Arranged Mafia Marriage

Axel

Michael prowls into the room, followed by Christian and three men who I don’t recognize, but with their dark hair and features that resemble Michael’s, they must be some of the seven brothers Theresa alluded to.

Michael walks over to stand at the foot of the bed. Christian comes to a halt next to Luca. The biggest of the new arrivals stalks over to stand on the side of the bed opposite Luca.

“I’m Massimo.” He tilts his head.

“And I’m Seb.” One of the other guys jerks his chin as he comes to a stop next to Massimo.

“Adrian,” the third guy offers. He walks over to stand between Michael and Seb. The brothers surround me. If they plan to show me how outnumbered I am, then they are not succeeding. What they don’t realize is that I do best when I am challenged. When the odds are stacked against me, I rise to the occasion-no pun intended.

A fourth guy closes the door behind them, no doubt, standing guard outside.

“Why did you threaten Aurora?” Christian folds his arms over his chest.

“Aurora?” I frown. “Who’s Aurora?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know her,” Christian snaps. “You tracked her down in London and threatened her family. It’s because of you that she returned to Sicily. It’s you who followed us to the Lodge in Cortina and shot at me.”

“Did I get you?”

“No,” he growls.

“Damn,” I smirk, “so sorry; I’ll try better next time.”

Christian takes a step forward and Michael slaps his arm in front of his chest.

“You’re hurt and disoriented.” Michael frowns at me, “It’s normal, since you’ve just come out of a coma, but you are not doing yourself any favors by antagonizing us.”

“Is that right?” I tilt my head, “I am not afraid of you guys.”

“And you shouldn’t be,” Michael agrees. “Like it or not, you are one of us. You are a Sovrano by blood. Not to mention you resemble a brother we lost who we dearly loved, so my preference is to not hurt you.”

“You can try,” I scoff. “I may resemble your brother, but I don’t consider myself one of you.”

“Why else were you trying to hurt one of us?” Seb growls. “You must have known who we were. You sure knew about our movements. You knew we were at a family getaway when you came after Christian. Who put you up to that?” He narrows his gaze on me, “It’s time you came up with some answers.”

“Even if I knew the answers,” I hold up my hand, which doesn’t tremble this time, thank fuck, “I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Wrong answer.” Luca scowls at me. “You’re either a fool or you know something we don’t.”

“And you don’t strike me as a fool,” Massimo drawls. “So why don’t you tell us what you were after?”

“Because I don’t remember it?” I glare at their faces. And fuck, if I can ignore the resemblance to my features again. It’s disconcerting-this sense that they are my family overwhelms me. My head begins to hurt and I close my eyes, “Look, the more I push it, the less I am going to remember. It’s best I rest and get my strength back. That way, hopefully, my memories will resurface. Not that I am planning to share any of that with you-” Christian makes noise at the back of his throat. I grin without opening my eyes. “Unless you ask nicely, and maybe not even then.”

The frustration that pours off of the guys makes me smile wider. I hold the cards here, assholes, and don’t forget it.

“Besides, once I am on my feet again, I could try to track back on my movements, and perhaps, that might jiggle something in my head?”

“Already on it,” Luca states.

I open one eye. “What do you mean?”

“Got a couple of guys making enquiries about your whereabouts.”

“N-i-c-e.” I smirk. “Good to know, at least, one of you is thinking on your feet.”

Luca’s features harden. His brow pinches. I can’t stop the chuckle that rips out of me. Ouch! Now my throat hurts, but fuck that. It’s worth it just to see another of my brother’s grow hot under the collar. And f-u-c-k, stop thinking of them as your family, asshole. You don’t do family, remember?

“Too bad you’re not on your feet,” Massimo holds up his fist, “or I might have to knock some sense into you.”

“You’ve got to stop taking this older brother thing so seriously.” I yawn.

Massimo’s brow furrows, “Is this guy for real, or what? Maybe I should forget about the fact that he’s recovering from a bullet, which he did take for one of our own, and-”

“Hold on; back up.” I scowl. “What do you mean ‘one of our own’? Are you talking about-”

“Theresa?” Adrian nods. “She is one of us.”

“Is she related to you guys?” I scowl.

“No, she’s not related to us.” Seb gives me a pointed look. “She was Xander’s…” he hesitates, “friend. So, by default, she comes under our protection.”

