Toxic Love: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance
Toxic Love: Chapter 5

“You meddling little bitch!”

We’re back in the city, after Charles all but threw me into his car and hauled me here to the elegant old-money apartment he keeps on 5th Ave and 89th, overlooking Central Park. Under normal circumstances, being called a “meddling little bitch” by your own grandfather would probably be traumatic.

Except it takes more than mean words to actually traumatize me at this point. Furthermore, I could give a shit about what Charles thinks of me, and even less about what he says to my face.

Right now, I don’t give a shit about anything aside from the smug sensation throbbing in my veins.

“Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve just done?!”

I smile benignly at my livid grandfather. His face is suffused red, and the bald dome at the center of the silver ring of his cropped, thinning hair is shiny as he snarls at me.

“Sure.”

I have every idea of what I’ve just done. I’ve just inked myself to Dante, in unholy fucking matrimony.

I allow a shiver to drag its nails up my back before I ignore it and steel my nerves. What I’ve just done and what it will cost me doesn’t matter, because it’s a cost I can easily afford to pay. My life is already almost over, but at least what I just did stops Maeve from forfeiting her young life as well.

All the same, my gut twists as I finally digest the reality of the situation.

I’m marrying Dante.

I tremble.

Dante of the cold, piercing blue eyes and the heart of black ice, who rules his kingdom of sin with an iron fist and a lethal will.

Despite our dad’s best efforts, it’s kind of impossible not to cross paths with mafia types as a member of the Black family. But while I’ve never been intimidated by the mafia men I’ve met before, for some reason, I don’t have that same cavalier attitude when it comes to Dante Sartorre.

With him, I feel real fear. I also feel anxiousness, and doubt, and a humming sensation of danger at the back of my neck.

But of all the things I feel when I think of Dante Sartorre, the worst is the one burning like a hot ember in the very center of my chest.

Heat, of the forbidden and horribly wrong variety.

When I think of Dante, what I should be thinking of is the danger that comes with a man like him. I should be focused on the fact that he runs an organization very similar to the clandestine one I’ve been hunting down. Or the fact that not only am I marrying him, but that I’ve just tricked him into that marriage, by pretending to be Maeve when I drove up to his house to sign that goddamn blood marker.

If he wasn’t a fan of me before, he sure as hell isn’t now.

That is everything that should come to mind when I think of Dante. And yet instead, all my traitorous and possibly deranged mind seems to be focused on is the chiseled line of his jaw.

The soft but masculine curve of his lips.

The electrifying spark of blue flame in his eyes.

The way a dark power emanates from him in a way that pulls every single trigger within me.

“Answer me, you little fucking bitch⁠—!”

“That’s enough!”

My hazy, murky, horrible thoughts about Dante shatter. Whirling, my brows arch in surprise as my brothers come storming into Charles’ office.

Gabriel glares at our grandfather with an icy glint in his eyes. “I said that’s enough, Charles,” he seethes.

“Excuse me,” our grandfather snaps. “Last I checked, this is my home, and we’re discussing my business, which your little cunt of a sister just fucked⁠—”

“Call her something to that effect again, Charles,” Alistair snarls quietly in a tone that chills the room, “and we’ll have ourselves a problem you are not prepared to deal with.”

Our grandfather sneers at him disdainfully, but he doesn’t push it, either.

“Do you even know what your sweet little sister just did?!”

Alistair’s eyes dart to Maeve, who’s sitting frightened and wide-eyed, hugging herself in the corner of Charles’ office.

So that’s why they’re here.

I spent the drive back to the city from Dante’s estate in Charles’ town car, being berated and generally screamed at. I’m guessing that’s when Maeve texted my brothers to tell them what was going on.

They may be here to make sure Charles doesn’t throw me out a window. But it’s pretty clear from the frosty glares they shoot me that neither of them is very happy with me after what I just pulled, either.

“Come on, Tempest,” Gabriel mutters quietly. “We’re going. Now.”

“The fuck you are!” Charles snarls, jabbing a finger at me. “We’re not through here!”

“Oh, I can assure you,” Alistair snaps. “We damn well are.”

“If I needed an attorney, Alistair,” Charles roars, “trust that you would be the very last one I called! Now get the hell out of⁠—”

“That’s not happening without Tempest coming with us.”

“Don’t make me tell you again!!!”

I flinch, the soft touch to my arm jerking my attention away from Charles and my brothers yelling. Maeve is looking at me woefully, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“Why, Tempest?” she asks quietly. “Why would you do that?”

It’s the first time we’ve been able to talk since Dante’s house, what with Charles spending the whole drive back yelling at me.

Because it’s a price I can pay, I want to say. But I can’t, so instead I force the calmest smile I’m capable of to my lips as I pull her into a bear hug.

“Because you are not marrying that man,” I hiss fiercely. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not!” She pulls back, her face ashen and caved. “Tempest, you can’t do this for me!”

Oh, believe me, I can.

“It’s already done, Maeve,” I say quietly. “You are not marrying that asshole.”

“But you are!” she blurts, her eyes welling with tears.

