Owned by the mafia boss

LIANA

I could get engaged with the devil I knew, or walk the aisle with the one I didn’t. When approaching it logically, the choice was simple.

Emotionally?

I was a wreck.

My throat tightened as I took in the beautiful setting-the deep mauve tablecloth stretched over a long table framed with a sheer-white canopy, draping in elegant arches. Chandeliers cast a magical glow over the silverware and the purple bouquet in the middle. It was perfect, and utterly confusing.

The mind-blowing confrontation with Vinn threw everything into doubt. He’d done extreme things in the name of protecting me, but he wasn’t an unfeeling, cold monster. If that were true, he wouldn’t let me stay at his house. My Christmas gift from two years ago wouldn’t be perched on his nightstand. He wouldn’t have a magpie-like tendency for all of my stupid presents. I’d snooped through his closet and found a shoebox filled with my letters to Iraq-they were all great condition-except one with the signature ripped off.

The discovery had squeezed my heart.

“I’m happy for you, sweetie.” Mom grabbed my hand, beaming. “Vinny is such a good boy. He’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

Mom had accepted the news of my engagement with open arms and a big smile, which seemed to annoy Michael. He shot Vinn a look of profound disgust and shook his head whenever I met his gaze.

I could hear the poor girl on loop in his thoughts. Michael believed his best friend had knocked me up, but he didn’t buy the fairytale romance. He’d already pulled me aside to demand I tell him the truth, twice.

“If he’s good, I’m the fucking Dalai Lama,” Michael muttered when Mom excused herself for the bathroom. “If somebody did that to my daughter, they’d get a one-way ticket to the Quabbin Reservoir.”

Daniel used that euphemism for years before I realized it didn’t mean a camping trip.

My fork slipped, scraping the ceramic plate with an ungodly shriek. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. Michael had been a moody asshole all night. Vinn would’ve told him to shut up, but he’d drifted aside to chat with relatives.

“I can’t stand him,” Michael continued, his nostrils flaring. “Pretending not to hate the sight of him is taking every ounce of self-control-”

“Can you give it a rest?” I hissed.

Michael sipped his wine and looked away. Then he swung to me, his expression no longer livid. “You got what you wanted, but I don’t think you realize what you’ve signed up for.”

My pulse skittered. I was uneasy under his scrutiny. “I’ve always loved him.”

“I know, hon. That’s why I pity you.”

“Michael,” snapped Carmela. “Enough.”

Michael shot her a quelling look before swinging his attention back to me. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

I was weary of him. “Which is?”

“You’re stuck with a man who doesn’t connect with people and hates children. He’s said it over and over.”

I sighed, loudly.

Michael’s wife, a stunning brunette in a black, ruffled dress, smiled. “They all say that, Liana. Men have no idea what’s good for them. They need to be guided.”

“Really?” Michael murmured. “I seem to remember asking you out dozens of times. You were the one digging in your heels. A year later, we’re married with kids. Who has the better foresight?”

Carmela’s eyes flattened.

Michael needled her with a few hushed comments until he dropped his tone and whispered a husky, “I love you.” Carmela melted and kissed his cheek. He looked at her with a puppy-dog-like adoration that soured as a solid warmth sank into the seat next to mine.

“Hey, Mike.”

Michael turned a shade of puce. “Don’t hey me.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“How about-‘I’m a fucking jackass.'” Michael ignored his wife’s attempts to shut him up, leaning across the table. “‘I’m a disrespectful, lying, coward.'”

“How the fuck am I a coward?”

Michael opened his mouth. I shook the table with a fist, rattling the silverware and glasses. Conversation halted as I met my brother’s vengeance head-on.

“Michael, this isn’t about you. Just stop.”

“She’s right, honey.” Carmela seized his hand and tugged until he staggered upright. “You need to stay out of their business.”

Michael tore his gaze from me. “But she’s my sister…”

Their voices faded as Carmela coaxed him away.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

A sick yearning assaulted me as Vinn wrapped his arm around me. His expression didn’t mirror the relaxed faces surrounding us.

“Forget Michael. We have other things to worry about.”

I nodded, sipping my sparkling cider.

“We have to visit Nico.”

I pulled a face, and Vinn frowned. “What? I’m not thrilled about sucking up to the guy who’s dying to pawn me off.”

My senses leaped to life as his touch found my thigh. His fingers traced a circle on my leg, the warmth inside me building.

