Mafia Crown: Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance, page 15
"Oh, so you’ve been reading up on the Sovranos?" I chuckle.
She shoots me a sideways glance, "I may be new to this city, but you can't go a day without hearing all about the Sovranos and how the Don killed his father to take over his current position... Oops," she firms her lips, "no offense meant." She turns to Karma.
Karma raises a shoulder, "None taken."
"So, it doesn't bother you, uh, being married to a man who has killed?"
"Elsa." I gape at her.
"It's okay." Karma's lips kick up. "I am married to the Don of the Cosa Nostra, after all, and it does bother me. Except, I know that Michael is often in situations where, if he doesn't make the first move, he won't live to see the next day, and I love my husband too much for that to happen."
"So, you turn a blind eye to what he does for a living?" Elsa asks.
"I embrace what he does." Karma holds up her hands, "Being part of the Cosa Nostra is a part of Michael, as much as being a designer is in my DNA. I couldn't ask him to leave it any more than I could give up working with fabrics. And it's because I know Michael so well that I am confident Axel won’t hurt you physically." Karma glances at me with a considering look on her face. "If he did, he’d have the rest of the Sovranos to answer to. No, he won’t do something that obvious."
Elsa scowls at her. "Then? Do you think he’ll hurt her mentally or emotionally?"
"It’s possible," Karma says slowly. "I reckon, he’ll get back at you in some form though. How and what? That, I don’t know, but you’d best watch out for it."
"But she’s going to be marrying him." Elsa folds her arms across her chest. "Doesn’t that put her in a vulnerable situation?"
"Possibly." Karma holds my gaze, "Either way, you need to be on alert with him."
"You are beginning to worry me, Karma," I run my fingers through my hair. "I understand what you mean when you say I hurt his ego. It’s only after I blurted out the proposal that I realized what I had done, and it was too late by then. But surely, once we are married, he’ll come around?" I take in her features—the way her brow is pinched, the worried look on her face.
"You really think he’s going to get back at me for this, don’t you?"
"Yes," she lowers her hand to her side, "but if you watch out for it, there’s no reason you can’t turn the tables on him."
"Okay, stop," I rub my temple, "you are beginning to give me a headache."
"I know it’s a lot to take in, but if you are forewarned, you can use it to your advantage."
"How do I do that?"
"Defeat him at his own game," she replies.
"What game is that?"
"Whatever it is that he initiates with you."
"That’s not very helpful," I try to laugh but the sound comes out strained.
"I don’t know him very well," Karma says in a soft voice, "not as well as you do."
"Which isn’t saying much." I twist my fingers. "How do I even begin to figure out what he’s up to?"
"Oh, if you pay close attention, I am sure you will see the signs, and once you know where his mind is at, I am sure you’ll find a way to keep ahead of him."
"You have more confidence in me than I do." I laugh uncertainly.
"You can do this," Elsa says with vehemence. "If anyone can figure out a way to survive, it’s you."
I turn to Cass, "What do you think, Cass? You’ve been silent all along."
"I am worried." Cass narrows her gaze on me, "I won’t bullshit you by saying otherwise, but I also know you are smart enough to beat him at his own game."
I scowl, "So you do think that he’s going to try to get back at me, as well?"
"I would be surprised if he didn’t," she admits. "But we have your back," she turns to the other women, "don’t we?"
"You bet," Elsa replies.
"We’re here in your corner," Karma adds. "If he does anything, and I mean anything, to cause you grief, you pick up the phone and call me, and I’ll make sure Michael reins him in, okay?"
"Okay," I blow out a breath.
"Good." Karma tilts her head, "Now about that dress... What color were you thinking?"
21
Axel
I am getting married. What the bloody fuck? I am getting married. How the hell had that happened? Oh, I know, it has something to do with a curvy, green-eyed sprite who’d dared to ask me to marry her in front of those…those men. Men who are my brothers, but who had abandoned me and my mother as surely as their father had. So what, if none of them knew of my existence? It’s their father who sent my mother away in exchange for assets that would further his business.
My mother had been the only daughter of the head of the Camorra, arch rivals to the Cosa Nostra. She had fallen in love with my father, despite the fact that he was married. She had moved to be with him, despite the fact that her family would never accept her back. By the time she was pregnant with me and my brothers, she had realized just how abusive he could get with her.
After my brothers and I were born, she wanted to leave my father. In response, he had negotiated with my mother’s father for her return. He had insisted that she leave the children behind, but she had refused. Finally, he had agreed to let her take one of the triplets—me—along with her.
She had left, and when her family had disowned her, she had decided to strike out on her own. No small decision for a Mafia princess who had been brought up in the lap of luxury. She had moved to London, and with no skill to support herself, she had turned to the world’s oldest profession. A cliché maybe, but my mother had been determined to survive without the help of her family. She had also been insistent that I go to a good school. She had worked herself to the bone to ensure that I had the best education available. Pun intended.
