Married to the mafia boss Series

CARMELA

As the wind dried my face, I dwelled on the night we met. I’d gone to a dive to drink. Dad had just informed me that I was arranged to marry Alessio Salvatore, a gangster with a violent reputation. I had no interest in walking down the aisle with him.

So I’d escaped to a bar.

Two drinks in, a biker slid into my booth. His thighs barely fit under the table. He shoved a cocktail into my hands-something fruity. He’d blocked my escape, but all I remembered was the giddiness of being seen by a man like him. The diamond tattoo with the one-percent should’ve turned me off, but the liquor had muddled my senses and sparks flew when he anchored his arm across my shoulders. I liked that he was so forward. I loved that he didn’t care whose daughter I was.

We had nothing in common. He listened to heavy metal. That was the only music I couldn’t stand. He had no family. I was all about mine. He was a playboy. I’d never had a boyfriend. We went together like olive oil and whiskey, but that didn’t stop us from falling for each other.

A half-hour later, I hopped on his bike. He whisked me from my bodyguards and brought me to his home, where he took my virginity. I lay in his arms while he smoked. Then he told me I was his old lady, and that he’d never let me go.

Nick still looked at me with that unblinking stare that shot my heart with panic that I’d previously mistaken for excitement.

We stopped in a wooded area west of Boston. The scent of pine clung to the air. Nick cut the engine and removed his helmet.

I slid off the bike.

He escorted me to the ranch-style house. Nick’s boots creaked the wooden floorboards as he opened a rusted door. His fingers brushed my ass as I walked inside, and a chill iced my spine when his body pressed into my back.

“Remember what we talked about. You will behave.”

Michael had made a similar comment, but there was zero playfulness behind Nick’s words.

“You don’t like it when I behave.”

“I’m not in the mood to deal with your sass.”

“I thought you liked that about me,” I snapped. “Or why did you take me?”

“Because I love you, you crazy cunt. I will never let another man come between us.”

“I never asked to be saved.”

“That’s what I like about you.” Nick bumped me into the wall, his kiss like steel. “Not many girls could survive being my old lady, but you’re tough.”

When I left him, I sure as hell didn’t feel strong.

His thick fingers smacked my cheek, and it smarted, but that was nothing new. He’d hurt me all the time. Nick’s hand swallowed mine as he pushed me into a living room converted into a bar. The home was ransacked. Smoke stains crawled the walls. Glass crunched under my feet. Cigarette burns marked the carpet.

“What is this place?”

“A temporary holdout. We’ll move somewhere else tomorrow.”

Smashed portraits of a wholesome-looking family lined the floors. Nick took one, smiling. He tapped at the polo-wearing man.

“This was his house.”

Obviously. “What happened to him?”

“He wouldn’t let us camp on his land, so we shot him.”

My heart throbbed in my throat. “And his wife?”

“I sold her.”

“Sold? As in, trafficked?”

“It’s better than leaving a body, and I make decent cash with the flesh market. It’s a big business.” He tossed the portrait in the fireplace filled with crumpled cans. The frame shattered in a cloud of ash.

My horror at Crash trafficking human beings barely registered. I couldn’t process anything.

“Is that what you’ll do to me?”

Nick’s mouth thinned. “You’re not for sale.”

Was he lying?

“You don’t believe me,” he mused with a laugh. “Would I start a war just to let you suck another guy’s cock?”

Men in leather cuts greeted Nick, who gave them a magnanimous wave. As we sat at a square table removed from the chaos, a woman slid a beer in front of Nick. She wore a Metallica tank top over cut-offs. Tattoos covered her thighs and arms. She leaned over, pawing his shoulder.

Michael’s face popped into my head, and a dozen other memories of being held by him, his touch, smell, mouth, everything that comforted me, lodged in my throat and swelled.

Being stuck with this asshole reminded me of what Nick had always lacked, of what Michael possessed endlessly-warmth, loyalty, and love. Real love, not this toxic obsession.

I missed him.

I needed my husband.

In my misery, I imagined him bursting through the door. I saw Nick’s skull exploding and Michael yanking me into the shelter of his arms. A world without him seemed lifeless.

I wiped my eyes as the girl slid a drink in front of me. The temptation of numbed senses was too strong. I gulped it, shaking.

A frigid hand dragged me across the table, toward the man I loathed.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t put it together. You and Costa made no sense. I knew it wasn’t right. You’d never betray me. When I found out the truth, you were unreachable.” His voice dropped, husky-soft. “I had no idea you were forced.”

He still thought Michael was the villain.

Psycho. “I wasn’t forced. We had an arrangement.”

“Baby, come on. You’re smarter than this. The guy had complete control over you.”

I balled my fists, seething. “You should have stayed away, Nick. There will be major consequences for taking me.”

“We wouldn’t have them if you stopped running.”

The worst thing I could do was submit.

He hated easy prey.

“Which is it, asshole? Was it Michael’s fault or mine?”

“Both,” he snarled. “You had opportunities to call me.”

I couldn’t face apologizing to this piece of shit. “You’re the last person I’d ask for help. I had to leave you. You were going to kill me.”

“I’d never do that.”

He was in serious denial.

“Nick, what are your plans? Now that you have me, what will you do?”

“For starters, I want to get that guy’s stench off my woman.” He wrenched my hand. I flew out of the seat, and he tugged me on his lap. His breath gusted my ear. “Then I’ll find that prick. Kill him. His family. All of them. Every single Costa.”

“You can’t.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

His mouth swallowed mine.

