Owned by the Italian Mafia Don: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 2)
Owned by the Italian Mafia Don: Chapter 8

I know she wants to keep the gem, that stupid fucking rock. I know the reason why she wants to hold onto it. It is worth a lot of money, and while she thinks that is what is keeping her safe, she’s wrong. It will be me protecting her. She’ll learn over time. She’ll see.

“Okay, well, I need to finish working for the day. Can we pick this up later? I’ll sign whatever documents you want, but I need to open the store again.”

I toss my head back and laugh, turning to look at Gianni, then Matias, and they begin laughing too. “You’re done here, Tesoro.”

“What?” her eyes widen.

“You’re done.” I lean over the counter and grab her by her arms, dragging her up and across.

“What are you talking about? Let go of me!” she fights, trying to pull out of my grasp and I tighten my hold on her, so she stops squirming. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll drive myself.”

Matias opens the door and before we go out, I slam her against the closed side. “You aren’t ever to be out of my sight. You are mine now.”

“I am far from yours,” she seethes just as my nose touches hers.

My fingers drift down her side, sparks of electricity tickling the pads of them. “You’re mine in all the ways that matter, Tesoro. Remember, you’re mine for a year.”

“It doesn’t mean I do what you say.”

“Mmm, no, but it does mean I get to have fun getting you to try. You won’t be coming back here for a while.”

“I need to tell my family.”

“I’ll take care of that,” I state, pushing her out the door. “Don’t fight me. Do not cause a scene. Do not draw attention. For all we know, Bianchi is watching and the less guilty you look, the better.”

“I’m not guilty,” she weakly argues.

Matias opens the back door of the luxury black vehicle and when she dips her head down, I grip her by the back of the neck, spin her around, and pin her against the car.

“Ari, we have to go,” Matias warns me.

“I’ll get in the driver’s seat,” Gianni states, and Matias watches over us.

“Sorry Matias, I need to have a word with my fiancé,” I grit, falling deeper into those blue eyes she spits fire with.

“I am not your fiancé.”

“Must you argue about everything? Do you always have to fight? Do you always have to have the last word? Because you are my fiancé.”

“I’m not your fiancé until I sign the dotted line, you overgrown, money hungry…”

I raise my brows, daring her to say the vile words on the tip of that pretty tongue. “You were saying?”

“Just a few beeps here and there,” she says bitterly.

She was about to cuss me out.

“We need to work on that mouth of yours. It’s so filthy.” I push her down and she falls into the car, landing in the back seat. Her face is level with my cock and when she looks up at me, those long lashes touching her brows and her eyes full of hate, my cock aches with want. “You look good down there,” I tease her, wanting to rile her up again because why the hell not?

She’s sexy when she’s mad.

She rolls her eyes but then they land on my cock. “In your dreams, Mafia Man. You’ll take me to a clinic, come in a cup, and that is how I’ll get pregnant.”

“We’ll see about that.” I knew I wasn’t going to come in a damn cup. We’d make a baby the old-fashioned way. I’m a patient man and there’s no way in hell I’ll going to miss having sex with my wife. I’m a possessive asshole and even though this is a business deal, I’m going to treat her as if this is real.

“We won’t see shit,” she grumbles, then gasps when she realizes her mistake.

I slip into the car and Matias shuts the door. “What was that?”

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” She crosses her arms in a huff. “But if I did say something—”

“—Here we go,” I say under my breath, my head throbbing from her constant need to argue and have the last word. I said it low enough so she couldn’t hear me.

“—If I did say something, I would have said, ‘We won’t see shit.’ But that’s if I said something, which I didn’t.”

I can’t help but smile at her. I tilt my head back and chuckle. “And if you did say something, but you didn’t, I’d bend you over my lap right now, but since you didn’t say anything—”

“—I didn’t,” she lies.

“Then that won’t be happening.” I curl my fingers through hers to hold her hand.

She tries to yank it away, trying to shake me off like I’m a bug. “What are you doing?”

“I’m holding your hand. My love language is physical touch. Expect a lot of it.”

“I don’t speak your language.” She drops my hand. “And how do you know your love language?”

“Shut up and take my hand.” I snag her again, locking our fingers together, then tilt my head back against the seat.

She tries to shake my hand again, but I hold on tight, and eventually, she relents, exhaling with annoyance.

“Freaking unbelievable,” she mutters, but the hold she has on me loosens as she relaxes.

