Page 61 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

I tilt my head, wondering what she’s getting at. “Yes, I did. He deserved it. Does that bother you?”

“There’s more to your family than just being in construction, isn’t there?” Her eyes are racing like she’s replaying every conversation she’s had since arriving in our town. “Is that whyAndrea chose the bar over the family business? Is that why Larson never wanted to come back here?” she asks instead.

Not sure just how much she’s ready to hear, I sigh and mutter, “Yes.” She was going to find out sooner or later. “As for Larson, he was pushing drugs in my town, making the streets dirty, so I sent him off to establish connections in New York. His punishment was not being allowed to return.”

“Are you in the m–mafia?”

I contemplate my answer, “That depends. Do we utilize organized crime to manipulate outcomes? Sure. But do we answer to a higher organization of crime lords? No. The Beauforts left that life and that official title behind when Ezra first stepped on US soil. And while we prefer to take care of our own dirty work, we’ve built a network of men over the years who will do our bidding without hesitation. Men who are loyal to the Beauforts and the Beauforts alone.”

She takes a moment to absorb what I’m telling her. I don’t like the wordmafiaeven if that essentially describes what we do, and ultimately makes me the mob boss of Brattleboro. Who needs labels.

“Ezra?” She frowns at me.

“Not my brother. My great-grandfather,” I explain. “He left the seedy streets of Strasbourg in the late 1800s, trying to leave the life of a gangster behind. He wanted a fresh start for himself and his family in a quiet town, and he built an empire here,” I tell her proudly. An empire I now head.

She blinks at me, so I say, “Est-ce que tu m'écoutes?” Are you listening to me?

“That’s French. Trasbourg? You’re from France?”

“Strasbourg,” I correct the enunciation. “And yes, my family is originally from France, but we’re well and truly Americanized now.” Except for Ezra, the second that is, my brother. He loves torandomly break out the French. He thinks it makes him exotic. Dumbass.

“I need to know everything. Will you tell me?” she asks, staring at me with liquid brown eyes. My heart turns over, and I realize I’m gone for this woman. I can never deny her anything.

So I tell her how Ezra Beaufort I was an enforcer for Le Milieu – the French mafia – and how his father and those before him had always been enforcers. It was the family’s birthright back then. But then the reigning family were taken out by their own consigliere along with everyone related to them, so Ezra faked his own death and ran away with his pregnant young wife to Italy.

From Italy they went to Spain, from Spain to Mexico, and from Mexico, they ultimately crossed the border into Texas, where my grandfather was born. They didn’t just stay in one place, instead moving from state to state and town to town before finally settling in Brattleboro and getting into the construction business.

He was out of the mafia world for good and didn’t want to join any body of organized crime in America. Turns out you can take the enforcer out of le Milieu, but you can’t take Le Milieu out of the enforcer. Petty crimes helped elevate his budding empire. And no one seemed too concerned about the slight uptick in local crime when the economy was taking off and everyone in town profited.

Initially, the crimes ranged from bribery to extortion, eventually escalating to threats and occasionally torture, when necessary. But the Beauforts have always followed a strict code of conduct. Our system of organized crime runs on a scale. For every misdeed, we give back to the community tenfold. And there’s no denying that the sorry souls we target to push our agenda always have it coming to them. Corrupt politicians, greedy businessmen and elitist assholes are all fair game inour quest to conquer the local construction industry, while redistributing their wealth in our own unique way to those who deserve it. And we line our own pockets along the way.

Ezra Sr. got into drug dealing for a time in an attempt to control the movement of narcotics in the area and prevent outside infiltration. But we stopped that years ago. Dad didn’t have the stomach for it, and Ezra Jr. was indulging in the substances, so we shut it down. Besides, this is our town, and we keep it clean. No one benefits when drugs run rampant, and we can do that without being the source.

When I’m done talking for what feels like the longest one-sided conversation of my life, I glance at Autumn. She gives me a grim look, but I’m shocked by what she says next. “I want in.”

“What?”

“Earlier, when that guy had me in—” She swallows and continues, “When he had me in his grip and overpowered me, I realized just how weak I am. The Beauforts might no longer be in the mafia, but I’m sure Andrea would never get caught in such a situation.”

My sister chose to leave behind that legacy but she always carries a gun, has a couple of knives, and she knows how to handle all of them. I taught her self-defense myself, even though Dad was against it at the time. He thought her duty to the family solely involved marriage to enrich the business. My sister soon disabused him of that notion.

“Teach me,” she says.

“Why did you run away earlier?”

“I don’t know,” she says as she pushes her glasses up her nose. “While I was driving aimlessly I realized that I took a lot of shit growing up, and the day I ran out on my own wedding was the day my rubber band of resistance broke. And earlier, I was overwhelmed by the onslaught of secrets being exposed to me. It hurt not being trusted enough to know these things. I’d expectthat from Larson, but not you. But it helped me understand you so much more and the burden you carry. The need to protect at all costs. I was scared. But I never should have ran, not from you.”

“How can I be sure you won’t run again?”

She licks her lips nervously, “Earlier today, I vowed to myself that I was yours and yours alone. And while you protect everyone, no one is looking out for you. And I don’t think they have for a long time. I saw the photos of you in your parent’s house. I noticed when you stopped smiling for the camera. I assume that’s around the time you stepped up as the protector of the family. I don’t know if my word means anything to you now, but I promise to always be by your side.”

It means everything. I finally relax and tug off my leather jacket. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She glances down at her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I regretted it as soon as I got to the gates and realized that you were letting me go because that’s what I needed in the moment; to feel in charge of my decisions, of my life.” After a brief pause, she glances up at me. “Thank you for coming back.”

I drop to my knees in front of her. “Watching you drive away killed me. But you don’t ever have to question if I’ll come after you. There’s nowhere you can hide from me, Autumn. I’ll always come to claim what’s mine. I’d go to the depths of hell to pry from the cold dead hands of Satan himself if I have to. Without you, I’m nothing. I know I’ve only known you for a month, but I’m fucking crazy about you, Autumn.”

“I’m crazy about you too.” She whispers shyly. I can’t stop the grin spreading across my face. I lean forward and plant a kiss on her beautiful lips, tasting a hint of salt from the tears that have escaped.

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