Page 7 of Obsessed with His Bride

“Ah,” he said, tilting his head. “So you don’t want to marry me?”

I met the monster’s pretty eyes. “No. Because you killed my father last night. Or do you not remember?”

“Oh, no, I remember,” he said softly. “I delivered his body to my rival, actually. Do you know who my rival is?”

I shook my head and stared at my coffee. I felt sick but took another sip anyway, hoping the caffeine would clear my head.

“My rival is an important member of the Russian mafia. And do you know what your father did to piss them off?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Your father stole from him. Apparently, your father learned the combination to a safe Vlas keeps in the back of one of his strip clubs. How your idiot old man got that combination, I’ll never know, and I don’t give a fuck. He stole over thirty grand from Vlas, and that sort of shit is tantamount to declaring war.”

“But what do you care?” I asked, slamming my palm down on the counter. I glared at him as he tilted his head to one side, a little smile moving across his handsome lips. “My father didn’t work for you.”

“Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m the Capo assigned to take care of Girard Estates, which means any thief not working for the Russians is working for me. Your father paid me tribute, and in return I provided the occasional work and protection.”

I stared at him and felt the true horror of what he was saying wash over me. I knew my father was a bastard. I knew he was a junky, an alcoholic, and a thief. He’d been arrested before and did some serious time a couple years back for stealing a couple cars and trying to sell them. Of course my father tried to sell them to undercover cops.

But I didn’t know he was involved in organized crime. I always thought he was just some small-time loser that couldn’t do anything right. Turned out, he was exactly that, except he was also involved with the real criminals, the real bastards that ran the city from the shadows.

“You still didn’t have to kill him,” I said, feeling hot with rage and embarrassment. My father was a loser, a junky loser, and there I was trying to defend him to this young, handsome Capo like a moron. I hated my father for putting me in that position.

I hated him even more for getting himself killed.

He let out a sigh and shook his head. “Yes, I did,” he said. “And you must realize that. If I wanted to avoid war with the Russians, I had to kill your father and return the money he stole. I’d expect no less from Vlas if one of his people ripped off one of my places.”

“You could… you could’ve just…”

He smiled. “Gone to war?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I just glared down at my coffee and wondered if I could throw it in his face

“Maybe,” he said after a short silence. “But I’m not in charge of the Leone family. In the end, that sort of decision isn’t up to me, and I can tell you right now that the boss would never agree to go to war with the Russians over the life of your pathetic father. I’m sorry if that hurts, but it’s the truth.”

I clenched my jaw and nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine?” he asked softly.

I met his gaze and tried to force my anger away. I did a very poor job of it. “Fine, you had to kill my father. Fine, you couldn’t go to war just for my dad’s life. But that doesn’t mean I have to thank you or like you. It doesn’t mean I have to stay.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “You don’t have to stay.”

I opened my mouth to protest then shut it again. “Really?” I asked. “I thought… I thought you brought me here. To… you know. Keep me.”

He laughed. “Keep you how? Did you think I was going to marry you?”

I felt my face grow flush. “No, asshole,” I snapped, although I knew I probably shouldn’t push the Capo of a crime family, I just didn’t care. “I thought you’d force me into some… some… I don’t know, some job.”

He snorted and turned away. He walked to the coffee machine and topped off his mug. “Truth is, we do deal in that sort of shit,” he said. “We’ve got girls that work for us all over the city. Most of them come to it willingly though, despite what you might think. A lot of girls from the Ukraine, for example, come over here with nothing but a pretty face and a little English. We set them up, let them work off some debt, then cut them free. Some stick around and keep working, some disappear.” He shrugged a little and sipped his coffee like what he said wasn’t absolutely horrifying.

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