, Gael, and the two of us have hit it off over the last couple of days. She’s standing at a stall full of women’s clothing, holding up a red wrap dress with yellow flowers. “What do you think?”
As I stroll over to her, I notice Gael and Santi speaking with a man running a booth selling fresh produce. The conversation looks intense, their voices low and urgent.
I wonder what business they have together.
Since I’m distracted by their body language, I don’t see the man that bumps into me until we’ve already collided. I stumble, barely catching my balance before I fall.
“Sorry, I?—”
The apology dies in my throat when I see the glare on his face.
There’s something menacing about him, something that makes my skin crawl and my fight-or-flight response kick into high gear. I take a step back before I realize I’ve made the decision to move.
His eyes narrow, and I decide it’s best to hurry away from him.
Joining Elena, I help her pick out three dresses while trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that asshole left me with. My nerves are probably just on edge from everything that’s happened lately.
We move along, and I buy myself a bracelet made of braided leather at one stand and a carton of freshly-picked strawberries at another. When I stop to take a bite of one, sweet juice runs down my chin.
My eyes shift to the side, instinct telling me that’s the direction of the gaze burning into my skin.
