Arranged Mafia Marriage

A week later

Elsa

“Open up.” I bang on the front door to the mansion. “Open the hell up.”

I hear footsteps approaching, but it’s not quickly enough. My heart hammers in my chest and adrenaline laces my blood.

“Help,” I scream, “help me, please.”

I raise my fist to bang on the door again, when it’s flung open. I stumble forward and smash my face into what feels like a brick wall. A wall that emanates heat, which slams into my chest, pours over my shoulders, and pins me in place. My breasts swell, my thighs clench, and all of the pores on my skin pop. I know who it is, even before I raise my head and those golden-brown eyes meet mine. What the hell is he doing here?

“Help,” I pant. “Help me, Seb.”

His hands grip my upper arms. Then he glances past me, and his gaze widens. “Cazzo,” he swears. The next second, he hauls me inside the house, then throws me down on the floor. The open door is too far away to reach.

“Get down,” he yells into the room, then lowers his head so his cheek is plastered to mine.

He covers my body with his, and the breath whooshes out of my lungs. Shots ring out above us.

“What the-” my heart leapfrogs into my chest, and adrenaline spikes my blood.

My throat closes, my pulse rate ratchets up, and a trembling grips me. I lay there as the shots seem to go on and on. When they finally stop, silence descends. Something crashes to the floor inside the house and I flinch. He wraps his fingers around the nape of my neck and holds me in place. It should feel threatening, but instead, some of the panic abates. The heat from his body pours over me and sinks into my blood. Sweat beads my brow, and it’s as if I have stepped into a sauna. His chest rises and falls, and I can feel every ridge, every cut of his sculpted muscles that dig into my back. His big body surrounds me; he’s all around me. I should feel claustrophobic, but instead, I feel protected, and safe, and secure. Then his weight is gone.

Cool air flows over me. The sound of people moving, of footsteps approaching us, of voices raised in concern, pours over me. I try to move, but my body doesn’t obey. Try to open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You okay, Frozen?”

Huh? Did he just call me what I think he did? He grips my shoulder, turns me over, and once more, I am staring up into those golden eyes. It’s the first thing I noticed about him, because they are startling. Bottomless orbs of power that can see right through to my insecurities. He’s so goddam gorgeous with those thick eyelashes, sculpted cheekbones, and a nose hooked enough to lend him an air of arrogance. That pouty lower lip that hints at the sensualness that clothes him, that thin upper lip that warns me he could be mean. Cruel. He could cut me off at the knees with the charm that radiates from him, and surely, fills any room he enters. He’d chew me up, spit me out, and damn, if I wouldn’t enjoy every bit of sensation he’d wring from me.

“John,” I croak.

His gaze intensifies. “Who’s John?”

“Who’s Frozen?” I counter.

“Touche.” His lips twitch. “Princess suits you better.”

“Keanu Reeves played John Wick in the movie by the same name, and PS, you must have been sleeping under a rock if you haven’t heard of it. Also, I hate Princess even more,” I grumble.

“I’ll call you whatever name I want,” he announces.

“Definitely John Wick,” I mutter under my breath. “No, actually, you’re grumpier, and that’s some feat, I can tell you.”

“Eh?” He searches my features. “Are you hurt?” He runs his hands down my torso, my waist, over my hips, and something inside of me sparks to life.

“Stop touching me, you oaf.” I slap his hands away. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t look fine.” His forehead furrows. “And what the hell were you doing outside the door?”

“Getting shot at, what do you think?” I glower back at him.

“You could have been fucking killed,” he growls.

“Not if I can help it. I like my life just fine, thank you very much.”

I try to sit up, but he flattens his palm on my chest and pushes me back down.

“Hey, stop manhandling me,” I protest.

“Not letting you move until you’ve been checked out by a medic.”

“I said I’m fine,” I huff.

“I’ll believe it when a doctor tells me so.”

“Elsa!” I glance up as my friend Theresa’s face comes into view.