I thought of pretending he was my husband, that his touch didn’t disgust me, that the clove invading me was Michael’s fresh taste, and that his eyes swirled with amber instead of green. I tried to imagine Michael’s lips, his body, his stubble tickling my skin.

No.

Michael was in my heart. Faking with Nick was impossible.

I couldn’t do it.

I wouldn’t.

He dragged me upright. He made an anguished noise as he backed me across the room. I struck a column, pain radiating up my spine as Nick mauled me. Then we switched positions, and he pulled me. He broke away to kick a chair aside on his way to the bedroom.

“No-no.”

He groped at my zipper.

“No.”

The door slammed. My back knocked the wall. Nick tore off his leather cut and threw it into the corner. The sound shot my belly with fear. Then he yanked off the plaid, pressing his naked chest into me.

“Nick, no!”

I slapped him.

His palm slammed into my cheek, throwing me onto the bed. A hammer-like ache pounded my skull as he sank into the mattress.

Fingers rolled in my hair as he ripped my head backward. “Don’t do that again.”

“You wouldn’t stop.”

“You are a pain in the ass, Carmela. What is wrong with you? Did Costa slap you around? Did he hurt you?” Nick’s voice lowered into a hush. “He did, didn’t he? That’s why you’re so fucked up.”

How delusional was this guy?

“Never.” I met his furrowed gaze, my fists clenched. “He never hit me. He’s good to me.”

“Good.” He smiled, caging me with his arms. “The man who threatened your father and forced you into marriage is good?”

“Yes.”

“You are batshit crazy.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Hey, I’m not the one in love with her kidnapper.”

Me? In love with Michael?

The thought stabbed me, the white-hot blade of those words slicing open my denial. I couldn’t deny it.

I loved Michael.

God, I loved him. I really did.

I couldn’t live without our lazy afternoons, the corny jokes, his quirks and his back hugs. I loved him so much that I wanted my ashes spread with his so we could always be together. He’d brought light into my darkness. He’d breathed air into my lungs.

Another thought that gut-punched me.

Michael loved me, too.

And I hadn’t said it back.

It was like a fist clenching my throat. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I sobbed. I clutched my face, but I’d never been able to hide a single thing from Nick, and now he knew. He’d kill me.

“Seeing you like this wrecks me. He fucked you up.” Nick cradled my jaw, his calluses rubbing my skin. “I’ll fix you.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you through this.”

My throat tightened as he unzipped me.

“I’ll help you forget him.”

Even if I lived in Nick’s dungeon for the rest of my days, the warmth of my husband’s love would never leave me.

Nick descended over me. His pulse bumped my chest, an unfortunate reminder that he had a heart. He pulled down my dress. His appreciative groan made my stomach churn. The moan deepened into an angry grunt. Nick hung over me, glaring. He pressed a thumb into a red mark. He hissed, straightening.

“What the fuck did he do to you?”

“They’re hickeys,” I snarled. “Not bruises.”

His hand swept over my mouth. He pinched my lips shut. “Not another word about Costa.”

“He didn’t threaten me into bed,” I snapped, seized with a need to defend Michael. “I went willingly.”

“Hon, you only think you did. I can’t stand that he touched you.”

“Then why did you take me back?”

“Because you belong to me.”

He said it with zero passion, as though the hickeys had stolen his desire. A wave of relief hit me until Nick’s finger hooked my underwear. He started kissing my thigh.

Panic swelled behind my ribs. I was barely holding it together, my thoughts wild with prayers and begging.

“I don’t want to do this.”

“After months of riding his cock, you’re done with mine? I don’t think so.”

He yanked the thong off me.

“Nick, this is too intense! I’m not ready-I’m really not ready.”

He unzipped his jeans and pinned my arms. Then he wedged open my knees, lowering himself.

“No!”

He grasped my neck and squeezed. “You once told me that being deeply loved by someone gives you strength. You can handle me.”

No, I can’t. “Nick, stop!”

Nick paused, his grin widening. He drank in my fear like an aphrodisiac. He kept his touch light. It staked up and down my forearm, across my collar.

“Why, you enjoy it more with him?”

Of course. “I-you’re both good.”

“I want the truth.” He darkened like a storm cloud. “I asked you a question. Who’s the better lover?”

Michael. “I won’t answer that.”

“You will. And I’ll know if you’re lying. I always do.”

“No.”

“Tell me.” He shoved a finger in my mouth. “Or I’ll stop being so nice.”

I bit him until he retreated.

A blow crashed into my head. Agony radiated into my teeth. He would hit me no matter what I said, so I faced him, grinning.

“Michael. He can make me come with his voice.”

“Because you do what he wants.” He snorted, the amusement clashing with his malevolent gaze. “Otherwise you’d have way more hickeys.”

“He doesn’t hurt women.”

“Oh, baby. You’re such a naive little thing. I’ve been to his club. I’ve talked to his whores. Paid one to spill her guts,” he broke off with a smirk. “She told me all sorts of shit. The man gets off on punishing his women. Just like me.”

The comparison made me fume.

“I guess you have a type, Carmela.”

“Shut up. You don’t understand him.”

“Understand? Honey, I am him.”

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“I’ll show you.” Nick’s fingers curled around my throat and squeezed, then his lips molded into mine, the soft pressure filling me with bile. He pulled back, whispering. “He does this when he comes, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“He likes it when you’re tied up. Loves it when you kneel. When you struggle. Just. Like. Me.”

I turned away. “Stop!”

“I don’t have to fuck you. I’m inside you, Carmela.” He peeled off me, his chest unsticking from me. “Always.”

“I want my husband.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”