Owned by the Italian Mafia Don: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 2)

I don’t know how I ended up getting involved with not one mafia boss, but two. Either way, I’m screwed. I’m either dead or sign away my body to a man I don’t even know. A man who took it upon himself to learn everything there is to know about me. I hate it. I hate him and what I hate even more is how my body reacts to him.

The traitorous little bitch.

The man might be an annoying, power-hungry, arrogant ass, but I’d be stupid if I didn’t admit he was the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

His sex appeal isn’t enough to make me like him though.

“So you need me to be your wife and you need me to give you a child? I’m not trying to change the subject and I know you’ve told me, but can’t you find someone else? I don’t understand this.”

“It’s a family requirement in my position. My brother stepped down and I took over, meaning I need to have an heir. It looks good when a man in my position has a family. More respect is gained in the community,” he responds, finally walking away from me and around the store. “You know, this has a lot of potential. With the right remodeling, marketing, online networking, and new merchandise, you could be successful.”

He’s trying to change the subject.

“So, a whole new store, you mean?”

“The idea would be kept the same, but this store is old and needs to be modernized.”

I roll my eyes and decide to ignore him. What does he know about business when all he does is threaten people for a living? “So you need a wife and kid to look good? That’s what you’re saying.”

“Yes,” he nods his head, not liking my terminology. “I guess that’s the easiest and most crass way to put it.”

“Then go out and pick someone more amenable to all your stupid demands.” I punch a few buttons on the register and the drawer dings as it opens. It’s an old register, the kind that looks more like a typewriter. It’s vintage and I love it, but it only takes cash, and I can’t afford to get a card reader. When I look into the drawer, my stomach turns when I see a five-dollar bill, a twenty, and a couple of quarters.

“I don’t want someone who bows to my every command.”

The words have me looking up from the pathetic register and I slam it shut, forgetting about counting down for the day. It’s pointless to do.

There isn’t enough to bother.

“Really? I find that shocking,” I grumble, my entire being all too aware of how hungry Mr. Milazzo looks, eyeing me up and down.

“I am full of surprises,” he answers, his hand falling to his cheek again, and a sly, barely there smirk tilts his lips as if he remembers when I slapped him.

My palm still burns from it. I put a lot of my weight into that slap. I wanted it to hurt and what ticked me off the most was how his head hardly moved when I hit him.

“I know I should say yes,” I finally answer, placing my elbows on the counter, I let my face fall in my hands. I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m not stupid. I know what you’re offering is a chance, one I don’t have, but it doesn’t make it easier. I could take the gem and run, take my family with me, and we could start over.”

“You could.”

“That sounds like you think my plan won’t work.”

“You don’t have the resources to successfully hide yourselves. I do. It wouldn’t be long before you’re taken or dead. I can offer more.” He steps forward, right in front of the counter, and I look up, hating how he seems like a savior.

I never understood the devil in disguise comment until now.

He is sin wrapped in a package promising amazing, undeniable things.

Isn’t that what sin is?

Emotions that make you feel good only for regret to follow?

“I can erase them off the planet. I can make it seem like they were never born. I can give them fake identities. They will never be able to be traced. They will be well taken care of and have the life you have been working so hard to give them. You won’t be able to be in contact with them. For safety. Eventually, when Bianchi is taken care of, but until then, you’ll have to cut ties.”

The whoosh of breath that escapes me reminds me of being hit in the stomach. I shut my eyes and try to reel in my emotions. They have been all over the place lately. I’ve been under so much stress, I’ve been so tired, crying these days comes easily, and now this.

“Even if my brother is the one that started all this, he’ll be safe, right? I don’t want any of this to fall on him.”

“It won’t. I can promise that. He didn’t kill someone.”

My stomach rolls at the harsh reminder, but Mr. Milazzo said it so easily as if this kill was nothing, meant nothing, is nothing.

“So my choices are jail, death, or being an incubator for you,” I snort at the ridiculous thought and that’s when hysteria hits. I can’t stop laughing. “Of course,” I slap my hand on the counter to try and catch my breath but the more I try the harder my stomach cramps with laughter. “I mean, why not?” tears drip from my eyes and my lungs burn because I can’t seem to catch my breath. “My fate would be held hostage by a fucking Milazzo, and if not you, Bianchi. The chances.” I tilt my head back and laugh so hard, so loud, somewhere in the back of my mind, through the thick of the fog blocking out reality is my voice of reason.

I know how ridiculous I sound right now.

“Is she okay?” the guy who looks like Mr. Milazzo asks, stepping next to his brother.

I assume they are brothers. They look identical.

