Owned by the mafia boss

CARMELA

I’d never love again.

I’d barely survived my last relationship. Love was an indiscriminate killer of hearts, and mine was broken beyond repair. But Michael’s fight with Nick had thrown that into doubt.

He’d stood up for me.

He’d shoved glass down Nick’s throat without skipping a beat. Michael hadn’t wasted time with twenty questions. He’d believed me and acted swiftly.

That meant everything to me.

I told myself Michael was defending his pride, not me, but I couldn’t separate his actions from the safety they’d given me. And maybe I didn’t love him, but there was room in my heart for his children.

I loved them.

Matteo was such a sweet kid. He hugged me at every opportunity, said hilarious things, and hero-worshipped Michael. His daughter was more complicated. Her fierce independence challenged me. She was prone to slamming doors and I-hate-yous. She was guarded, like her father.

The responsibility over both kids made me feel needed, but however much I lost myself in this new role, I couldn’t forget that Nick was out there.

Giant oaks towered above us like giants as we strolled the deep green lawn toward the playground. Mariette raced ahead, hooting with pleasure as she hurled herself onto a swing. Matteo’s legs dashed for the plastic tree house. He beat the bongo drum and twisted the gear wheel.

Michael’s hawk-like gaze zeroed in on his kids. Sleep lines etched his face, but other than that, he seemed normal. An untamed scruff covered his jaw and neck, and his mocha waves were half-tamed. When his amber eyes flicked at me, my heart jumped.

“What is it?”

I smiled. “Want coffee?”

His attention slid to the children. “Sure, I like it with-”

“Milk and enough sugar for a diabetic coma. I know.”

He raised his brows as I wandered toward the espresso stand.

Dew clung to the grass, slicking my ankles as sunshine broke through the murky sky. It was a beautiful spring morning. Cherry blossoms floated on the wind, clinging to my hair. The crisp air bit my cheeks. As I mixed Michael’s coffee, I examined the lightness in my chest-happiness.

I joined Michael’s side, handing him the cup. “I put in four sugars.”

“Perfect.” He frowned at it, as though he suspected poison, but he drank anyway. “Thanks.”

“You have a sweet tooth,” I said when he shot me a probing look. “Peppermint candy in all your pockets. And I found your hidden stash in the walk-in closet.”

“I didn’t realize you watched me.” He wasn’t angry. He looked flattered. “Are you after my heart, Carmela?”

“With a lousy cup of joe?”

“It’s not bad.” Michael’s smile widened behind the cardboard. “What else do you think you know?”

“You’re eating all the children’s snacks. Don’t you have any shame?”

“None.”

“What a monster.”

“I gave them life. The least they can do is give me their Snack Packs.” Michael’s fingers skimmed my leggings and pinched my ass. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“Your favorite vegetable is broccoli. You have a thing for plaid suits. You use a butter knife to cut meat. I could go on and on, but it doesn’t matter. Your quirks don’t offer any insight to who you are as a person. And I want to know my husband.”

Michael acted like he was half-listening, his gaze hyper-focused on the kids, but he stilled.

“Tell me about your parents.”

“Dad’s dead,” he said baldly. “Passed away when I was five. The guy you met at our wedding is my mom’s boyfriend.”

“Sorry about your father.”

“I don’t remember him. The funeral stuck in my mind, but other than that…he’s a stranger.”

So he grew up without a dad. That pitted my stomach with sadness. “What happened after he died? Who helped raised you?”

“Daniel.” All the light seemed to disappear within Michael. “My brother was fifteen.”

“That’s a ton of pressure for a teenager.”

“Yeah, but he did the best he could. He packed lunches and walked me to school. Bought all the candy I wanted. When I got older, he’d take me to arcades and slap a ten-dollar roll of quarters in my hand. That was a lot of money in those days. Especially for a kid. Daniel wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t even nice, but he was the closest thing I had to a dad.”

Clouds rolled overhead, blocking the sun. He shook off his melancholy, the smile returning to his face.

“Life with me isn’t so bad, is it?”

“It’s not torture.”

“Easy on the praise, honey. When you let loose those compliments, my knees knock together.”

I took his shoulder and kissed his brow.

He stared at me, toying with the empty cup.

“Do I make you nervous?” I asked.

He snorted. “No.”

“Ever since I told you about Crash, you’ve been different.”

“I’m trying to be gentle. I’m not making excuses or getting out of anything. I’m telling you the truth.” He leaned in, his breath tickling my cheek. “I don’t have a pause button, sweetheart. When we’re hot and heavy, it’s tough to stop.”

“I never asked you to change.”

“I married you to build a better life. If I give in to my impulses, I will hurt you. And I can’t live with that.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“It’s a risk I’m not selfish enough to take. I want you to be happy.”

He couldn’t mean that.

My heart drank it in anyway. I’d waited for someone to appreciate me. Nobody had ever seen my worth. They never cared to look beyond my face and body.

“You’re lying.”Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Then why did I marry you?”

I had no answer.

Michael no longer resembled the monster I’d met in his mansion. Piece by piece fell, like a badly fitting costume over a beautiful man. He’d sucked me in like a black hole, pulling me into his dark orbit.

He’s lying.

I didn’t care. I needed this.

I dragged him by his lapels, kissing him hard.

Michael let a shocked laugh into my mouth. A rumble vibrated in his throat, the sound deepening as I crushed him against a tree. His growl settled between my thighs as he flipped me around.

He palmed my back before I hit the wood. Our bodies molded together. His lip caught mine with a flash of teeth that nipped before a liquid heat swiped me. He devoured me in a slow, agonizing stroke while he glided down in silky caresses.

I pulled away, just enough to be warmed by his lazy smile. “Is this what you’re like when you don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you, Carmela.”

“I don’t hate you, either.”

“Thank fuck.”

He tipped forward, claiming me again. He was softer than last time, his tongue flicking my lip in such a wanton display we were seconds from being called out.

“I want you. The real you.” I brushed his hair, fingers tangled in his hair. “Not the man you pretended to be.”