Marrying the Mob Prince

INDIE

There he is.

Knox sat at an outdoor table by the firepit, eating. His open, army-green bomber jacket was rolled to his elbows. Flyaway brown hair framed his masculine jaw and hollowed cheeks. Not a trace of the distress that gripped me showed on his face. He looked gorgeously distant.

“Sit down, Indie. How are you?”

He could get fucked.

I remained standing, hands on my hips. “How am I? Aside from the kidnapping?”

“I didn’t kidnap you.”

“He forced me into the car!”

He shrugged, his expression pensive. “I wanted to see you.”

Pain squeezed deep inside me. “So you decide to send one of your goombah associates to sling me over his shoulder and carry me across town? Did you ever think to ask me?”

“You wouldn’t have come.” He crossed his arms, the breeze playing with his gentle waves.

I ignored the fluttering in my chest. “This isn’t normal, Knox. You can’t control me like this.”

“I can. I will. And the more you struggle against my hold, the tighter I’ll squeeze.” He smiled, but it wasn’t for my benefit. “And you know how strong I am.”

That evoked many images of Knox holding me down on the bed, and I hated myself for the cheap thrill it gave me.

“I want you to stop contacting me.”

“And I want you in my bed tonight.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I was tolerant to answer that question once,” he said, a threatening note wavering on the last word. “But if you keep questioning my sanity, I will punish you. Sit.”

I sank into the chair as a suffocating tension tightened my throat. I glared at the plated Iberico ham, the glass of wine, and the flatware already placed in my spot. As if I’d take this grotesque peace offering. I shoved the fork away from me.

“Take me back to my sister. Now.”

“After we’ve had our talk,” he murmured, his hand landing on my knee. “Indie, I want you back. This stupid fight has gone on long enough. I can move your things back in in an hour. You won’t have to worry about packing.”

His words. His touch. Quite the devastating lure. My heart skipped as he stroked life into my leg. I met his cold, confident glare with a waning fire.

“Knox, I’m moving on.”

“Not without me.”

Knox’s voice was like an icy guillotine, cutting off all argument. His rejection of my independence pissed me off, but then he moved his chair closer to mine and took my arm. He held it firmly, but with so much care that it swept up my rage in a whirlwind of confusion. Reconciling his gentle touch with his callousness was impossible. His loving, worshipful, tender hands always weakened my resistance.

He frowned, his thumb caressing the red mark on my forearm. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

He fished an ice cube from his water glass and touched it to the wound, stroking the chill from my flesh. “I apologize. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“The fall or the strange man forcing me into a car?” I shouted, yanking my arm away. “You’ve got some fucking nerve! You never apologized for interfering with my life, and you keep upping the ante. You have yet to admit you did anything wrong! And then you send your goon to manhandle me?”

“Because I’m slowly going insane.” His eyes tracked my face before settling on my mouth. “You haunt my dreams, Indie. And I know it’s the same for you.”

My cheeks flushed as his glare drilled into me, as though daring me to deny it. He flung away the ice cube and grabbed my arm. Then he mopped the wetness on my raw skin. His voice softened to a murmur.

“Indie, come home with me.”

“No!”

He grabbed my waist. I yelped as he pulled me onto his lap, positioning my feet on either side of his thighs so that I straddled him. I gasped as my crotch brushed against the bunched fabric of his jeans. Then he pulled me so close that his chest expanded against mine. This close up, I saw every line on his face, and they told a story of sleepless nights. Combined with his wistful stare, it was quite the gut punch.

“I can’t do this anymore, Indie.”

A hot ache grew in my stomach, my throat raw from unuttered protests. “Knox.”

“I want you to return to me willingly, but my patience has limits.”

I trembled at his delivery of that sentence. I could never tell whether his passion came from his heart or the demon possessing his soul. The one he struggled to fight. Knox stroked my back, my body tingling from the contact. It irritated me. I didn’t want him to soothe me, but I fought not to drop my chin onto his shoulder and sigh with pleasure.

He turned his head to whisper into my ear. “Do you think of me late at night?”

My pulse thudded. “I-why would you ask that?”

“Because it soothes the bastard inside me. Answer the question.”

My stomach clenched as a shudder heated my thighs.

“Fine. Yes.”

