The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

“Matteo’s not so bad,” the Don said. “But take some time and think about it. Stay on the grounds for tonight, take a look around. I’m sure Bea will give you the tour.”

“I can do that,” I said.

“Good. I won’t force you into this, but listen to me right now, because you need to hear it.” I looked up and the Don stared at me with a surprising intensity. “If you don’t marry Matteo and accept my hospitality, you will never be safe. I’m not going to hurt you, and neither is Matteo, but your family will. You know it already, you’ve seen it, haven’t you? Your best friend betrayed you and your father tried to keep you locked up in your room. But that can stop if you help me end this war.”

I stood up abruptly. I felt dizzy, like I might topple over at any second. I didn’t know what to think, and even though I wanted to believe this man, I was terrified of giving myself away to Matteo.

And more than that, these were my enemies. I’d been raised to hate the Valentino family, and the last few years had only intensified that feeling. Every time someone I knew was killed, I thought of the Valentinos, and my hate for them only grew deeper. Now, I was supposed to trust them.

It was hard. Even if I hated my dad and Colm and the rest, they were still all I knew.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, and turned away. I walked to the door and heard the Don say something, but I couldn’t understand it as I hurried into the hall.

Matteo came after me. He grabbed my wrist before I could storm away and yanked me back toward him. I sucked in a breath and glared at him, alone in the dim hallway surrounded by wood paneling and thick rugs.

“I know you’ve got loyalty to your family,” he said softly, moving close to me, his other hand on my hip, “but now isn’t the time to give them what they don’t deserve.”

“I know you’re right,” I said. “But I don’t know if I can trust any of you.”

His eyes flashed. “I’ve done a lot to keep you safe.”

“And you also misled me from the start. How am I supposed to trust your Don?”

“You’re not,” he said, moving closer, lips brushing past mine. “Trust me instead. I’m telling you, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a tremor in my lips. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted him to touch me and to give me all the things I desperately needed—pleasure, safety, a man’s touch. But this was happening too fast and I didn’t know how to say yes, say yes when that was all I wanted to say, yes over and over again.

“I’ll try,” I said. “But I don’t know if I can.”

He turned me and pushed me up against the wall. I let out a gasp of surprise. It hurt my back, and his hands were rough on my body. His jaw clenched as he pressed his lips against my neck, then my cheek.

“I’m not going to let you go back to them,” he said. “Even if you won’t marry me, I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Matteo—”

He kissed me then, hard and fierce. It was an angry kiss, one that wanted blood as much as pleasure, and god, it felt good. I kissed him back for all those starving thoughts I’d had since that first night together when he made me feel something I never thought I could feel.

But then he broke it off and left me. It felt like ripping off a comforter on a crisp winter morning, my skin suddenly chilled and empty. I wanted him back, wanted to feel the weight of him, the crush of him, but he stalked away down the hall, leaving me alone.

I composed myself then went after him, intent on at least trying to make this work.

9

Matteo

With Sam back at the Valentino mansion, safe and sound, I went out on the hunt.

Bea got her settled. It was obvious that Sam was uncomfortable, but Bea was the sort of person that made people feel at ease, and she promised that she’d make Sam feel as welcome as possible. Once I was sure Sam was being taken care of, I left the house with my gun tucked into my waistband, and drove back into the city.

Night fell, heavy and dark. West Philly had more street lights than some neighborhoods, though the block I stalked down was dimmer than most.

In my time hanging around the family, I learned a few things. Most of it was trivial stuff—where the guys hung out, who was in leadership, the sort of drugs they were selling—but some of it was supposed to be a secret. Thing about a mafia was most of them liked to drink, and some of them liked to talk. All I had to do was sit around and listen, even if I wasn’t part of the conversation.