Revenge Vows: A Forced Marriage Mafia Romance (Ruthless Mafia Sinners)
Chapter 7

With shaky hands, I sign the papers that legally make him my husband. My signature is greeted with a mocking round of applause.

Bunny leans towards me and points to the camera. “Give the camera a big ol’ smile, honey,” he says to me.

I stare at the camera, and that seems to be enough for him because he grins.

Antonio signs the paperwork and then clasps his hands. “I guess I’m a married man now,” he says to the camera. He winks at it. “How does that feel, Giovanni? I know you wanted her delicious body and possibly her virginity, as well as her intel, but they all belong to me now.”

My body is quaking violently with emotions that I can’t contain. I don’t understand why this is happening to me, and I’m angry, as well as strangely aroused. He might be forcing me to marry him, and he might be planning to hurt me because of what he thinks I did to him, but he still makes my heart race and my core clench.

“I think that’s enough now,” the man who brought me out says. He is the only one who seems unhappy with the charade.

“You’re no fun,” the man holding the camera says.

“I have a hockey game to watch. She’s married to you now or whatever. Can I take her back to the house?” he asks, looking at Antonio.

“Not until we exchange rings,” he says.

The man holding the camera hoots in excitement. The other man rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath.

Antonio looks at me. “I guess I have to untie you now,” he says.

He cuts the zip ties around my wrists. I have been so tied up for so long that my hands have become numb. I want to cry at the pain lancing through my fingers as the circulation returns to them.

Antonio motions for me to hold out my hands. I slowly hold them out, and he produces a ring that he slides onto my ring finger. I don’t even feel the ring as it slides onto my hand because my fingers are so numb.

“Your turn,” he says as the man holding the camera zooms in on our hands.

He gives me the ring meant for him, and I take it with shaky fingers. I stare at the ring clutched in my nerveless fingers. I glance up at him, then reach for his hand and bring it up to my cheek. I see his eyes go wide with surprise, and I think I also see desire flare in their depths. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne and steeling myself.

My heart is racing in my chest, I lift my face off the back of his hand and then bite down on it as hard as I can. I taste at the same time as I hear his shout of surprise and pain. I shove this hand away from me, push the bald-headed man down, and make a run for it.

I have no idea where I am running to, but I know that I just have to get away. If I am caught now, I’ll surely be killed. I run past an iron gate, knowing that it’ll be heavily guarded and not a feasible means of escape.

I can hear the distorted sounds of footsteps behind me, but I just look at the path in front of my pounding feet.

There is something warm on my chin. I think it might be his blood, but I don’t stop running to replace out because I can’t get caught. If I get caught, he’ll kill me.

I round a blind corner and crash into the stocky man who wanted to watch a hockey game. I fly off my feet, landing on my tailbone with jarring force and crying out as the wind is knocked from my lungs.

“You slippery bitch!” he says, sounding winded.

“Maybe she is a damn spy after all,” I hear the younger man say as he comes running up.

Fists that feel like iron grab my hair and pull me off the ground. My hair feels like it’s going to be ripped out at the roots before he grabs my shoulders and shakes me. I feel my teeth rattle together, and I close my eyes.

“I just wanted to take care of this wedding. You had to ruin it, didn’t you?” he demands. “You will learn that defying me isn’t a wise thing to do, Alyssa,” he promises, fury in his voice.

I don’t know why I laugh. Maybe the emotions of the moment are too much for my brain to handle, or maybe I’m losing my mind. I just know that I’m laughing and laughing, and I can’t stop.

“You think it’s funny?” he shouts at me, giving me one more hard shake.

“Yes, I think it is,” I say wearily. “You think I’m a spy, Giovanni thinks he can sell me to the highest bidder, and really I’m just a nobody who sells drinks in your club.”

This seems very funny to me all over again, and I keep laughing.

“She’s lost it,” the smaller man comments drily.

“She’ll sober up after a few days in the basement,” Antonio says, his voice hard.

I open my eyes and look at him. His rage has somehow made him even more attractive than before, and I lean toward him unconsciously, my body drawn to him even if my mind is horrified that I should feel that way. He resists me leaning toward him, and I frown.

I stop laughing and just look at him, staring at me with desire and rage battling in his gaze. I don’t stop to think about what I’m doing. I simply gather saliva in my mouth and then spit in his face.

