Page 30 of Owned By the Italian Mafia Don

“I don’t. I don’t understand this tradition in your family you guys cling to.” He bites into his sandwich, then wipes the mayo from the corner of his mouth. “I’m just saying, you can’t force her and if you did, I’d kill you.”

“I’d never force her. I’d never do that.”

“You have already. You made her marry you.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but he lifts his hand to stop me. “Come on, you know what I mean. She had no other logical option. You were her best bet. I’m just saying, be careful and be patient with her. Her entire life is changed and to her, it isn’t for the better.” He checks his watch and shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. “Got to go. I’ll get those papers filed. Have a good one.”

“You too. And thanks,” I say, chewing slowly while I think about what he has said.

I’m left alone, wondering if I’m the man people warn others about.

Am I as bad as I never wanted to be?

Do I care?

I think about Rosie, her spite, her anger, her beauty, and the way she makes me feel alive from the moment I looked at her, and I come to the conclusion that maybe I am not a good man.

What’s worse?

I don’t care. I only want her, and I don’t care how I make that happen, even if it does mean blaming it on the tradition my family has always upheld.

Chapter Nine

Rosie

I pace the bedroom, my thoughts drifting to the window and the urge to try to escape this hellhole may or may not have crossed my mind.

It’s all I’m thinking about. Maybe if I take the sheets off the bed, make a rope, toss it over the balcony, and try to make a run for it.

“That’s stupid,” I say to myself, but at this point, I don’t care.

I slip the stone out from my pocket and hold it up to the light, the insides glistening like glitter. It’s gorgeous.

My time to make a run for it has passed, even with this stupid rock. If I left, Milazzo would find me and bring me back.

I’m trapped.

I shove my face into the mattress and scream, punching it with my fists until I have no more air left in my lungs.

I tuck the stone under the mattress, then flop on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I’m trying to catch my breath and my face is hot from shouting my rage into the pillowtop, but what else am I supposed to do? The emotions waging war on me right now are too hard to deal with, too hard to decipher, and too difficult to understand.

I’m pissed and yet I’m thankful.

Thankful. That’s so ridiculous, but I am. He gave me options no one else would. I’m safe. My family is safe. Even if it means I had to sign away my soul. It doesn’t mean I can’t be angry, and it doesn’t mean I have to like him. I don’t. I hate him. I despise him. A part of me wishes I would have killed him when I had the chance. I wouldn’t be in this position.

If I would have killed him, there would have been no witnesses, but that doesn’t fix the issue of my brother. My captor is right. Eventually, we would have been found, if not me, then my brother. I can’t imagine anything happening to him.

Like always when I cry, I press the heel of my hands against my eyes to try and stop myself from crying. I’m feeling so overwhelmed. I want to see Caplan and it hurts knowing I can’t. It would put him at risk. I don’t care about my safety so much as I do his.

A knock on the door sounds and I punch the bed again. Can’t he leave me alone? The doorknob jiggles and it’s locked.

“Rosie,” his voice drifts through the thick wood. “Open the door.”

“Not a chance. I need space from you,” I shout just as the door opens. I prop up on my forearms and scowl at him as he enters the room. “Can’t you give me any privacy?”

“Sure,” he nods, leaning against the doorframe. “But this is my room, so technically, you’re invading my space.”

“That makes sense. This room is boring and masculine.” I stroll to the door and as I brush by him, my entire body awakens. I hold in a gasp. “Just point me in the direction my room is in.”

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