Page 2 of Captive Mafia Wife

Instead, banking them to a soft flame that lights a candlewick. From daring fire to gentle flicker. I’ll give her the world in return. Freya loves fine homes, stunning jewelry, custom clothing, and fast cars. She’ll have itall.

A staff member comes to tell me she’s arrived. I find myself doing a slow jog down the stone steps that lead to the pebbled drive. I glance down at my watch. “Anytime now.” I start to pace as I wait, then stop myself.

She’s like a big cat; any sign of weakness, she’ll pounce.

Instead, I glance down, studying my dark gray suit jacket, searching for lint. As always, thanks to MAWR-vein, I’m spotless. My eyes focus on the road, and I fiddle with my cuff links. I slide my hands in my pockets.

Freya has arrived.

She steps out of the sleek black car I sent for her. Typically, she wears all-black, classic couture, head to toe. Today is the same; her sleek black dress is elegance personified. But something is different about her. Her long, white-blonde hair is swept up in a tight updo, and a black lace veil is perched on top of her head.

Standing behind the open door of the black car, she takes in the estate from behind dark, massive, cat-eyed Chanel sunglasses. Striding on those long pale legs atop black heels as thin as pencils, she moves around the door, allowing the driver to close it behind her.

Her gaze finds me. I can feel her staring at me from behind those glasses. I stare back as she makes a point of striking a pose, jutting out a defiant hip. She raises her black, lacquered fingernails to the top of her head.

And flips a swath of black lace over her face.

I can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of my mouth. Her feisty spirit is part of what draws me to her. Now, she’s come, dressed…for a funeral.

“You may have brought me here as your captive,” she says as she breezes past me. “But there will be no wedding.”

I slip in front of her, stopping her movement forward. An immovable wall of a man just as determined as herself. She’s finally met her match.

“There will most certainly be a wedding.”

“Look, Freddie. Callum’s worried, and it’s not a good look on him. I’ve never seen him anything other than cocksure of himself. So, I’m here. I’ll let you play out your fairy tale, pull a Rapunzel, and lock me away in a tower for safekeeping. Or heck, be the Beast if you want, but we”—she points from me to her, then back to me—“will never, ever be married.” She looks to the sky. “Pray for me, my sweet island!”

Shaking it off, I ignore her prayers. “I disagree.”

I grip the delicate lace between my fingers, slowly lifting the veil and folding it over the barrette that pins it in her hair. Gently taking hold of the arms of her sunglasses, I slip them from her beautiful face. “And what I say goes.”

Her eyes, green like her brother’s, focus on the light. She studies my face. Clouds roll through her sparkling gaze. “You’re not the only one used to getting their way.”

“No, I’m not. But I am responsible for you and your safety. And the best way to keep you safe? Make you my wife.”

Her head cocks to the side. “Neither of us will be safe if you try and force me to marry you because then I’d have to kill you.”

“Is that so?”

“‘Tis so, I’m afraid,” she sighs. “I don’t take kindly to demands involving the words, ‘till death do us part.’”

“But then I’d be dead and you’d be in prison,” I state.

“Aye, and only the best lawyer—” She raises her brows at me. “That would be me—would be able to keep me out of prison.”

With that, she snatches her glasses from my fingers, settles them back on her face, and blows me a kiss as she glides past me, stomping her heels up the stone steps to her new home.

She’s a perfect picture—she could be a painting, Parisian artwork hanging over my mantle. Her dress is tailored to her slim frame, the black lace against her immaculately styled fair hair, perfectly silhouetted against the grassy hills behind her as she pauses on the stone-pebbled walk before the red stone castle, looking to her left, taking in the view of the river, sparkling under the sunlight.

My heart lodges in my throat. Thick with desire, I swallow down the lump, quietly chastising myself. “Patience, Fredrick. Patience.”

I’ll give her things money can’t buy. Kindness, trust, respect, the list goes on. Together, we will forge a new empire.

And she will have it all.

Except for the one thing I won’t give her. Something so dangerous that it has no place in our brave new world.

Love.

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