The breath I had not been aware I was holding rushes out. What the fuck? Why did the thought of her being with one of these jokers cause me such dread?

“Although, considering how you rebuffed her, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if one of us decides to pursue her, eh?” Luca adds.

A growl rips up my throat and I blink. What the fuck? What do I care if she decides to hook up with one of them? Not my problem. They are welcome to her. A hot sensation stabs at my chest. I ignore it. “Go for it.” I close my eyes again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my beauty sleep.”

“Not so quickly.” I open my eyes and Michael narrows his gaze on me, “As soon as the doctor agrees, we’re moving you out of here.”

“What do you mean? I am not going anywhere with you. I plan to get on my feet then…” get out of here. I don’t say the words aloud.

“Exactly.” Michael smirks. “Afraid we’re putting you under an old-fashioned house arrest.”

“Are you?” I tilt my head.

“Can’t have you getting your memory back, and then you go rushing off to whoever it is you owe your allegiance to,” Seb confirms.

“We’re not letting you leave.” Christian bares his teeth. “Not until we figure out who the hell is behind your actions.”

“What makes you think I was following anyone’s orders?” I manage to fold my arms behind my neck. My muscles grumble, my biceps hurt, but fuck that. I grit my teeth, force a bored expression on my face. “And I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh, you are,” Massimo drawls.

“Keep dreaming,” I say mildly.

“He has no idea.” Adrian shakes his head.

“None whatsoever.” Luca smirks.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“The fact that, in about two minutes, you are going to agree to everything we ask of you,” Seb retorts.

“And I thought I was the one on painkillers.” I chuckle “What have you guys been imbibing, eh?”

“Wait for it,” Christian cups his palm behind his ears, “wait for it.”

“What the hell?” I stare at them.

“Any moment now,” Adrian adds.

The door to the room opens, and the clack of heels hitting the floor reaches me.

“Axel, my boy,” a woman’s voice reaches me.

The guys move aside so I have an unrestricted view of the woman who has entered the room. Her hair is grey and cut in a bob which sweeps her chin. Her features are almost regal as she sweeps her gaze over me. She wears a pantsuit, and on her feet, she wears stilettos I’d expect to see on a woman half her age. She wears a string of pearls around her neck, which only adds to her aristocratic bearing.

“There you are.” She brushes past Michael and bends to take my hand. “I am so happy that you are awake. I was so worried about you, nipotino mio.”

“Uh,” I turn to Luca, “what does that mean?”

“It means my grandson,” the woman interjects. “I am your grandmother, Axel.”

“Grandmother?” I blink. “So, you are my father’s-”

“Mother, yes,” she nods. “Unfortunately, your father is no longer with us.”

“I guessed.” I frown back at her. “How did he die?” I raise a hand, “No, don’t tell me. I’m guessing he was killed by one of you?” I glance around at the gathered men.

“Not so sadly, I take the credit for that,” Michael retorts. “He wanted me out of the way, so I had to kill him first.”

“Sounds like a fun family,” I respond.

“I understand how it might come across to an outsider,” my grandmother murmurs, “but make no mistake, we have each other’s backs.” She holds my gaze, “And you are one of us now, ciccino bello.”

“That means my wonderful grandson,” Luca explains.

“I gathered,” I say wryly. “So,” I turn to the older woman, “you are my grandmother?”

“You can call me Nonna.” She pats my hand.

“Nonna,” I murmur, “you are clearly a woman to be reckoned with.”

“Oh, phst,” she waves her free hand in the air, “the way you turn on that charm effortlessly, you remind me of my husband…god rest his soul,” she releases my arm to cross herself, “before he decided to stray from our marriage.”

“Ah,” I close my mouth which I, only now, realize has fallen open, “is that good or bad? Not your husband straying from his marriage, but the fact that I remind you of him,” I hasten to clarify.

“It’s good,” she laughs. “He was a rake, but damn, if he wasn’t charismatic. I fell for him the moment I met him, and stayed married to him until he died.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” I ask only half-jokingly.

She fixes me with that gimlet eye of hers, “I knew you were smart.” She laughs.

“Eh?” I scowl, “So, you did…off him?”

“Not me, personally, but his enemies did finally get to him.”

