Page 22 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“One out of two isn’t bad,” he says. “Itisthe right time. We get married, and you’re safe. Christian can’t take you. You’ll be protected by the rules of the commission.”

“You’re not hearing me. I don’t want to marry a man I don’t love.”

“You think I give a shit what you want? This is happening. Get over it.”

I shake my head. “That’s not you. You’re a better man than this.”

“You don’t know me at all. You fuck this up in any way, and I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

He pushes the door open and steps through, his hand in mine.

He yanks me forward, and I catch his expression, which says plenty.

Do this, or it’ll be worse for you.

I look into the ballroom and see rows of chairs, filled with people I don’t know. The aisle is lined with thousands of flowers.

Irises. My favorites. How did he even know that?

Zoey sits at the end of the front row. She turns and smiles supportively. She’s got little Phoebe in her arms, and next to her is Antonio.

He reminds me too much of Salvatore. They share features, especially those burning eyes.

Even as a father and a husband, there’s still too much darkness to the ex-boss for me to feel comfortable, but I know he’s devoted to his family.

Salvatore pulls me forward. I almost stumble, managing to right myself as the guests all stand up. I recognize a few of them from Zoey’s wedding, but most are strangers.

Why are they here?

Why aren’t they stopping this?

Can’t they see this isn’t a proper wedding?

I could shout out, beg them to make this stop, but I don’t even open my mouth. I don’t dare.

Screw this up, and I’ll spank you.

That’s what Salvatore said.

Fear spurs me on, keeping me compliant. I don’t want him to mean it. I don’t want him to take me over his knee, to lower my panties, to slap his hand down on my ass while I squirm in place.

It’s not the pain that worries me, or the humiliation.

It’s the terror that I might enjoy it.

He’s no idea of the dark fantasies I entertain deep in my soul, in the place no one ever gets to see. It must be a coincidence that he mentioned it.

I walk down the aisle and stand at the front. The bishop who carried out Zoey and Antonio’s wedding says the same things to Salvatore and me.

We answer in the same way.

My heart sinks as the ring slips onto my finger. It’s not a dream. This is happening, and I can’t stop it.

I slip the ring over Salvatore’s knuckle with trembling fingers.

The bishop smiles.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

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