“While you’re with me, you don’t have to suck up to anyone.”

“Except you?”

Vinn made a dissenting noise. “You can please me in other ways.”

A delicious shudder ran through me.

“How?”

“Take that beautiful mouth of yours…and shut it.” As his grip tightened, his attitude grew more serious. “Or better yet, put it to work on my cock.”

A ribbon of heat scorched my chest, and I inhaled sharply. “You’re in rare form tonight.”

“I need you to behave, Liana.”

His command made the knot rise in my throat.

It’d been a long time since we’d kissed, and although we’d exchanged chaste pecks all night, the fleeting excitement was nothing compared to submitting to him. Too many times, I’d imagined him bursting into the bedroom, ripping off the sheets, tearing my pajamas’ elastic band in his haste to fuck me.

He smirked as though he watched the pornographic reel in my mind. “This isn’t a game. If you screw this up, I won’t be around to bend you over the bed.”

“What makes you think I want that?”

“The way you’re looking at me.”

My cheeks burned, and then the photographer approached us. “Mr. Costa? Are you ready?”

“Oh, I completely blanked.” I rose, yanking Vinn’s arm. “Sorry.”

Vinn turned at the waist, gawking at him. “You hired a photographer?”

“Yeah, of course,” I whispered into his ear. “It would be weird if we didn’t. It’ll be done in half an hour.”

And I secretly wanted the photos.

His stare drilled into me, and my determination to hide faltered. I couldn’t pretend this event wasn’t a monument to the greatest love I’d ever known, even if he’d changed.

A secretive smile softened his lips.

He enveloped me in his burly embrace. As the photographer gave us direction, I fussed with his shirt, too intimidated to stroke the broad planes of his chest until Vinn took my hands and did it for me. Then he scooped my face and kissed me. My stomach did somersaults at the sensual strokes.

I slipped my arms in his jacket. I tipped my head and pressed my mouth into his. He melted into me, the touch of his lips like a whisper. My knees weakened as he descended on me, demanding. His palm roved my dress to skim my hips and thighs.

Once the photographer finished, Vinn’s eyes cut at me. “Let’s talk to Nico.”

“Okay.”

He pulled, and I followed. We wandered the outdoor patio strung with golden lights, casting a dreamy glow over the lawn where there’d been catered food. We approached Nico and his other relatives, elbow deep in cheese and drink.

Nico seemed to be channeling his son, based on the empty bottles surrounding him and the two girls perched on his lap. I didn’t know Anthony well. He was my brother’s age, so we’d never hung out, but he was always high or drunk whenever I’d run into him.

Nico had taken his son’s kidnapping badly. Judging by the brand new sports car parked outside, he was trying to fill the Anthony-shaped hole in his heart. My sympathy for him was limited. The man had sold me to a biker.

“Geez. He’s a midlife crisis on steroids.”

“Yes, he is.” Vinn stared at a guy sitting beside Nico, who was micromanaging my uncle’s alcohol. “Oh boy. He’s got Alessio filling in for his son. Not good.”

“What?” I peered at the sour-faced man beside Nico.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Has that phrase has ever worked for anyone with anxiety?”

He patted my hip, urging us forward. “Remember, don’t speak unless spoken to.”

“I’ve been around him before.”

“Not when he’s like this.”

Nico shot upright, his bulk upsetting the table. Alessio caught Nico’s glass and dumped its contents while Nico barreled toward Vinn, arms outstretched.

Vinn winced as his uncle trapped him in a giant hug, discomfort written all over his face.

“This asshole is getting married. Alessio. Where’s Alessio?” Nico blinked as he disengaged from Vinn. “Ah, there you are.”

“What is it?” said the harassed-looking man, who seemed to hate this party and everyone.

“Alessio, what do you think of Vinn becoming a father?”

“Can’t believe it.” A faint sneer curled his lip as he stared daggers at Vinn. “Michael’s sister, no less. Quite the scandal. I’ve never seen Michael that pissed.”

Vinn shrugged. “Well, the baby’s coming regardless of his approval.”

“How are you handling that?” Nico pounded Vinn’s back, the blows heavy enough for Vinn to grit his teeth. “You ready to be a dad?”

“I don’t think anyone’s ready.”

“I was,” Alessio quipped. “Have you read any books?”

Vinn shook his head. “Nah. I’ll be fine.”

I wished I had his confidence. “I’ll be reading everything, and so will you.”

