Stolen Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle

Tess

Chewing my fingernails has always been a terrible habit of mine, but right now I can’t stop myself. I’m pacing in Marcelo’s house, going from the living room to the kitchen, looping around the island, then coming back. Each time I make the loop I check in on Arthur, who’s swimming around happily in his giant new tank.

Marcelo came home with it one day last week, telling me that Arthur deserved someplace swanky to live. I set it all up and now my little guy has the equivalent of a fish mansion to swim around in all day, complete with a bubbler and some plants. Apparently, those little bowls that they sell Bettas in at the store are murder on the fish.

Who knew?

It’s kinda like my old apartment was murder on me. Being here with Marcelo, though, makes me feel like I’m actually alive. I can enjoy life again and I realize with surprise that I haven’t looked over my shoulder for my foster father once since I moved in here.

Well, moved in is putting it graciously, since Marcelo snatched me from the street, threatened to kill me if I talked, and then put a collar on me to keep me from escaping.

Sighing, I flop down on the sofa and lightly trace my fingers over my bare neck. No collar now, not since the two of us had sex the other night. Marcelo promised that I wouldn’t have to wear it again and I promised that I’d stay with him without it.

At the time, telling him that had felt like I was in a dream, but I know that I did the right thing. I want nothing more than to be with him.

The sound of a key in the lock makes me jerk my head up. I’m nervous for some reason and I stand up, wiping my hands on my jeans to get rid of the sweat on my palms, like I’m about to get picked up for prom.

What the hell am I so afraid of? I know what Marcelo went out to do. Hell, I was on my knees in front of him this morning, his fingers tangled in my hair, sucking him hard while I thanked him for taking care of me.

The door swings open and I swear, my heart stops to see him back safe. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe for him to be covered in blood. Maybe I thought that he’d not come back to me, or that he’d be angry when he finished the job, but the look on his face tells me that he would do it again in a heartbeat.

“Marcelo?” I’m almost a little scared to approach him. His face is hard and set and his jaw twitches a little bit when he looks at me. It’s done, I’m sure that it is, but that doesn’t mean that I fully understand what happened or how he feels right now.

“Kitten. You’re safe.” He pushes the door shut behind him and then crosses the room to me, pulling me close to him as his mouth finds mine.

I cling to him like I’m drowning and he’s a buoy out in the middle of the ocean. All my life I’ve been looking for something strong and brave that I can cling to and I managed to find it in him.

He peppers my face with kisses and I don’t realize at first what he’s doing. His thumbs wipe the tears from my cheeks and it’s only then that I realize I’m sobbing into his chest.

“Tess, you’re okay,” he tells me. His voice is soothing, the practiced calming voice of a therapist, but the man I love isn’t a therapist. He’s a murderer, plain and simple.

And I love him anyway.

“Tell me,” I gasp, pulling back from him so that I can look up at him. “Tell me what happened. I need to know. Is he really gone?” My heart slams in my chest like it’s trying to break free. How many nights had I prayed that something would happen to Steven to stop him?

How many nights did I get on my knees and pray that there was someone out there strong enough to protect me? “He’s dead.” Marcelo pauses, letting those words sink in, then he continues. “He knew it was time, Kitten. When Salvatore and I got there he tried to run once, but then he realized that he didn’t have a chance. He was never going to get away from us. And now he can’t hurt you, or anyone else, ever again.”

My legs feel like they’re going to give out, so Marcelo loops his arm around my waist and pulls me to him, helping me sit down on the sofa next to him. I lean on him, bracing myself on his chest as I try to accept what he just said.

Through watery eyes, I look around the room. Nobody would ever know the destruction that I caused in here. “I tried to fight my way out of here and away from you so that I could get my freedom again,” I tell him, tilting my face up to his. “I had no idea that you were the only one who could actually give me that.” My breath catches in my throat as I consider the truth of that.

“Kitten,” he murmurs softly, cupping my cheek. “I told you that I’d keep you safe. I promised you that I’d do whatever it took to protect you. Why didn’t you listen?”

“I couldn’t allow myself to believe you.” It’s physically painful for me to be this honest with him. I’ve never been this honest with anyone. Nobody has ever wanted to really know what I’m thinking or feeling.

But Marcelo is different. He cares more than I ever thought possible. “I’ve never had anyone actually looking out for me before. I just couldn’t trust you. I didn’t know how to.”

“Do you now?” His eyes search mine.

I know the answer, but I still take a moment to respond. I think about the collar he used to make me wear and how that’s gone. I think about how willingly I turn to him to kiss him, how I actually crave his hands on my body. “I hated you, you know,” I begin, and I see the flash of hurt in his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared and I know that he’s just trying to protect himself from whatever I’m going to say next. “I hated you for taking me, for keeping me here. I hated you for being the first man in my life to refuse to let me walk away from him.”

While I gather my thoughts, I sink my teeth into my lower lip.

“And now?” He prods, gently pushing me to continue. I’m sure that he wants to hear how I feel about him now even though I’m a little nervous to tell him.

“Now I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Reaching up, I run my fingertips across the stubble on his jaw. I noticed how gorgeous he was the first moment that I saw him, but I know now that there’s so much more to Marcelo than just a pretty face. He’s also determined to keep me safe and willing to do anything that it takes.

“You won’t ever have to find out,” he says, and his mouth covers mine. Kissing Marcelo feels like coming home. It’s the one thing that I know I couldn’t ever get tired of doing. He’s safe and he’s mine and I’m never going to stop loving him.

I grab his torso, pulling him close to me. When we first met he’d just been shot, but he healed fast and now that one scar is just another to add to his collection. He’s built like a fashion model, but despite his strong jaw and dark moody eyes he would be unfit for a magazine cover. Too many scars on his body.

He’s also too intense for most people in the world, but not for me.

And he’s mine.

I kiss him back, pressing my body into his. He gasps and then grabs my ponytail, pulling it hard to the side and down so that my neck is exposed. He kisses me there, running a line of kisses and small bites from my ear to my collarbone. It feels delicious and I lower my hands, stroking his cock through his jeans.

In response, Marcelo pulls back, reaching up and wrapping his hands around my neck. I stiffen at first, my eyes wide, but when I look up at him, I see something on his face that I never thought I’d see when anyone looked at me.