Page 18 of Owned By the Mob Boss
She emergesfrom the bedroom like a dream. I nearly fall to my knees.
She’s wearing another dress off the rack I had delivered—deep burgundy that clings to her every succulent curve. A slit up one leg that has transformed her from an innocent girl to a lethal woman.
Now she’s able to be my queen.
Mine. All mine.
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not polite to stare?” Bella asks, her cheeks blushing near the color of her dress.
“Get used to it,” I tell her, crossing to her in three steps. I find the small of her back and pull her to me. “Every man’s eye in that restaurant will be on you tonight, gorgeous.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
A dark laugh escapes my lips. “They can look, but onlyIcan have you. No one touches what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in my voice should have her running, but she leans into me, and I feel that now-familiar spark in my chest. The reminder that I now have a reason to keep living.
I take my queen’s hand in mine and lead her to the elevator, where Anton stands with three of my best men. They’ll shadow us tonight and handle any small problems that might get in the way of our perfect evening.
This city knows my reputation, but going out with Bella is showing weakness, and that changes the game.
“Mr. Morelli.” Anton nods, his eyes carefully avoiding my woman. Even my most trusted soldier knows better than to gaze at what’s mine.
The ride down is silent, except for the soft jazz from the speakers. I hold Bella’s hand, her fingers interlaced with mine like they were made to fit there.
We arrive at Le Bernadin, which holds three Michelin stars. It’s the kind of place senators and billionaires meet, yet the whole places movesfor me.
“Mr. Morelli,” the maître d’, Frank, says with a bow when he sees me. “Your table is ready. Private corner as requested.”
Every eye in the place is on us as I guide Bella through the restaurant, my hand on her shoulder, letting everyone know she’s mine. Men stare with obvious hunger, and although I don’t blame them, my jaw clenches hard enough that my teeth nearly shatter.
Women stare too, but for different reasons. Power hungry gold-diggers in this town have been trying to lock me down for years. I never fell for any of them. Seeing me with a woman now must have their heads spinning.
“Viktor,” she whispers as we reach our table. “Everybody’s looking.”
“That’s what happens when you’re with the king.” I smile, leaning in for a kiss. “My queen.”
Forks stop moving, glasses stop clinking, conversations stop. Everyone’s watching. None of them can believe what they’re seeing.
I can see she’s overwhelmed as we sit down. She’s never been in a place this nice before, and she fidgets with her napkin, overwhelmed by the luxury.
The tablecloths here probably cost more than most people’s rent.
“This…this is too much,” she says softly.
“You belong here, sweetie,” I tell her. “This whole city is yours now.”
The waiter appears with a bottle of champagne—Dom Perignon, the best. Isabella’s eyes widen at the label.
“Viktor, you can’t be serious—”
“For the woman who brought me back to life,” I say, raising my glass once it’s poured.
Bella leans in and whispers, her hands shaking. “I—I’m not even old enough to drink.”
For a moment, I’m stunned. How could I have forgotten? I’m so used to being around dark men and criminals that Bella’s moral virtue hasmefeeling like the odd one out.
“Of course,” I laugh, turning to the waiter. “Some ice water.”
