Page 36 of Married to the Mafia

Her mouth popped open. “Sorry, what?”

Mikey rolled his jaw, debating how best to answer, and finally said, “The Ink Blots are supported by a piece of shit named Brendan Coughlan. He’s the last blood of an Irish Mob that picked a fight with our family a long time ago. The Coughlans lost in the end, but not before they took from us. Brendan survived because he was a kid when it happened, like we were. Except where we learned to move forward from that, he apparently held a grudge. Last year he let his pet project loose on the city, targeting us, and we’ve been playing bloodstained tag with the fuckers ever since. Every time we cross one of their names off, they go dormant for a while. It’s a giant fucking headache, and we haven’t yet found Coughlan himself.”

Brandi was silent for several seconds, her mouth a thin line and her fingers clutching tighter to his hands. At length, she finally said, “So you’re saying I was targeted … just for working with you?”

He scoffed. “I can’t rule it out, but it’s possible your experience was genuinely bad luck.”

“Because they’re a real gang, doing real-gang-shit, who just happen to aim the worst of it at those flying the De Salvo flag.”

“Exactly.”

She released a breath. “Which now includes me.”

Mikey pulled his hands from hers to frame her face, tilting her up to look into his eyes. “One enemy or one hundred, that doesn’t change my promise. I never said I would protect you only from the man who hurt you last week.”

Her hands settled on his chest and she smiled. “I would have been pretty stupid to think the mafia guy I was agreeing to marry never made any enemies.”

“You would have.” He leaned in, sliding his fingers into her hair. “And you’re not.”

She smiled wider. “Were you really all upset for my sake?”

Mikey grunted and covered her lips with his.

eleven

Bonding

At two o’clock on Sunday afternoon, when Mikey still hadn’t emerged from his office, Brandi decided to change tactics. Waiting patiently was a perfectly respectable gameplan for some people, but in truth, impatience was a personality trait she and her soon-to-be husband had in common. And in her mind, giving him basically the entire morning and early afternoon for whatever family business was being patient.

She was no Daria in the kitchen, but she threw together a hearty sandwich under the presumption that Mikey wouldn’t keep ingredients on hand if he refused to eat them. She grabbed a drink from the refrigerator in case the minifridge he had in his office lacked anything hydrational, and then she took the items down the main hall to her fiancé’s home office.

Her gaze snagged on one of the displays of beautiful, multicolored zinnia blossoms along the way. The delivery the previous afternoon had been a little untimely, but she couldn’t say she was upset to see the vivacious energy the flowers brought to the manor. If she’d had a spare hand, she might have grabbed a stem or two and taken them with her to slip into Mikey’s office as a reminder of the changes beyond those walls.

She did not, so she let the idea remain in her head for future reference if the conversation she intended to push didn’t do the job.

“—fuck is the hold up?” Mikey’s voice was angry, though she couldn’t see him beyond his veritable wall of monitors. “Big Brother doesn’t like delays. If I have to tell him we’re behind schedule, I better have a good fucking reason to go with it. It won’t be my ass catching fire for this.”

Brandi rounded the desk and quietly set down the plate and drink, unsurprised by the phone Mikey had to his ear. Of course, she’d picked a bad time.

His eyes snapped to her, dropped to the food, then shifted the opposite way toward one of the lit displays. His lips curled in a soundless curse.

A male baritone drifted out from the phone, responding to Mikey’s words.

Feeling guilty now, Brandi reached out and laid her hand over Mikey’s nearest forearm. When their eyes met again, she mouthed an apology and quietly stepped back. She really should have known he wasn’t in here browsing social media or something equivalently asinine.

Mikey’s hand shot out before she could step out of reach, his fingers curling around her wrist just tight enough to hold her in place. “Yeah, I’ve heard enough. It’s my fucking Sunday, too. If you don’t like where you are in the rotation, get your job done right the first time and wait for someone else to fuck up. Being the fuck-up doesn’t usually get you promoted.” He pulled the phone from his ear, jabbed the screen with his thumb, and dropped it loudly to the desk with a groan.

Brandi leaned toward him. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Mikey said, turning his chair to face her better. “I lost track of time chasing idiots who don’t know how to communicate.” He tugged her closer, encouraging her to step between his thighs. “Thank you for the sandwich.”

Brandi reached out and slipped her fingers into his hair, watching the tufts of dark brown glide against her skin for a beat before she whispered, “It’s kind of a bribe, if I’m being honest.”

Mikey chuckled. “Lonely?”

Her lips twitched. “You wouldn’t think I would be. I did actually live alone before you brought me here.” Not that she had no one she talked to, but she wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, either. She took a deep breath and added, “Mostly, I was hoping we could talk about a couple things. Things we probably should already have talked about.”

His thumbs stroked over her hips and he hummed. Then he moved one hand away, reaching over to swiftly close out of the open programs and shut down the system. While the shutdown sequence was still running, Mikey pushed to his feet, his other hand remaining branded to her hip.

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