Page 7 of The Mafia King's Stolen Fiancée

“I’m glad you like it.” The light blue and cream color scheme fit her well, but she was going to look far more spectacular when she was naked and spread out on my dark blue sheets. Fucking hell, I needed to leave before I gave in to my cravings and dragged her to my room where I could spend the night fucking her.

“You must be exhausted,cara. Take a shower, and I will find you something to wear. Are you hungry?”

Vivienne clasped her hands in front of her and grimaced. “Starving. I wasn’t in the mood to eat at dinner. But I really hate for you to go through all this trouble for me.”

“It’s no trouble at all,cara. I told you, I will take care of you.”

She cocked her head to the side and studied me as she asked, “Why?”

Because you’re mine,la mia donna.

“I have my reasons,” I said instead.

Vivienne sighed and chuckled softly. “I suppose I’ll just chalk it up to white knight syndrome.”

I fixed my gaze on her, and when her eyes widened a little, I knew she could see some of the danger inside me bleeding through. “Make no mistake, Vivienne. I am no one’s white knight. My soul is as black as they get. But for those who are under my protection, there isnothingI won’t do to keep them safe.”

Vivienne blinked at me, clearly unsure what to do with my answer.

Before I said something else to freak her the fuck out, I pointed at the bathroom entrance. “Take a shower,cara,” I ordered. “I’ll have food and clothes ready when you are done.”

She hesitated, but when I raised an eyebrow and pinned her with an intense, unreadable stare, she scampered into the bathroom. I waited until I heard the shower turn on before pivoting and stalking out of the room. After closing the door behind me, I turned the lock to make sure she didn’t wander.

The text I’d sent in the car had been to Henry, the man who managed the maintenance for my house, as well as the other buildings that sat on the fifty acres of DeLuca land. I’d instructed him to have someone reverse the lock on Vivienne's door so she didn’t accidentally see something that would send her running or have her call the police before I made her fall in love with me so she would never leave.

Not that calling the cops would do much good. The DeLucas owned 90 percent of Camellia Falls, including the police force. Outside of town, we didn’t have quite as much control, but there were a few precincts in Georgia where we didn’t have someone on the payroll. As for running…she wouldn’t get far because I had no intention of ever letting her go.

I didn’t want to leave her waiting when she got out of the shower, so I headed for my sister’s room while sending a text to Carmen, my housekeeper, and asked her to make a snack for Vivienne.

This house had been in my family for almost one hundred years. My great-uncle Giuseppe had built the first part of it when he moved to Georgia to establish the first southern branch of the Family. He wasn’t married, but as the southern territories expanded, other members of the Family migrated south to run the branches in other states. This meant Giuseppe had many visitors, so he’d added to the house. When he was killed, myfather moved here to take over, and after marrying my mother, they’d built the rest of it.

However, ten years ago, my father had made a costly mistake and was now a decade into a fifteen-year sentence. My mother hadn’t wanted to live in this house without him, so I’d built her a smaller one on our land, about a five-minute drive by car or fifteen by golf cart—which was our most common mode of transportation between them. My siblings had moved with her, but they had their own rooms in the mansion as well.

Gabbi, my nineteen-year-old sister, was around the same size as Vivienne, so I raided her closet for pajamas.

I returned to the bedroom with items in hand just as Carmen walked up with fruit, cheese, and crackers. The tray looked as though it might topple the tiny, older woman, but I knew if I tried to help, she’d yell at me like a disobedient toddler. Something she could get away with since she’d been like a second mother to me while growing up.

“Grazie, Carmen,” I thanked her with a warm smile that was reserved for my mother, sisters, and her.

“You’ve never brought a woman home,ragazzo mio,” she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.

My expression was blank when I replied, “No, I haven’t.”

Carmen grinned. “Don’t try to pull that boss attitude with me, Raffaele DeLuca. I can see right through your stony exterior. How long have you known her?”

“Tonight,” I answered gruffly.

“Like father, like son,” she teased with a tinkle of laughter.

I shrugged, unbothered by the comparison. “So it would seem.”

It was a story my parents loved to tell. How my father had sworn off women until the day he met my mother at a county fair. She was eighteen, making her thirteen years younger than him, but he still went straight to her father and asked for herhand. As soon as he had permission, my father whisked her off to the courthouse, and I was born just over nine months after they married.

Over thirty years later, and even with my father in prison, they were utterly devoted to each other.

Carmen laughed again. “Best tell your mother before anyone else does, or your ears will be ringing from being boxed before listening to her curse you out in Italian for a couple of hours.”

I winced, knowing she was right, but… “Vivienne should probably know first.”

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