“Do you touch yourself when you think of me?”

His galvanizing glare nearly did me in as his hands explored the hollows of my back. I shifted, trying to reconcile being in his arms, and accidentally rubbed his groin.

“Do you?” he snapped.

“Yes. Happy?”

“How does it make you feel? When you can’t stop thinking of me since you left?”

I stared into his eager gaze. “Pathetic.”

“There’s nothing shameful about your desire,” he soothed, my heart rushing to the spots he touched. “It’s an awakening of your most primal instincts. You want to be knocked up by me.”

He was fucking crazy, but he wasn’t wrong.

I had dreamed about him. I floated in a cloud of Knox fantasies during the day, and devious memories kept me warm at night. I relived his touch under the sheets. I fought the urge to glance at the photos of us, to replay him commanding me to orgasm.

“Indie, come back to me.”

“So I can be your whore again?”

“What a demeaning way to describe our relationship. Do you think I invite all my whores to live with me? Do you believe I’d go through these lengths for a good fuck?”

“Why shouldn’t I feel like your whore? It’s always about sex. You say nice things to me, but every conversation ends with you talking about shoving your cock inside me.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

I just want you to love me.

I loved him, and I’d suffered just as much in our time apart. All I needed was the same feelings returned to me. My heart was sick with keeping in this horrible secret, but the thought of him shooting me down terrified me. So I shut my mouth.

Knox stared as though waiting for me to speak. When I didn’t, he shook his head. “You’ll never find a man who can give you what I can. Before long, you’ll realize that and return to me. And then you’ll spend the next few weeks on your back with your legs open. For me.”

I ignored the strange aching in my limbs. “No, I won’t!”

“You will. You know that you crave the dominance of powerful men. You want to be owned. Taken. Fucked.”

My heart thundered as I shook my head.

He grasped my chin and pressed his thumb into my lip. “You never had an issue with that part of our relationship. Isn’t that what you said when we broke up…that desire wasn’t the problem?”

Heat stung my cheeks at his firm eye contact. I hated that I couldn’t hide from him. He was right. I had a hard time accepting it, but I’d followed his orders for six months. Sexually, I enjoyed being at his beck and call. Coming to terms with that was an ongoing struggle.

Knox’s muscular arms enveloped me, pulling me flush to his chest. He hovered over me, his face inflamed with a passionate beauty. He stroked my cheek. Then he trailed down my jaw, my skin tingling where he touched. His drugging closeness spiraled warmth in my belly.

“You trusted me once. You told me things you’d never admitted to anyone else because you knew I’d understand. Listen to that instinct.”

“I trusted you. Then you messed with my life.”

“What do you fucking want?” he ground out, his tone growing desperate. “I’ll give you anything. Anything. Just come back to me. Please.”

“Tell me you love me.”

Patches of heat rose to my cheeks as we stared at each other. I hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but relief washed away the angst building in my chest. I would have him back once he gave me this. If he was worth it, he would say it.

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He stiffened. His eyes fractured with a deep pain as he slumped in his chair, his hands dropping from my body. His demeanor grew severe, incongruous with his strained speech. “The people who…who were supposed to love me have always hurt me.”

“Do you think I’ll hurt you?”

Conflict raged in his tormented gaze. “You’ve hurt me every day since I first saw you. You don’t want me like I want you. You don’t trust me. You don’t accept my gifts. The way I want to help you. How I need to keep you safe.”

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep tears at bay. “Knox…control isn’t love.”

“Then I don’t know what love is!”

“Will you let me show you?”

It would take work, but I was willing to do it for him. Not everybody grew up with a perfect model of relationships. He just needed someone to hold his hand. I loved him enough to do that.

Come on, Knox.

Gradually, he hardened. His parted lips thinned. The pink flush consuming his cheeks dissipated as he took my arm, his grip biting. The longing on his face disappeared, his arrogant mask slamming in place.

He smiled, but it didn’t soften his look. Then his touch glided under my skirt, his fingers curving into my ass with a brutal pinch.

“No.”

His rough whisper was like a wind blowing out my last hope for us.

I stumbled off his lap, stood, and grabbed my purse. “You know what? Fine.” My eyes flooded with tears. “I shouldn’t have to show you what love is! It’s something you fucking feel!”