Page 15 of The Mafia King's Stolen Fiancée

Dario hesitated, and I raised an eyebrow. I would never hurt my brother, but that didn’t mean he was above punishment for disobeying an order.

“Don’t push me,” I snarled.

He nodded jerkily and spun around, marching silently out of my office.

I was fucking infuriated and told myself I needed to get my shit together before I went to find Vivienne. However, to my surprise, just thinking about being with her soothed some of the churning in my blood, filtering out the violence that was pumping through my veins.

She calmed me, which fed my growing obsession with her. I knew I was becoming addicted, but even if there was a cure, I didn’t want it anywhere near me.

7

VIVIENNE

Indulging in a second cappuccino while chatting with Carmen was the perfect way to relax after finishing my breakfast. I’d only been in Rafa’s house for less than twelve hours, but I was more relaxed than I had been in two years. If I was brutally honest with myself, I also felt more at home here than I did in the house where I grew up. And more comfortable with Carmen than I was with my own parents.

They’d been different when I was a child—more emotionally available, though no one would ever describe them as warm and loving. However, as I got older, their attention turned to molding me into their vision of the perfect daughter. They saw the opportunity to use me as a tool to bring them more connections and respectability.

They’d never even bothered to ask about how Chet treated me. They chose to live in an oblivious bubble, assuming that once his ring was on my finger, my life was some kind of fairy tale. And they made it quite clear that I was expected to do whatever it took to keep him happy, like the good little trophy wife they’d raised me to be.

And even though I’d lost enough weight for my doctor to express concern, my mom and dad had never tried to tempt me into eating more. It had become increasingly clear that they were more concerned with their status in society than with my opinions or well-being. I’d hoped that maybe I was wrong, that if I finally worked up the nerve to tell them what Chet was really like, they would take my side. But a voice in my head kept warning me that I was only setting myself up for disappointment.

Rafa had shown me more care in the short time we’d spent together than my parents had over the past two years. Which made it all too easy to picture myself staying here forever, even though I knew that was just wishful thinking. I didn’t take Rafa’s comment seriously, though, since he didn’t even know me. I chalked it up to the white knight in protective mode.

Shaking my head to dislodge the fantasy of belonging to Rafa from my brain, I flashed a soft smile at Carmen. “Thank you so much for the delicious breakfast.”

“It was my pleasure to cook for you,bellissima.” She dusted her hands on the apron tied around her waist. “I wish I could stay with you longer, but now I must go run some errands.”

I stood, and she gave me a hug before leaving through a different door than we’d used when she brought me to the kitchen. Since I didn’t know where it led, I headed toward the more familiar one. I was barely through the doorway when a big, scary guy who had been with Rafa last night stepped in front of me. He set his hand on my shoulder, and I instinctively shrank back from him.

Before I could say anything, another man joined us and shot a warning look at him. “If you want to continue breathing, Domenico, you won’t touch the boss’s woman again.”

Domenico immediately dropped his arm but smirked at the other man. “You fucking wish you’d get rid of me so easily, Dario.”

The other man—who I now knew was Dario—scoffed. “Why would I want you gone,compare,” he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “With you around for comparison, women think I’m practically a god.”

Domenico shook his head and made a muffled sound that made me think he might have been smothering a laugh. Which had me thoroughly confused.

Then he winked at me before stalking away.

Dario sighed. “Fuckingcazzoneclearly has a death wish.”

I let out a shaky laugh before mumbling, “I appreciate the help, but I just met Rafa last night. He brought me here because he rescued me from a bad situation. I’m not his woman.” No matter how much I secretly wished that I was.

Dario just rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Magari.”

I frowned, wondering why he’d responded with “if only” in Italian. Was I misunderstanding? Or was there a reason he didn’t want me to be with Rafa? Not that it mattered because he was totally out of my league. Still…it was an odd thing to say.

Before I got us the courage to ask him about it, he swept his arm toward the door. “Follow me.”

I wished I had a better innate sense of direction because this house was like a maze. He led me past a bunch of rooms before ushering me into a cozy living area. The space exuded comfort and sophistication, blending warmth with luxury. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, paired with upholstery and drapery in neutral tones. Overstuffed armchairs and a sectional were arranged around a stone fireplace that crackled with a fire, casting a soft glow across the room.

I was too entranced by the inviting atmosphere of the den to protest when Dario muttered, “Stay put.”

I crossed over to the fireplace, intending to sit in one of the comfy chairs, but I was distracted by the photos lining the mantel. The only professional images seemed to be ones from weddings. The rest were candid shots, capturing what appeared to be Rafa’s rather large family in a myriad of happy moments. They were in sharp contrast to the few stiff, staged photos my mom had in our house. Then again, the entire feel of Rafa’s home was the complete opposite since it was warm and inviting, while my mom had gone with the cold museum vibe when decorating. So had Chet’s.

“Sorry I was gone longer than I expected.”

Rafa’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts, and I whirled around, my cheeks filling with heat at being caught snooping. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind since he crossed the room to point at the girl whose shoulder his arm was around in the photo I was closest to. “That’s Gabbi.”

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