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Dammit. My fist slammed into the desk, knuckles cracking with the force. She’d cost me four days hunting her down, and I was no closer to getting any product into the city. New York was already rife with rebellion without its supply. The officials I paid to look the other way would soon get twitchy when their streets filled with crime and those vying for power left trails of bodies.
Emilia Donato had cost me, and I wanted to wrap my hands around her pretty neck and choke her for it. My dick twitched at the thought.
I watched as she kicked the sheets away, revealing her long legs and my shirt still drowning her small body. A twisted sense of satisfaction rose at the sight of her in it, and my dick hardened when the material rode up her slim thighs, exposing white lace panties. A better man would look away, but I never pretended to be decent, and she was downright fucking indecent. I had every intention of ignoring my would-be bride, giving her my name and ring and locking her away in a safe place. But that was before she had run.
I hadn’t anticipated her fierce defiance punching me in the gut every bit as hard as her curves punched me in the dick. She fought like she had nothing left to lose. And she was beautiful. All golden skin, wild chocolate curls, and a body that was made to be bent over something. Her eyes were the exact color of the Mediterranean Ocean at dusk, and in them lingered something so tragic, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fix her or break her entirely. Yes, I wanted to break her while she fought me like the savage little kitten she was, scratching and clawing until she drew blood. Until I had to choke her into submission again. I could almost feel her soft throat beneath my fingertips, the rush of her frantic pulse, part fear, part desire, part hate.
A better man would look away. A better man would let her go, but she’d made a fatal error; she’d drawn my attention. Emilia was a rose in full bloom, so blissfully unaware that her roots had been torn from the ground, but if I put a ring on her finger, would those thorns make me bleed? The thought excited me far more than it should.
So, what to do… Either way, she was now mine.
I was on the way to my Hampton House when Sergio Donato finally called me back. I’d already had his niece for over twelve hours.
“You must be busy, Donato. Hopefully, taking care of Patrick O’Hara,” I said in the way of greeting.
“You took Emilia to New York?” His voice came through the car speakers, and I could picture the displeased frown on his withered face.
I noticed he didn’t mention his dead men or the fact he’d ordered Emilia killed. I pulled onto the bridge, the very first pinks of the sunrise painting the surface of the water below. “Where else would I take her?”
“Chicago, of course.” He hurried on before I could respond. “One of my underbosses has a daughter, Sofia. She’s a widow but fertile. A good mafia wife.”
I wanted to snap his neck. He pushed for this fucking marriage to seal an alliance, and I had agreed to marry some wilting little mafia princess who could be ignored and forgotten. Instead, he palmed off his unruly niece, probably hoping that whatever he’d threatened her with would keep her in check long enough to walk down the aisle. And now that she’d shown him up and failed to die in that motel room, he thought to swap her like faulty goods.
“No.” My temper simmered below the surface until I was driving way over the speed limit. “Emilia is mine. Bought and paid for.”
He scoffed. “Are you seriously telling me you still want to marry my niece after she ran and dishonored you?”
The Outfit with their honor and false morals… “I didn’t want to marry her in the first place, Donato. And you don’t really give a shit if I do. You want my political ties, my guns, and my coke. I have Emilia. Consider our alliance sealed.”
There was a beat of silence. “You’re right. I don’t care what you do with her.” Because he was a piece of shit. “But marriages have certain…benefits, and that is what you agreed to.” He thought becoming family would offer him protection, but no one could protect him from me when I decided I was done with him. And there would come a time because the man was a snake.
“Well then, you should have chosen a bride who was actually willing.” A smile pulled at my lips, the kind that usually prefaced someone’s death. “Make no mistake, this ‘alliance’ is convenient to me, but don’t become inconvenient, Donato.” I let the threat linger before he finally released a breath.