“Are you telling me you had a hand in it?”

“Now, now, I am not the kind to kiss and tell, if you get my drift.” She cackles.

That headache pounding behind my eyes turns up a notch. And I thought I had a bloodthirsty background? Hanging out with the Sovranos gives a whole new perspective on the meaning of ‘nearer the blood the bloodier,’ as someone-whose name is inconsequential- once remarked.

“You’ve gone pale.” Nonna’s sharp gaze instantly spots my discomfort. “Do you need your painkillers?”

“No,” I shake my head, then wince when the hammers behind my head turn up the intensity of their drumming. “No more painkillers.”

“The man’s as obstinate as the rest of you,” Nonna says in an affectionate voice.

I feel my eyelids flutter down and force them open. “I want to make it very clear that I am not one of you.”

“I think the man protests too much,” Seb murmurs. “Why don’t you get some shut-eye, eh?”

As they turn to leave, I call out, “Seb?”

He turns.

“I need your help.”

He walks over to me, “What is it?”

“Can you get me a pack of cigarettes and a lighter?”

“Smoker, eh?”

I raise a shoulder.

“You’re aware this is a hospital and smoking is not allowed, right?”

I gape at him and he bursts out laughing, “Relax. The rules don’t apply to the Cosa Nostra. I’ll get it for you.”

He pivots on his heels, then hesitates, and leaves.

I lay back and don’t fight the sleep that overwhelms me.

When I wake up next, it’s dark outside the windows. Illumination from the safety lights highlights the face of the person sleeping in the chair. The pale skin and the sweep of auburn hair flowing over the chair indicates it’s her.

Her chest rises and falls, and she has her cheek cushioned in her palm. The dark curve of her eyelashes rests against her cheekbones. She stirs in her sleep, then settles again. When her breathing evens out, I glance away and spot the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the side table. Guess Seb came through for me.

I reach for the lighter, flick on the flame, then hold my palm around it. The warmth seeps into my blood and I sigh. I click off the lighter, place it on the bedside, then swing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the ground, then I take a deep breath and push myself to a standing position. My thighs burn, my calves hurt, and my knees threaten to give out from under me. I dig my heels into the floor, and thankfully, my legs seem to hold me up. I lower myself to the ground. Every muscle in my body protests, but I ignore the pain. I manage to lower my body weight onto my palms and feet, and fuck! My entire body trembles. My biceps spasm and my calf muscles scream in protest as I bend my elbows and push down, then thrust upward. My shoulders convulse and the still unhealed wound at my temple throbs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I grit my teeth, push through the pain, force my muscles to comply as I flow into another push-up. My vision flickers. Sweat trickles down my temple, trails down my chin to plop on the floor. My entire body turns into one pulsating vector of pain as I push down, then up. Again and again.

“What are you doing?”

I lose my balance and face-plant on the floor. “Fuck.” I pant, try to roll over, but find my arms no longer obey my command. “Bloody fuck!” I growl, then stiffen when she grips my shoulder.

“Let me help you.”

She sits down cross-legged next to me, and grips the underside of my shoulder. She leans in closer and the scent of apple blossoms fills my nostrils. I draw in her scent, fill my lungs with it, use it to center myself. Her pushing, combined with my own efforts, means I finally manage to turn over on my back. I collapse on the ground, my breath coming in pants. My heart thunders in my chest like I have run for miles. At this rate, it’s going to be weeks…maybe months before I return to my former strength. I cannot let that happen. I need to get back to full health as soon as possible.

I close my eyes, focus on regulating my breath, on getting my pulse rate under control. When I open my eyes, I find her scrutinizing my features.

“What?” I growl. “Happy to see a man falling apart in front of you.”

A stricken look crosses her features. Fuck, why did I have to say that? Why do I have to hurt her every time I see her. I close my eyes again. “I told you stay away from me, didn’t I? I am not good for you, Theresa.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

I crack open my eyes and meet her gaze. She holds it, then color stains her cheeks. Jesus, how innocent is she that she can’t even hold my gaze without blushing. How sheltered has she been? What little I know tells me the Mafia are protective about their women. And the Sovrano’s consider her one of theirs. So, chances are good, she hasn’t seen much of the world outside of Palermo, or been with any man except for Xander. Or has she?

“Are you a virgin?”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.