Claimed Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle
Jane
He saw it.
He saw the scar. The one thing that I didn’t want him to see right now, the one thing that will clue him in to the fact that I’m a mom. He’s smart, Trevor, even though he is an asshole, and I know that he’ll be able to put two and two together. Even if he doesn’t, one of the other asshole Bonanno guys will.
And then he’ll know that Annie is his. He’ll come looking for her, he’ll take her, he’ll make me give her to him and I can’t let that happen. There’s no way in hell that I can be a good mother and let her grow up at all affiliated with the mafia, but that’s what’s going to happen.
My thoughts are spiraling out of control and I can’t even sink down to the ground to curl up into a little ball to try to protect my brain. It feels like every terrible thought I’ve ever had about Trevor and what he would do when he found out that I had a daughter has taken hold in my brain, putting down roots, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to weed them out.
Crying, I suck in air, my entire body feeling the pain of my sobs ripping through me. I can’t seem to clear my head, can’t seem to get above the panic and fear that have taken hold in my body. It’s cool out, too cool to be standing around without a top on, but my skin feels like it’s on fire.
Everywhere Trevor has seen me burns right now. Not just with embarrassment and fear of what he’s going to do, but also with excitement. It’s a terrifying cocktail of emotions and thoughts and I can’t seem to shake any of them. All I can do is stand in front of him, shivering like I’m in the fucking Arctic, and not speak.
Because, honestly, right now, I don’t think that I can put together any words that make sense. My mouth is glued shut with fear and anger and even my lungs, which are full of air as I breathe, don’t seem to be working right now. It wouldn’t surprise me if I had a heart attack and fell over dead right here with his hands holding me up.
Let’s not even get started on his hands. I’ve dreamed of them since the night that we were together, wondering what it would be like to have them on me again. It’s fucking insane, and I know that, but there’s something addictive about him, something electric that I can’t seem to shake.
I’m a fucking drug addict, he’s my drug, and he will kill me.
“Jane. You didn’t answer my question.”
Like a knife cutting through the fog, his voice comes to me and I shake my head, finally making myself focus on him. He’s right in front of me, so close that I could barely lean forward and still plant a kiss on his lips, but I don’t move. I can’t pull back, not with my entire body pressed up against the fence, and it feels like there’s a force field keeping me from moving closer to him.
If I let him touch me any more than he already is, I think that I might burst into flames and die.
“Jane!”
He yells my name and my eyes focus on his face. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. His strong jaw is so sharp that I want to lick it and see if it will cut my tongue. He’s going to make me bleed anyway, so I might as well enjoy it.
My thoughts spiral harder and farther, dragging me down into a darkness that I’m not sure I’m going to be able to break out of. This is the one thing that I didn’t want to have happen. He never should have found out that I had a kid, because now he’ll be able to tell for sure that she’s his.
I can’t protect her.
Even as I’m thinking these horrible thoughts, I feel Trevor pick me up. He pulls me close to his chest, one arm around my back, the other under my legs, and turns to carry me to the house. I should fight him, should try to get him to let me go, but I’m suddenly so tired that I’m not sure that I can do anything. I’m limp in his arms, like a fucking wet rag, and even though my brain is screaming at me to get up and make another run for it, I can’t seem to do that.
It would take too much effort and I’m suddenly so, so tired.
Even since Annie was born, I’ve done everything that I can to keep her safe. I honesty thought that I’d never see my mom again, but when she called and told me that she was sick, I knew that I had to come home. I couldn’t just ignore the fact that I thought she was dying and leave her here.
And then, of course, Annie feel in love with my mom. Who wouldn’t want a grandmother who wants to bake cookies with you all morning and then read to you all afternoon while you eat cookies in the hammock? Who wouldn’t want someone who makes you heart-shaped pancakes in the morning and sets up the sprinkler for you in the yard later?
I never had a grandmother like that and even I’m envious of my daughter.
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely notice that we’ve made it back into the house. Snuggled this close to Trevor’s chest, I can feel his heart beating out a slow rhythm. He’s steady and unflappable, the exact type of man that I would want for Annie’s father.
Except for, you know, the whole mafia thing. The killing people thing. Running drugs. Threatening business owners. There’s all of that that makes him totally terrifying and an unfit father.
“Here you go,” he says, his voice snapping me out of my thoughts as he puts me down on the sofa in the living room. It’s leather, but not the annoying new squeaky kind. Instead, it’s all broken in and soft and I immediately curl up into a small ball on it, shivering as he puts a blanket over me.
My eyes closed, I hear him walk away from me and I know that I could try to make a run for it again, but there’s no way that I’d actually get far enough. All of the fight that was in me has drained out now that he’s seen my scar.
A moment later he’s back and he sits down at my head, lifting me up so that I’m leaning against him. There’s a hot mug in his hand he holds it to my lips. “Drink. It’s just some tea, but it has honey and will make your throat feel better.”
How did he know that my throat was so painful that I thought I’d never speak again? How could he look at me and know something like that about me?
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of drinking the tea, but I do it anyway, taking just a tiny sip at first. It’s so good, so warm and soothing on my throat, that I drink more, then more, until the mug is drained and he sets it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa with a thunk.
“How do you feel?” There’s something in his eyes--actual concern, I think--as he brushes my hair back from my face and really looks at me. I want to squirm away from him and make it so that he can’t stare at me like this, but his gaze is hypnotizing.
“I’m fine.” It’s a lie, and he knows it.
He shakes his head. “You were going into shock. Had you been one of my cousins I would have just punched you to snap you out of it.”
“Glad we’re not related,” I say, and then immediately feel guilt wash over me. Aren’t we kinda related? Just a little bit? As Annie’s father, what kind of a relationship do we have?
“Tell me about the scar.” He glances down at my stomach, and even though there’s a blanket wrapped around me, I swear that he can see straight through it to my skin. It’s unnerving, how he’s managed to do that since the moment we first met.
“It’s just a scar,” I lie, hoping that he’ll believe me and drop it.
This makes him chuckle and he shakes his head. “Oh, Jane, how fucking stupid do you think that I am? I know full well what kind of a scar that is. Where’s your kid?”
He knows.
Part of me is terrified that we’re having this conversation, but the other part of me is almost relieved. He can know that I have a kid, he can understand why there’s no way that I can move in with him, but he doesn’t have to know that he’s the father. I can keep that little bit of information to myself and still keep Annie safe.
“She’s with my mom,” I say, choking out the words. Even though I know that I need to tell him some truth so that my lies will be more believable, it’s hard to do. “She’s with her while I work, so I can’t be here with you all the time. I have to go to her.”
“How old is she?”
He’s practically holding his breath and I know what he’s asking, but I can’t let him think that for a moment. Thank fuck that Annie is on the small side. As long as I can keep the two of them from meeting, I can keep him from knowing the truth about her.
“She’s two.”
It’s a lie and I hope like hell that he can’t tell.
The air between us is still and I wish more than anything that I could read his mind and know just what he’s thinking right now. Is he relieved that he can’t be his father? Trevor’s smart, so I’m sure that he just did the mental math necessary to figure out that if she’s that young that she wouldn’t be his.
Or is he upset that now he knows that I’ve been with another man? I’ve never met anyone as possessive as this man and I’m scared to think what he might do if he thought that I’d been sleeping around.
Come on, Jane, it’s not like you were promised to him or anything.
But still, he doesn’t strike me as the type of man who wants to share.
Trevor gives one stiff nod, then stands, making a shiver run through me when his warmth disappears. “Wait here,” he says, then stalks out of the room.
