Page 94 of Mafia Obsession

“All I want is—” I stop myself before I say Sandrine’s name.

That Chicago is my endgame.

He stalks toward me, the belt still in his hand. The heat coming off him is stealing my breath. “What do you want, little storm?”

“To make my own decisions,” I say, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He considers that, and for a fleeting second, I think he might actually agree.

“Not while you’re being hunted.” He’s got my left wrist in his grasp in a matter of seconds. “This mark tells me the hunter is someone who thinks they also own you.”

“My tattoo?” I jerk away and rub the mark. “Youknow what it means?”

“I’ve known all along,” he says, his voice remarkably calm. “I asked you about it, and you lied to my face.”

“I didn’t know what it meant at the time,” I argue. “David told me just days before the attack. I swear.”

Ares just stares at me, considering my confession.

“Just let me go,” I keep talking. “Like you said, people are hunting me. Why do you want the hassle?”

“Because you’re mine,” he says, coiling the belt. “No one is taking what is mine.”

“I won’t trade one cage for another,” I say between clenched teeth.

No matter how much nicer this one is. No matter how much better of a man my captor is.

“Ares, please. I don’t want to live like this.”

He studies and speaks lower now, steadier. “And I don’t want a wife who pouts the minute I restrict her freedom after a credible threat.”

“I need space right now,” I say instead. “I’ll sleep in another room.”

“No.” His answer is so immediate, it steals the next thought from my head. “Nothing has changed since Santorini.”

“Santorini was?—”

The leather straps of the belt are suddenly wound around my wrists in such a swift move that I’m bound before I can react. He tugs the ends, dragging me against his body. “Santorini was me showing you that you are mine.”

Arousal competes with my better senses. I just got out of a marriage that felt more like a prison.

“I don’t want to belong to anyone,” I say, pushing on his hold, still fighting my attraction.

His gaze hardens, not cruel but immovable. “I’m not just anyone.”

“And what if I refuse?”

Something dangerous flashes behind his eyes. “Then I will carry you into my bed every night until you stop pretending this is a negotiation.”

Heat rushes into my face at the idea of being carried off by him. “I don’t know how to fight you.”

And whyamI fighting him?

“So don’t. You’re sleeping here,” he says, as if that’s the end of it. “You don’t have to like it. I won’t force myself on you. But you’re going to be my wife.”

“You’re impossible.” My pulse pounds, but I manage to break free.

“So I’ve been told.” He checks his watch and sighs. “I have to get dressed. Put on a damn suit.”