Page 5 of Mafia Saint


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“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I hang up, returning to the room to find Mila not in bed. I’m about to panic when I hear the sound of the shower running. Crossing the floor, I reach for the door handle. Unlocked.

I push it open in time to find her slipping out of her clothes. I’m hard in an instant as she looks up and sees me watching her. “I thought I’d take a shower,” she says, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body.

I walk toward her, loosening my tie. “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” I tell her. “Only way to keep you safe.”

3

Mila

He slides his tie free, tossing it aside. His jacket follows, his arms bulging in the crisp white linen shirt. As he unbuttons it slowly, I feel my hand loosening on the towel wrapped around me. I want his hands on me.

I know I shouldn’t. He looked utterly indifferent when he emerged from the forest, like he’s spent a couple of hours staring at the trees, bored by their very existence.

Is that who he is? A man bored of killing. Not bothered in the slightest that he shot a complete stranger, a man whose name I don’t even know. Not in the least bit concerned that he shot my ex-boyfriend.

Terry is dead. Maybe that’s why I want Alexsei. The alpha male. Could it be that simple? Kill all his rivals and, apparently, I get wet for him. What the fuck is wrong with me?

More to the point, what’s wrong with him? How can he be so unconcerned about taking peoples’ lives?

Is that what will happen to me when he gets bored of me? One pop of that rifle and my brains splattered all over the dash of my car. Or bleeding out in the middle of nowhere. Alexsei moving on, forgetting me before the barrel has even cooled down.

If I give birth to his child, he has his heir. He will have no further need of me. We might be married but what does that really mean? He’s a criminal, like my father. Once he’s got what he wants from me, he’ll discard me, probably into a shallow grave.

I should hate him. Hate his indifference, his casual disregard for the sanctity of life. What if our child displeases him? Could he kill them as easily?

I look at him as he removes his shirt. I take in the tattoos, the scars, the cold hunger in his eyes. He wants me right now but that’s just lust talking. How long will that last?

A frown forms above his eyes, his brow furrowing as he walks up to me, lifting my chin with his hand. “Something is wrong,” he says as I refuse to cry.

I swallow my tears. “I’m fine,” I mutter.

“Do not lie to your husband. You wanted me to share. You must do the same. What troubles you?”

I stare into his eyes, watching to see what they do. “You killed two people today.”

“So?”

“That’s all you’ve got to say? You don’t feel anything?”

He looks confused. “What should I feel?”

“I don’t know. Guilt maybe.”

“Why should I feel guilty. Would you feel guilty for stomping on a cockroach? Or watching a wasp hit a bug zapper?”

“That’s not the same.”

“They were causing me a problem. They were eliminated.”

“That simple, huh?”

He puts an arm around my shoulder, drawing me closer to him, sliding the towel out of my grip. “You are my wife. You are carrying my child. They threatened you. They paid the price.” His voice softens, his fingers stroking my cheek. “I will not allow anyone to hurt you ever again.”

“That how it is from now on?” I’m trying to remain strong but my defenses are crumbling. Why does he have to sound so caring all of a sudden? I was so sure he didn’t give a shit about anything. “Or are you just protecting your asset?”

His eyes flash fire. “You are not hearing me. You are my wife. You are mine. I protect what is mine.”

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