The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

“Exactly,” he said, showing teeth. “It’s a compliment.”

I shoved my chair back and got to my feet. I stormed around the table and headed toward the door, heart racing.

I couldn’t do this after all, couldn’t stay with a man like Matteo, not when I knew he was a killer, not when I was sure his whole purpose was to pick off my family one by one. I didn’t love them and they’d never treated me well, but that didn’t mean I wanted them dead.

I hurried to the door and the shoe rack—

But Matteo appeared behind me. He grabbed my wrist and held it tight. I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.

“Easy,” he said.

“Don’t talk to me like some scared animal,” I snapped and made my fingers into claws, ready to tear out his eyes. “Let go of me.”

“All the reasons you came inside are still valid. You run out there and you’re going to step in some deep shit.”

I clenched my jaw. I knew he was right. “Let go of me.” I stared death at him and was inches away from attacking.

This was all way too much and I felt lightheaded. He released my wrist and I pulled away, but didn’t try to run. Instead, I sat down on the couch and pulled my legs up against my chest.

He remained standing, giving me some space. “I know you’re upset,” he said.

“Upset?” I laughed once. “Upset doesn’t begin to cover it. Upset isn’t in the ballpark. Upset? Are you kidding me?” I shook my head wildly. “I’m pregnant, okay, and that means my family’s going to kill me. That’s first and foremost. But you’re also a Valentino, which makes you my enemy, and you’re also try to kill people I know, maybe people I care about. So yes, I’m upset, but I’m also really pissed off and really confused and I wish you’d stop looking at me like that.”

He grinned. “Like what?”

“Like you think I’m going to fuck you again.” I spit the words at him. “It’s not going to happen.”

He shrugged a little and walked back over to the table. I wanted to scream and settled for shoving a pillow over my face instead. I held it there, blocking out the light for a few seconds, before lowering it back down.

He sat in a chair next to the couch with the whiskey glass in his hand.

“I know this is a problem,” he said. “I totally get it. But I want you to understand something.”

“What?” I asked.

“I’m going to make sure you’re safe,” he said. “You and that baby matter to me, Sam. I know we barely know each other, and our relationship was based on a misunderstanding—”

“You mean based on a lie,” I said, interrupting.

“Lie, whatever,” he said smoothly. “But that’s my baby growing inside of you, and I’m not the type of man to walk out on family, no matter what. So understand that it doesn’t matter if you hate me, and it doesn’t matter if your family wants me to dead. That’s my child, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

I stared at him and tried to make myself understand.

I was his enemy. Daughter of a Healy, cousin of more Healys. Friends of mine have probably tried to kill friends of his, and probably succeeded. He might’ve killed people I knew. This whole city was at war, and our families were right in the middle of it.

And he talked about protecting me.

“You can’t possibly mean that,” I said. “How do you think you can keep me safe, huh? When my dad finds out about this baby, he’s going to beat the shit out of me. Do you get that?”

His jaw clenched. “He won’t touch you.”

“He will,” I said, laughing wildly, even though it wasn’t funny, wasn’t funny at all, but my reactions to stress were more than a little skewed at the moment. “I’m supposed to be a good, clean Healy girl. He wants to marry me off to someone important one day, or at the very least use me for leverage somehow. You think he’s going to be happy that his only daughter got pregnant by some random guy?”

“He won’t touch you,” he said again, eyes hard and tone scarily neutral. I almost believed him.

Almost, but he didn’t have any power in the family.

“What do we do now?” I asked finally. “I can’t go home yet. So what the hell do we do?”

“You can stay here. I have a guest room. Figure out what you want to tell your dad. Give him a call if you want, I don’t care. I’ll get you something to eat if you’re hungry.”

“I’m not sure sleeping under the same roof as you is a good idea.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he said, sipping his whiskey. “Unless you crawl into my bed tonight.”