Page 9 of Engaged to the Don

8

CHRISTIAN

The last forty-eight hours have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Two days ago, I was a carefree bachelor enjoying fine dining, until I found myself rescuing a damsel in distress from her abusive father while promising my best friend that I would marry her. Today I woke up with Lara in my arms in a pile of blankets, then she runs away from me and gets herself captured by her father. I go to rescue her and effectively start a war with the Hell’s Devils. Now instead of running away, she’s in my arms kissing me, which is the last way I imagined this night would end. This hot-headed beauty has my head spinning and I think I’m surprisingly growing to enjoy it. She’s stubborn and passionate and when that passion is expressing itself like it is this moment, I think I could get used to that.

She just reached up and grabbed my face, pulling it to hers and pressing her lips into mine. My first thought is that she must be in shock from today’s events, but she doesn’t stop kissing me. When she presses the heat of her body into me, I can’t help but notice how good she feels in my arms. My tongue explores her mouth while my hands have a mind of their own. Every curve of her body is sexy. I didn’t intend to linger at her breast but it was soft and inviting. I’ve never kissed a woman thinking that she might one day be my wife and for some reason, that notion makes my cock swell. Too bad my bulge scares her away.

I can tell she’s embarrassed for kissing me so I try to reassure her I enjoyed it. In fact, I wouldn’t have minded if it had progressed to something more, because now I’m going to have to take a cold shower. Ever since I claimed Lara at her father’s house, I’ve grown increasingly attracted to her. So I don’t have any complaints about my current arrangement, other than the fact that every time I rescue Lara, I find myself in a new battle with someone.

I want to marry her at this moment and get her under the protection of all the families; unsurprisingly, this is one of the things all thecaposagreed on a long time ago, that their wives were collectively off-limits from kidnappings or killings. Sure, myborgatawill protect her simply because I tell them to. But in order to prevent assassinations, she needs to be my wife. If I try force her, I know she’ll just keep running away since she’s never been able to make any free choices about her own life.

I do my best to win her over to the idea. “I know this started as a favor to your brother, but even in this short time, I’ve grown to care about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. And that’s why I want to marry you as soon as possible.” I try to explain that if she’s my wife then she will have the protection of my borgate network. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, and I wouldn’t expect you to marry me for love. In the mafia we don’t always get that fairytale.” Well, that was probably the least romantic proposal that I could’ve come up with, but I’m new at this marriage thing.

I could see the hesitation in her eyes which immediately made me regret my feeble attempt at a proposal. She probably doesn’t want anything to do with it. I’m not in the business of rejection so I try to let her off the hook by saying “We don’t even have to share a bedroom. You can live your life and it can be more of a contractual marriage if that’s what you prefer. Although I have to admit, I am attracted to you and I’m growing rather fond of you.” Ugh, I’ve never had a problem with women. Why does she get me so tongue-tied?

“Can I have a day to think about it?” is her answer. I can feel my walls go up instantly. I tell her she has twenty-four hours and make a quick exit to head to that cold shower.

As ridiculous as it sounds, I feel bad that my proposal sounded more like a business transaction to secure her protection than a romantic courtship. Honestly, there isn’t much time or purpose for romance in the mafia life, even though we’re some of the most passionate people you’ll ever meet. But I know Lara is already disillusioned with this life, and perhaps if I had been less cold, she would’ve accepted right then. I’m not much for being romantic—not when I have bloody business to attend to. But there’s something about Lara that brings out my weaknesses. I want to make her happy, a desire that has been completely foreign to me up until this point.

9

LARA

The unexpected but completely magical moment of passion between Christian and I ends in my deflating response to his marriage proposal. I can see him visibly pull his heart back from me as he quickly exits my room. I don’t move from the spot where we ended our tryst. It was almost as if I was afraid that if I moved, I might find that none of this ever really happened. I eventually snap out of it and make my way to bed, where I lay awake for hours looking through the window at the stars, debating whether I’m ready to give up my quest to break free from this city or if I should pursue my new desire that’s growing for Christian. As my eyes grow heavy and I drift off to sleep, my mind rests on how good it felt to be held in his arms and to know he would pay any price to protect me.

The sunlight shines on my face and I slowly open my eyes, feeling light and happy inside. In fact, I almost feel a bit giddy thinking about my kiss with Christian. I quietly make my way down to the hall, passing the door with the lion’s head doorknocker. I pause for a moment, deciding if I should see if he’s still in his room so I can talk to him about his proposal, but my nerves get the best of me. I console myself with the fact that no big decision should be made on an empty stomach.