I’ve never told anyone how much I love to touch. I crave it and that’s probably because my entire life I have gone without it. I don’t go around and advertise how much I love physical connection. It will make me look weak and I know I’m not. I’m far from a weak man, but sitting here, holding the hand of a woman who hates me, it’s nice.

She won’t hate me forever. I’m impossible not to like me after you get to know me. I do what I need to but once I’m at home and I’m able to take the mask off, I’m a different man.

I’m not the villain she paints me to be.

“Rilo is there waiting for you with the contract,” Matias interrupts the silence.

“Okay, thank you, brother,” I say, not opening my eyes until we get to the compound.

“Wow, that was fast.”

I squeeze Rosie’s hand. “I am not the kind of man that wastes time. A deal is a deal. The sooner you’re protected by me, the better. It means we can get your family to safety.”

“You’re right.”

That has my eyes snapping open. I turn to her, my mouth parted in shock. “I’m sorry? Can you repeat that? Are you not going to argue with me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not on your life am I repeating that.”

If I’m not mistaken, a hint of a smile plays on her lips.

“I’m starting to think you’re not as serious as you seem,” she says, eyeing me as if she’s trying to figure me out.

“I’m one of those mafia guys who has a sense of humor. We’re rare.”

“Aw, you think you’re funny. That’s kind of cute.”

I want to lean in and kiss her mouth, silence her sass, and drink it in, swallow it, let it run through my veins so it can give me a buzz just like whiskey would.

I doubt my kiss would be welcome. She’s simply tolerating me right now.

“I’m hilarious,” I defend.

“No, he isn’t,” Matias drones in a monotone voice, bored as he looks at his phone.

“Don’t listen to him. I make him laugh. Don’t let his handsome face fool you.”

“You only think he has a handsome face because it’s your face.”

“He has my face,” Matias argues.

“Oh my god, I’m already wanting to jump out of this car and make a run for it. I’ll take my chances on my own, just get me out of here.” She bangs her head against the glass of the car and Matias sends me a wink.

When the car pulls in front of the gate, I watch Rosie for her reaction. Her brows raise and she lets go of my hand, dipping her head so she can look out the front windshield.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you had money.”

Gianni smothers a laugh with a cough from the driver’s seat.

“I like to joke, but I don’t joke about that,” I state firmly.

The iron gates swing open, and we pull forward, parking in front of the steps.

A few of my men are outside waiting for us to return and I step out first, not wanting Gianni to open the door for us.

It’s important for me to show my men I’m serious about Rosie. The more I treat her with respect, the more they will. If I treat her as if she’s nothing to me, they will as well, and she doesn’t deserve that. If I’m honest, I don’t think I could treat her like that anyway. Something burns for her inside me, something I haven’t felt for anyone.

I hold out my hand to help her out of the car and she gives me a look of defiance. I slide my eyes to the left and right, hoping she becomes aware of the men around us.

She can’t deny me in front of them. Granted, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. She’s stubborn and I love it.

With a roll of her eyes and a pinch of her lips, she reluctantly slides her hand into my palm. I let out a breath I was holding, waiting for her to make up her mind, and give her a slight nod of thanks.

She climbs out of the car, wearing nothing but a plain pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that says New England across the front. Her wild curls are all over the place and I still want to run my fingers through them, but I feel like that might be overstepping my bounds.

I know I have already, but this is different. Touching her like that seems intimate, close, a place we are not at yet—if ever.

“Wow,” she awes, staring up at the large mansion. “This is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I place my hand on her lower back and begin to walk. She follows me and the men eye her with curiosity. “I’ll introduce you to everyone later but everyone this is Rosie. She is to be treated with respect. She’s to be my wife. If I replace out you treated her badly, I’ll have your head. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“You got it, Mr. M.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey, Rosie.”

They all agree and greet her in different ways and for the first time, she leans against me, looping her arm through mine and tugging herself close.

I don’t know why, but I love that gesture. She is using me as a safe space, averting her eyes away from the men watching her, assessing her, and wondering if she will make a good addition to the Milazzo family.

I do not doubt that her fire, strength, and willpower will be a force to be reckoned with and an amazing addition to the Milazzo name.

When we step into the house, I can’t help but watch Rosie. I want to see her reaction to her new home.

“If you don’t like anything, we can change it,” I offer for some insane reason, but I want her to feel at home.

