Property of the Italian Mafia Boss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 4)

Present day.

I’m staring at the Parthenon in Athens, Greece. It’s much bigger than I thought it would be. After all these years, I’m surprised it’s standing. It was built to withstand the test of time, and somehow, I relate to that. I have my entire life ahead of me, but I feel like I’ve been through hell and back. I’m tired of the hardships of life.

I know that’s what everyone says. Life isn’t meant to be fair, and it sure as hell isn’t easy, but it’s okay to admit when you’re tired, right? I mean, eventually, after being beaten down so many times, I’m allowed to hope for a break?

That’s why I’m here.

I needed to get away from the real world. I hadn’t taken a day off from work in years. I’ve always been hard on myself. I push and push until I’m so exhausted that I sleep for fifteen hours straight. Nothing I ever do is good enough. I always need to be better, do more, and accomplish more work; and honestly, I’m tired of being like that. I don’t like myself, and that bothers me.

So, I’m here to reset.

I’m here to take deep breaths in and out, in the gorgeous air of the two-tone green and blue sea. I’m here to experience new sights, new wine, food, and people.

Men, I don’t know if I’m ready to sample what Greece has to offer in that department.

I’m twenty-eight years old and still a virgin and, like the other aspects of my life, I think I’m ready to change that. I’ve had opportunities, but I’ve never been so attracted toward someone that I felt like I had to get naked and roll around in the sheets with them.

I started to think something was wrong with me, being uninterested in every man who approached me. But now I’m refusing to be broken, and I’m refusing to let dark brown eyes haunt me. Not anymore. I can’t be chained to someone who doesn’t exist.

When my parents died, there are details I don’t remember, but every night since the accident, a pair of brown eyes infiltrates my dreams. I don’t even know if they belong to a real person because I don’t remember anything from that night. I was in the ICU for weeks, alone, having to plan my parents’ funeral all by myself. I got their life insurance policies, but I didn’t feel right spending the money, so it has been sitting in the bank ever since their deaths.

I caved in on myself. I built a wall. I didn’t want anyone threatening to get too close, so I dove into work as a website designer. I worked every day, never took off for personal time, and never called in sick, and now after all these years of refusing to slow down I’ve realized how unhappy I am.

Yet anytime I try to move on and leave the past where it belongs, all my mind wants to focus on are depths of brown with flecks of gold.

Like right now, I’m standing in front of one of the most significant historical buildings in the world, and I feel…nothing.

Maybe I’d rather be on the beach and swimming in the sea. Maybe that would change my mindset.

Because honestly, what’s it going to take to jumpstart my heart and kick the numbness away?

The wind picks up, the breeze drifting along my skin, and I sigh, closing my eyes as I revel in the fresh air.

My parents would want this for me. They would want me to live my life, not waste it away in some cubicle.

Well, I hope they would want that for me because my father wasted away in his office nearly all day every day.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a shiver runs down my spine. That feeling of someone watching me has my instincts on alert. I turn around, my hair dancing in my face as another gust of wind blows. Tucking the wild strands behind my ear, I glance around, noticing other tourists stopping and staring at the giant building I traveled across the world to see.

I don’t see anyone watching me.

“Excuse me.”

I jump when a tall man blocks the sun, and I tilt my head to look up at him. He has blonde hair and blue eyes, very attractive, and I blush.

“Hi,” I practically squeak.

“I was wondering, can you take a picture of my wife and me? It’s our honeymoon and—”

“—Say no more,” I cut him off and take his phone from him, swallowing the embarrassment in my throat. “I’d love to. Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much. It’s been amazing,” he says with a big bright smile on his face. He wraps an arm around his new bride, and she’s stunning with long red hair and a dash of freckles on her face. They look happy, their smiling faces beaming back at me.

I can’t remember the last time I smiled like that.

They stand in front of the Parthenon, the huge columns towering over them even from so far away, the sun beaming at the perfect angle. Its rays make the glare in the photo intentional. I press the screen and take a few shots, then turn the phone horizontally, so they have multiple choices.

“Perfect. Here you go.” I give him his phone back, and they scroll through the pictures, big smiles on their faces as they see the photo.

“Thank you so much. I appreciate it. Do you want me to get a picture of you??” he asks.

“No, that’s okay. Thank you.” I leave them be and begin walking to the bus to go back to the hotel. The beach is sounding better and better as the day goes on.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll plan to go to Shipwreck Island. I’ve heard it is a must-see while visiting Greece.

I’m looking down, trying my best to get out of this stupid, self-pity funk I’m in and run smack into someone’s chest.

“Woah,” he says, grabbing my shoulders to stop me from falling over.

I grab onto his arm and my foot twists, but I right myself before I can cause any damage.

“Are you okay?” his voice dark, slightly annoyed, but somehow still kind.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. That was all my fault.” I hold my hand above my eyes to block the sun, so I can see who I ran into when my breath catches. Dark hair and brown eyes, just like in my dreams, but these are different.

Something about them seems more sinister. They say the eyes are windows to the soul, but I don’t see a soul. I see curiosity and relief. It’s the look someone gets when they finally find the one thing they have been looking for, like a child in a candy store finding his favorite chocolate bar or a woman finding a spicy romance novel she’s been wanting that’s been out of stock.

Yeah, I’m very familiar with that look, and he has it written all over his face.

