Page 10 of Stolen Bride for the Don

She takes a step back, shaking her head slowly. Now she’s going to fear me and cower before me. That thought normally excites me, but with her, I can’t help the sense of loss; she’ll no longer dare challenge me, and I was so enjoying our battle of wills. But then she speaks, and a scowl paints the beautiful lines of her face. She looks at me in pure disgust.

“No. No way Ezra would have messed with the mafia…with a low life like you. He knows better than that. No way.”

The fear isn’t for herself, I realize, but for her brother. I watch her closely. So, she believes me about who I am? I decide to let the insult go and continue to stare her down, watching her eyes flicker around the room as she pieces things together.

“Just because we’re somewhere in Rhode Island and you seem to be rich and powerful doesn’t mean that you're Massimo Moratti. You’re Hudson.” She nods once as if to reassure herself. That’s my girl. My lips twitch again.

“I’m not going to go back and forth about my identity. It’s your prerogative whether to believe me or not. But your brother used to work for me, and he wanted out. I’m sure you know well enough that there’s no getting out of the mafia.”

She shakes her head again.

“But I let him go,” I enunciate each word. “A month ago today in fact.”

“The night he got shot,” she whispers to herself, her eyes growing wide.

I nod and say, “Correct.” I can see the muscles of her throat working as she gulps. “You see, I might have considered simply letting him go given that he was more than just an employee to me, but it would set a terrible precedent. What if the other men decided they want to leave too? I can’t let that happen, of course. It would seem as if I were partial to him. It would undermine my reputation.”

“So you shot him to fake his death? He didn’t leave the organization. He died?”

See, this is why I like Andrea. She catches on quickly. Intelligence in a woman is sexy as hell. “Don’t forget the condition. I did let him go out of the kindness of my hear–”

“A condition,” she interrupts. “What condition?”

I finally let a smile creep across my face. “Your hand in marriage.”

CHAPTER 8

ANDREA

Your hand in marriage. I blink at Hudson…Massimo. My hand in marriage? “What the actual hell are you talking about?”

“Exactly what I just said. That’s why I brought you in here. Our bedroom.”

Our bedroom? No. No. No. “No. Ezra would never agree to that. He would never–” My voice trails off at the pointed look in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t he?” he asks. An hour ago, I would be firm and secure in my answer that no, my brother would never sell me out. But an hour ago, I didn’t realize he was keeping this huge secret. Did Alex know? Of course, he did. Who else knew?

My head spins as I try to convince myself that my entire life hasn’t been a lie…that my family, the people I trust most in this world, would not keep this monumental secret from me.

“I’ll let you stay here alone for now. I know you have a lot to come to terms with. But sooner or later, I will be sleeping by your side,” he says and turns to leave. Before I have a chance to consider the repercussions, I rush to the Zeus statue I had dropped earlier and hurl it at him; but my aim is off and the statue thuds to the floor next to him instead of on his head, like I had envisioned.

He turns to me as he presses his thumb to the touch pad above the door. “Now, is that any way to treat your fiancé?” Before I can react, he storms out and locks the door behind him.

I let out a loud screech as I run to the door. I start pounding on it maniacally. “Let me out of here! Let me out! You’re crazy if you think I’m ever going to marry you, you psycho!” I scratch and pound and scream until my voice goes hoarse.

Marriage? He doesn’t even know me. What could he possibly want from me? I’m unable to wrap my brain around the thought. And Ezra? He didn’t think to mention to me that an actual psychopath might come after me?

“I’m going to kill him when I get home.” But I pause when I realize there’s a distinct possibility that I might not be going home. This isn’t just any kidnapping where with the payment of a ransom, I’d be freed. What he’s asking for costs so much more.

“Marriage,” I scoff. As if I would ever agree to something as ridiculous as contractually tying myself to my captor. I would never. I don’t even know him. Sure, I know of him, everyone does. We’ve all heard the rumors; but nothing I’ve heard was favorable other than alleged accounts that he was incredibly handsome, which he no doubt uses to his advantage to lure his prey. Nobody in the New England area can say that they don’t know the name Massimo Moratti and all the death and horror that come with it.

I scan the massive bedroom helplessly. Who would have thought I’d go from daydreaming about my own fairytale at Ezra’s wedding to being captured by an unhinged lunatic? No one knows where I am. My heart starts racing.

Dad can’t find out about this. His blood pressure. I start to hyperventilate remembering the scare we had a few months ago when he collapsed out of nowhere, an undetected spike in his blood pressure causing him to lose consciousness. What if this makes him have another episode? Or worse?

I rush back to the door and start pounding with renewed energy, my heart in my throat as I scream the house down, but the bastard never comes back.

* * *

---