I make my way toward the kitchen but stop short of the door when I hear voices coming from my intended destination. I still feel uncomfortable in this house even though I recently changed my mind that I’m not a prisoner here but a guest and possibly the future Mrs. Greco. I hear Christian’s voice and peek into the kitchen while being sure to stay out of sight. He’s standing next to Ester at the oven and I see him pouring ingredients into the bowl that she’s carefully stirring. He has a kitchen towel draped over one shoulder and is smiling and laughing with her, although I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. I see Ester struggle to lift the bowl to pour her mixture into a cake pan, and Christian instinctively places his hands around hers to help her complete her mission. His gesture is so validating and respectful. This display is nothing I’ve ever witnessed in my home growing up. Any sign of weakness that my father detected was publicly shamed for all to see. Not only that, he wouldn’t be caught dead setting foot in the kitchen, as that was considered “women’s work.”

I see Christian open the oven door, and Ester slips the cakepan onto the middle rack. Then he begins collecting the bowl and spatulas and proceeds to wash them in the sink while Ester fills the tea kettle. It’s almost as if they’ve done this dance a million times. My mind wanders to thoughts of being married to Christian. I imagine him standing next to me in the kitchen while I’m cooking as we laugh and talk about our day, but I’m abruptly snapped out of my daydream when the sweet smell of cassata cake fills the air. I would recognize that scent anywhere. My mother would make it for Lorenzo and me every Easter.

My mouth begins to water and I can’t hide any longer. “Good morning,” I say as I awkwardly walk into the room, clearly interrupting this sacred moment.

Christian looks up at me and I almost detect that he’s blushing. He quickly finishes up the last dish he was washing and doesn’t look up at me right away.

Ester throws us a lifeline to save us from our uncomfortable greeting. “Lara, I was just putting the kettle on for some tea. What flavor would you like?”

“Anything but blackberry,” I chuckle, trying to lighten the tension in the air that’s stirring between Christian and I.

“Don’t worry, Lara,” Ester says with a grin. “This cup of tea won’t have any added ingredients.”

I look at Christian to see if he’s laughing with us but his jaw seems tight, and he’s clearly uncomfortable with my presence. Finally, he makes eye contact with me and asks, “Are you hungry, Lara? Ester made some cassata cake, since Easter is next week.”

I want to launch into my childhood memory of cassata cake but I can tell Christian has his guard up, and I can feel myself retreating back into “protect my heart” mode. “That sounds yummy” is all I seem to get out.

It’s clear that my delay in accepting his marriage proposal has dampened the chemistry between us from last night. I feel a pang of rejection but then I scold myself, It was only one impulsive moment that we let spin out of control. It doesn’t mean he’s in love with you, Lara. He’s trying to fulfill his vow to Loreto to protect me, which is why he brought up the arranged marriage. He sees me as part of his borgata now, and he’s a loyal capo who’s determined to protect his own. Stop reading too much into it.

I was determined to keep thinking of reasons why he doesn’t have true feelings for me when I feel someone holding my hand. I quickly snap out of it and look up to find Ester standing beside me with a sympathetic look. “Is everything okay, my dear?”

“I’m sorry. I was just distracted…” I stumble over my words to cover up my embarrassment as I look around and realize that Christian is no longer in the kitchen with us. I wonder how long I was sitting there staring blankly while arguing with myself in my head.

“Here, have some blackberry tea,” Ester says softly as she slides the cup into my hand. “It has a way of easing the worries of the day and giving you a clear mind.”

This is the second time that Ester has shared her words of wisdom with me in the kitchen over a cup of tea. It feels like déjà vu but this time I won’t end up in Christian’s bed…although I wouldn’t mind that happening again. In fact, even though Ester is talking and I can see her mouth moving, I’m not registering anything she’s saying because with each sip of tea, my thoughts linger on Christian. I’m thinking about his chiseled abs and how they felt when I pressed my body into his. I regret pulling away from him last night. After seeing him cooking with Ester this morning, I can see that he isn’t the scarycapoI imagined, but actually gentle, kind and loyal. I’m so attracted to him in this moment that I can’t stop thinking about being in his bed.

Ester places a piece of Ccssata cake in front of me and I gobble it down. It feels like a sign from my mother that on the day I’m trying to decide if I want to accept Christian’s marriage proposal, I’m offered cassata cake. It represents the moments in my life when I felt safe and loved. Ester winks at me and says, “Go to him, Lara.” Does she know about last night? Instead of questioning it, I nod obediently, and my feet start heading toward Christian’s room. I chuckle when I see the lion’s head doorknocker and decide that I kind of agree with him being the lion, using it for the first time to knock on the door.

When Christian opens the door, his hair is wet and he’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He seems surprised that it’s me at his door, but his smile puts me at ease. “Lara, come in,” he says as he grabs my hand and pulls me into his room, closing the door.

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