Page 12 of Snowed in with the Mafia

She told me about the Falchi too, the strongest and the most powerful in theReale Dorato. They have the right to claim a bride merely by pointing at her, provided the woman in question comes from a family that is a member of theReale Doratoalso, like me. I can’t change my bloodline, which is painfully unfortunate.

No mafia family will refuse the honor of one of their daughters being their bride, especially not a Falchi bride. But I can.

“No. I don’t want to marry you. And you shouldn’t want to marry me either. I would like to leave now. Please, can you help me?”

In response, Nico picks up a familiar envelope, the one that traveled with me all the way from the Vergine Selettore. It’s the contract I signed. I bite my lip as Nico pulls out a sheet of paper. My heart sinks. What did I sign?

“When you signed this form, you didn’t just sign your body over to us; you signed your life over to us as well, which includes making you our bride should we so desire.”

My knees finally give in, and I collapse onto a chair.

It’s so different from being a virgin for breeding. Once the virgin is pregnant, she is sent away to a private location where she’ll receive top medical attention until the baby is born. She will be allowed to stay with the child until they turn eighteen, at which point they will go into apprenticeship with the Falchi.

But a bride is someone who must live with them day in and day out, sharing their bed. Until the day she dies.

“Well, jokes on you. I’m not even a virgin, so I can’t be your virgin bride.”

“You’re not?” Luca asks, with a sardonic tilt to his eyebrow.

“Haven’t been for years,” I say confidently. Finally, a way out. I got what I came for, and now I need to run. “So, please, about that helicop—”

I don’t get to finish my request before Vince backs me against the wall, his entire huge, strong body pinning me down. Fresh wetness coats my folds, and I don’t know what to do about it.

“What are you doing—” I cry, but he’s bundling up my skirt in his huge hand. I forget my name when I feel the imprint of his hand on my thigh, scorching me right through the two pairs of tights I’m wearing.

“Checking. But fuck, you’re wearing too many layers of clothes, kitten,” he growls. He lifts me up, throws me over his shoulder, and while I’m fighting him to be put me down and failing, he uses one hand to unzip my boots, then jerks them off my feet. He then tucks that same hand into the waistband of my tights and my underwear and drags them off me.

Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god.

He carries me over to what looks like a table; the legs are intricately carved wood—falcons, to be sure—but the top is padded velvet. Before my next breath, he brings my hand down to my side and restrains me with a cuff attached to the table.

My fight to be free diminishes completely by the time he’s captured and bound my other wrist and my ankles as well.

“What are you doing? Let me go.” But my voice isn’t as loud and confident as I think. I’m shrieking in pure panic; my nerves are shot, my body on fire, and my legs are parted.

The only thing shielding the most private part of me from their gaze is the length of my skirt, until Vince lifts it and tucks it under my butt, exposing me to the point where the open air breezes over my heated center.

Chapter Eleven

Alessia

No matter how hard I try to close my legs, or undulate my body to roll my skirt down, or wiggle my fingers to grip the fabric, I’m inescapably bound.

The heads of the Falchi are fixated on me, on my… my pussy. I’ve never referred to my private parts as my pussy in all my life, and just thinking the word makes my whole body flush anew.

If I continue to hold my breath and never take another, I’ll welcome death over this insanity where my body is betraying me and my mind can’t control it.

I shut my eyes so tightly that I see stars as Vincenzo uses his finger to separate my folds further, giving him, Nico, and Luca an unobstructed view of my most intimate parts.

But more embarrassing than anything else is how inexplicably wet I am. What is wrong with me? I’ve seen photos of attractive celebrities online, watched movies, and admired handsome men before, but none has made me lose my mind like a true fan or fantasize about them at night.

Not one of them made my heart flutter at the thought of meeting them. But three men I’ve never met, whose handsomeness surpasses anything I know, have turned my world upside down, and there’s no way to right it. The sight of them creates a constant ache inside my pussy I can’t fathom. And I can’t stop experiencing it.

“So beautiful. So wet,” Vincenzo says.

Yes, death would be better than this indescribable torture.

He runs his knuckle down my center, then rests his fingertip between my labia. My nerves swell with mortification as a new sliver of dew escapes me.

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