Page 1 of Captive Mafia Wife

Chapter One

THE DAY FREYA IS TAKEN TO FREDRICK’S ESTATE

Fredrick

With my unwillingbride-to-be arriving in mere hours, I must focus my energies. To say Freya Burnes will be a challenge is an understatement. For the arrival of this ice-blonde modern-day Valkyrie princess?

I should be armed.

My naked ass is freezing as I plunge my body into the depths of the river’s icy waters. The crystal-clear waters pour down from the mountains into the freshwater Loch Ness and out to the sea. Hence, the state of my balls, currently shrinking into my stomach as I breathe through the frigid temperatures. Swimming strengthens every muscle, which I consider a bonus; I swim to sharpen my mind.

My arms slice through the water, and I turn my head, catching a breath and a glimpse of my new home.

I’ve certainly upgraded from the oak barrel-scented apartment above my Glasgow distillery. I’m now the proud owner of a castle. It's a small one on the scale of medieval architecture for royalty, but a castle all the same. Modeled after the real castle of Inverness, ours is adoringly named Wee Inverness. The red sandstone structure sits on the tall cliff above me, overlooking the full moon of my ass cheeks as I glide through the river.

When Callum recruited me to help protect his sister, I knew I had to isolate beautiful party girl Freya from Glasgow. I lied to myself as I signed my name on the deed to the little castle, closing the cash purchase. I told myself that whoever married her could move here.

Indeed, I wasn’t buying it withmein mind to be her new husband.

But then, Callum picked me, and who was I to say no to my brother-in-arms? The fact that I would lay down my life to stop a paper from slicing the tip of Freya’s perfect finger made me the man her brother chose as her betrothed, revealed in that desperate call he made to me.

Hence, my recent move to Inverness in the thrumming heart of Scotland’s lively Highlands.

I knew she’d be kicking and screaming all the way. But she has a deep love of beautiful buildings. Did I buy this castle as a way to bribe my unwilling, captive wife into not trying to scratch my eyes out each time I enter a room?

Absolutely, I did.

I quickly correct myself; I bought the estate knowing Freya, with her love of older homes and grand renovations,couldn’tnotfall in love with it, no matter which man was to bring her here.

“Be honest with yourself, Fredrick.” My body finally warm, I dolphin flip, head back toward home, and admit the truth. To say I was obsessed with her the moment I saw her sounds…dramatic. If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s drama. There’s a light in Freya that shines so brightly she blinds me.

I have to have her.

Breathless, I flatten my palms against the stone wall, pushing myself up and out of the water. I’m drawn from my thoughts by a tsk tsk from my house manager, Morvan, who stands at the edge of the waters, her new blue-emblemed apron tied around her waist, an oversized towel draped over one arm.

When I first met her, she told me her Scottish name is pronouncedMAWR-vein,which means “big mountain. " She also told me she came with the wee castle, daring me to try to fire her.

I declined the dare, doubled her salary, and moved her from the tiny garden shed, which had been converted to a one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment, to a larger guest house with a small kitchen and a soaker tub to ease her back at the end of a long day of work.

I offered to house her husband as well. She declined. I didn’t pry.

I’ve taken to calling her MAWR-vein in my head.

She’s a tiny, round person. Her namesake is in her determination, not her stature.

“Mr. Fredrick, you’re going to corrupt the young ladies in the town. I beg you—cover up this instant.” She hands me the towel.

I thank her and am grateful for the soft warmth wrapping it around my waist. “Not much to corrupt them with after that ice-cold swim.”

“Gah! You’re terrible! Dry off and get dressed. I have a fire and fresh coffee waiting for you in the kitchen. Haste ye back! Five minutes.”

“Yes, Morven,” I call to her, but she’s already making her way up the grassy hill, chastising me under her breath as she goes.

After dressing, more chastising about how I’ll catch my death of cold or get eaten by a monster in that river, and two cups of hot black coffee, I move about my home, awaiting my bride. With her stunning beauty, impeccable manners, and quick wit, she was born to host in this house. Her brilliant mind and nerves of steel round her out, making her a wife any mafia man would covet.

I’m the only one who can rein her in to keep her safe. As stubborn as she is strong, Freya has a wild streak in her burning brightly, suiting her family name.

But she can’t burn me. One look in her glass-green eyes and I knew I could tame the soaring flames of the raging bonfire that burns within her. Not dim them or snuff her fire out as other men might…

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