Page 11 of Snowed in with the Mafia

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re still the property of the Falchi,” Nico says quietly.

“But why? Who decided that?” Her sweet voice falters even more.

“It was decided by us,” Nico replies in a tone that doesn’t invite any further questions. I can’t help but grin to myself.

“But you gave me the money. You put it into Manny’s account. He sent me a message to say he received it. I don’t understand. Why did you do that if you knew?”

“Well, because you asked us for it. You could ask us for anything right now, and we would give it to you,” I explain.

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re our virgin bride, Alessia.”

Chapter Ten

Alessia

Luca’s statement hangs frozen in the air between us, and I’m sure I’m experiencing some neurological event because my brain seems unable to unravel the meaning of his words.

A heavy, confused frown contorts my features.

“Okay, but what the heck is a virgin bride?” I ask, and my question elicits grins from the three larger-than-life men before me. Then it hits me. Virgin bride. Virgin bride.

“Oh no. No. No. I can’t be your bride.”

“Correction. You already are our bride.”

Oh god. I’m going to faint. This can’t be happening.

“What is wrong with you? Why would you want to marry me?”

“Again, already married,” Nico says.

“Why?” I cry, at my wits' end.

“Because when we see something we want, we take it,” Nico answers.

“And we wanted you, Alessia. Laid out naked before us, your nipples bruised from our mouths, your hips marked with our handprints, your legs spread, your sweet pussy wet and open for our thick cocks to plant our seed so deep inside you that you’ll feel us running through your veins and our ring on your finger,” Vince says.

I’m so flustered I need to sit, but my legs won’t move, and my panties are wet. The forest fire inside me has reached my skin, and I’m hot and drowning at the same time. I can’t breathe.

“But… I’m a Moreno. I’m bad stock,” I say lamely.

“You have the face of our bride and the body for our heir. It doesn’t matter where you came from, who you are, or what you’ve done,” Luca says.

“You don’t even know me.” This is bad. So, so bad.

“We know everything there is to know about you, Alessia. Everything,” Nico says darkly.

But why me?

No, I’ve been asking the wrong damn question.

“How? I didn’t say yes; I didn’t sign anything. You can’t just say I’m your bride. It doesn’t work that way.”

But I close my eyes. It’s exactly how it works in their world. I remember my mother telling me things. She would say my father might not have wanted to be associated with the Passero, but he still had a deep respect for the age-old traditions and for the board of theReale Doratothat preserved the integrity of the families. There is honor among thieves, she told me.Onore tra ladri.

No one regretted more than my father that the Passeros were wrecked by incompetent heads that ruined the family name, but the damage was irreversible. The Passeros just have bad blood in them inherently, and any kind of power makes them worse, greedier.

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