Page 4 of Owned By the Mob Boss
She’s scared, and she has every right to be. If she was any other woman, I wouldn’t care.
But she’snotany other woman.
She’s my prize, my treasure, my future. And I’m going to prove to her that she has nothing to be afraid of. I’d stand in front of a goddamn train if it meant protecting her.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whisper, backing off, gently letting a wisp of her hair play through my fingers. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
She hesitates, then looks up at me with those eyes that make me weak in the knees—that make me start picturing our future together—and I gasp for breath.
My heart is alive again, racing, pumping hot blood through my cold veins. I want to drag her into my bedroom and ravish her. Mark every single inch of her body so the world knows she belongs to me.
But not yet.
Not until she trusts me.
I may be a criminal—a cruel bastard with an iron fist—but if I’m going to have this princess, it’s going to be whenshewants it too.
“Come on,” I tell her gently. “I’ll show you to your room.”
Growing up poor and starving is what made me into the man I am today, but as I watch Isabella turn and walk ahead of me, I realize I’ve never known whattruehunger really is.
Not until now.
2
ISABELLA
My room sparkleslike a gilded cage.
Silk and gold everywhere. Modern furniture that looks brand new, and a bed that could fit three of me. This one room is twice the size of Dad’s apartment.
But my new prison isn’t why I couldn’t sleep last night, or why once I finally did, I woke up trembling.
That’shisfault.
Viktor Morelli. The brutal mob boss who runs New York City.
Everyone knows who he is. They call him The Ice Man because he’s so cold. And what did The Ice Man try to do last night?
He tried to kiss me.
And the craziest part is that I almost let him.Almost.
What were you thinking, Bella?I think as I stare up at the ornate painting decorating the entire ceiling.
I was so terrified when Dad brought me in to see him. Selling me off as collateral to the fiercest man in the city? But then when I stepped into his office, his mere presence caused something in me to shift.
Maybe I’m just going crazy, but it was like standing in front of a wild lion and knowing it wasn’t going to eat me.
It was the way he looked at me. Those eyes that should have had me running for my life held me in place like a paralytic.
And that voice—so deep, commanding, but strangely gentle at the same time.“It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s nothing to worry about.”
His words still echo in my mind as I replay our meeting over and over.
I know I should fear him. I should fear everything about my situation and be formulating an escape plan. He’s a killer, for Christ’s sake!
But there’s something about him—like a warm splinter embedded in my chest, and although it stings, I don’t want to pull it out.
