Page 35 of Marrying the Mobster
The words to tear him a new asshole are on the tip of my tongue, but I choke on them once I realize what Jaime means. “Elena? You think I should marryElena?”
For some reason, that makes me angrier than the thought of marrying Nataly. To have to spend the rest of my life being driven insane by that hellcat … no, it’s out of the question. I’m barely hanging on to my sanity as it is. After her stunt in the bathroom, I’ve started thinking about moving her to another room. It would mean a more aggressive security detail, but it would also allow me to breathe again.
That night, I tiptoed into the bathroom and jacked off like a horny teenager—something I haven’t had to do since I discovered how easy it was to have whatever woman I wanted. Elena showing me every bare inch of her sinful body nearly snapped what was left of my control.
It isn’t that I don’t intend to fuck her. What I want is to have Elena on my own terms; not because she seduced me into thinking with the head between my legs instead of the one between my ears.
Jaime swivels his chair to face me and rocks back, hands folded behind his head. “The way I see it, you won’t let her go anytime soon. She can serve an actual purpose beyond pissing off Oleg and putting the merger at risk. You know how old-school Oleg is. If you commit to a marriage, he’ll see it as a true sign that you’re in love. He won’t have a choice in the matter; the alliance will go forward without Nataly’s involvement.”
It makes so much sense, but I refuse to admit that to Jaime. My teeth are in danger of shattering from how hard I’m clenching them, and my vision is hazy with anger. Jaime’s expensive equipment is in serious danger of being smashed to bits.
“And just what the fuck am I supposed to do with a wife I don’t want after the wedding?”
Jaime grins. “Hell if I know. What you do with your own wife will be none of anyone’s business.”
I clench and open my fists while staring Jaime down, wondering if he’ll fight back if I hit him. A good fight might help me clear my head just now.
But violence against my own men has never been my way—not for those who are loyal, anyway. My mother taught me to rule with fear, but I prefer to save that for my enemies.
“Keep listening and tell me if you hear anything important,” I bark on my way out.
Slamming Jaime’s door, I make my way to the stairs. My head is spinning and my thoughts firing in a dozen different directions. Apparently, the forces controlling my life seem determined to push me toward the altar. The question of whether I’ll let myself be forced in either direction settles in my mind. It isn’t as easy to shrug off as I would have thought.
The more I think about it, the more I realize I didn’t actually mistake Jaime’s words the first time. On some level I understood that ‘just marry the bitch’ referred to Elena and not Nataly. It’s why I spared her life and why I’m now keeping her close. I don’t want to admit it, even to myself, but if push comes to shove, I won’t be able to bring myself to kill her. It has nothing to do with her innocence in the face of her father’s bonehead decisions.
It has more to do with my aversion to snuffing out that spark in Elena, the elemental thing that makes me want to throttle her and fuck her at the same time. The thing that makes me think I could be content keeping her around indefinitely.
If my place in the cartel requires me to marry someone, then my current captive is the best option. It would be more of a business arrangement than anything else—a sacrifice Elena owes me in lieu of the punishment due for her father’s sins. She will be allowed to live, and in return she’ll act as a shield against the designs of men like Oleg, who think my youth and eligibility make me the perfect pawn in their games.
By the time I reach my office, my thoughts are reeling with plans and ideas. This has to be orchestrated perfectly, where Oleg can see and have no doubt. It must be believable, and it needs to happen fast.
I jerk off my tie and loosen my top button before snatching up my phone and dialing Jovan. “Get your ass to my office. Now.”
My skin breaks out in a cold sweat as I let myself come to terms with what my life will be now. Elena won’t make this easy, but in time I imagine we’ll find our way toward some kind of normal life. As normal as a life can be for a mob boss and his wife.
There can’t be children. It’s one point I won’t budge on. Whatever the ‘new normal’ will be I, it won’t include the cycle of death and rage and pain that colored my childhood years. There will be no kids who can be used to bring me to my knees, no son to mold in my own image. No laughter or smiles in a violent world.
It will work. Ithasto work. This pact with the Yezhovs is about more than strength in numbers, or the use of their dark net contacts. It’s now about making sure one of my most reliable friends doesn’t become an enemy. If our relationship sours over this, the Russians will be added to the list of people who want my blood, including the Armenians. The influence of the Yezhov family will bring others to their side, and the Irish are particularly ripe for the picking. I can’t afford Oleg as an enemy, but I can’t bring myself to choose Nataly, either. Convincing him I’m too in love to settle for an arranged marriage is the only way.
I close my eyes and take a few deep, slow breaths. The dizziness subsides and I find myself feeling cooler and more levelheaded. Solidifying the idea of Elena as my wife mentally makes it real, and surprisingly doesn’t make me sick to my stomach—which is how I feel when she’s replaced in my mind with Nataly.
I hope it counts as a sign that I won’t come to regret this decision.
17
Elena
The next few weeks of are filled with outings and events designed to parade me in front of Oleg. A few days after that first dinner, Diego returns the favor by hosting the Yezhovs at his own house. It seemed easier to perform while under a familiar roof—my own territory so to speak. Becoming comfortable here pushes me toward accepting that my imprisonment might be permanent—something I refuse to believe. A convenient avenue of escape hasn’t opened up yet, but I’m always watching and waiting for the right time.
Meanwhile, I play my role without complaint or resistance. Things are tenser than ever between me and Diego after the night I came on to him. I catch him staring at me sometimes with a pensive look in his eyes, and I can’t figure out what he’s thinking. Other times I feel heat radiating off him—palpable lust that makes my insides go hot. Occasionally I feel something else … something itchy and uncomfortable that feels a lot like flattery. The fact that my captor can’t seem to take his eyes off me shouldn’t make me feel desirable and powerful, but it does.
After the dinner parties, there’s an evening at the theater with Oleg, Galina, Nataly and Viktor. Oleg’s eldest son stares at me just like Diego does, but Viktor’s perusal leaves me feeling uncomfortable and exposed. Diego notices but doesn’t say anything, choosing to show his displeasure with scowls and narrowed eyes.
A few days later find us at the Indian Creek Country Club for brunch with Galina and Oleg. We were told Nataly wasn’t feeling well, but it’s obvious the Yezhovs are starting to get the message. After brunch, the men took to the golf course, leaving Galina and I to talk. The woman’s icy demeanor slowly melts as we discuss our common interest in fashion and art. By the end of the afternoon, we’re both a little tipsy off mimosas and making plans for a private fitting at my boutique for herself and her daughters.
It’s a plan I wouldn’t have been bold enough to make at the beginning of my agreement with Diego but as time goes on, he’s been allowing me small liberties. He calls them rewards for good behavior, and I take advantage of every inch he’ll give me. I’m now allowed to take my meals in the dining room, and sometimes have him, Marcella, or Jovan for company. Going anywhere by myself is strictly forbidden, but I can’t complain when I’ve been allowed to visit my apartment. Jovan chauffeured me there himself, with two other soldiers along for security. Under their watchful eyes, I gathered clothes and the familiar comforts of home. They accompanied me to the drugstore for some other essentials, and even took me to my favorite coffee shop for a latte and a pastry.
When Galina mentions the fitting atBellezato Diego, he doesn’t seem to mind and even says he’d like to come along and see me in my element. Oleg and Galina seem to think this romantic, but I know it’s only so he can keep tabs on me.
