Page 37 of Married to the Mafia

Suddenly she was flat against his chest and distinctly aware of the way his simple touches had woken up her body.

“Let’s find somewhere more comfortable, and I’ll listen to whatever’s on your mind.” He dipped his head, breath teasing her skin. “It’s the least I can do.”

Brandi offered no resistance when he sealed his lips over hers, or pushed his tongue inside. She had resolved to talk to him before losing any more of herself, but the man had slipped under her skin like a surgeon’s blade. It was all she could do not to start rubbing against him in a shameless search for release.

Mikey broke the kiss slowly, his tongue trailing across her lips, and the smirk he flashed her was searing. “Thanks for the interruption, by the way. I feel better already.”

She huffed out a laugh and forced herself to step back. “You can carry your own food this time.”

They walked side-by-side from the office, down to the same den where she preferred to lounge. Where he’d fucked her over the sofa the day prior.

Her body heated at the memory. The entire encounter had surprised her, but in the best way. She hadn’t expected him to have such a filthy mouth or to be so dominating. For those few minutes, she’d forgotten about everything else—her lingering pains, her fear, her guilt, even her anger. She wanted to forget again. She wanted to feel that euphoria again.

Brandi shook the thought as far from her mind as she could. She hadn’t gone looking to seduce her fiancé. There were certain subjects that really needed addressing. It would have been nice, preferable even, if they had just been a normal couple exploring their attraction to each other. But she recognized neither of them would have crossed that line under ordinary circumstances. Just as she recognized that the spark she’d come to believe they both felt could still easily be snuffed out … perhaps by the thing she most needed to tell him.

“So,” Mikey started, leaning back and holding the first half of his sandwich in his hand, “what’s on your mind?”

Brandi watched him sink his teeth into the bread. It was the first meal she’d prepared for him, if making a sandwich counted. It was ridiculous to feel like that meant anything. Still, she shifted around, sitting sideways and pulling her feet up between them. “I know I should have said something when I saw it in the contract,” she said, “but my head was in about five different directions and I didn’t … well, I didn’t really think it would matter.” She saw his brow pinch and she understood. She was speaking evasively, which she hated. All she could do was push through. “Technically there are two things we should talk about, but what I’m referring to is that I can’t—”

The words clogged in her throat. For so many years, it hadn’t mattered to her. It had been a perverse kind of relief, even. But right now, watching Mikey try to read her and wondering if what she had to say would drown out the little flame that had sparked between them, she felt differently. She didn’t want to say the words. She didn’t want the words to be true.

Of course it mattered. Men like Mikey cared about that shit. Mikey was named after a grandfather he’d never met, for crying out loud. This conversation she was pushing could be the end of something that had only just started to feel like a very strange blessing.

Mikey looped his arm behind her ankles and dragged her feet into his lap. In a quick reversal, his arm came around to rest over the top of her calves, pinning her in place. His hand angled up, fingers massaging the side of her outer ankle. “Can’t what, kitten?”

Brandi swallowed hard. If she was going to tell him, she might as well tell him the whole thing. “You probably know I was homeschooled most of my childhood, right?”

Mikey nodded.

“That meant no teachers or classmates for my father to worry about, and it’s not like we had a lot of drop-in guests. I knew he felt like he owned me, but I had access to the internet and media. I was actually being educated. And when I turned sixteen, I decided I was ready to start dating. I wanted that bit of normal teenage life.” Brandi rolled her eyes at own words.

Mikey swallowed his latest bite. “Wesley disapproved?”

She choked on a laugh. “We argued about it, I pretended to get mad but give in, and eventually snuck out of the house to go meet up with a boy. We went for ice cream and were going to maybe hang out in the arcade or something, and I was so proud of myself. Until my father showed up at the ice cream shop.”

Mikey set his plate on the side table, frowning as if he already knew where her story would lead.

Brandi continued. “Needless to say, I was dragged home and grounded. But he was so mad. He started calling me disgusting names, accusing me of just being some nasty whore.” The tears burned behind her eyes as she forced herself to think back on the argument that had led to the story she had to tell, and the experience that had followed. “My father still had money back then, remember. And even though he hates spending it, he will if he thinks there’s a purpose. Except his idea of a ‘purpose’ doesn’t always line up with someone else’s.”

Mikey’s grip tightened around her ankle. “What the fuck did he do to you, Brandi?”

“About two months after my first attempt at a date, I woke up really groggy and confused, and not in my room.” She fought back the tears that threatened with a shaky exhale. “Turned out, my father had drugged me and taken me to a private clinic run by a friend of his—who is now serving a lot of time for a host of unethical practices. He paid his doctor friend probably an obscene amount of money to make sure he doesn’t have any other heirs to worry about paying for.”

Mikey’s eyes flew wide. For a moment, it even looked like he stopped breathing. Then, in a low, strained voice, he asked, “He did what?”

Her mouth was dry. “The pill I take in the morning isn’t birth control,” she whispered. “It’s hormone replacement. Because my father’s doctor took everything out of me ten years ago.”

If the room hadn’t become so still, she might have missed the faint tremor that shook Mikey’s hand. His muscles were too tight for the non-bruising grip he had of her leg. But then he pushed her legs forward, almost off the sofa, and pitched himself to the side in the process. Brandi squeaked, startled, and the next thing she knew his arm was around her belly and he’d wedged himself between her and the back of the couch. He hooked a leg around her ankles to hold her legs up and close, and pressed his lips to her temple.

To call it cozy would have been an understatement. It was a tight, intimate, inescapable embrace.

“Mikey…?”

“I’m gonna kill your father,” he rumbled against her skin. “If that upsets you, I’m sorry. I’ll apologize. But I’ll still do it.”

She sucked in a breath of conflicted, stupid emotion and let her eyes close. She’d always thought her father’s bad decisions would get him killed before his time. Would it be ironic if he dies when I finally choose to save myself? And was it so wrong of her to hesitate? “I … don’t know how I’ll feel,” she finally whispered. “I can’t say I love him. I’ve just never thought about being the reason someone dies.”

“You’re not,” Mikey said fiercely. The arm not locked beneath her slid up, until his fingers could graze her cheek. “I’m not asking for your permission or if it’s something you want. All you’ve done is relay stories of experiences he’s put you through. He brought that karma on himself.”

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