Mafia Captive (Mafia Menage Trilogy 1)

He was close enough that his warm breath teased over my lips. They parted, ready for his tongue to sweep into my mouth, claiming me with deep, domineering strokes. His eyes roved over my face, studying me as though he was trying to memorize my every feature. His obsession was intoxicating, his reverence enthralling.

“Ashlyn.” He almost groaned my name, his husky tone heavy with longing and a hint of wonder. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured.

He reached up and traced the line of my lower lip with his thumb, the touch feather-light and worshipful.

I love you. I bit the words back just before they could roll off my tongue. As much as I ached for his kiss, a new darkness tainted our connection.

Joseph had deceived me. I couldn’t trust him.

I remembered how he’d pinned me down and kissed the tears on my cheeks. Mere minutes had passed since then, and the memory of his arousal at my subjugation was still clear in my mind.

Just as he leaned in to capture my lips, I managed to turn my face away.

“Don’t,” I begged softly. I couldn’t bear it if he kissed me. My heart was already in pieces, and I couldn’t take any more. The man I loved had ripped my life away from me. He’d put me in danger, and he’d taken away my choices. I’d been convinced that he was good, but now, I didn’t know him at all.

I heard him take a shuddering breath. He didn’t withdraw immediately. I wondered if he was struggling to hold back the darker part of himself that wanted to pin me down and devour me, to draw out my lust for him until I forgot why I should push him away.

A twisted part of me longed for him to do it, because that would absolve me of any foolishness for falling back into his arms.

Resolutely, I kept my gaze averted from his, denying our connection. Denying him.

A low sound of displeasure left his chest, but he finally withdrew. I allowed myself to breathe again, willing my racing pulse to slow to a normal rhythm.

He didn’t say anything to me, but I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t look at him. Instead, I picked up the notepad and pen and began writing with shaky hands. I made my excuses to my professors first, then Jayme. She was fully aware of how heartbroken I’d been since Joseph left, so I knew she wouldn’t doubt my supposed decision to take time off from school.

I wrote to my father last. There was no point sending an email to my mother. The most I ever got from her were text messages a few times a year, usually filled with falsely cheery emojis. She liked to pretend we had a gal-pal friendship, but that was a fake act to make her feel better. It only left me feeling empty.

Tears began to blur my vision as I made my excuses to my father. All I’d ever wanted was for him to be proud of me, to prove I was worthy of attention and affection. This email would destroy all my hard work. He’d never understand or forgive a rash decision to take time off from college because of heartache over a guy. I could easily imagine the look of disappointment on his face, his bushy gray mustache turning down in a sad frown. It was the same look he’d given me every time I’d failed to be anything less than perfect in my life. I’d told myself he was just pushing me to be a high achiever, but that didn’t take the hurt away.

By the time I’d scrawled “Love, Ashlyn,” my tears dripped down my face and splattered on the ruled notebook paper. The black ink smudged where they fell, but the message was still legible.

Joseph tugged the notepad out of my hands before I could completely ruin the words I’d written.

“What’s your username?” he prompted gently.

“Abmeyers. My first initials and last name.”

“What’s your middle name?”

He’d never asked me before. There was so much we’d never learned about one another, but he was far more of a mystery than I was.

“Bailey,” I said dully. I felt hollowed-out, exhausted.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

I nodded at the compliment, not really listening. Mentally, I was checking out. Everything that’d happened since I’d woken up to find Joseph and Marco looming over me was too much for me to fully process. And the knowledge that my father was going to be disappointed in me rested heavy on my heart.

“And your password?”

“The word Number, capitalized-one-unicorn-exclamation point.” I was too wrung out to even feel embarrassed by admitting my childish password.

He paused, but I barely noticed. “Thank you.”

I nodded again in rote acknowledgment. My whole situation was becoming surreal, and I sank into the sense of detachment from my emotions. It was so much easier than facing the pain of Joseph’s betrayal.