His face goes blank for a moment, then he delivers a ringing slap to my face. The pain just adds itself to the chaos of emotions roiling within me, and I start laughing like a crazy woman again.

“That’s about enough of that,” I hear someone say, and then everything goes dark.

***

My head hurts, and I wince as I try to move it. What happened? Suddenly, I remember the sham wedding, spitting in Viper’s face, and then darkness. Someone must have hit me over the head. Probably the slightly fatter man.

I struggle into a sitting position, and it dawns on me that the usually dark room has the lights on.

“You’re awake,” he says. As I become aware of his presence.

He has taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His lean, sinewy forearms flex as he cradles a plate of food in his hands. I notice a bandage on his hand, and I feel a sharp spike of pride race through me. It feels good to have hurt him and seeing the tangible evidence of the wound I inflicted makes pleasure tingle through my nerve endings. It feels a lot like the pleasure pooling in my core at the sight of him.

“I hear you haven’t had anything to eat since you arrived. Pardon me. I don’t mean to be a bad host,” he says.

“I don’t want food,” I snap back, closing my eyes.

“Even though you’ve been the absolute worst wife, and you have assaulted your husband on the day of your wedding, I am a generous man. I won’t hold that against you,” he says.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” I ask.

He chuckles. “What do you take me for? A man who would murder his wife in cold blood? Give me some credit, would you?” he says. He sticks a fork into the food on the plate and cuts down. I realize that it’s a slice of cake.

“I came down here to feed my wife some wedding cake,” he says.

“Why are you doing this to me? I swear on my life, I am not a spy. I have never met Giovanni,” I tell him impatiently. I am getting tired of saying this to him.

He winces in a mocking manner and raises his fingers to show the ring on his finger.

“It’s a bit too late for that. I sent the recording of our wedding to Giovanni already. I don’t think he’ll be happy with it,” he says.

I close my eyes as a wave of dizziness washes over me. “You don’t want me. I’m a nobody. Please just let me go back to my family,” I say to him, my voice tired.

“Now I’m hurt. You’ve barely been with your husband for a few hours, and you’re asking to leave already. You’re so cruel,” he says.

There is no getting through to him. “Please just let me go,” I say. I don’t know what else to do. I barely understand the enmity blowing between him and Giovanni. How am I supposed to interpret being forced to marry him just to hurt Giovanni? I think about how proud I was after he fucked me in his office at the club and anger coils around the desire I still feel for him.

He leans over to me and holds out the plate. “Have some cake,” he says.

I look away, and immediately, his hands grab my chin and force me to face him. “It’s not a request. Take the damn cake,” he growls. He jabs the forkful of cake toward me.

I give him a nasty look, wishing that a look could kill someone.

He scowls at my refusal, and he sets the plate down very carefully. He leans forward and grips my chin so hard that my eyes water. He grabs some of the cake off the plate and crams it into my mouth as I sputter and try to writhe away from him.

“You like it, don’t you?” he asks as I choke and try to swallow. He wipes the cake off my lips, and he chuckles at me. “You’re going to be a wonderful wife. I can feel it in my bones,” he says.

“Please, just let me go,” I gasp, “I have a family. They’re all I have. They need me,” I say.

“From now on, Alyssa, you belong to me. Every breath you take, every step, every move. Your spirit, your soul, and your body,” he says, moving his fingers from chin down to my shoulders in a soft caress. “All of you…it belongs to me,” he says.

“Why would you want to be married to someone who hates you?” I demand, a shiver of pleasure thrumming through my body that gives the lie to my words.

He smiles. “I own you now. I like owning things.” He raises himself to his height and looks down at me.

“Get used to life here with me,” he says. “And get used to being down here in the basement until your behavior improves. You can win my trust if you’re a good girl. A husband should be able to trust his wife, after all.”

“Please, let me go,” I plead again.

He smiles. “You’re mine now, Alyssa. Why would I let you go?”

He pushes the plate of cake over to me and claps his hands together to dust them off.

I swallow. I don’t believe him that he will grow to trust me. The part of me that’s so stubbornly attracted to him cries out that it doesn’t matter, that I would take him however he wants to give himself to me.

“Think on it. I’ll be down here tomorrow to see you, wifey,” he says, giving me one last cruel smile, his chocolaty eyes boring into mine before he snaps off the light and leaves me in the darkness.