Consumed by Desire: A Dark Mafia Romance

“You stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you. Easy as that.”

“Children?”

“None, thanks.” She looks back at the window, but I notice the subtle arch of her back. Like she’s thinking about the process of making those babies.

“That can’t happen. You will have my children, Olivia. That’s not an option.”

She glares at me. “One kid. No more.”

“Four kids. Not a negotiation.”

“Three. Or I swear I’ll try to scratch your eyes out every time you come near me.”

I burst out laughing. This is the most absurd conversation I’ve ever had. We’re planning how many kids we’re going to raise together but we can’t even be in the same room without wanting to stab the other with a broken, jagged bottle. It’s a stupid nightmare and I see no way out—a nightmare of my own devising.

Sometimes I really can be an arrogant bastard.

She doesn’t think it’s funny though, not that I can blame her.

I walk to the drink tray thinking I’ll pour myself a whiskey and grunt in annoyance when I see it’s dry. I told the staff not to stock alcohol in her room, which is inconvenient for me now, since a drink will take the edge off this. All the while, Olivia watches me, studying me, looking for a weakness. Waiting to pounce. I need to be careful with her. I almost forgot how intense she can be and how it feels to be around her again, and the last ten years did nothing to lessen that crackling desire. It’s like a raging bonfire burning right out of reach and dumping so much heat it curls the small hairs on my arms.

“I need you to know that I didn’t want this.” I can’t look at her. If I do, I’ll think of that night, her lips, her legs, her skin, god, her fucking taste, everything about her, and I don’t want that horrible decision to keep haunting me. “If I had any other reasonable choice, I would’ve taken it.”

“Glad you know the feeling’s mutual then.”

“Your father offered me a good deal and I need his help. I also happen to need a wife, and you’re available.”

“You’re really winning me over.”

“I’m not trying to.” I stare at my hands. These hands have done so many things, made deals, ended lives, pleasured women, and yet they don’t feel strong enough for this. “There’s a new group moving into town. Russians, a young bratva, and I need your father’s cartel to help keep them at bay.”

Her laugh is laced with derision, like she thinks my family’s problems are amusing. Well, they’re her problems now. “What, the all-powerful Bruno Famiglia can’t fight off some upstarts on their own?”

“We’re not what we were before my father died.” Which is true to a point. We lost manpower and some business, but the Famiglia’s in overall good shape. The problem is the Bratva.

“What happened to the lovely Don Bruno, anyway? The old bastard’s rotten black heart finally gave in? I wish I could say I’m sorry I missed the funeral, but I’m not. I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to watch him die.”

I meet her eye as coldly as I can. “My brother-in-law strangled him to death for murdering his family back when he was a child, and we forgave him because my father killed my mother when we were children, and he’s my best friend and my sister loves him.”

She frowns slightly and gives me one slow blink. “Sounds complicated.”

“It was, but not anymore. What’s important is, you and I can help each other. I can make your life easier if you don’t make mine harder. I have enough problems without you constantly trying to undermine me.”

“No promises.”

“Try anyway.” I walk toward her, heart racing. Looking at her is a mistake. It makes me feel things I’d rather not feel, things I wish would stay buried and dead in my cold rotten chest. I’m the Don of a powerful Famiglia, I don’t have the leisure to want a woman like this, to desire her physically, emotionally, mentally—to need total dominance over her, complete and utter control. “This can be easy or hard and it’s all up to you.”

I stop close to her, looming like an ancient moss-covered forest warden. She stares up at me and I’m struck by how small she seems now—she hasn’t grown at all since high school, except maybe where it matters—and how large she seems in my memory. Nobody understands, nobody except her.

“I never asked for this.” Her voice is soft. I wonder if she’s afraid.

“I know you didn’t, but it’s happening.”

“If there’s a way out of marrying you, I’m going to find it.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“And forget about making it easy.”

I clench my hands into fists but give her a big smile. “I thought you’d say that. I look forward to making your life hell.”