Page 16 of Mafia King's Forbidden Vows

It’s just twenty minutes to 4 p.m. I take one look at my phone screen and decide that I will not be going to a meeting with Elio Donatelli looking like a princess in distress. So, walking out of the hospital building, I grab my makeup gear from my bag and walk into the first restaurant I see, right across the street, to fix my face.

I arrive at the meeting spot−an elegant restaurant of his choice of course− at about five minutes past 4 p.m. and let the breathtaking view distract me from my internal turmoil. The floor-to-ceiling windows present fascinating views of New York buildings, and the white and gold ambiance of the restaurant does a tad bit to soothe my worries.

There are crisp, white linens adorning the small, round tables, fine China, and crystal glasses twinkling with the reflection from the chandeliers. The entire hall is adorned with lavish floral decorations and candle lights flickering on every table.

I’m in awe at the sophisticated ambiance of this place when one of the waiters walks up to direct me to where Elio is seated, releasing smoke from his lips into the air.

“You’re late.”

My eyes run over his black, striped suit, settling on his muscular biceps first before glancing at the document he has on the table in front of him. Swallowing thickly, I lower myself into the seat across from him.

“What do you want?” He quirks a brow at me, tilting his lips to the side to release smoke from the cigar in between his fingers.

It’s difficult to bring myself to have this conversation, but it is the only way I think my father can remain alive. It’s obvious the cops can’t protect him.

I press my lips into a thin line. “I want to talk about the marriage offer. What do you want in exchange?”

He drops the stub of his cigar into an ashtray and pops a mint candy into his mouth. For a moment, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips as his gaze lands on my exposed cleavage. “So you’re here to agree to my offer.”

I release a deep breath of frustration. I’d always thought that I would eventually get married to someone who was my age. Kind. Cute.

But even if we did get married, it would only be make believe, right?

I suppress the shiver that pricks my nape and say, “That’s very unlikely, seeing that I barely know the conditions for this...” I lift my fingers to draw quotation marks in the air, “...offer.”

“My terms are simple. Get me intel on whoever blew the whistle on my warehouse…”

“That’s it?” My eyes are double their normal size from disbelief. His gaze darkens and there’s an amused smile on his lips. I don’t know about his warehouse, but if it’s that simple, then–.

“You would have to protect my real identity and move in with me, of course.” There’s a smug smile on his lips as his gaze runs over me.

“That is definitelyneverhappening.”

He adjusts himself casually. “I’m an influential man, and the minute we get married, the media will be all over us.”

“I don’t care!” My voice goes up a notch, attracting stares from the waiters. “Listen,” my tone drops to a whisper, “If we have to make this work, we have to be realistic…”

“And moving into my house is not realistic?” He arches a brow at me.

“No. No, the fuck it isn’t,” I sigh. “Listen, I need you to protect my dad and maybe me. In return, I’ll get you intel on whoever is messing around with your business stuff. That’s it, understood?”

A scoff escapes his lips, and for the few seconds he glares at me, I’m tapping my feet incessantly on the tiled floor, praying silently that he doesn’t refuse.

“How do you explain that we are married and living apart?” He leans in slowly until his face is a breath away from mine.

I hold my breath rapidly, feeling very hot.

None of the ideas in my mind amount to anything reasonable, so with my jaw clenched, I bob my head up and down in agreement, “Fine. I’ll move in.”

“Immediately.” A little smirk dances around his lips.

“What? No! What happened to waiting till after the wedding?” My hands flare in exaggerated movements to support the words easing from my lips.

“I don’t think you want to wait till then, Princess. Your father just got attacked. Do you believe there’s any chance that you’ll be miraculously left out of all this drama?”

My heart stops, then slowly begins to thud in fright. He’s right. If whoever’s attacking my dad finds out that they didn’t succeed for the second time, they could come for me this time.

“Alright, fine! F...fine...Goddammit!”

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