“You all right, sweetie?” Nico asked, his attention swaying toward me. “Can I get you anything? Something to settle your stomach?”

“I’m okay, thank you. The first trimester has been smooth sailing. Luckily, I’ve had very little nausea.”

“My wife had it bad.” Nico seemed to forget his mistresses, who hovered in the background, sulking. “The pregnancy was so hard on her. She couldn’t have another kid after Anthony.”

I’d wondered when his name would crop up.

Alessio’s eyes glazed over, and he stared into his wine. Vinn betrayed zero emotion, his face a stone mask. Nico’s accusatory glare bored into Vinn, and then me.

“We should toast to the baby,” Nico deadpanned, glancing around. “Hey, you. Get champagne-no, dumbass-I want a bottle.”

“Nico, I don’t drink.”

Nico waved Vinn off as a waiter brought Dom Perignon along with a half dozen flutes. He shouted, banging his spoon on the giant bottle, making a big spectacle. Nico was a shark circling the waters, closing in on Vinn, and I didn’t like it.

He popped the cork and poured, sloshing alcohol over the tray. He handed dripping glasses to guests, shoving one in Vinn’s protesting hands.

My insides revolted.

“No thanks.”

“Drink,” Nico shouted. “Don’t be a pussy.”

Is he fucking crazy?

Vinn’s fingers whitened on the stem as Nico led the entire table into a chant. Before long, everyone had a glass.

I clutched Vinn’s elbow. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I do. But it doesn’t matter, Li. It’ll take a lot more than one stupid drink to break me.”

Vinn tossed the flute back, his eyes closed. A battle seemed to rage within him as he swallowed. Then he set down the glass, refusing a second pour. When Nico ignored him and started pouring, Vinn stalked away.

Nico watched him go, smirking.

“Vinn, wait!”

A fierce glow of pride warmed my chest. I wanted to say that I admired him. The strength to leave was greater than giving in like the idiots surrounding Nico.

He disappeared into the men’s room before I reached him, leaving me to stew about Nico.

I stomped across the restaurant, brooded at the bar, and almost ordered Prosecco-oops-forgot I was “pregnant.” I stayed there, fuming in my thigh-length dress.

“Congratulations,” said a dry voice lifting from the darkness. “On your very sudden engagement.”

I jumped.

The wily Legion president cleaned up nicely. He’d buzzed his scruff and tamed his hair, and wore a plain white T-shirt under the leather cut and fitted jeans.

I tensed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Relax. I was invited. I’m only here to make nice with your…fiancé.” Killian sat, sighing.

“Killian, I’m not interested-”

“You know what I find curious about this romance between you and Costa?” He pulled out a cigarette, stuck it between his lips, and fired the tip.

My heart thundered as he took a long drag.

“The fact you never mentioned him.” He blew the smoke to the side, flicking ashes to the ground. “We must’ve been there for ten minutes, fifteen maybe. Flirting.”

“You were. I was trying to figure out why you showed up in my café.”

“Well, there was plenty of opportunity to tell me you were taken. It’s not like I held a gun to your head.” Killian rolled to his side with catlike grace, smiling. “Which tells me two things. One, you’re miserable. You didn’t bring him up because you want an out.”

“That’s-that’s not true.”

“You’re hiding here instead of clinging to your future husband’s arm, so I’m not far off the mark.”

“I’m just overwhelmed.”

“Because you’re scared. I don’t blame you. He scares me, too.” He gave me a friendly nudge and smile, but the levity disappeared like the rising smoke. “So you’re either looking for an out, or you’re not a couple, and this is a sham.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I’m not an idiot. You two make no fucking sense.” He dashed the cig into an ashtray. “You’re as sweet as pie. You belong with someone with a heart. He is…a block. A giant, frozen block.”

That twisted a knife in my chest because it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t have been so adamant about protecting me if it were.

“Anybody with eyes can see you’re unhappy, and I hate that I’ve been cheated out of a great girl. I won’t forget it.” Killian squeezed my shoulder, his touch lingering like warm feathers. “And I won’t forget you.”

My stomach churned. “I’m engaged.”

“An engagement means nothing. Couples break up, and I have a feeling you and Mussolini won’t last.”

I hated that nickname. “Don’t call him that!”

Killian winked and slid off the stool, just as my fake fiancé stormed in. “Congratulations again. A baby. Wow.”

Judging by the flush hitting Vinn’s cheeks, he’d heard the sarcasm, too.

Nobody but Michael had believed us.