The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

“You’re staying in this place?”

“In my own room that’s basically a little apartment.”

“Does it have, like, servants?”

“Not really,” I said and smiled slightly. I couldn’t imagine how Bea would react if she heard someone refer to her as a servant. “But there’s a housekeeper and some kitchen staff. And cleaners every other day.”

“My god,” she whispered. “There’s no way we ever can beat these people. I mean, Colm doesn’t even have his own house. He runs around the city, hiding all the time.”

I reached out and touched her arm. She looked away from the house and met my gaze. There were tears in her eyes, and she blinked them away.

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I was trying to do the right thing. I thought maybe this guy did something to you, like maybe you were in trouble and you needed help, so I went to your dad but then he brought those two guys and I just—”

I pulled her in for a hug. She sobbed once and we didn’t speak for a little while. I was still angry, still very freaking angry, but Nessa was my best friend and I knew she meant well, even if she made the worst possible decision.

I wasn’t going to trust her. Not completely and not yet, but I wouldn’t cut her out, either. I wanted to give her a chance to make things right between us, if that was what she wanted.

“Come on,” I said, pulling back. “Let’s go inside and take a tour, okay?”

“Right.” She wiped her eyes then laughed. “God, if anyone else saw me here, they’d freak, you know?”

“I know,” I said. “Imagine if you married one of these guys.”

She leaned against me grinning. “How was the wedding night?”

I felt myself blush. “It was just like any other night. I mean, it’s barely a real marriage. We’re only doing it to try to help end this war, you know? Trying to set an example for the family.”

“Right, sure, but you’re pregnant already, yeah? So it’s not like he could knock you up twice.”

I looked away from her and thought back to hours earlier, when the sun was still down: Matteo in my bed, licking my body, lapping me up between my legs, teasing my pussy and clit and making my back arch, over and over again, as my fingers gripped the sheets. That man was patient and insatiable, and even though I was up with him half the night, coming more than I thought was physically possible, he still woke up half hard. I still had the taste of his cock on my lips, and there was a pleasant if slightly painful ache between my legs.

“I’m a married woman now,” I said, taking Nessa’s arm and leading her into the front door. “That means I’m a very classy lady.”

“Right, sure, classy. Very, very classy.”

She gasped at the chandelier and obsessed about every little detail. It was gratifying to watch her walking around, staring at the details, poking her head in all the rooms, and squealing like a little girl. Nessa grew up watching all the Housewives shows, and her sense of reality revolved around television, movies, and social media. She was obsessed with class and wealth and standing, and this mansion was exactly what she’d always dreamed about.

“I am so jealous I could scream,” she said as we stepped into the living room. She ran around the couch then hopped over the back and landed on the cushions, sighing contentedly as she sunk down into its comfortable embrace.

I sat down on the edge of the couch next to her. “It hasn’t all been easy, you know.”

“I’m sure,” she said, staring at the absurdly high ceiling. “This place is like a freaking church.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s huge and there’s wood everywhere.”

I laughed lightly. Of course that was the closest comparison she could make. The Healy family wasn’t poor, but it wasn’t rich, either. The upper level guys had more money and lived in decent row homes, but there was nothing like this place, not even close. Even if Colm owned some businesses, and money flowed into pockets, nobody was wealthy.

As far as Nessa knew, the Catholic church in Philadelphia was the richest institution imaginable.

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, I know this place is gorgeous and all, but I’ve had other things on my mind.”

She glanced at my belly. “Like being pregnant.”

“And being married.” I wiggled my fingers, showing off the rings.

She whistled. “For a rushed, political marriage, he sure as hell didn’t go cheap.”

“I know,” I said, and felt a flutter in my gut. “But you can probably appreciate why I haven’t been obsessing about the house.”

“What is going on here, anyway?” Nessa struggled to sit up and looked at me curiously. “I mean, I guess I understand why you think marrying him might help end the war, but I don’t know. People aren’t going to be okay with it, right? Everyone’s going to be pissed.”