I smile wryly at her. “Just trust me, okay? I’ve got an ace up my sleeve here.”

“But—”

“Tempest…”

I flinch, turning to replace Gabriel standing right behind me, leveling one of his chilling, lawyerly looks at me. Gabriel’s one of those people who are normally so even-tempered that when they get that sort of “quiet mad” it’s twice as terrifying as it would be if they were prone to angry outbursts. In this moment, the “quiet mad” smoldering in his eyes is hot enough to turn me to ash right here on Charles’ office rug.

“We’re leaving,” he snaps coldly. “Now.”

I turn to glance at Maeve, who looks just as chilled by my brother’s glare as I am.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say quietly, reaching out to squeeze her hand before I turn to face my brother’s wrath.

“Let’s go,” he growls thinly.

“Don’t you dare walk out that door!” Charles roars as Alistair, Gabriel, and I walk toward it.

“Get fucked, Charles,” Alistair mutters.

“This isn’t over!”

Gabriel’s jaw clenches as he reaches for the knob. “Charles⁠—”

“She signed a goddamn blood marker!”

Everything goes still. Gabriel’s eyes narrow. So do Alistair’s before they slowly swivel to lance into me. He raises one brow as if to say “You didn’t actually fucking do that, did you?”

My throat bobs as I swallow a lump in my throat. When I slowly nod, I watch my brothers’ faces pale.

“Tempest…” Gabriel hisses under his breath.

Charles laughs coldly as the three of us slowly turn to face him. “Not a contract. Not an agreement,” he sneers. “A goddamn blood marker. And you might choose not to participate in the world that is governed by those, but believe me, that world won’t care.”

He levels his eyes at me, his nostrils flaring.

“Tempest is marrying Dante Sartorre now, and there is nothing any of us can do to change that.” His lips curl. “Now, the prudent thing would be to sit down and figure out how this affects the family⁠—”

“You mean how it affects you and your personal mafia wheeling and dealing,” Alistair hisses. “Which I couldn’t give less of a fuck about, Charles.”

Gabriel yanks open the office door, and Charles is still roaring as my brother pulls me through and kicks the door shut behind us. No sooner are we all out of Charles’ apartment and in the hallway than Gabriel slams me against the wall, his face livid. Alistair looks just as menacing and furious standing behind him.

“You did fucking what?!”

“He was going to force Maeve to marry that fucking pig!” I snap. “What the hell else was I supposed to do?!”

“Not go anywhere fucking near Dante Sartorre, for a start!” Alistair snaps coldly.

I roll my eyes. “You know, it’s slightly insulting that you think I’m dumb enough not to know you’re both members of his little sex club.”

My brothers glance at each other nervously, and then back to me.

“That’s for…business,” Gabriel grunts.

“Yeah, business.” I pantomime a blowjob motion as Gabriel makes a face.

“Do me a favor and literally never do that in front of me again,” he groans, looking positively ill.

“Then do me a favor and stop insulting my intelligence! I don’t know how many times I need to say this, but I had to do something. Maeve is family.”

Alistair’s eyes narrow. “She’s Charles’ daughter with⁠—”

“She. Is. Family,” I hiss viciously. “Period! Full stop!” I glare at them both. “Wow, I guess I’m the only one who understands what that means.”

The two of them are silent for a second, sharing a glance before they look back at me.

“Did you really sign the blood marker?” Gabriel grunts.

I nod, and he groans as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I mean, Jesus Christ, Tempest…”

A shiver riffles down my back. There’s something about the gravitas with which they’re both treating this that has me suddenly feeling the full weight of it, too.

The full fear.

I did what I did because I have a rapidly approaching expiration date. But it’s not tomorrow. Or the next day, or even next week or next month. And pretty soon, I’m going to be chained to Dante, for however long I have left.

Suddenly, that sounds way, way more daunting a prospect than it did earlier when I was fueled by bravado and impetuousness.

I swallow weakly as I drag my eyes from my hands up to my brothers’ faces.

“I won’t apologize for what I did, okay? It would be obscene for her to marry Dante.”

Gabriel shoves his fingers through his dark hair. “Neither of us disagrees with you there, Tempest.”

“Well,” I shrug. “Now she’s not. Problem solved.”

“Except you’ve just stepped in front of a bullet.”

“Yeah, well…” I chew on my lip and look down again. “After it’s official, I’m sure you two can replace a way for me to…you know…”

Alistair laughs coldly. “To what, Tempest? This is mafia oath shit!” he hisses. “What, you think Gabriel and I can haggle better terms, or add provisions to the contract?”

I smile weakly. “I mean, you…can, right?”

When they’re both deadly silent, my heart plummets.

“Guys—”

“Tempest, we’re not talking marital law or alimony here. In fact, we’re not talking law at all,” Gabriel mutters. “This is above and beyond that. A blood marker is final. Period. Full stop. Do not pass go, and fuck collecting your two hundred dollars.”

My skin prickles as a cold sensation slithers down my spine.

“You just sold your soul to the devil, Tempest,” Alistair murmurs darkly. “And there is nothing that Gabriel, or I, or you, or anyone else on God’s green Earth can do to stop that now.”