The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

Gian gave me a curious look and shrugged. “She won’t marry him anyway,” he said. “We need other ideas.”

“Ask her,” Don Valentino said. “Tell if that if she married you, I’ll put you both under my personal protection. That means you can come live here, in the manor, until she has the baby and the war’s over.”

“Don,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s too much.”

“Talk to her,” Don Valentino said. “Give her the option at least. If she wants to have this baby safely, then marrying you is a good way to do it.”

I should’ve argued. I could’ve told him I didn’t want to marry her, didn’t want to get involved like this. I wanted to protect her and keep my baby safe, of course—but marriage?

That wouldn’t be true though.

It scared the hell out of me, the idea of marrying her. I shouldn’t want it, should run the hell away instead. I never wanted to settle down and get married before. That was never an option for me.

I was a nothing. Two deadbeat parents, a dad that drank too much and wasted his life in some factory job, and a mother that was a waitress during the day and took pills at night to numb herself. I loved my parents, but I didn’t want to end up like them.

So I joined the Valentino family and dedicated myself to getting stronger, faster, and smarter.

But now I had a chance at something more than just the existence of a mobster. Making money and killing enemies was one thing, but a baby and a wife was an entirely different existence that I never really pictured for myself.

Sitting in that room with the Don’s smoke curling around the ceiling, I could just see it, could almost make out waking up in the morning to Sam’s smile while the baby cried in the other room, could smell breakfast cooking, could feel my baby’s skin against my cheek.

That was a life, a real life. I could have that, if I convinced Sam to marry me.

It might be fake at first. Just a marriage of convenience. But we could turn it into something more.

We could have a future.

“I’ll ask her,” I said suddenly.

Gian stared at me in surprise, but the Don only nodded his head, satisfied.

“If she says no, we’ll find another way,” he said. “But hurting the girl isn’t an option, you have my word.”

“Thank you, Don.” I stood up suddenly, finished my drink, and handed it to Gian. He seemed too bewildered to argue.

“Be careful,” Don Valentino said. “I don’t know this girl and neither do you. From the sound of it, she’s smart, and this might be a trap. You’ve killed more than your fair share of Healy men, and this might be their way to catch you.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, “but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Needless to say, your cover’s blown,” Gian said, carrying my empty glass to the drink tray. He gave himself a refill while he was over there. “I guess it was bound to happen.”

“We’ll get someone else on the inside,” Don Valentino said. “For now, your mission is to marry that girl.”

“I’m not sure she’ll go for it, but I’ll try,” I said.

“Good luck,” Gian said, grinning to himself. “Marriage is great. You’ll love it.”

I nodded at them and left the room. I stood in the hall for a few seconds, gathering myself.

The Don wanted me to marry Sam, and now I wanted it just as much.

For different reasons though. The Don thought having her in the inner circle would be beneficial to the family. I couldn’t hold that against him—he was the Don, after all, and he had to think about the family over everything else.

But for me, marrying her was about more than that. It was about having a life that I could be proud of.

Bea met me in the entryway “How did it go?” she asked.

“Good,” I said. “They want me to marry a Healy girl.”

She smiled. “That’s nice, dear. Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.” I left, feeling like I was floating along above the ground, and got into my truck.

I sat there staring at my hands, then turned on the engine and pulled out.

My future wife was waiting.

6

Sam

“Absolutely not,” I said, staring at him like he was crazy. “There is absolutely no way in this entire freaking world that I’m going to marry you.”

Matteo stood across from me in the kitchen cooking eggs. I clutched a coffee cup between both hands and felt like I was shaking.

Last night, he came home, cooked me dinner, then we went to sleep in our separate rooms. We didn’t talk much—I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I kept wondering when this nightmare was going to end, and kept seeing him sitting near me with that perfect smirk on his lips.