Indebted to the Mafia King
Convincing

Tony

Chloe blinks at me, too astonished to say anything.

What the hell just came over me? Did I just propose to her? Was this really the best plan I could put together?

A sneer escapes her lips, and I narrow my eyes at her.

"Did you hit your head on your way over here or what? Of course we're not getting married," she counters, her voice not sounding very convincing. It seems like she is trying to convince herself other than me. "Yes, we are," I affirm. "Think about it...it's the best way to keep Mateo away. As my wife, you'd not only have the protection of the Saints, but of my allies as well," I reiterate, hoping to sound more persuasive.

"I don't need to be your wife for that, we can just pretend we're dating," Chloe retorts, crossing her arms in front of her chest, her brows rising in defiance.

I offer her a smile. "As sweet as it may sound, girlfriends don't carry that much weight to men like us," I explain. "None of the guys from the Irish Kings or the Triads in Chinatown, for example, would give a shit about my girlfriend if there's no ring on her finger. It's a statement, Chloe, and well, girlfriends don't scream that in our world. Some of us have plenty, if you know what I mean."

I bite the side of my cheek so as not to smile at the way she grimaces at what I implied. It's cute, actually. If I didn't know her any better, I'd think that was a glimpse of jealousy.

But she dismisses it with a scoff. "Seems to me you gave this a lot of thought."

I ponder telling her that this idea just crossed my mind, but I don't want to feed her with information on how unprepared I came here.

So, instead, I smirk at her, the side of my lips curling up slightly as I realize I've been moving toward her this whole time. There's barely any distance between us now. She's even turned on the stool a little to face me. My eyes roam over her face, and instinctively, my hand reaches to move a strand of her smooth, beautiful blonde hair out of her face, brushing it over her shoulder.

It doesn't go unnoticed by me the way goosebumps spread across her skin when my finger grazes her shoulder.

"We don't have another choice," I answer, my voice barely above a whisper. "This is your only option."

Chloe gulps, her eyes fixed on mine as she considers my words. I need to control every ounce in my body that wants to reach out to her, to end the distance between us, to make sure she feels how much I still want her, even after all this time.

But I can't do that.

We're only doing this to keep her and her family safe. I have no right over her.

"Do you really think that's gonna work?" she asks in a low voice.

Maybe this is all in my head, but Chloe seems to be just as affected as I am with our proximity. For a single moment, I wish she could be the one to close the space between us, throwing her arms around me and pulling me to her. Is this too much wishful thinking on my part? I feel stupid to be thinking like that. What am I, five?

Fucking focus, Tony! I scold myself.

I nod, answering her, "If Mateo is coming for you and Ellie, you will need all the help you can get, all New York underground forces on your side," I tell her calmly, but firmly. "What better way to have that than being the Saints' queen?" Only when Chloe's hand pushes against my chest, shoving me away, do I realize just how much closer I'd gotten to her. It's like my body gravitates toward her, even without me realizing it. As if there's a magnetic force bringing us together whenever we're in the same room.

She blushes aggressively, and the sight of that makes my cock twitch in my pants.

Fuck, that's annoying.

A chuckle rips from my throat, and I shove my hands in my pants pockets, straightening up and lifting my chin. "I guess I will see you in the morning," I say, unbothered.

Chloe widens her eyes, standing from her stool in a blink of an eye.

"Wait, no! We're not seeing each other in the morning. We need to discuss this," she presses, a little worked up with all the information I just dumped on her.

"What else is there to say, Chloe? Unless you have another suggestion, I think this is the only choice we have now." I look at her, waiting to see if she will propose something different.

I don't think she will because otherwise she wouldn't have come to me for help in the first place, but still, I don't want to impose myself on her. Although that's exactly what I am doing. But we don't have a choice. There's no ulterior motive behind any of this on my part. I just want to keep her safe. And I have no clue on how to do that other than keeping her as close to me as possible.

Chloe shifts on her feet, uncomfortable under my intense gaze, but I remain quiet, waiting to see if she will offer anything else.

"I don't have another idea," she answers shyly. "But we need to discuss this. It's not that simple..."

"It is, actually. You get your stuff and Ellie's packed by tomorrow, and I'll have someone coming to pick it up," I tell her with a shrug. "You'll be living in my house."

"Why?" She sounds and seems shocked.

I frown.

"What do you mean why? If we're getting married, it's only expected that my wife lives in the same house as me, isn't it?" I ask, studying her.

She looks so damn hot when she's embarrassed. Her flushed cheeks, the way her eyes dart from one side to another, avoiding my gaze, the way her nose scrunches slightly even though I'm sure she doesn't even realize she's doing it. I hadn't noticed how simply dressed she is when I came inside, too angry to pay attention to anything else, but now that I'm looking at her-really looking-her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, her ragged Rolling Stones tour shirt that probably belonged to her father, and her flannel pants, I realize I'm fucked.

Everytime she looks up at me with her beautiful cornflower blue eyes, I have to tell myself over and over that she is not mine. She was, one single night, one that I can't fucking remember, but that was it.

This is going to be a nightmare. Maybe she is right, maybe this plan sucks. How am I supposed to live in the same house as her and stay away from her? How am I supposed to see her every night when I come home and not be able to touch her or take her in my arms?

If I have to see her walking around the house looking like this every day, I might not be able to keep my hands to myself.

Yeah, this will be fucking excruciating.

That's going to be the real challenge, not facing Mateo. It'd probably be much easier to go into war with him than convince my body that I can't have her.

"It is too fast," Chloe argues, although her voice is softer this time. "I have Ellie, she's still adapting to this house."

Now she's just making excuses.

I smirk at her. "Come on, Chloe. That's stupid. I'm sure your, what...one-year-old daughter will adapt just fine to my mansion," I retort in a teasing tone. "It won't be that hard, trust me." She gulps, looking away from me again.

When she doesn't say anything else for a whole minute, I decide it's time for me to go. I have work to do and I'm not going to convince her of anything else today. If she didn't want me to take charge of the situation, she shouldn't have come to me in the first place.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." I turn to leave, but then remember something I didn't mention and turn on my heels. "Ah, one last thing, your mom is not invited to move in." And without another word, I guide myself out of the house.

I half expect Chloe to grab her gun again and shoot me in the back, but when I'm out of the house and safe, I grin to myself.

Somehow, I feel pretty good about this new plan. I had no idea what to do when I came here to confront her about Mateo, but thinking clearly now, this was the best solution. It can actually work.

I walk to my car and climb inside, reaching for my phone and dialing Sal, who now works for me in New York City. It takes him a while to pick it up, and I'm about to give up and have someone else do the task for me, but then I hear his voice on the other side of the line.

"Yes, Boss? Sorry, I had a little situation," he says as a way of greeting.

"All good over there?" I ask, hearing some guys yelling in the background.

"Yep, the problem was dealt with, nothing to worry about. What can I do for you?" he asks, his voice more cheerful, yet still professional.

"I have a task for you," I inform him. "Shake down one of the court clerks on our payroll to have a marriage license ready for tomorrow morning. Do not accept any excuses, hear me? I need it done and dealt with by 10 am tomorrow." "Consider it done, Boss."

I hang up and lean my head back against the headrest.

God, what did I get myself into? If someone told me two years ago that one day I'd be fake married to Chloe Bertolucci I'd laugh in their face and tell them there was no way in hell that could ever happen.

But my life is never simple. Never predictable.

Tomorrow could be the beginning of a new life for Chloe and Ellie, or the end of life as we know it. Or, perhaps both.