Bound by Temptation (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 4)

“No, I can’t.” I took a step back. I needed to get away, out of this room, needed to find Romero and tell him that I couldn’t survive this marriage, that I wanted only him, that he’d always been the one I wanted and would do so till the day I died. I was being selfish, I knew. But I didn’t care about causing a war anymore if the alternative meant having to spend my life being touched by Benito. Maybe Luca could handle the situation. He was a good Capo. He could prevent war. Right?

Benito’s expression tightened, that sugary sweet smile being replaced by something more leery and hungry.

Fear settled like a weight in my stomach. He grabbed my arms too tightly, making me wince. “You are my wife and you will do what’s expected of you.”

“No, please. I’m not ready. I need more time.” Time to figure out a way out of this without getting everyone killed. There had to be a way where nobody got hurt.

Benito chuckled. “Oh, don’t try this bullshit with me, sweety. I’ve been jerking off to the image of your perfect perky ass for weeks now. Tonight I want to bury my cock in it. Nothing in this world will stop me, not even your big puppy dog eyes.”

I opened my mouth for another attempt at begging but Benito pushed me backward. I cried out in surprise.

My heel caught in the hem of my wedding dress and then I was falling. I braced myself for the impact, instead I landed on something soft and bouncy: the bed. How could I have been this close to it?

I tried to scramble off immediately but didn’t get the chance. Benito leaned over me, his knees between my legs, pinning my dress beneath him. I was stuck. I struggled, but my legs were tied down by the fabric. And I panicked. Panicked like I’d never had before, not even when I saw the torture scene in the basement.

Benito lowered his face down to mine and then he kissed me again. I turned my head to the side so he slobbered all over my cheek. His fingers clutched my chin, forcing me to face him. His cigar breath washed over me and his chapped lips were too close. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Listen, sweetheart. We can do this the easy or the hard way. For your sake, I hope you work with me. I don’t give a shit either way. I like it rough.”

He meant it. He’d force himself on me if I kept up the struggling, I could see it in his eyes. I couldn’t expect any kindness from my husband tonight. Tears and pleading wouldn’t change his mind.

I willed myself to relax beneath him. He smiled in a condescending way and shifted his body, finally giving my dress free. He pressed up against me, his mouth wet on my throat. He licked his way down to my collarbone. I tried to imagine it was Romero and when that didn’t work, I tried to stop thinking about him altogether. Tried to be empty and numb, tried to cast my mind to another place and time, away from my husband who would have his way with me, no matter what I wanted. Benito shoved my skirt up and slipped his hand up my calf. He grunted appreciatively and pressed his body even closer against mine. I could feel how much this excited him. Whenever I’d felt Romero’s erection, I’d been excited, but this? Oh god. I couldn’t do this. But he was my husband and I was his wife. I’d chosen this way to protect everyone who wanted to help me. This was my duty, not only to him but to my family, to the Outfit. It was the fate of many women. They had survived and so could I.

I hated the sounds my husband made, the smell that wasn’t Romero’s, the way his clumsy fingers tugged at my dress. He was my husband. His hand traveled up to my knee.

My husband.

Then up to my thigh.

My husband. My husband. My husband.

His hand reached the edge of my panties and I couldn’t take it anymore. I lay my palms against his chest and pushed him off me. I wasn’t sure where I took the strength from. Benito had at least seventy pounds on me, but he lost his balance and fell to his side. I leaped off the bed but my dress was slowing me down. I staggered toward the door, arms extended. My fingers were mere inches from the doorknob when Benito caught up with me. His fingers bruised my forearm with their grip, and he flung me back toward the center of the room. I couldn’t gain my footage quick enough and fell forward, hipbones colliding with the desk in the corner. I screamed out from pain. Tears burned in my eyes.

Benito pressed up behind me as I was bent forward and his erection dug into my butt. “Tonight, doll, you are mine.”

And there it was, right in front of me. I barely noticed Benito’s hands squeezing my breasts through the fabric. My eyes were fixed on the gleaming silver letter opener. Benito squeezed again, harder, probably angry because of my lack of reaction. I gripped the letter opener. It felt good in my hand, cold and hard. My husband tore at the edge of my corset. I tightened my grip on the opener and jabbed my arm backward as hard as I could. Benito stumbled away with a gurgling gasp, giving me free. I whirled around. The letter opener stuck out of his right side. Blood soaked the white fabric of his shirt. I must have hit him really hard, maybe even injured him seriously. I’d never done something like that.

My lips parted in shock. I’d really plunged a knife into my husband’s stomach. His wide eyes stared. “You bitch, I--” He gasped and dropped to his knees. His ugly beetle eyes grew even wider as he rasped in pain.