She’d made no secret about how much she despised the Cosa Nostra and the Camorra, and anything to do with the Mafia, really. It’s the one thing she’d made me promise—never to have anything to do with them. What she had neglected to mention was that she was one of them, as am I. She hadn’t told me anything about my background, or my father, or about my triplet brothers. Not until she was on her deathbed. Even then, she’d waited until the very last minute, when she had sensed her imminent death, before she’d finally told me about the circumstances surrounding my birth. Then, she had breathed her last.
I’d known it was inevitable that she would die early, the way she had been working so hard, and let’s face it, women in her profession aren’t known for their longevity. She had poured all of her hopes, her dreams, her ambitions into me, and a part of me had known that she wouldn’t survive for long. Still, no matter how much you try to anticipate it, no one is prepared for death.
My mother had been struck down by a fast-spreading cancer. She had refused treatment, something I had found out only later, for she had ensured not to tell me about it. Of course, as a teenager I was wrapped up in my own life. Still you’d think I would have spotted that my mother was suffering from cancer. But she managed to hide it well. It wasn't until she was near the end that I realized just how sick she was. At that point, it was hard to ignore how skeletal she’d become, and I hated myself for missing it. I had held her hand, had looked into her eyes as she had passed.
When she was finally still, anger had gripped me. I had glanced into her lifeless features and a rage of the kind I had never experienced before had swept through me. She had given me everything materially possible; everything except love. She had ensured I had a good education, yet not once, had she simply spent time with me, just been with me the way a mother would be with her child. She had burdened me with her expectations, her aspirations and wishes.
What about me, what about what I wanted? Yes, it’s selfish, I know that. She had sacrificed everything for me, and yet, as I sat there, still holding her hand that was growing increasingly cold, a desolation had swept through me. She had left me without once telling me that she loved me.
I had been a reminder of her past, perhaps. I was someone through whom she thought she could vindicate herself, and I had hated her for that. And I had hated myself for thinking that way. I had been so angry with her for screwing me up in the head. I had been upset with her for not taking better care of herself. I had been frustrated that I had not been old enough to stop her, that I’d been unable to keep her from working herself to death, and…
I had hated myself for not noticing sooner. She had insisted that she was fine and I had opted to believe her. I had lived the life of a carefree youth, someone who had everything going for him, who was going to achieve all of his dreams… The kinds of dreams that she had wanted for me.
I had sworn then, I would avenge her. I would track down those who had been responsible for destroying her. I would find the man who had lied to her and caused her to get pregnant, which had led to the events that had ruined her. I would find my father and ensure that he suffered as much as she had. As much as I had.
It’s what had led me here. All of the images from my past pour through my mind, and for a second, I have complete clarity.
I remember now, how I had tracked down my father. And when he had been killed before I’d had the opportunity to avenge my mother, I had been forced to refocus my attention on my brothers.
I had already approached Christian’s now-wife Aurora in London and coerced her into helping me. When her father had taken ill and she’d returned home to become the Sovranos' doctor, that only made it easier.
Then, Christian put himself in my crosshairs when he fixated on Aurora. I could learn more about him than anyone else because he spent the most time with her. When the two of them became separated from the rest of the family, and thus, were unprotected, I had my opportunity to strike.
And I’d had help. I straighten. On my side, I’d had an ally who was more powerful, stronger than the Cosa Nostra, and with as fierce a motive as mine to take them down.
It’s why I must go through with this sham of a marriage—something I hadn’t anticipated, but which I can use to my advantage. It’s why I will use my soon-to-be wife to get back at the Cosa Nostra.
I throw back my head and laugh. It’s perfect, actually. I couldn’t have planned this set-up better.
I am going to leverage this marriage to my benefit…and take full advantage of the perks that come with it, too. I roll off the bed where I had flung myself down after returning from the meeting with my brothers. It’s only a short flight of steps from the study downstairs to my bedroom, but the catch-up with them and the events of the day had taken it out of me. I’m healing fast, but I’m nowhere near my former health, and while I am pushing myself to get in shape, I also know the dangers of overdoing it. So, I had forced myself to return to my room and I’d taken a nap. A bloody nap in the middle of the day… Like I’m a helpless infant, but at least, I feel refreshed. And I am going to need my strength for what I have in mind.
22
Theresa
I stand under the shower, let the hot water flow over my shoulders, my back, and down my legs. I raise my head to the spray and revel in the steam and warmth that envelops me. The talk with the women had both reassured and unsettled me.
At least, Karma is taking care of my dress. And Cass has assured me that I need not worry about the wedding arrangements. She said she and Nonna will handle that. Of course, I had a clear vision about the flower arrangements and Elsa helped to bring that to life. She also promised to make arrangements with a friend of hers who runs a macaroonerie—yes, that’s, apparently, a thing, a shop specializing in macaroons. Which means, all I have to do is turn up in a few days.
Cass says the venue will be the family church in Palermo, which I had already anticipated. The Sovranos are sticklers for tradition, except apparently, when it comes to planning weddings, when they are happy to get married with extremely short timelines. Where other brides need months, and sometimes years, to plan their weddings, the Sovrano brides have to make do with days to plan everything. I remind myself that this is my fault.
