Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 1)

The last two days have been horrible.

She won’t look at me. She won’t speak to me. She kissed me goodnight, but they were emotionless and meaningless, and I found myself hurt by them. I miss her playfulness, her anger and her lust. Anything is better than the cold shoulder she’s been giving me.

When Gianni stops in front of the library, Delilah doesn’t even wait for the SUV to stop before climbing out of the car, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and walking to the entrance to meet her friends for the study session.

I sigh and start to get out, but Gianni stops me. “She’s very strong, but you’ll need to soften a bit if you want this to work.”

“I can’t.” I hang my head, watching her vanish into the library without even looking back at me to see if I’m following. “I can’t afford to be soft.”

“If you don’t try, even a little, she’ll resent you. I don’t know what happened, but tensions are high enough; we don’t need it high at home too. Fix it, Carmine. We need her. She’s the reason Ari is alive.”

“I don’t know how to apologize for what I did.” I rub my temples when my head begins to pound. “I was an asshat. Her words, not mine.”

He chuckles and pats my leg in reassurance.

“I called her a prostitute. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but I was…” I don’t know how to explain it, and I wave my hand in a circle over my chest. “I was feeling things.”

“Ah.” He says, nodding. “Things. They get us every time.”

“I pushed her away. It’s what I do. It’s what needs to be done in this line of work. If she ever dies, I can’t waste time grieving.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’d get revenge. You’ll kill anyone that hurt her. It’s okay to admit you feel something for her. It’s obvious you already do.”

I step out of the car and try not to be bothered by his honesty, but I am.

“Remember,” he adds. “Soft.”

Soft.

What the fuck do I know about soft? I kill people, torture, trade weapons, and sell drugs. I’m not a good man.

What the hell do I know about being soft?

I slam the door shut, and Gianni drives away leaving me in front of a college library. What the fuck am I doing here?

I build places like this. Hell, there are probably college kids here who buy drugs from the runners I have in the city.

I remember being a low-level runner, being the one doing the shady deals and following orders to work my way to the top.

Well, I did.

I killed my way to the top.

My father didn’t treat his men with the same respect as I give mine. I don’t kick my men when they’re down, and I pay them fairly. Some have families they have to support, and I know this isn’t an easy world to live in. Making good money makes it a little easier.

With confident strides, I make my way to the front door. The breeze picks up, and a leaf hits me on the shoulder. I watch it fly away, getting carried through the wind, a promise of a storm swirling above me in the sky. Not even that leaf will have peace. Soon enough, it will be soggy and worthless, stuck on the ground and stepped on or in a gutter somewhere.

Because that’s life if you don’t know how to survive it—you’ll be caught in a storm, and you’ll drown if you’re not careful.

I survey my surroundings, noticing a café to the right and the smell of freshly brewed coffee captures my attention.

Soft.

I can…try. I combed her hair. I can be soft.

That’s when no one was looking.

Not knowing where she is, I pull out my phone and use the GPS to locate her. I follow the trail, passing a few people, and pretend not to hear their whispers about me. I do enjoy knowing people fear me. I like passing a group of people and knowing they recognize me.

Fear is the most powerful resource on the planet, and once I have someone’s fear in my hands, I can use it against them to get what I want. It’s an indispensable tool.

I stop at the door and realize it’s a private room. I don’t bother knocking. I stroll in, and Christy looks up, surprised, but Delilah doesn’t.

She isn’t wearing her ring.

I grind my teeth together to stop the rage, causing my fists to clench at my side.

“Oh, hi.” Caleb waves, but I ignore him.

Ethan is there, but he is sitting next to Christy. Good. I’m glad he took my ultimatum seriously.

I stand at the head of the table and splay my hands across the surface.

Soft. Be soft.

“Would anyone,” I try to relax the tightness in my jaw, “like a coffee?”

“You’re offering to get us coffee?” Christy sets her pen down and crosses her arms, looking from Delilah to me, knowing something is going on.

I nod. “I am.”

“What’s the catch?” she asks. “I don’t have a thousand bucks or anyone for you to take a hit out on.”

“Christy!” Ethan hisses.

“What? We all know that what happened at Delilah’s house wasn’t an accident or so-called,” she makes air quotes, “old fireworks going off.” She props her head in her hand and blinks at me. “Right?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I’m not going to admit the truth. The less she knows, the better. I don’t like to be spoken to like that, and it’s taking every bit of my self-control not to show her the consequences of her disrespect. But Delilah would never forgive me. “There’s no catch. You’re studying hard. I want to help. So, would anyone like a coffee? Perhaps, some snacks?”

