Page 21 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
A kiss doesn’t sound that bad, does it?
Chapter Five
Carmine
“Is she okay?” Matias asks as he blows cigar smoke into the air in the cigar room.
I fold the contract and slip it into my back pocket, forgoing the cigar and heading straight for the whiskey in the crystal decanter.
This woman has a hold on me that I can’t seem to shake. The moment she stepped foot into my home and confronted me, I was drawn to her bravery; not even grown men would dare to do such a thing.
She’s strong-willed, sassy, reluctant, annoyingly beautiful, making me…feel things.
Things I don’t like to feel. Things I work hard to never feel. I numb my heart and soul because when I kill, I can’t let myself feel remorse or guilt.
It’s taken my entire life to become the man I am, to kill without blinking, to torture without an afterthought, but one look from her and something inside me unravels.
It’s aggravating.
“She’s fine. A little shaken up, but fine,” I answer, then down my whiskey in one gulp. I pour another, probably a little too much, but I need a buzz caused by anything else besides her.
When she choked on her food, an emotion welled inside me for the first time since I was a boy, and my father held a blade against my skin.
Fear.
I was afraid she would die before I even had a chance to experience the kind of life we could have together. Her face had turned red, her eyes watered. She’d clawed at her throat, and for a moment all I could do was sit there and watch.
I had no idea what to do because I’ve never had to save someone I cared about—and yes, I care for her. I just haven’t figured out what that means, or how she’s managed to sink her claws into me so easily.
But when I’d finally got my head on straight and I saved her, anger was the first emotion I felt. Why the fuck would she put herself in that position? Who shoves food into their mouth like that? And she says she doesn’t need anyone to take care of her?
I scoff at the idea.
How has she lived this long without someone looking out for her? Her father hasn’t. I know all about his mistakes and what she’s done to make sure he stays afloat.
My poor Sweetling. She is always sacrificing herself, but I won’t let that happen anymore. Even if she’s willingly sacrificing herself to me,
it will be the last time she ever has to again. She’ll never have to try to protect others or herself again.
“I sent Marie to her quarters and had the broccoli from the kitchen cleaned up,” Ari says, snagging a book from one of the shelves.
“Thank you,” I answer, finding my voice at last.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, Carmine,” Matias adds. The airy breath he exhales tells me he is still enjoying his cigar.
My fingers curl harder around the glass as I stare out the window, daring my reflection to lie to me, to tell me I’m not bothered by the woman in my home. “I’m not like anything,” I answer, my voice so gruff that even I don’t believe what I’m saying.
“I know you want a child, but dare I say,” Ari sounds amused, and in the glass, I can see him lean forward, bracing his arms on his knees while he smirks, “you like her.”
Matias grins, too, a cloud of smoke leaving his lips as he tilts his head back.
“I don’t like her. Men like me don’t like anything,” I state. “Or anyone.”
“Right. Right. The Devil isn’t allowed to want for himself, right?”
“It’s business.”
“So, I can ask her out? Right?” Ari tests the waters of my anger, and I take a deep breath, images of them together flooding my mind.