“It’s okay; I want to make sure you’re alright?” he asks, glancing away from me to look at the Parthenon.

Maybe the old building that’s withstood the test of time is what he is after. That makes sense.

“I’m fine. Lost in my head. I’m sorry again.”

“It’s not a problem,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Otello,” he introduces himself.

“Mable.” I shake his hand, and something flashes across his face, but it’s gone before I can make anything of it.

“Mable. What an interesting name. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mable. I need to go. Have a great day.”

“You too.” I give an awkward wave and begin walking toward the bus again, my brows furrowing when I look over my shoulder to see Otello watching me.

An unsettling weight forms in my stomach, and I grip the straps of my drawstring backpack, shuffling my feet faster to get away from the coiling twist in my gut. When I get to the bus, the driver opens the door, and it folds to the side.

As I step on, the breeze across the back of my neck leaves an eerie trail behind. I grab the silver rail, and for one last time I look behind me, staring at the side of the Parthenon, the huge columns breaking the sun’s rays. People mingle, all of them lifting their phones to grab the perfect image, but Otello isn’t there.

He’s gone.

I breathe easier, knowing my discomfort came from him, and while I don’t know why, I don’t need to know why. I need to listen to myself.

“You coming or going?” the driver asks, becoming impatient as I block the doorway.

“Sorry.” I climb the steps and take a seat in the back. The red leather squeaks as I slide across it, and I sigh, leaning my head against the glass window.

My eyes close as I wait for everyone else to get onto the bus. I’m not sure how much time passes, but someone jostles my shoulder.

“Hey, sorry. We’re back at the hotel now. I figured you’d want to know,” a sweet older woman wearing a colorful blue shirt, pink pants, and a wide beach hat says with a wrinkly smile. “You must be so tired. You slept through the entire trip.”

I rub my eyes and stare out the window, not remembering when we left the Parthenon. I stand, slipping my bag on my shoulder. “Thank you. I’m pretty sure I would have been left here if you didn’t wake me.”

“I’d hate for you to end up somewhere you don’t belong. Imagine being lost.” She shakes her head which causes the sagging skin on her chin to shake. “Oh, I couldn’t live with myself knowing that may have happened to you.”

“Thank you,” I say again, letting her walk in front of me.

I’m the last one to get off the bus, and the door nearly shuts against my backside. I’m exhausted and decide to take the day to catch up on sleep instead of going to the beach. Tomorrow I’ll go, and I’ll promise to put myself out there and meet someone.

That will be my goal for the day.

My phone rings as I walk into the front doors of the hotel, the gorgeous white stucco of the building reminding me of the beautiful country I’m in. I smile when I see it’s my best friend calling me. Lilly wanted to come to Greece with me, but she couldn’t get off work, which was fine because this was a trip I had to do on my own.

“Hello?” I answer, walking up the old, painted steps.

“I’m so jealous you’re in Greece,” she pouts. “Is it everything you thought it would be? How are the men? Have you found one yet?”

I unlock the door to my room and step inside, the view of the sea just outside the balcony. I love to sleep with the sliding doors open, so I can hear the waves.

“No, not yet. I’m still jet lagged. I’m actually in my room now. I’m going to take a nap.”

“You’re such a grandma. Fine. I love you. I want to know everything when it happens, and I want pictures of him. I need to approve.”

I roll my eyes but smile at how nosey she is. “I promise. Love you too.” I hang up first because if I don’t, she’ll talk for hours about nothing and everything.

I undress, putting on a comfortable plaid pajama set, and slide under the white fluffy comforter. Sighing when my head hits the pillow, my eyes close, and again, I’m bombarded with images of the man who pulled me out of my parents’ car.

I can’t see his face, but I feel him, and I wish I had known his name so I could have properly thanked him. With the comfort of brown irises playing in the forefront of my mind, I fall asleep, dreaming of a time when life wasn’t so complicated.

***

A creak wakes me from my sleep, and I sit up, yawning from how tired I am still. The moonlight peeks into the room from the balcony while the breeze sways the curtains.

“Just the wind,” I say to myself, my eyelids heavy from how tired I am, but the urge to use the restroom makes me swing my legs over the bed.

I don’t bother flipping on the light. I stumble into a wall, disoriented from being half-asleep, and stub my toe on the corner. “Ow,” I grumble, limping the rest of the way to the bathroom.

I do my business and wash my hands, wiping them on a towel, when a hand covers my mouth.

“Don’t make a sound,” the man warns.

I ram my elbow into his gut which has him release me, groaning from the unexpected punch. I run out of the restroom and fumble with the lock on the front door. The stupid chain. Why did I latch it?

“Damn it. You don’t understand. I’m doing you a favor,” he says, pinning me against the door and something pricks my skin. “You’re okay. Just know you’re safe.” He tries to wrap his arms around me again, but I dip below his arms. He turns around and without hesitation, I punch him across the face.

“Fuck!” he yells. “Why did you go and do that? You’re safe! I’m not going to hurt you.”

I run by him and he snags me by the arm and I slam my head back, smashing my skull against his face.

“Hey, you’re really hurting me here. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe, Mable. Safe,” he repeats as if I’ve known him forever.

Safe.

Nothing about this feels safe, but everything about the voice sounds familiar, and there’s nothing I can do about it because whatever he injected me with makes me fall limps in his arms.

I’m at his mercy.

And I get the feeling that no one can save me now.