“Thank god.” I raise my gaze skywards. “Please, can you tell this jerk that I’m fine and he can let me up?”

“Umm…” She takes one look at his features and her eyebrows shoot up. “I think he’s right.”

“What?” I scowl at her, but she’s too busy waving at another woman, who walks over to us. She’s wearing a simple, dark-colored dress that hugs her curves, before dropping to below her knees. Her eyes are intelligent, and her auburn hair is pulled back from her face.

“I’m Dr. Aurora Sovrano. Is it okay if I check you out?”

I glance from her to Theresa, who nods vigorously. “You’re safe with her,” she assures me. “She’s Christian’s wife.”

Christian is one of the Sovranos; I know that from what Theresa’s told me about the brothers. In fact, she’s spoken about the Sovranos in enough detail, I’m confident I could pick out each of them in a crowd.

I turn back to the doctor and nod at her.

She smiles, then glances over to the man who’s behind her. “Can you get my medical bag, honey?”

“Sure, baby.” The tall, broad-shouldered man, who looks very similar to Seb, and even more like Axel, spins around and disappears through a doorway. I know they’re married, but somehow, the very cozy endearments of ‘baby’ and ‘honey’ still feel out of place in relation to one of the Sovranos.

Another man-the tallest and broadest in the room-walks over to us. “Everything okay here?” he asks.

“No,” I say at the same time that asshat here growls, “I have it under control.”

The man-who has to be Massimo, going off Theresa’s description-smirks.

“I’m going to go check on the guards outside.” He walks past us and out of the house.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Aurora sinks down next to me and reaches over to take my pulse.

By the time she lowers my arm, Christian has returned; he hands over her medical bag before stepping back. The doctor pulls out a small flashlight and shines it in my eyes. She checks my heart beat with a stethoscope, performs a few other tests, and pronounces that I am fine.

“You’ll need to take care of that cut,” she says as she points to my forehead.

For the first time, I become aware of the throbbing sensation above my eyebrow. I touch it and wince. When I glance at my fingers, they’re bloodied.

Seb rises to his feet and holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s get that cleaned up.”

“Umm,” I fold my arms across my chest, “no, thank you.”

He merely stares down at his proffered palm, then back at my face.

“What?” I scowl. “I am not going anywhere with you.”

“You do have to get that cleaned up,” Aurora says in a reasonable tone.

I turn to her. “I’d rather you do it.”

Aurora hesitates.

“I can do as good a job as you, Doc,” Seb interjects.

Aurora begins to speak, but he holds up a hand. “I have training in first aid.”

“You do?” I whip my head around to look at him. The scrape on my forehead protests, but I ignore it.

He tilts his head.

“Are you lying?” I scowl up at him.

“Would I lie to you?”

“Wouldn’t you?” I retort.

He surveys my features. “One of us was always getting hurt growing up. It made sense to get some basic training so I could take care of wounds. Thanks to the good doctor here, that occasion has not arisen until now, but you’ll be pleased to know, I’m going to make an exception in your case.”

I scoff. “And if I decline?”

“Not giving you a choice. I’m not letting you go anywhere until I ensure your wound is bandaged by me personally,” he explains reasonably. Damn him.

I glower. He holds my gaze. Those gorgeous, golden orbs of his bore into me. Damn it, he’s not going to back off, is he? Well, too bad. I’m not going to simply fall in line with whatever he asks me to do.

I gasp as he bends down, wraps an arm around my back, the other under my knees, and straightens with me in his arms.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

“You could have done this the easy way, but you left me no choice.”

“Let go of me.” I shove at his chest.

“Once I’ve seen to that cut on your forehead.”

I notice Aurora glancing between us. “Don’t make me regret this,” she warns. She narrows her gaze on him. “You take good care of her, you hear me?”

“Oh, I intend to.” He smirks.

Is there a hidden meaning to his words? I peer into his features, but the expression on his face seems sincere.

“Here,” Aurora holds out her medical bag.