Arranged Mafia Marriage

Silence descends as the guys glance at me.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“You sure of that?” Sebastian drawls, “because from where I was standing, she sure seemed to be aiming to kill.”

“To injure, at the very least,” I agree, “but did she want to kill me?” I raise a shoulder, “I am not so sure.”

“So why send her to the basement?” Christian frowns.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s your wife?” Xander offers.

“And she stabbed me.”

“As you said, she wasn’t aiming for your heart,” he retorts. “In fact, the wound isn’t that deep; you’ve lost blood but you’ll recover.”

“She attacked me in front of the Don,” I say steadily. “I don’t need him seeing me as weak, no matter that it was my own wife who took a dagger to me.”

“Bullshit.” Xander scowls, “Since when do you let father steer your actions?” He prowls over to me, “No Mika, you are up to something else here.”

I look him and down, “Are you going to tell me how I am supposed to treat my wife?”

Xander hesitates, “I don’t presume to tell you anything, fratellone.” He murmurs, “I am merely pointing out that she is entitled to basic human rights.”

“Is she though, after what she did?” I hold his gaze steadily and he glances away.

“I know you are angry, and I am not condoning what she did,” he murmurs. “Still she is a woman, and she is the one you love…”

“Love?” I chuckle aloud, “You really think I am in love with her?”

“Why else would you marry her?”

I open my mouth to protest and Xander holds up his hand. “The way you look at her, Mika,” his gaze softens, “it’s the glance of a man obsessed.”

“Obsessed with ensuring that I get the respect that is due to me from my own wife.” I bare my teeth, “And that is the last I will entertain on this issue.”

Xander hesitates, and Christian walks over to him. He claps a hand on Xander’s shoulder, “Let the Capo handle this the way he thinks best.”

Xander scowls at him, “You are a harsh man, but you are not heartless, Mika.”

I tilt my head. “Not looking for a character reference.” I glance around the assembled faces. “And that’s the last I will entertain in this regard, do I make myself clear?”

The rest of them keep silent.

“Do I?”

They nod. “Yes, fratel-Capo,” Sebastian replies.

“Yes, Capo.” Christian adds.

“You got it, Capo.” Massimo rumbles.

Xander draws in a breath. I hold his gaze and he nods. “As you wish,” he says stiffly.

“Good.” I walk over to where she had dropped the knife, then scoop it up. I wipe it on my shirt then slide it back into the sheath at my waist. “When does the doctor get here?” I glance at Christian.

“I sent the chopper for her; she won’t be long.”

“Good.” I turn to Sebastian, “Take care of the body.”

An hour and a half later, I’ve been stitched up by the doctor who had departed after administering an antibiotic shot. I change into a fresh pair of slacks and a shirt, then head down the stairs of my mansion. As I descend, it gets cooler. When I hit the lower ground level, it’s at least ten degrees cooler than what I had left behind. That’s the architecture of these old homes for you. The basements were always cool enough so you could use the space as a natural refrigerator to store food… Or temporarily keep dead bodies… As I have done in the past.

I head down the corridor to the door at the far end. I grab the handle, twist it and shove the door open. Step inside the gloom that’s illuminated by the light streaming in from the lone window near the ceiling.

On the far side, there is a single bed and on it, Beauty is curled up. Her black dress slashes across the white of the mattress. The train flows behind her and trails on the floor. Her red hair flows about her shoulders and over the side of the bed. Her body is curved into the fetal position. Her slender fingers pillow her cheek.

I let the door slam shut behind me. The sound echoes through the cell and she visibly jolts. Her eyelids snap open. She spots me but doesn’t move. I prowl over to stand over her. She tips her chin up, meets my gaze.

“What do you want?” she snarls, and a chuckle boils up. This woman… She, seriously, has some gumption. After stabbing me in the chest, at our wedding, she acts as if she’s the injured party. Fuck, if that isn’t hot. I swallow down my mirth, school all emotion from my face.

“On your knees.”

Karma

“What the hell does that mean?” I scowl up at the man who towers over me. Michael’s a tall guy, at least six-feet four-inches in height, but in this light, and with the angle at which he is poised over me, he looks positively massive. His shoulders block out my line of sight, his dark eyes seem to merge with the blackness around him. My heart beat ratchets up. Shit, this is not good. I am in a cell, on my own, with the man-okay, technically, with my husband-who is not in the least bit happy with me. I glance around the cell and he shakes his head.

“Don’t even think about it.” His lips curl, “If by some miracle, you get out of the cell, the only way out is up and my brothers are standing guard as we speak.”

“So the entire family is on this?” I swallow. “Why am I not surprised? After all, torturing helpless women must be your family’s past time.”

“Hmm.” He drums his fingers on his massive chest, then winces.

My stomach tightens. So, I had managed to wound him, after all, though you can’t see it, with how he’s standing with his spine straight, and dressed in clean clothes. You wouldn’t guess I had had my dagger-okay, his dagger-buried in his chest less than a few hours ago. Again, that may be a gross exaggeration, considering he is nowhere near death’s door. Bastard looks like he’s ready for an evening out in those tailored pants and shirt.

He lowers his arm to his side, then jerks his chin. “You heard me,” he drawls, “Get on your knees, Beauty.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll make you,” he props his massive hands on his lean waist, “and trust me, you don’t want that to happen.”