Owned by the mafia boss

ALESSIO

My fiancée loathed me more than ever.

I thought I’d smoothed it over, but the Paulie Valente incident set us back weeks, which drove me insane because that piece of shit wasn’t worth her rage. She was determined to punish me for that lapse in judgment. Not with insults or threats to bodily injury. Mia didn’t possess an ounce of mean in her body, which was good because I had enough for both of us.

She fought back with the silent treatment.

God, I hated it.

Whenever I walked into the room, she acknowledged me like a noxious fume. Her brows knitted, and her lips pursed. She was a sullen child forced into summer school, uttering concise responses to my questions, taking part only when I prodded.

She couldn’t stand my presence. Refused to join me for meals. She grazed on fruit, cheese, and handfuls of nuts. She wasn’t eating properly, and I loathed it because I was Italian.

She needed to fucking eat.

I was tired of tiptoeing around the princess, so I hunted my mansion until I found her in my library.

Mia was curled on the floor, her espresso-brown waves spilling over the carpet. Her naked calves folded to the side as she read a book. Her shift dress ended mid-thigh. All that skin on display filled my cock with blood and blinded me to everything that wasn’t my fiancée. My very fuckable fiancée who hadn’t touched me since the other night.

I strolled inside, the rugs muffling my footsteps. Mia flipped pages as I stalked her until my shadow rippled over her. She froze like a feral cat that feared people, except she was only skittish around me.

“What are you reading?”

She snapped the book shut and scooted, hiding the cover. “It won’t interest you, anyway.”

“Humor me, for God’s sake. You know I’ll look at it as soon as you take off.”

Mia kicked it under an end table. Such a brat. My patience, already frayed, cracked when she breezed past.

I sidestepped her, blocking her way. “Why are you ignoring me?”

I caught her arm, and her thin veneer of defiance seemed to shatter. She resembled the scared girl I’d picked up two weeks ago.

“Instead of pouting, use your words. Tell me what the fuck you need.”

“You can’t give me what I want. Leave me alone, Alessio.”

She twisted from my grasp and stormed into the hall. Her bare feet slapped the wood. The door crashed open and slammed. I charged after her, easily as angry as my pint-sized fiancée.

She was sulking outside for a change.

Part of me would’ve loved to lock her out in the cold, but her hunched figure doused the flames in my chest. The dress did her zero favors in the November chill. If she felt pain, it didn’t seem to register. She stared into the deep green lawn surrounded by evergreens.

“Mia, come inside. You’re cold.”

Her lips parted. “I’m fine.”

Clearly, she was not.

Sane people didn’t act like this. Was she lashing out? Trying to hurt me? Why was she so bent out of shape?

I grabbed a wool throw and joined her, the air biting my lungs as I wrapped her in the fabric. As soon as it touched her, her rage broke like dried pasta. She clutched her throat, fighting to force out the words.

“My sister. It’s her birthday.”

Shit. I forgot.

Which sank a stone in my gut. “Sorry.”

“I’ve been so selfish.” Mia bowed her head, two small tears streaking her cheeks. “I-I’ve made this week all about me.”

I wiped her face before sliding my hands to her waist. “Do you think she’d want you to punish yourself?”

“I’m not punishing myself. I’m helping my sister.”

“What does freezing your ass off have to do with Carmela?” I rubbed warmth into her. “Come inside. Eat.”

“I have to find her. I’ve been reading things that might help. Missing persons cases. People who turned up months, even years later.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

The hope in her voice gutted me. “Mia, she’s not coming back.”

“You don’t know that. There’s no proof she’s gone. Half a year later, no answers. Who killed her, how, when. She could be alive-”

“She’s dead. I saw the crime scene.”

“How can you be so cold?”

“We deal with it in different ways.”

The first month after Carmela’s murder was a blur of alcohol and sleepless nights. In my darker moments, I wondered if she cried out my name while the sick son-of-a-bitch murdered her.

Now?

I barely thought of her.

Mia took my hand. Her eyes softened, and her mouth parted. She was about to apologize.

I didn’t need to hear it, so I cut her off. “You did everything you could. We searched every corner of those woods. Stop shaking your head. You need to know your limits. You’re not a homicide detective. Or a god. You can’t conjure her from thin air. It’s time. Let her go.”

Mia looked away as though she couldn’t bear the sight of me. She flushed as she broke from my side and marched down the steps. Barefoot, she strolled through the grass.

I caught up to her. “What are you doing?”

“Going for a walk.”

“No, you’re not.”

I swept her off her feet and hoisted her high against my chest. Mia gasped, her fingers like icicles on my neck.

“You’re staying inside where it’s warm. Then you’ll eat. If I have to strap you to a chair and spoon feed you, I will.” My feet slid over the heated tiles as I kicked the door shut. “Save us both the trouble.”

“Just let me be sad.”

“Eat.” I put her down and adjusted the blanket over her shivering limbs. “You’ll feel better. Promise.”

I kissed her cheek, and her lip trembled.

All the fight in her seemed to disappear as I led her to the table. She sat, her face beet-red as I warmed leftover pasta. Silently, she watched as I poured Bolognese over penne and grated parmesan. I pushed it in front of her. She picked up the fork tremulously and stabbed the food. As it touched her mouth, her eyes welled.

“That bad?”

Her lips twitched. “It’s good. Thank you.”

I could barely meet her gaze.

“Carmela cooked the gravy on Sundays. She liked to throw in zucchini. And mushrooms. Just about every vegetable in the fridge. Made it watery as hell.” A tremor went through her, and then she dropped the fork. “I’m sorry.”

She took a few steadying breaths and tried again. She ate as though each bite caused her pain, and her grief ripped me up inside. I couldn’t watch this-I couldn’t stand the gut-punch of her heartbroken gasps.

I sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “It’ll get easier, Mia.”

She nodded, pushing away the bowl. “I want to ask you something.”

Here we go.

“Do you still have my sister’s ring?”

“Yeah.”

I stuffed it in my sock drawer months ago. Her father gave it back after he found it on her nightstand. I wasn’t sure what to do with Carmela’s ring, but tossing it in a river felt wrong.

“I want to wear it.”

Are you kidding me? “No.”

“I want the ring. It’s the last thing she wore before…” Mia broke off, swallowing. “It’ll make me feel closer to her.”

“You don’t need to dwell on her final moments.”

“It’s not about that, Alessio. She loved that ring. I chose the setting, stone, everything. Remember?”

I remembered quashing many inappropriate thoughts as I picked up my fiancée’s much more desirable sister for ring-shopping.

“I don’t want her jewelry on you.”

“I know it’s uncomfortable, but I think it’ll help me cope with this.” She gestured between us. “Please.”

I didn’t need the constant reminder, but if it made her happy…

“Let’s see if it fits.”

Mia followed me into the bedroom. A rolled-up pair of socks hid the ring. I fished it out, popped the lid, and grabbed the silver blazing with the princess-cut sapphire. I would’ve shut the box if she’d burst into tears. Mia plucked it from my hand and slid it onto her finger.

Déjà-fucking-vu.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

She sighed as though a piece of her had been returned. Then she bounced on her toes to kiss my cheek. My body’s response was a firestorm where there were only ever embers with Carmela, and my heart pounded when she pressed an even lighter kiss into my mouth.

I closed my eyes at the contact. An instinct to deepen the kiss flared, and if I hadn’t had my fist around the reins, I would’ve put her chaste pecks to shame. She wasn’t ready, but she would be.

Soon.