Page 45 of Princess of the Mafia

“Stop doing this. Stop doing that. I don’t want a marriage like this,” I yelled, the cork to my thoughts falling out.

He watched me, unperturbed. “What kind of marriage is it, then?”

“You know what kind it is.”

“Enlighten me,” he said tightly.

“I am a damn product to you. A stupid business arrangement.”

“You are my wife. You. Are. Not. A. Business. Arrangement.”

His posture hadn’t changed at all. Yet even though he looked like he was enjoying an espresso on a lazy Sunday, there was a shift in the air that told me otherwise. Like a tinge of a dark cloud creeping in on a sunny day when you were looking the other way.

I ignored it. Now that I had started, I couldn’t stop. “Yeah? Look at us. Seated in your office behind a soundproof door. Feels like business to me,” I snarled.

The hand behind the couch flew to the back of my neck, yanked, and I landed on his lap. “Let me go!”

“You need to decide what you want, Principessa. You don’t want it to feel like a business arrangement. Well then, this doesn’t feel like one now.” He leaned over and wrapped me in his scent. Cedar. That was it! And him. His scruff rubbed on my cheek as his words fell on my ear, smooth and confident. “Talk.”

Goosebumps rode my skin as I struggled to pull away. But there wasn’t any possibility with his arms branding my ass. I rocked back, clutched his palms on my ass, and tried to dislodge his hands.

“Jesus, stop. What the fuck, Daria?” he gritted through his teeth, and I stilled instantly. Not because of his words or his tight tone but because of the sudden hardness poking underneath my core. Heat rushed to my cheeks when I realized what it was. He laughed harshly. “Exactly why I wanted to have this talk here and not in our bedroom.”

Medda! I didn’t like this plight I’d gotten myself into. I tried to shift subtly away, but there was no ignoring his thickness between my legs. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a problem as he continued, “We’re stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. We need to try to work this out, Principessa. Tell me why you’re unhappy?”

Silence crept into the room and threw a party. Seconds turned into minutes, into several. It didn’t seem to touch him. His eyes pinned me as if he could see to the very depths of my soul. But it bothered me like a nasty rash I just had to scratch.

“I wanted a marriage like Nio,” I finally muttered.

“Who’s Nio?” He frowned.

“Antonio.”

I thought he had been still under me before, but he literally froze beneath me. “You wanted to marry him?” he grated out.

“Ew, no! He’s like my brother.”

“What then?”

“He loves Divya. He’s faithful to her. I want that.”

He sighed, and the heaviness of it infiltrated my chest. “You know there is not much love to be found in the Cosa Nostra.”

“I know.” I could live with that. What did I know of love, anyway? Not like I’d seen Papà show much of it to Mamma. And I wouldn’t touch Mamma’s love with a ten-foot pole. What I couldn’t live without was faithfulness. “Neither is faithfulness,” I bit out harshly.

“Is that what you want?”

“Is that what you want?” I retorted.

The hands on my ass clenched into fists as he stiffened. I laughed harshly. “It’s such hypocrisy. You can cheat on me, but I can’t? You can go out to work, and I can’t? This! This is what I didn’t want. I didn’t want a made man.”

His jaw ticked like a time bomb, a pulse throbbed in his temple. Three, two, one, and I thought he would explode. But all he did was grip my chin in his hand.

“So let’s make a deal,” he said gruffly.

“What? I have a cousin whose husband has promised her never to fuck a friend of hers. Is that the type of deal you want to strike?”

His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened on my chin.

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