Page 2 of Stolen Bride for the Don

My brows furrow as I study our hands. Mine is covering hers completely. I look at her skin–so pale in comparison to my tanned complexion. The contrast is stark; she’s pure, her skin like porcelain. For some reason, I like it. I like it a lot. Our gazes collide intensely, and she snatches her hand from mine and spins away.

She’s back in a few minutes with my drink. After how abruptly she left after our shared moment, I expect her to just drop it and scurry off, but she hesitates, studying me. I raise a brow. Does she feel the draw between us too?

“You’ve got a name? Or should I just keep calling you handsome?”

“I wouldn’t mind that terribly,” I inform her. “But you can call me Hudson.”

Her brows hike up in question. “Just Hudson?”

I lift the tumbler of whisky and spin it so the ice inside clinks. “Just Hudson.”

“Then you can refer to me as just Andrea,” she sasses back.

“You’re not just Andrea. You can’t be just anything. You’re eve–” I catch myself before I say something creeps her out. Her face flushes, her eyes going a shade darker as she gives me a sexy as fuck smile.

She starts to say something, but motherfucking Keith shows up again. He whispers in her ear, but as they’re right in front of me and despite the idiot’s best efforts, I hear what he’s saying. Apparently, Alexander is summoning her.

Her eyes shift as she mutters incoherently under her breath. She wipes her hand down the front of her apron and marches to the booth Alexander has occupied since he had walked in. I turn a little so I can keep her in my line of sight.

She comes to a stop in front of him, her stance aggressive as she crosses her arms. He says something, and she gestures with her hand as she replies. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can tell that they’re having an argument. Most likely because she opened the doors of her bar tonight after he expressly told her not to. My girl doesn’t take well to orders. I sip my drink as I watch them.

My phone chimes in my pocket. I take it out to see a text from my enforcer, Crew.

The Rossi’s were all seen driving toward their townhouse in Waterplace park. I’m mobilizing the men right now.

Fuck.

The Rossi’s have been a thorn in my side ever since I ascended the throne as the king of the Rhode Island mafia. In truth, their family was supposed to rise to the position, but we live in a vicious world where the deserving don’t hesitate to rip the throat out of anyone in their path to the top. If you sit around waiting for your turn, someone else is surely willing to do the dirty work and rise to the occasion. And if you ask me, anyone with even an ounce of entitlement flowing through their useless veins doesn’t deserve a second thought.

The pathetic family has been scheming to overthrow me for over a decade, but my men and I are always a step ahead. And if I wasn’t here, obsessing over Andrea-beautiful fucking-Beaufort, I would’ve known about the scheduled meeting before they even started gathering.

Good call. I’ll meet you there.

I reply as I lift off the stool, throwing down a hundred to cover my tab. Time to get back to reality.

CHAPTER 2

ANDREA

I’m not jealous. I’m not jealous. I mutter repeatedly as I watch my brother, Ezra, dance with his bride, blatant happiness plastered across his stupid face. He’s sporting the widest grin I’ve ever seen as he twirls her under the twinkling lights. Obviously I’m insanely happy for him…but still. Fine, I’m a touch jealous.

This year, I’ve watched both of my hard-headed brothers fall in love with two of the best women I know, so it’s a little hard not to want that for myself. Through no one's fault but my own, I’ve been single for three years. But I was busy trying to prove to my family that I could make it on my own. And I have.

I’m ready for my own prince charming now. I want to fall in love with someone who’s wild for me like my brothers are for their significant others…someone to build a life with.

The music stops, heralding the end of their first dance. Almost immediately, another slow song begins and people start pairing up to join the happy couple.

“Shall I have this dance?” Dad asks, bowing formally in front of me. I giggle as I curtsey.

“You shall.” As we move toward the dance floor, I see Ezra and Charlie are still swaying, lost in their little love bubble, and Mom is dancing with my eldest brother, Alex.

“What’s got your face so gloomy on this happy day?” Dad asks gruffly, his dark eyes searching mine with concern. He’s always been able to read me, not that I’m very good at hiding my emotions. I like to throw it all out there for the world and hope my honesty is appreciated. What you see is what you get with me; I don’t play games, and I certainly don’t have time for anyone who does.

“I’m just thinking maybe it’s high time that I go on a vacation.” It’s not a lie. Alex came to the bar last night and exploded on me for opening when we had such a long day ahead of us today. It’s out of concern, I know, and the truth is that I am exhausted; but when I spend too much time in my own company, I get restless. I’ve been reluctant to have voluntary free time…and to slow down even for one night.

“And rightfully so,” Dad agrees. “I haven’t seen you stop once since you opened Liquid Elixir three years ago. You deserve a break. When and where are you thinking of going?”

“I’m not sure where I want to go yet, but…is it dramatic to say that I want to leave tomorrow?”

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