Delilah still won’t look at me, but her chin quivers. Her lips pinch as she blows out a breath. She’s trying not to cry.

I did that.

That’s my fault.

“I’ll take a large coffee with two shots of espresso and three pumps of caramel with the drizzle too. And I want whipped cream on top.”

“I’ll take that too,” Caleb says, kissing Christy on the cheek.

“Me too. If that’s okay,” Ethan asks, quietly. He doesn’t want to cross the line again.

“Sure. Delilah?” I ask her, hoping she’ll say something to me. Anything. I’ll take her cursing me out at this point, but the silence has to stop.

I didn’t realize I’d care so much so quickly. Even though she’s only been in my life for less than a week, I feel like I’ve known her forever. We fight like we have known each other forever, as if it’s a habit we can’t break.

“She’ll have the same thing,” Christy speaks up for her friend, knowing Delilah is angry with me.

My heart sinks, doing that fucking thing I don’t like for it to do. It’s annoying. How have people dealt with this constantly?

I bend down and move her hair from her shoulder. I don’t miss how she moves away from me, but I wrap my arm around the back of the chair so she can’t go anywhere.

“Sweetling, please talk to me,” I whisper into her ear, aching to hear her voice, needing to hear her anger.

Something is better than nothing, and I’ve been without anything for far too long to ever give up on the something I have with her.

She remains silent, and I sigh staring down at her bare ring finger. I hate it. She’s mine, and everyone should know it. I look at my hand; a black band settled to show everyone I’m hers.

Delilah doesn’t know I wear it for her. She thinks it’s all a show, but I happen to like knowing I belong to someone, that I am a part of something other than the job.

I’m hers.

“I’ll be back with the drinks,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “I miss you.” I bend down on her other side, uncaring if anyone sees. I go to reach for her hand,

but I pull away instantly.

Maybe she no longer wants my touch. Christy gasps, but I take that moment to leave, hitting the door on my way out.

I leave the study room and march toward the café. It’s welcoming for the most part, with a fake wood counter and grey chairs around square tables where a few students are seated.

“Excuse me,” I say, cutting through the line, and when people see it is me, they move. “I’ll only be a moment. Thank you.” I ease the fear on the short blonde standing behind me, wide-eyed with her mouth open. I pay attention to the lady behind the counter, probably a student at the school. She’s wearing a purple apron that says Café Books on it. “Four large coffees with three pumps of caramel and drizzle with whipped cream on top. And two shots of espresso.” I hand her a hundred-dollar bill, and the register ding open for her to give me change. “Keep it for the tip.”

“That’s like eighty bucks, dude.” Her black eyeliner is penciled on thick and appears unfriendly.

She must not know me, or she wouldn’t call me dude.

“Fill your car up with gas. Buy beer. I don’t care. Please, get me my coffee.” I twist the wedding bang on my finger, wondering if Delilah would love me in another life. The machines behind the counter steam, buzz, whisk, and the barista pours. I know coffee won’t be enough to earn her forgiveness.

I need her to be patient with me.

I’m trying to be softer, but every attempt feels wrong.

“Here is your coffee. Have a good day,” the clerk says, sounding bored out of her mind. “Next.”

Suddenly nervous, I return to the study room with the coffee. Me. Fucking Carmine Milazzo. A man who kills and takes without question, yet this woman is bringing me to my knees.

I’m close to begging her.

I don’t beg. Not for anything or anyone, but I think I would for her.

Taking a deep breath, I march into the room and place the coffee on the table, handing everyone their own, then slide Delilah hers.

She stops writing on her piece of paper and her eyes catch the ring on my finger. With a shake of her head, the chair squeaks across the floor as she bolts from the room.

“Delilah!” I call after her. I start to follow, but Ethan stands to block me.

Without question, without hesitation, I slam him against the wall, pull my gun from the waistband of my pants and press it under his chin.

I cock it so he can hear the bullet slide into the chamber.

“Oh, fuck.” He tries to turn his head away from the gun, but I’m stronger than he is, and I keep him locked in place.

“Jesus,” Christy says, from behind me.

“I will fucking kill you right here and now if you try to get in my way again. I warned you once. I don’t give warnings. Delilah is your friend, so I’ve made an exception. Try to stop me again, and I’ll make sure I spend the rest of my life begging for her forgiveness.” I shove the barrel harder against his chin before I uncock the gun and tuck it back into my waistband. Then I go after Delilah.

I’m not sure where she went.

I pull out my phone and track her. She’ll catch on to my little GPS soon, so I’ll have to be more creative in hiding a location device on her. Perhaps in a necklace or her ring.