“Change?” she scoffs. “It’s beautiful. Oh my god, the fireplace.” She runs to it, smiling so wide I know her cheeks have to hurt. “I’ve never had a fireplace before.”

My smile falters a little bit, hating she hasn’t had the simple luxury of enjoying the warmth of a fireplace. “Well, maybe at some point we can use it.”

“It’s too warm,” she says sadly.

“Then I’ll turn down the air conditioner until it’s freezing, and we can use the fireplace.” I don’t even think about that choice. It’s obvious. I open the office doors and Rilo is sitting in the chair, enjoying one of my imported cigars while drinking my whiskey.

“About time you got here,” he drowses, puffing on the cigar.

“Make yourself at home, Rilo,” I sound anything but amused.

“Did you mean it?” Rosie’s voice is soft for the first time, her hand wrapping around mine before I can walk further into the office.

“Mean what?”

“The fireplace.”

“I did.” I shrug my blazer off and hang it on the coat rack.

“That’s really nice. Thank you,” she says.

Rilo’s voice ruins the one sincere moment between Rosie and me. “Are you ready? I have the contract and the marriage license.” He tosses the remainder of his cigar into his drink to put it out. “I have a meeting in an hour elsewhere.”

He opens the folder and places the contract and the marriage license on the table, handing me a fountain pen.

“Sign it so I can get out of here.”

“Wait,” Rosie protests. “Already? You want me to sign the marriage license and that’s it?”

I sign the contract because Carmine had one made for his wife and I amended it with a few extra things for Rosie last night. Then I sign the marriage license, handing her the pen next. “What did you expect?” I ask her. “Surely, you didn’t want a wedding, flowers, and a dress for this?” I tease slightly, knowing she wouldn’t have wanted that with me.

She snatches the pen away from me and gives me a dirty look. “With you? No. Like every girl I had a dream of getting married, what I wanted, what I wanted my dress to look like, but like everything else in my life right now, I’m not surprised that’s never going to happen.”

I don’t let my facial expression show my disappointment in myself. I’m in front of Rilo and I have to remain passive and uncaring. I don’t like that I’m taking yet another dream away from her. I had forgotten most women love the traditional wedding and dream about it most of their lives.

Maybe in the future, when she doesn’t hate me so much, I’ll be able to give her that.

“We’ll have to talk about that one day,” I say to her, wanting to give her hope.

She shakes her head in disbelief, placing the end of the pen against her chin while she reads over the contract out loud.

“Terms of marriage between Rosie O’Connor and Aristide Milazzo are as follows:

– An agreement has been made between the two parties. Rosie O’Connor has agreed to marry and have a child (the child must be conceived and born within one year) with Aristide Milazzo to save her family’s store and protect her from the law and rival mafia boss due to the fact she murdered a rival mafia’s man.

– Both parties share the same bed.

– They are to raise our child together. She will be a part of this baby’s life. A child needs a mother.”

“That’s…nice of you to add the last part, but after this contract is over, we will get an annulment as if it never happened, and then I’ll have a real wedding with my real husband,” she says, her voice tired and bored while she reads.

Anger swells in my chest and my teeth clench together hard. “Rilo, will you go wait in the kitchen?” My voice trembles with uncontained lividity.

Rosie hears and she looks up at me, taking a step away as if I’m going to hurt her.

Never in my life would I or will I raise my hand to a woman.

“I’m going to prepare myself some food,” Rilo informs me.

“I don’t care.” I open the door for him to leave. “I need a moment alone with my wife.”

“Not your wife yet. I’m reading every line of this contract, so I’m not taken by surprise.”

“Good luck,” Rilo tells me as he walks out, and I can’t help but slam the door behind him.

“Is that what you think? That this isn’t a real marriage? I’m not going to be a real husband? I’m not going to take care of you, provide for you, protect you?”

“You can do all those things but you’re missing the main ingredient in making a marriage work,” she says, flipping the page of the contract. She looks up at me, “Love, Mr. Milazzo.”

“Who says I can’t get you to fall in love with me?” I step forward, wanting the challenge more than ever.

“This relationship has been built on ultimatums. I believe relationships end in the way they start. If a man cheats on his wife and leaves her for another woman, then he will cheat again, and the cycle will be never-ending. This relationship started like this,” she holds up a contract. “And it will end like this.”

“I’m going to change your mind.”

