Page 65 of Mafia Fire

“Let me try to refresh your memory.” His words are a growl. “The other night, did anyone special come visit you?”

Mad Max.

My stomach does flip-flops in my belly. He knows? But how can he know? Surely I would have heard something about this earlier if someone had found Maxim Meralo wandering the property. I sneak a peek at his face. His jaw is clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting to keep his calm.

Do I tell him?

Because I’m pretty sure when he told me I was his, that meant his in the way a Bachman woman is a Bachman man’s. And that involves punishment when she puts her safety in jeopardy.

Will he…

I get my answer when he closes in on me, his hand slipping along the back of my neck, bringing my ear to his mouth. The heat of his words warms my skin as he whisper-growls, “I can see you battling with yourself, whether you want to tell me the truth or not.” He brings me even closer, his lips now brushing my skin as he speaks. “Let me give you a little advice. Never, ever, lie to me.” He pulls his face back so he can stare into my eyes, but his hand remains on my neck.

My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. I don’t know what to say, what to do. His patience wears thin, the slow raising of his brow like the ticking of a bomb about to go off. I need to say something, anything.

“I, yes. I’m sorry. I did have a visitor.”

“Mad Max?”

“Yes.”

“The man is as mad as they say if he thinks he can get away with this.” He releases me, pacing across the floor, his heavy boots tromping as he goes. “And you didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think that I needed to know the fact that Maxim Meralo, the head of the family that has been leaving you threatening notes for weeks, somehow eluded my security and approached you?”

“I didn’t want to tell you… yet.” I plead with him. “You’d already done so much for me and Nonna. I knew it would just cause you more work, more problems, and—”

He turns to face me, his eyes filled with hurt and anger. “A problem? Is that what you think you are to me?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, look at how I’ve turned your life upside down! You’ve gone from a bachelor to a… to a… I don’t know. Babysitter? All because of my family problems that have nothing to do with you.”

“I know about your problems, your uncle, the way the Meralos got him addicted to that nasty shit, always upping his debt. It has nothing to do with you, either. You owe them nothing and I’ve told them as much.”

“You’ve spoken to them?”

“Twice. Once when you first came here, I asked the amount owed, to pay it off. Then a second time today. They came to the Club when we were at the Hamlet, asking for me. I met with them this morning. That’s when I found out you’d been visited by Mad Max.”

“Did you pay it off? The debt?”

He gives a frustrated shake of his head. “No. The bastards won’t take money.”

“They want me,” I say. “My hand in marriage in exchange for my family’s debt.”

“Over my dead body. Even if it means starting a war, I will not let you be married to that man.” He runs a hand through his thick hair, leaving it sexily disheveled. “And I’ll tell you what else is not going to happen. You will never, ever let something like this happen again and not tell me.”

A comforting warmth creeps through the cloud of nervous energy that surrounds me. He cares for me. He’d… kill for me. “Okay, okay,bene, bene.I promise.”

His dark eyes flash with anger. “Your promise means little to me. I have other ways to be sure you obey.”

The warmth is short-lived, replaced by the chill of his promise. I could run out of this room, tell him I want nothing to do with him or his twisted lifestyle. But I’d be lying.

I think of Nonna’s words, of her advice, to not be afraid of what could be, but to embrace it. Staring at Cannon, the fire in his eyes when he speaks about protecting me, the heat that emanates from him at the thought of me putting myself in danger — they dull the chill, turning the ice in my belly to molten lava.

I want to be punished by him. I want to see what it’s like to truly be his girl.

“I accept.” I give a nod.

He grabs my arm, tugging me toward the living room. “As if you had a choice.”

He pushes me over the arm of his black leather sofa. I cringe as I hear the unlatching of his metal belt buckle. The leather swishes as it leaves the loops of his jeans. My ass clenches at the sound. How much is this going to hurt?

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