I head downstairs to the basement, where we had our first heated kiss. I quicken my footsteps, following the direction the GPS is telling me to go. I notice a bathroom in the corner. I push my phone into my pocket and open the door, hearing small sniffles from the stall.

“There’s someone in here,” she says, her voice echoing off the walls.

I lock the door behind me, and my Italian leather loafers thud against the disgusting tile of the bathroom floor. Standing in front of the stall, I test the door to see if it is open, and it is, so I pull it, revealing Delilah sitting on the toilet and wiping her eyes with the toilet paper.

She lifts her head and blows out a breath, sagging in defeat. “Will you please leave me alone, Carmine? I can’t do this right now.”

“No.” I lift her to her feet, then press her against the wall. There are names written in permanent marker on the blue stall, years of college students embedding their memory here forever. I pin her arms against her sides and hold her close. “I’m sorry.”

“Let me go.” She struggles against me, shoving against my chest.

“No. Stop it. Stop it, Delilah.” I struggle against her as she uses every part of her body against mine. “Delilah!” I raise my voice, and she freezes, sobbing as she leans her head against the wall.

“Carmine, please.” Her fists stay on my chest as she gives in. “I can’t do this with you. You intentionally hurt me the other day. I can’t.”

“Shh, I know. I know I did. Sweetling, I’m so sorry.”

She stares at me with absolute hatred. “Your apologies mean nothing to me because I know you’ll intentionally hurt me again.” Another tear drips down her cheek.

I wipe them away and pin her still, pressing my entire body weight to hers. “I don’t like what you do to me; that’s why I hurt you. That’s why I insulted you. You unravel every barrier I’ve ever created, but I feel…” I deepen my voice as I exhale. “Very deeply for you. I’m sorry,” I say again, holding her face in my hands so gently. I’m afraid she’ll break if I press too hard.

I lean in, wondering if she’ll deny me, but she doesn’t try to push me away, so I take that as a good sign. Owning her lips with mine, I pour every ounce of regret into the kiss, hoping she can feel it. I taste the saltiness of her tears, and my cock hardens.

She cries because she hurts, which means she feels something for me.

She sighs against me, relaxing in my arm, meeting my tongue with hers, and the kiss becomes frantic. Her hands grab my blazer, and I grip her ass, lifting her from the ground and wrapping her legs around my waist.

“You aren’t wearing your ring.” I bite her lip hard, showing her how I feel about that.

“I did it to piss you off,” she admits, her hands reaching for my cock.

I grip her hand and pin it against the wall. “The first time I have you, the first time I get to experience your hot fucking cunt will not be in the filth of a college bathroom. I’ll have you in bed where I’ll feast on you for hours, pouring every drop of my come inside you, so I know you’ll get pregnant right away.”

She moans, rocking herself against me. “Carmine.”

“I’ll take care of you,” I say, carefully. “If you’ll allow me.” I know we haven’t done that yet. We have barely held one another at night, but it doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about her body at night, wishing it was against mine. “I’ll be gentle,” I whisper against her ear, nibbling her earlobe. “I don’t want anything in return except your pleasure. All I want is for you to feel good.” The thought makes my cock harden more, the blood rushing south.

Her cheeks are red, and she nibbles her bottom lip with uncertainty.

“But you’ll come while you wear my ring. Where is it?”

“My hoody zip pocket,” she answers breathlessly.

There’s a small pocket above her right. I unzip it, grab the ring that only Delilah can make beautiful, and slip it on her finger.

“That’s better. Never again, Delilah. You are not allowed to ever take off your ring. If you do, you don’t come. Do you understand me?”

She nods fast, her cheeks still wet from her tears, and I clean them off with my tongue, drinking them in. Delilah feels something for me, and I want to fucking taste it.

I nibble my way down her throat. “Do you want me to make you come, Sweetling? Right here. Right now?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, rocking her hips against my cock, and my hands squeeze her hips to get her to stop.

I wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze tight, lust boiling and threatening my impatience. “You better stop doing that, or I’m going to fuck you right now, not giving a damn about the place, Delilah.”

She’s gasping for breath and freezes, pulling her hips away from me for the final time, dragging her heat across my entire length.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” I speak, staring at her lips and kissing them between words. “What you always do to me.” I smooth my hands down her front, cupping her breasts. I moan so she can hear how pleased I am by how perfect they feel in my palms. I don’t lift her shirt because I didn’t ask if I could see them, but I remember them from showering together.

