Cruel Mercy (Dark Mafia)

Shouting and curses filled the air. They demanded proof. They demanded bloodied sheets from the wedding night. They demanded my head.

“She is ours! You had no right.”

“I have every right. I love her,” I said simply. “She is not your chattel. However, I am prepared to offer you something in return, providing you give your assurances that you will behave honorably. If you do, you will have an ally in the Margarelli family for all time.”

That shut them up.

Joseph Kellari stepped forward.

“This is our cousin Joseph, from Vincent and Antonios mothers side of the family. He is young and strong. He will not be your slave, but he will be one of you, with his full allegiance, if you accept.”

The room became very quiet.

“He doesn’t look like much of a breeder,” one of the old men grumbled. I felt sick, thinking about what that meant. What they had had in mind for my precious, beautiful girl.

“Not the hips for it,” one of the others joked. Joseph didn’t react. He stood proudly, merely raising an eyebrow at the ribald comments.

“We accept,” the old man who was the head of the family said. He knew he had no choice. It was a generous offer.

And truth be told, life on the vineyard was a bit tame for Joseph. That was why he had volunteered.

“If he is harmed in any way, the deal is off. And it will be war.”

“We understand. We accept your substitute and will treat him as one of our own.”

I nodded, then shook hands with all of them, before hugging Joseph.

“I owe you my life for this.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said with a cocky grin. He’d be fine. I shook my head, knowing he was going to have a good time with these old school mafiosos.

The ride home was quiet. I stared out the window. My bride was finally free to start our life together in earnest. No one was after her. Even back home, things were relatively calm.

And after a few days here, I would take her back there.

We pulled into the long gravel driveway at dusk. Before my boots hit the ground, a force was hurtled against me. I froze, then smiled, pulling her into my arms.

“Never frighten me like that again,” she said, her voice muffled against my chest. “Promise me!” She said, swatting my shoulder.

“Ouch,” I joked, feeling unaccountably warm and loved inside. I liked that she had worried about me. I liked it a lot. “I promise,” I vowed, kissing the top of her head.

She leaned back and looked at me.

“You really are a bastard, you know that?”

“I do,” I agreed. “But I’m your bastard.”

I lifted her into my arms and carried her upstairs.

“Where are you going, cousin?” Anthony called out as I stalked past my gawking family to the stairs.

“I am going to make love to my wife!”

A burst of laughter followed us up the stairs. I paid them no mind. I had everything I wanted right here in my arms.

My wife. My woman. My heart.

And she had worried about me, I thought in wonder. It was proof that she loved me. I hadn’t forced her to marry me, after all.

She truly was mine.

Six months later

Michael

I leaned against the tree, doing one of my favorite things in the world. Waiting to see my wife. That first glance of her beauty still overwhelmed me. It was like discovering the eight wonder of the world, each and every time I saw her.

No one should really be that pretty, I thought as she appear like clockwork, Tiny trailing in her wake.

She walked across the quad, students parting for her like the Red Sea parting for Moses. Or more likely they were parting for the enormous bodyguard who dogged her steps, but you never knew.

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her, barely noticing the disappointed looks on every male face in the vicinity. I wasn’t bothered by the attention she got. She was mine. I didn’t doubt her for a second.

“How does it feel to be the only undergrad with a husband?”

“I am not sure I am the only one, but I do have the handsomest husband,” she said, somehow managing to look like an innocent virgin, despite the swelling of her belly. “I am, however, the only pregnant first year, as far as I can tell.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush. And you will have lots of help with the baby if you want to go full time next year.”

“Hmmm,” she said, linking her arm in mine. “We shall see.”

I knew she had planned to go right through med school. But things had changed. I hoped she didn’t blame me for that. She assured me that she did not. That she was perfectly happy. Blissful, actually.

That everything would work out in due course.

“Wait!” She said, grabbing her belly. “I feel something!”