“I doubt it.” She flips the page, and my anticipation grows when I realize she is on the last page.

She’s going to be furious.

Her cheeks redden and her blazing blue eyes fire at me from above the contract. “What the hell is this?” Rosie grips the paper with both hands and reads the clause I put in there last night. “Ms. O’Connor agrees to immediately stop taking any forms of birth control the moment she signs this contract and for the contract to be valid, the marriage must be consummated?” Her voice rises. “You have got to be kidding me!” she flings the pen at me and I dodge it before it hits me in the face. “You are unbelievable. Are you really that pathetic? Surely, you can go replace a woman to scratch your itch while I wait here.”

“I don’t want any woman. I want you.” I pick up the pen and give it back to her. “Also, continue reading. Your annulment idea won’t work,” I might say with too much eagerness.

Her eyes narrow at me before falling back to the paper. “She will not ask for a divorce for three years.” She clenches her jaw. “You have got to be kidding me.”

I cross my arms, feeling victorious. “Go on,” I urge her.

She sighs in annoyance. “Rosie O’Connor’s family will be protected financially, and Aristide Milazzo agrees to pay for everything and anything when it comes to relocating them out of the country for their own protection. The O’Connors, including Rosie, will never be in financial need again.”

I notice when she gets to the bottom because her eyes soften. “Sign the contract,” I say gently, not wanting to seem like I’m pushing her.

“Well, you’re going to be waiting around forever then and you’re going to be very disappointed when a year is up, and you don’t have a child.”

There’s the sass that’s been waiting to come out while she’s been reading. I love it.

She scribbles her name on the contract and then the license. “Congratulations, Honey,” her voice drips with sarcasm. “Here’s to the worst year of our lives.”

She tries to leave the room, but I grip her by the arm and sling her against one of the leather chairs placed in front of the desk. “Make no mistake, wife,” I place my hand at the bottom of her throat, my thumb sweeping back and forth across her collarbone. “This is just like any other marriage. You will beg for me just like I’ll beg for you. This is going to be the best year of your life; I’ll make sure of it.” I tease her lips, not kissing her, just ghosting mine over hers.

I want to kiss her, but I know my kiss won’t be received well. I can wait until she’s ready. She will be. There’s more than hate between us. I feel it, clawing at the marrow of my bones. It’s explosive, whatever it is, and the more we ignore and try to bury it, the more the fire burns.

Sooner or later, the blaze will take over and there will be nothing left but ash in the pathways we took to ignore each other.

She yanks out of my grasp and hurries to the door, pulling it open only for me to get a view of Rilo making a giant sandwich.

He holds up a butterknife, watching Rosie stomp down the hallway.

“Which one is my room?” she shouts.

“The doors at the end of the hall.” My voice echoes and the door slams a second later.

Rilo goes back to swiping the mayonnaise over the bread. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say she has no idea that’s your room too.”

“Nope, she doesn’t.” I sit on the stool and reach over, grabbing half of a sandwich he has already made.

“Hey, make your own.”

“No.” I bite into it, the lettuce crunching as I chew.

“You have your hands full with her.”

“I know. Isn’t she amazing? I love it.”

He doesn’t laugh. “Why are you doing this?”

“I need an heir,” I frown, knowing he knows the rules.

“Come on, you can get an heir with any woman. Why this?”

“I have to be married too. Rilo, you know this.”

“I don’t. I don’t understand this tradition in your family you guys cling to.” He bites into his sandwich, then wipes the mayo from the corner of his mouth. “I’m just saying, you can’t force her and if you did, I’d kill you.”

“I’d never force her. I’d never do that.”

“You have already. You made her marry you.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but he lifts his hand to stop me. “Come on, you know what I mean. She had no other logical option. You were her best bet. I’m just saying, be careful and be patient with her. Her entire life is changed and to her, it isn’t for the better.” He checks his watch and shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. “Got to go. I’ll get those papers filed. Have a good one.”

“You too. And thanks,” I say, chewing slowly while I think about what he has said.

I’m left alone, wondering if I’m the man people warn others about.

Am I as bad as I never wanted to be?

Do I care?

I think about Rosie, her spite, her anger, her beauty, and the way she makes me feel alive from the moment I looked at her, and I come to the conclusion that maybe I am not a good man.

What’s worse?

I don’t care. I only want her, and I don’t care how I make that happen, even if it does mean blaming it on the tradition my family has always upheld.