Page 30 of Shackled By the Mafia Boss

“Sunshine? Really?” His grin steals my breath away. “One minute you call me little bird, then you call meamore, and now sunshine? Pick a name,” I tease.

Wrapping his arm around me, he pulls me close. Heat shimmers from his body and I want to melt into him. “You’re mine,amore.All mine. I’ll call you whatever sweet name I want.”

I flush again. I don’t like that I’m blushing like a teenager, damn my pale skin, but I really can’t help it.

“You’re only allowed to call me that when we’re alone.”

He tsks, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I don’t play by the rules,amore.”

“Weird. You play by the mafia rules, don’t you?”

“With the mafia, you either do or die. My brother gave me the option to leave after our parents died.”

“But?”

“Our youngest brother detests the mafia. I couldn’t leave Dominic all alone. I grew up in this world, the rules are my way of life. It’s embedded in my veins.”

There’s some sadness in his eyes, but it’s not enough for me to draw the conclusion he hates the life and would leave if given the chance to.

It’s also not enough for me to think he is a good man. I’ve done my research on the mafia, read all I could about them and I know one thing for sure, there’s no good guys in the mafia.

Marcus is not an exception and I need to constantly remind myself of that. He’s just as much of a blood-thirsty monster as the rest of them, and I still have to put him in cuffs one day, when I no longer need his help.

My heart beats a little faster. I know I’ll have to arrest him one day and I’ll probably be promoted for taking down one of the most notorious crime families. But it will also get me closer to my father’s killer.

That is all I want, right? So why does my heart break a little at the knowledge I’ll betray him one day?

The conversation sours my mood. I’m glad when my stomach rumbles and Marcus chuckles. “How about we go for breakfast?” He lifts himself from the couch and begins to dress. “What would you like to eat?”

“What do you have?” I joke.

He smiles, dragging his pants up to his waist. “I don’t do breakfast, but I’ll have whatever you will. We can order in or eat out if you want.”

I shake my head. “That’s quite unromantic. Most men would offer to make breakfast.”

“My cooking skills are nothing to write home about, sunshine,” Marcus chuckles. But I promise I'll make it up to you by ordering in the best breakfast in town. Pancakes, waffles, eggs, whatever your heart desires.”

“In books, mafia men are usually good cooks.” I sigh, curling my hair around my finger. “I’m a bit disappointed.”

“Reality is mostly different from fiction,amore.There are many things I learned to do with a knife, cutting an onion isn’t one of them.”

He grabs his dress shirt from the floor and I notice a scar on the left side of his torso. It’s useless asking since I can already guess how it got it, but I’m tempted to, anyway.

I point at the scar. “How did you get that?”

He follows the direction of my outstretched finger to his chest. Then he sighs, as if he’d like to dismiss my question. “Got shot in a fight years ago.”

“That’s a bullet scar, Marcus. Not a knife or a bite. Whoever it is you had the fight with, I think they intended to kill you.”

He shrugs. “Maybe they did. You coming for breakfast or what?”

I sense he doesn’t want to discuss the bullet scar or the fact he was almost killed given how he’s avoiding the topic, so I don’t push further.

I’m still bubbling with curiosity though, but I’ll bring it up another day.

“Alright, you're forgiven for not being a breakfast chef extraordinaire,” I tease, grateful when a smile flickers on his face.

As he his smooths his shirt before buttoning it, I can't help but notice the way his muscles flex beneath his skin. He’s all muscles and firm flesh. I bet he trains at least five times a week.

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