At least, I have a week. And I could have had a month if I hadn’t opened my big mouth. Either way, that’s generous compared to Karma and Aurora, who were both married within 48 hours. The Sovranos have enough clout that getting a marriage license on such short notice is no big deal. So, the marriage preparations are all in hand.
It’s really what Karma had hinted at later that makes me uncomfortable. Will Axel really be upset that I asked him to marry me in front of his brothers? Is that an affront to his ego, as Karma had warned? Will he try to get back at me for it? If so, what will he do? And since I am living under the same roof as him, is that even advisable?
He won’t kill me—nah, as Karma pointed out, bodily harm is not in the mix, but it’s the other stuff he can do to me that worries me— how he can make me melt with a glance, how he can touch me and I’ll feel it all the way to my toes, how he’ll glare at me and a shiver runs down my spine, how he’ll lower his voice to a hush and something inside me insists I obey him. Damn it. Basically, I’m putty in his hands. I don’t stand a chance against him. So how the hell am I going to survive being married to him? Again, what the hell had I been thinking when I had flung the proposal at him, and in front of everyone else?
I groan and lean my forehead against the wall of the shower. Clearly, I have a death wish. It’s why I had challenged his ego. Of course, he’s going to be miffed. But is Karma right? Is he going to take revenge for what I did? I know I left him with little choice but to agree to my proposal. It’s why I had raised it in front of everyone.
No, I hadn’t planned it—not consciously—but my subconscious is way ahead of me at the moment. He’s recovering so much more quickly than anyone expected. And no way, could I let him go after he recovers. I needed to find a way to tie him to me, to buy some time while I figure out how to win him over. No, I had done the right thing. Too bad, if his ego is hurt. He’ll just have to deal with it. And if he decides to take it out on me… Well, I’ll just have to deal with it. I’ll need to plow through the next few days, until I get to the wedding. Once we are married, I’ll have to find a way to get into his good books, if that’s even possible. I straighten, then wash the shampoo from my hair. I switch off the shower and turn, then scream.
"What the h…hell, what are you doing here?"
He simply watches me from under his thick eyelashes. Those blue eyes of his seem to glow with an inner fire. He’s wearing a short-sleeved, white T-shirt which clings to his shoulders. I can’t help but take in the patchwork of scars and tattoos on his right forearm. I lower my gaze to where the material of the jeans molds to those powerful thighs. Jesus, whatever his profession was, it definitely involved a lot of physical activity. What did he do anyway? Is he a part of some other rival gang? Is he a mercenary? An assassin, maybe? Not sure why, but something in the way he’s always on alert, the way he had come awake from the coma, only to jump out of bed and take on the man who had attacked me in his room… I am still not over it. That kind of strength means he’s had special training, but where? With whom?
"What’s going on in that mind of yours?" he rumbles.
"N…nothing." I straighten my spine. I am not going to hide. This is my bathroom, damn it. He is the one who’s intruding, not me. Besides, I had made the first move, surprising him with the proposal, and now I need to face whatever the repercussions from it are.
I step out of the shower stall completely naked. He rakes his gaze down my chest pausing on my breasts for a few seconds before he continues his visual journey over my stomach and down to my pussy.
My thighs clench and I resist the urge to cross my legs. Instead, I prop my hand on my waist and tip up my chin. "See something you like?" I attempt for a casual tone, but my voice comes out in the form of a squeak.
He doesn’t reply. Rather, he takes his time with a leisurely perusal as he drags his gaze back to my chest. My nipples bead and my breasts hurt. Damn it, if only he’d close the distance between us and crush me to the hard planes of his chest.
By the time he raises his gaze to my face, I am flushed.
"Well?" I demand, "I asked you a question."
"You’re not my type, but I’ll shag you on our wedding night."
My jaw drops. "What the hell?" I snap. "Do you have to be so uncouth?"
"Would you expect anything else from me?"
"I am not sure what to expect from you, to be honest." I raise a hand, then let it drop.
"I gotta admit, I didn’t expect you to propose to me either," he murmurs.
"And yet, you agreed?" I fold my arms around my waist and his gaze, once more, lowers to my chest. I resist the urge to look down, knowing my stance must lift my boobs and make them pop out a bit further.
"You knew I didn’t have a choice." He takes a step forward. I flinch. Don’t sidle back; don’t allow him to find out how nervous you are around him right now. I dig my bare feet into the floor and hold my position.
He arches an eyebrow, then closes the distance until he’s right in front of me. The heat from his body pours over me; the scent of him surrounds me. His blue eyes bore into me and my breath catches.
"I am not scared of you," I declare.
His lips twitch, "You should be." He drags his finger down the curve of my breast and a moan wells up my throat. I bite down on my lower lip as he draws a circle around my nipple. I feel the touch all the way to my core. My toes curl and a shiver runs down my spine.
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
"Checking out my merchandise."
Anger suffuses my veins. I lift my hand, but he’s too fast. He grabs my wrist; the next second, he’s turned me around with my arm behind my back, so I am facing the mirror. He hauls me to him, throws his other arm around my waist, and holds me immobile.
"Let go of me," I gasp.