So, fucking perfect; her naked body has haunted my dreams. I’ve awakened in the middle of the night, my cock aching, hot, throbbing, and leaking pre-cum for her. I’d taken myself in my hand and stroked, watching her sleep, coming into my palm with every rise and fall of her chest.

I dip my hand in her leggings and cup her pussy, already so wet and warm, just waiting for me to pay attention to it.

“You’re soaked for me. Have you been in need, Sweetling? You need to tell me when you are so I can take care of you.” I slip my fingers through her silky petals, the dew covering my fingertips, and she moans when I skim over her swollen clit.

“No other man has touched you like this?” I ask, my lips moving against hers.

“No. Only you, Carmine.” Her eyes close, and she pinches her lips together to keep quiet. Her fingers dig into my shoulder, unfamiliar with the intimate touch, and somehow, it turns me on more than anyone and anything ever did. “Only you.”

I dip my finger inside her virgin hole, inhaling a sharp breath when I feel how tight she is. “You have no idea how much I treasure this, Sweetling. I love knowing I’m your first in every single way.” With my other hand, I tug her leggings down to her knees so I can have more room. “You feel so good. I can’t wait until I feel this untouched pussy around my cock. When you’re ready,” I add, not wanting her to feel any pressure.

In and out, in and out, languidly feeling her soft walls hugging my finger. I groan and

press deeper. She whines from pain. Her barrier prevents me from going any farther, and I must stop, my entire body shuddering with need. I want to fucking claim her in all the right ways. I watch her face as I speed up my shallow thrusts, not sinking in too far. I want her virginity on my cock. I want to feel myself sink in and settle in her depths.

“Oh god, Carmine,” she groans, then covers her mouth with her hands.

I yank them down and press the heel of my palm against her clit. Another loud moan reverberates off the walls, and I hope someone in this basement reading a book can hear her. Let them listen to me claiming my wife.

My. Fucking. Wife.

“I want your sounds. Do not hold back from me.”

“Someone might…someone might hear.” She pinches her face to stop herself from crying out as I speed up.

“I said,” I crouch down, tug the leggings off, and lift her leg onto my shoulder, “fucking scream.” I bury my face between her legs, lashing my tongue across her clit as I keep a fast pace with my finger.

“Carmine. Oh my, God!”

“God isn’t the one on his knees for you right now, the Devil is,” I say, sucking her clit into my mouth and pulling a scream from her throat. I moan in approval.

She rocks against my face, sweetness dripping from my chin, and her whimpers turn shorter. Her hands run through my hair, tugging on the strands, and her head bangs against the wall while she rides my face.

“Carmine. Carmine!” She warns me before she orgasms, but I don’t move. I lick her honey, letting it slide down my throat, and hum in approval as she comes crying out as spasm after spasms rock her body.

My cock is raging. There’s a wet spot on the front of my dark trousers, unable to be seen, but I know it’s there. I feel the pre-cum oozing from my slit.

I slow my attention, kissing her clit and licking her pussy clean. I kiss it. “Such a good girl coming for me like that.” I kiss her again, never wanting to leave the space between her thighs.

“Carmine.”

I love how she says my name when she’s breathless.

I did that. I caused that.

I ease my finger free of her pussy and stand, sucking my finger into my mouth, licking it clean. She gasps as she watches me.

“I knew you’d taste so sweet,” I say, then steal her lips in another kiss, letting her taste herself.

“Nothing tastes better than my wife.” I bring the kiss to an end, and her eyes are glazed. She’s still running off the high from her orgasm.

“Good girl crying out my name for everyone to hear.” I grip her chin between my fingers and look her in the eye. “You are mine, Sweetling.” I bend down and pull her leggings up, dressing her since she can’t seem to move.

I hold out my hand and open the door. “Your friends will be wondering where you are. We need to show them you’re safe.”

She stares at my erection and reaches for it, but I snatch her hand and bring it to my mouth. “Don’t worry about me. This was for you. Tasting you and watching you come was very pleasurable for me.”

Delilah blushes, suddenly shy and unsure after being so intimate. I love it. I love that there’s an aspect where she doesn’t feel confident when she should. That’s okay. I’m confident, and I will guide her there.

“Let’s study, Sweetling.”

“Yes, Mr. Milazzo,” she whispers, following me out the door, and I groan in delight.

“Mrs. Milazzo better never call me anything else after she comes,” I say, loving the hitch in her step as she stumbles to unlock the bathroom door.

I’m wondering if perhaps we have a chance at making this work after all.

I just need to remember one thing:

Be softer with her

and she’ll forever be mine.

I’m afraid I have to admit I might love her to an extreme.

A catastrophic extreme could hurt many people if they ever got in my way.