Claimed by Her Mafia Man

“Why would they stop me? We’ve got cops in our pocket all the time.”

“Not the kind of cops that will help you to protect these women, Isabella.”

“It’s not like that, okay? He’s not pumping me for money, or for anything. We’re not even friends. We’ve got an agreement. That’s all. You don’t have to start worrying about every detail.”

He shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and wanted to go and find her so-called protector and kill him.

“If the Boss has anything to do with your attempted murder, this is all he needs to get every single Capo on board. They won’t even need to hide their intention in secret. You will be killed. Tortured even, and there won’t be any kind of protection. Your dad won’t be there to stop them. They’ll just keep on going until the job is gone.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“No, I’m stating a fact.”

“I’ve been working with this man for over two years. He knows who I am and who I’m connected to. All he ever wanted to do was help. He knows how far the Family’s pockets go. He’s willing to do what it takes to help, that’s all. To stop them from hurting everything it touches. I give him what he needs and we help those women and kids. Some of them, Damon, they’re not even of legal age. Not that it’s right what happens. Do you agree with selling women? Are you on their side?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side, Isabella.”

“I don’t … I can’t marry you unless I know your stance on this.”

“Are you fucking real right now?” he asked.

“Yes!” She slammed her foot down.

“You know you look like a child right now.”

“I don’t care. I need to know what you think about the men who sell women. I need to know.”

He growled. She’d just revealed information that would put her up for the get-killed list, and she wanted to know if selling women were part of his morals. Fucking hell!

“If you must know, I don’t have a hand in selling women. It’s one area I’ve always disagreed on. Don’t mistake this for me accepting what you do. Some of the women, they come into the profession because they want to. Those are the kinds of women I don’t mind helping and dealing with. Taking, stealing, selling, hurting women or girls who want no part in this life, that’s where I draw the line.”

“Have you ever been with a prostitute?”

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“Was she stolen?” she asked.

“Damn it, Isabella, drop it.”

“No! I’m asking questions I want the answers to. I’m not hiding behind anyone or anything. I want the truth and I’m willing to stand here to get it. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“It tells me you’re fucking stupid!” He shook his head. “Yes, I’ve been with a prostitute. No, she wasn’t stolen. I was thirteen years old and my dad said I was to become a man. Most sons end up having their first time taken care of with an experienced whore. It’s just the way it goes. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find out who your fucking contact is.”

“Why don’t you just ask?”Chapter Seven“You look beautiful,” Henrietta said.

Isabella’s stomach twisted and turned as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked afraid. Her wedding day had come around way too soon. Damon had insisted on bringing the date forward. He wanted their names connected as soon as possible.

Her contact on the police force was still alive but he’d called her after Damon went to speak with him. Any time she called her contact, he was to get back in touch with him. He’d invaded her life, her meaning, what made her get up in the morning to help the people who were hurt.

She ran her hands down the silk wedding gown. It was really beautiful. No expense spared, just like everything else in their world.

Damon was still pissed with her and now she was to go down to the main church and to marry him.

She’d wanted her wedding at her house. He’d refused. In a church, the Family were less likely to try to kill her, and after she took his name, then all bets were off and they’d deal with him. She’d be pushed aside, expected to have kids.

There was a knock on the door and Randy appeared. “Are you ready?”

She shook her head.

He entered the room, closing the door behind him. “You’re having second thoughts?”

“I don’t want to … become some … mom he pushes aside, Randy. I worked too hard. Dad wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“Your dad went to him, Bella.”

“But why? Why train me? Why make my years with him so miserable for him to take all of my training and to push it aside because it means nothing?”