The Mafia’s Obsession

Ayla

The next day

A deal with the devil. That’s what I made.

Now I’m marrying the devil.

I can’t help but wonder how many wedding planners died to make this event happen on 24 hours’ notice. For some reason, that’s the only thing I can think about as Salomon Marco , one of the Razone family captains, walks me down the aisle. He’s standing in for my father, who is at home under guard by Alessio’s men.

The thought brings me a vicious sort of satisfaction: my father trapped in his own living room, furious and unable toprevent me from marrying the man who will soon take over his entire organization. There’s a victory for me in that. I beat him.

But when I reach the altar and see Alessio standing there, dangerously handsome in his suit, my mouth goes dry. He’s looking at me with a singular intention in his eyes, like he’s a predator and I’m something he wants to eat.

Something he’sgoingto eat.

The priest says his part, and I don’t hear a word of it. All of Alessio’s attention is on me, and I feel naked under his gaze. Completely naked. The whole ceremony happens in a blur. I don’t even remember saying our vows, just Alessio’s dark eyes.

I made a deal with the devil, and tonight, he’s going to claim what’s his.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Razone,” says the priest, and the whole crowd in front of us cheers. It’s a smaller group than I’m used to, but still full of the same Mafia figures I’ve been seeing at events my entire life. As much as I’ve always hated these gatherings in the past, right now, I find the familiarity comforting. At least I know this world.

“You may now seal your vows with a kiss.”

Now I’m forced to look at the man next to me. Myhusband. The man I didn’t choose to marry, neverwantedto marry, but am now married to all the same. He grins at me, and to my surprise, the smile does reach his eyes. He looks joyous, and as he leans in to kiss me, it’s like one of those fireworks moments from a movie. I melt into him, feeling his warmth. For a split second, it’s like everything around us fades away. There’s just us, and the heat of our lips pressed together.

This is the first time we’ve kissed, I realize. He’s tied me up, made mecome, but he’s never kissed me.

Alessio is a good kisser.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

As we walk around the reception together, playing the happy couple, people come up to greet us. Everyone asks where myparents are, and every time, we repeat the lie we’ve practiced: they both woke up sick with the flu, and are devastated they couldn’t come to the wedding. But they send their regards, and thank you so much for being here on short notice.

Everyone seems happy for us. The higher-ups in both families all already knew about our arranged marriage, so it’s only the short notice that raises eyebrows, not the fact that we’re doing it at all. I don’t doubt there will be some muttering when my father announces his “retirement” in the near future, but by that point, it will be too late.

I won. We Won. My father’s power is gone, and the man who took it is parading me around on his arm, beaming at me with affection.

So much affection, it almost seems real.

And so as the reception continues, I allow myself to feel a glimmer of hope. It’s so easy to forget this isn’t a love marriage, that Alessio isn’t marrying me because he wants me, but because he wants the power of my last name.

It feels like he wants me.

All the little touches. His hand on my waist, on the small of my back, on my shoulder. Little kisses on my cheek. I’ve never been treated like this before, by anyone. It’s something I’ve always wanted, always craved, never had.

If it’s a performance, it’s a good one. It’s convincing me.

Ayla

The hair on the back of my neck prickles as Alessio and I ride the elevator up to the honeymoon suite. There’s a tension between us that’s been building the entire night, and now it’s ready to burst.

I know what tonight means. And I haven’t told him I’m a virgin.

His hand tightens around my waist as the elevator reaches our floor. His body language has been growing increasingly possessive this entire night, to the point that now, he’s practically dragging me down the hall with a sense of urgency to his actions. I exhale as his hand slides lower to my hip, cupping me in an extremely intimate way.

All of his actions signal one thing very clearly: I’m his now. And he’s going to do what he wants with me.

I want to say something, to break the tension, but my mouth is dry. I’m nervous and excited and overwhelmed all at the same time.

Unlocking the honeymoon suite and opening the door for me, he finally speaks:

“You liked it when I tied you up in that hotel room, didn’t you?”

My mind goes blank. That’s not what I expected him to say. Immediately, I’m brought back to all the intense emotions of that night. The helplessness, the anticipation, the fear.

Theneed.

Numbly, I nod.

“Good girl,” Alessio whispers, and he steps into my space, pressing me against the wall. I shiver at his words, and to my surprise, his praise gives me a thrill. “And do you remember the condition you accepted when you agreed to become my wife?”

This makes my face grow hot. Of course I remember. How could I not? I’ve been replaying it in my head every quiet moment since it happened.

“You own me,” I whisper, looking down.

“That’s right,” he replies, trailing his fingers down my neck, over my breasts. They slide down my dress until they find my waist. I feel so small and feminine as he holds me like that, his big, muscular form towering over me. “I own you.”

Finally, I force myself to meet his eyes. He looks down at me, a smirk curling his lips, and I feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt.

I’ve attached myself to this man. I’m at his mercy. Any power I have from now on will be throughhim.

I should be terrified, and I am. But there’s another part of me thatcravesthat release. Thatwantsto lose myself in the blissful surrender of his rough hands.

That’s messed up, right? That’s definitely messed up.

At least losing my virginity won’t be a situation where I have to worry about doing the right thing. I’m pretty sure Alessio will take me exactly how he wants, in whatever way he chooses.

It feels so fucking wrong that Ilikethat.

“I’m going to take you tonight,” he growls, hands sliding lower to grip my ass, “and I’m not going to hold back like I did before. You’re going to feelallof me, and then you’re going to feel me leaking out of you.”

I whimper as he spins me around, pressing me face-first against the wall. He holds me by the back of my neck, keeping me in place, while his other hand flips up my dress, exposing my lower body.

“These are pretty,” he murmurs, fingers stroking over the lacy white bridal lingerie covering my ass. “Did you wear this just for me?”

“You’re my husband,” I say, the words almost catching in my throat. “Who else would it be for?”

Alessio’s breath tickles my neck as he releases a satisfied sigh. “No one. No one at all. All. Fucking. Mine.”

He starts to unzip my dress. I hesitate for only a moment, then lift my arms, allowing him to remove it entirely. When I try to turn around, he stops me, keeping me pressed to the wall with my back to him.

“Seeing as you’re all mine, we should have a conversation about what I expect from you.”

I stay where I am, breathing. I feel very, very dominated.

“You obey me,” Alessio growls, lips right next to my ear. “Always. I set the rules, and you follow them. What do you think happens if you break a rule?”

My pussy twitches. I can anticipate his answer, but I don’t want to say it out loud.

“Ayla?” He gives my ass a little slap.

“Ow!” I yelp, more surprised than in pain.

“Do you want to guess, or should I tell you?”

I can’t bring myself to say it. I stare at the wall, quivering.

“You get punished,” Alessio whispers. “Repeat that back to me.”

“I… get punished,” I echo, cheeks burning.