Stolen Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle

Tess

The next week passes in a blur. Marcelo had all of my things brought over from my apartment, including Arthur. He’s living on the kitchen counter now, happily swimming in his bowl, and just seeing him makes me feel more at home here.

But I know that this isn’t my home. Not really. My things are here, and I’m here, but I want nothing more than my own space. I haven’t tried to run away again since Marcelo took me out of the empty room, but not because I want to stay.

It’s because I realized that this is the only place where I’m really safe from my foster father. He wants to find me, I know it, especially since I haven’t sent the most recent check.

He can’t hunt me down to make me pay up while I’m here.

“You’re thoughtful this morning,” Marcelo tells me, bringing me a cup of coffee. I’m sitting on the sofa reading and I take it from him gratefully, enjoying a sip before I respond.

“Just thinking about the book,” I fib. It’s obvious from the way he cocks his eyebrow at me that he knows I’m lying and I feel my stomach twist hard.

It’s not just guilt that makes my stomach twist. It does that every time I look at him, at the full mouth and huge dark eyes that I just want to fall into. When he pulls me close to him in bed at night I’ve never felt safer in my life.

I can’t help the fact that just looking at him makes me wet or that I definitely sneak peeks at him when he’s drying off after his shower. He’s still my kidnapper, no matter how kind he is to me or how safe I feel when I’m here with him.

I’m pretty sure that a therapist would have a field day getting into my head if I ever confessed that I want to fuck my kidnapper.

“Kitten, I haven’t forgotten about your foster father.” Marcelo’s voice is smooth and even. “I know that you want to forget about him, but I don’t. I’m going to take care of things. I want you to be able to live your life without worrying about if he’s looking for you.”

My mouth is dry and I take another sip of coffee. How do I tell this man that he can’t stop my foster father? That he took what he wanted from me night after night and that he made sure that I knew that I deserved it?

And that everyone in the world would know the truth if I ever stopped sending him checks? I close my eyes, fighting back the sting of tears when I remember how he told me that I’d brought everything on myself. That according to him, if I hadn’t been such a tease...

I can’t continue that thought.

“I understand that you don’t want to talk about it, Tess, but I just want you to know that I found him.” Marcelo hands me a piece of paper and I take it, hating how much my hands shake when I hold it up to read it.

Steven Walker.

His name is right there in a bold black font, and underneath it his picture. He looks like the perfect family man, a man who would do anything for his wife and kids. The fact that they constantly opened up their home to foster children only makes him look even more like the perfect community leader.

He’s untouchable.

I drop the paper, watching it as it flutters down to the floor, then finally look up at Marcelo. He’s staring at me like he’s trying to read my mind, so I clear my throat.

“That’s him,” I admit. It feels good to tell him that Steven Walker is the man who hurt me, but I’m still not ready to tell Marcelo everything that he did. “How did you find him?”

Marcelo shrugs. “It was pretty easy, but I wanted to make absolutely sure that I had the right guy in the paper trail.”

My blood runs cold. “Paper trail?”

Marcelo nods and sits next to me. Our thighs press up against each other and I feel heat flicker through my body. It’s the same desire that I feel whenever I’m around Marcelo and just as I always do, I try my best to ignore it. “What paper trail?” Even to myself, my voice sounds strange and higher than normal, but Marcelo doesn’t comment on it.

“The one showing that you pay him every single month. Is that why you lived in such a small apartment? Why your furniture all looks like it came from the side of the road?”

I want to hate him, but he’s absolutely right. I can’t get mad at Marcelo for putting his finger right on the bruise my past left me and pressing down on it. It still aches, though. If I could stop this conversation from happening I would, but it’s been coming for a long time.

“What are you going to do now?” My voice is smaller than usual when talking to Marcelo. I’m no longer afraid of him, not really, but I am afraid of what he’s going to do.

“I’m going to do to him what you always wanted to.” He sounds so confident and ready to take charge that I glance up at him, tearing my eyes away from the painting across the room.

“How do you know what that is? It’s not like I’ve ever told you.” Even though I have no reason to be accusatory with him, I can’t help the tone creeping into my voice. Marcelo barely knows me, yet he’s acting like he’s already figured out exactly what I want him to do.

“No, you haven’t, but you don’t need to. I’m not stupid, Tess. I realized a long time ago that I was willing to hurt whoever hurt you. Turns out that it’s this asshole, and now he’s going to pay for what he did to you.” Marcelo turns, taking my chin in his hand, and forces me to look right at him. “And, for some reason, I don’t think that you’re going to argue.”

My heart skips a beat, but it’s not the pleasant feeling that you get when you think that you might be falling for someone. I feel sick to my stomach and I try to turn away from him, but his fingers are hot on my chin, keeping me staring right at him.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

It’s not true. How many times did I lie awake at night dreaming about someone killing my foster father? How many times did I stretch out in bed and pray that he’d die and that I’d finally be free from the hell that he put me through?

Now I have someone telling me that they can do that very thing for me. Marcelo is a man of action and I have no doubt in my mind that all I have to do is agree and Steven Walker will be dead before the week is out.

It’s what I’ve always wanted, so why the hell am I hesitating? I know that this is the only option—the only way for me to feel safe again and to get my life back on track, but it still scares me to think that I have this much power. Nobody should have the ability to end someone else’s life like this, but that’s exactly what I have right now.

“I have to think about this,” I say, but Marcelo doesn’t blink. He doesn’t let go and he sure as hell doesn’t look away.

“You may have to, Tess, but I don’t.”