Stolen Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle
Tess
Istill can’t believe the giant rock on my finger. I’ve been staring at it for three days now, alternately trying to catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye and looking straight on at it in shock that it really exists and is mine.
But no matter how I look at it, it hasn’t disappeared. It’s real. I slip it onto my finger first thing every morning when I wake up, but instead of feeling heavy, like it’s weighing me down and trapping me here, I feel lighter when I have it on.
That doesn’t make any sense, but I’m beginning to think that maybe love doesn’t. Maybe love is just one of those things that you have to accept for what it is because there’s no way that you can reason yourself out of it. I feel something for Marcelo that I’ve never felt for anyone before in my life. Never have I wanted someone as badly as I want him.
Never have I felt so safe when he’s around.
Looking around the kitchen, I wipe my hands on my apron and give a little sigh. He’s been gone all day with Salvatore handling some work business. Although he told me that I didn’t have to do anything special while he was gone, I didn’t want to just sit and read all day.
So I made cookies. The kitchen counters are all covered with cooling racks loaded down with chocolate chip cookies. I found the recipe tucked in the back of a cookbook that honestly looks like he never opens it. Luckily for me, he had everything that I needed to make them here in the house.
It wasn’t like I wanted to run to the store.
It’s almost funny that as badly as I wanted to get the hell out of here when he first took me, you couldn’t pay me to leave now. I like being here with Marcelo, I like knowing that I belong to him and that he’s going to keep me safe. I’ve had no desire at all to leave the house or even to try to get in contact with anyone.
Even as I think that, a wave of guilt washes over me. As happy as I am here, I haven’t reached out to Kristen. Marcelo told me that, according to the news, she looked for me for a while, but then word got out that I’d skipped town and she reluctantly stopped looking. It’s not the truth, but it’s a hell of a lot better than her thinking that I’ve been kept captive here against my will.
Reaching out, I grab my phone, then carry it with me to the living room before sinking into the sofa and pulling my legs up under me. There’s a blanket on the end of the sofa and I twitch it over me, curling up under it before turning on my phone.
Kristen Ward.
Her name is right there at the top of my contacts. To be fair, it’s not like my contact list is very long. I talk to her on a regular basis—or I did—and I used to have to call work. The Chinese delivery place. The bank.
That’s it.
My entire life I’ve done everything I could to keep people from getting too close to me, because I haven’t ever felt like I deserved it. I always thought it was best to keep people away from me, keep them from getting to know about my fucked up past.
Until Marcelo.
Thinking of him gives me the strength that I need to finally tap the screen and call my best friend. I swallow hard, closing my eyes as I listen to the phone ring. It’s entirely possible that she won’t pick up. It’s possible that she changed her number or hates me now for what I did, but I grip the phone tightly and press it up against my ear, hoping she will answer.
I’ve never been to the beach, but I’ve read in books how you can hold a seashell up to your ear and hear the ocean in it. Right now I don’t hear the waves crashing on the shore, but I do hear the sound of my own hope being echoed back to me.
Please pick up. Please don’t hate me. Please, even after all of this and me disappearing from the face of the earth, can the two of us still be friends?
“Tess?” Kristen’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Is that you? Oh, my God, Tess, are you okay?”
Tears squeeze from the corners of my eyes and I relax into the arm of the sofa. Of course she picked up. Of course she doesn’t hate me. I exhale hard before answering. “Hey, Kristen. I’m fine.”
“Oh my God.” I hear her burst into tears and I immediately feel guilty.
Marcelo gave me back my phone a while ago and I never reached out to her. I should have, should have made the effort to make sure that she was okay. I feel terrible knowing that I’m the reason she’s crying so hard right now.
“I thought you were dead! Everyone said that you just left town, but I knew better. I didn’t think that you’d do that without letting me know where you were going, and I kept looking for you.” She sniffs hard. “Where are you? I’ll come get you right now.”
Before answering, I look around the living room. “I’m home,” I tell her, without even realizing what I’m saying. She sounds confused. “Your apartment is empty. All of your stuff is gone and your landlord refused to tell me where you went. What in the world do you mean that you’re home?”
How to explain? I feel nervous and chew on a fingernail.
“Answer me, Tess. I’ve got my car keys right here.” She jingles them next to the phone and I can’t help but laugh.
“I met someone,” I finally tell her. It’s easiest just to say that. As much as I love Kristen, I know that she won’t be able to handle the idea of me being kidnapped and then wanting to stay with the man. She’d be horrified, and I can’t blame her. If the roles were reversed then I’d be beating down doors trying to find her so that I could bring her back home and keep her safe.
“You met someone?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. My heart beats in my chest as I realize that there’s no way to explain Marcelo. No way to make her see how amazing he is. “I want you to meet him. I’m...” I glance down at the huge rock on my finger. “I’m marrying him.”
“What?!” Her voice sounds like someone ran their nails down a chalkboard. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Tess! You’re marrying someone you just met?”
She sounds horrified, and I get it. I’m pretty sure that this falls into the category of crazy shit you shouldn’t do.
“Yep. Come for dinner. Tomorrow. Will you?”
“Of course. Where?”
I hesitate, then rush to the kitchen where a bill is sitting on the counter. My nerves get the best of me as I rattle off the address. “You’re definitely going to have to use your GPS to get here,” I tell her, looking out the window at the trees that surround the house. “I don’t know that you’d find it otherwise.”
“Gotcha. Should I bring a gun? Or a panic button or something that we can use to alert the police?” She hesitates, then drops her voice as if she thinks that Marcelo is right here listening to what she’s saying. “Are you being held against your will?”
I force myself to laugh. Kristen has no idea how close she is to the truth and I don’t want to let her figure it out. “Not at all,” I tell her. “I’m happy. I’m so happy, Kristen.”
We hang up a moment later and I realize that I was telling the truth. I am happy, even though it was really hard for me at first to get to that point. I never thought that I’d find anyone like Marcelo, someone who would love me unconditionally and help me heal from my past.
I mean, him killing an abusive foster father probably isn’t sanctioned by therapists, but it felt a hell of a lot better than sitting around talking about my feelings, that’s for sure. Marcelo saw what needed to be done for me to heal and then he did it. I don’t know anyone else who would be willing to do something like that for a person they love.
He’s the one for me.
Smiling at the thought, I start to pack up the cookies. I may have gone overboard with them, so I’ll have to ask him if he wants to take some to work tomorrow. The thought of a mafia kingpin bringing in homemade cookies makes me laugh.