“She’s working through her feelings.”

“Oh, fuck you.” I wipe under my eyes and still chuckle. “What the hell do you know about my feelings? You’re taking over my life and leaving me no options. My feelings are mine alone and you might be able to control me, but you won’t be able to control how I feel.”

“I never plan on controlling you.” His brows dip in confusion. “It’s as simple as you saying no, and I walk out that door. You’ll never see me again.”

I give him my back and bury my face in my hands, shoulders shaking when I know the choice I need to make. I have to hand myself over to him, because without him, I’m dead and so is my family. It doesn’t mean I have to like it. I think I’m so upset because so many of the things he said were right.

I do regret a lot of things and I know if I don’t take him up on his offer, I’ll regret saying no to him. I regret not doing more for myself and now, because I didn’t, my choices have led me here. He’s right and I only hate him so much more for it.

I feel him in front of me, the warmth radiating from his body, the expensive cologne that reminds me of spicy citrus invades my nose, and then there are the calloused fingertips ghosting over my cheeks to wipe my tears.

No one has ever been that gentle with me. No one has ever wanted to touch me like that, and I have never wanted them to.

“I’m a businessman and while I am offering you a deal, it doesn’t mean I will treat you as such. I’ll treat you well, Tesoro. I promise. I am not always a kind man, but I will be kind to you.”

“Yeah? How many more business deals do you have like me? I bet you say that to all the women you keep around.”

“I don’t keep women. I have no other deals. I am not that kind of man.”

I step away from him, needing to get away from his demanding presence. It would be easier to sink into his arms and press my cheek against the strength of his chest. He is a protector, and it would be so easy for me to give in and let him shield me from all the horrible things life offers.

I’ve never been the kind of woman to depend on anyone, so depending on him is something that goes against every fiber of my being.

“What about the store? I’m assuming since my family will be under lock and key, so will I?”

“Your store is taken care of,” he says, picking up a dish that needs to be dusted, then he wrinkles his nose.

I blush at the filth. I’ve been meaning to clean more. That dish has been there for years. No one has bought it and it’s easy to forget that everything in this store needs to be cleaned besides the floors.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, your bills are caught up, medical bills are paid, your rent is paid, and your landlord knows you won’t be renewing your lease. All bills are taken care of.”

I have to catch myself on the counter in relief, shock, a bit of anger because I couldn’t do it myself, jealousy, but mostly relief.

“And if I say no? You take all of that back, right?”

He shakes his head. “No. Consider it your true opportunity to start over, but you and I both know you won’t get far with your family beside you. They are parasites sucking your energy dry; you and I know both know it.”

“Don’t talk about them like that. You don’t even know them. You have no idea what we have had to deal with, what we have gone through, and why we have ended up here. We weren’t born with money in our pockets like some people,” I spit the words at him, hoping he’d be insulted, but he isn’t.

He’s cool, calm, and collected. “And I realize how lucky I am, but that does not mean I haven’t had hardships.”

“Hardships that could have been taken care of with money.”

He hums, obviously in disagreement. “I’m going to give you a few more minutes to make up your mind. Then, I’m going to leave.”

“And the gem?” I ask again, wanting reassurance.

“What of it?” he huffs in annoyance. “I told you to fucking keep it. I don’t give a shit about the stone. Sleep with it at night for all I care. I’m sick of hearing about this gem.”

I stomp up to him and point my finger in his face. “Do not cuss at me. I’m allowed to ask questions and be confused and ask for reassurance. I’m allowed to repeat myself. I’m allowed to be freaking the hell out. You will not cuss at me.” I poke him in the chest.

He grips my wrist, tugging me close, and I thump against his chest. “Follow your own rule. I don’t want to hear another curse word from your mouth directed at me.”

“You deserve it,” I grumble. “Marching in here, taking over my life.”

“Saving your life,” he corrects me. “Saving it.”

“I’m not giving up the stone. Ever. Consider it a safety net.”

“You won’t need one. I’m your safety net.”

I swallow nerves, my entire body waking up to his nearness. The longer I stay in front of him, the more sexual tension builds. There’s chemistry here, a lot of it, and the way his eyes fall to my lips tell me if I don’t push him away now, I’ll do something stupid, like kiss him.

I have enough regrets added to my plate. I don’t need any more.

“Fine,” I relent, yanking my wrist from his hold. “Fine,” I repeat, giving into the only real option I have if I care about my life and my family.

An evil smile twists his lips. “Good girl, Tesoro. You’ve made the right choice.”

Then why do I feel like I’ve made the wrong one?

Who am I kidding? All the options I had were wrong.