Claimed Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle

Jane

Ifeel like I can’t speak. Even if I could come up with any words to say, my mouth is dry, like I’ve been stuck in the desert for months and everything is all glued shut. My mouth is full of sand, it feels like, and it’s choking me, filling me up from the inside.

Trevor didn’t take me back to the office. Instead, he pointed at his car without saying anything and I got in, my movements stiff and robotic, not even caring what he was going to go with me.

What the fuck did I do? All I wanted was to make sure that I could still see Annie and take care of her and suddenly I’m his fucking prisoner. He didn’t speak to me the entire way to his house, and I stared out the window, watching as we drove to a part of town that I don’t think I’ve ever spent much time in.

I don’t belong here. Not when the houses are so large that my mom’s entire house could fit in their kitchen. Not when there are fucking Stepford wives out tending the roses.

Not when I see the house we pull up to. Trevor stops the car at the gate and punches in a code for us to enter. As he does, I look over his shoulder, trying to see if can tell the four digits, but he moves quickly and in a moment we’re driving through the gate, taking a long driveway that looks like something out of a fairy tale.

Only this isn’t a fairy tale. It’s hell. It’s my own personal hell and I swallow hard as I look up at the house towering over us. I’ve seen enough Disney movies as a kid to know that this is the type of place that villains live. The Beast would live here, surrounded by fucking talking clocks and teapots, but I don’t think there’s any magic or good waiting on me here.

It’s a prison. He acted kind, acted like he was different than the other Bonanno men who stole their wives and locked them up until they fell in love, but he’s not. The same bastard blood runs through his veins, the same anger fuels all of his actions.

My skin burns from where he touched me earlier even though he’s nowhere near me right now. I’m pressed up against the door of the car and seriously considered jumping out at one point earlier when he slowed down for a red light.

But what good would that do? Even if I could get to my mom’s house, he’d stop me, he’d find me.

And then he’d know about Annie.

Thinking about my daughter makes my blood run cold and I glance at him again, terror squeezing my heart. Everything I’ve ever done has been for her. I can’t let it all fall apart now by letting him find out that she exists. She’s the most important thing and I have to keep her safe.

From her father.

That’s the thought racing through my mind when we pull into a garage. Trevor waits until the door has shut behind us before turning to me.

“You live here with me now,” he tells me. “I’ll take care of you, keep you safe and comfortable, but you’re mine.”

“Please,” I gasp out, even though I know that begging won’t work with a man like him, “I can’t stay here with you. You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get, Jane? Explain it to me. I’m an understanding man.”

He’s not. After I found out that I was pregnant, I took some time to learn about the Bonanno family. There’s nothing kind in their hearts, nothing about them that makes me want to be anywhere near him. They kill people, without remorse, leaving behind orphans and widows.

And here I was, stupid enough to get knocked up by one of them the first time that I have sex.

“I can’t live here with you,” I whisper, and his gaze darkens.

“You still worried that mommy dearest will miss you too much?” When I don’t answer, he gets out of the car, motioning for me to follow him.

I feel like I’m acting on autopilot as I do, carefully shutting the door behind me and keeping my eyes locked on his face. “I have commitments,” I say to him, and he laughs.

“Commitments? What are they?”

I don’t answer, which is what he had to have known would happen, and he reaches out, taking me by the arm. His grip is stronger than I like, his fingers sinking a little bit into my skin.

“If you don’t want to talk, then I’ll go ahead and show you where you’re going to live from now on,” he says, tugging me to the house. I don’t follow and he turns, starting at me with a dark look on his face. “Or I can carry you over my shoulder, Jane. You come with me or I carry you in there.”

There’s no out. I realize that and fear washes over me. No matter what I do or don’t do, there’s no way that I can get out of this one. I’ve done it now and tears stream down my face when I think about sweet little Annie looking for me.

“Don’t you have things to do in the office?” I ask him as he presses his finger to the pad by the house door. Almost immediately I hear a loud click and he pushes the door open. “You can’t just leave right in the middle of the morning, can you?”

My question makes him spin around to look at me and I back up without thinking. As soon as I do, he advances, pinning me in place against the wall. We’re inside his house, but the lights aren’t on, and everything feels dark and dangerous.

Heat radiates off of him and I do my best to hold my breath. It’s that or breathe in the delicious cologne he’s wearing, which I’m sure will make me do something fucking stupid. Thinking back, I’m confident that it was the smell of his cologne that night that made me fuck him.

Well, not just his cologne. Also the look on his face. How it felt when he touched me. How desire coiled within me like a snake when I looked at him.

He reaches out to me, gently gripping my chin for just a moment before his lips crash onto mine. I want to pull back, want to put some space between the two of us so that I feel like I can think clearly again, but it’s impossible to do that with him so close. He’s pressing into me, his entire body holding me in place and he shifts position, grinding his cock into me so that I can feel how hard I am.

Holy. Hell.

Without thinking about what I’m doing, I reach up, grabbing his strong shoulders. He’s a fucking statue, so powerful and strong that I could cling to him in a hurricane and make it out of the storm alive. Right now, though, it’s not a hurricane that has me so afraid.

It’s him finding out about Annie. It’s me going to bed with him again and letting him do things to me. I have to be strong, not just for myself.

“Enough,” I say, pushing him away, but he growls—he fucking growls—and I feel my panties get even wetter. “I’m serious, Trevor,” I gasp out as he bites my neck, hard enough to leave a bruise, not so hard that I don’t love the way the pain mingles with pleasure and shoots through my body.

I’m a drug addict, and the way he’s biting me and holding onto me right now is fucking addictive. I want more of it and even though there’s a voice in the back of my head screaming at me that I need to stop this and figure out how the hell I’m going to get away from him, I suddenly switch from trying to push him away and pull him closer, my tongue fighting against his.

“Fuck, Jane,” he murmurs, and I drop my hands to his pants, fighting with his buckle. “I knew you’d come around. There isn’t anything more important than you being here with me right now.”

I’m still ravenous, still wanting him, but what he just said rings in the back of my mind and I realize that I’m making a huge fucking mistake.

Annie.

His hands are in my hair, forking through it so that he can turn my head to the side and bite my neck again. I shiver as he nibbles my ear and then suck in a breath as he snakes a hand up my sweater.

He’s gone up my top already today and I didn’t stop him, but I realize now how fucking stupid that was and I shimmy away from him. “I need the bathroom,” I gasp, doing my best not to look at him.

He’s breathing hard, his dark eyes locked right on me. I have no idea if he can see through me or not, but he gives a short nod. “Bathroom’s right there, Jane. Hurry. I can’t wait to be in you.”

His words ring in my ears and I rush past him to the bathroom, making sure that there’s enough space between the two of us that he can’t reach out and grab me. I’m fucking up bad right now and I’m not sure how I’m going to fix it.

After shutting and locking the door I lean over the sink, turning on the faucet so that I can look at myself. I look rough.

My lips are puffy and warm and I touch them, wincing when I feel how sore they already are. I look scared, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and I step back from the sink, slowly pulling up my sweater.

Right there across my stomach is the proof that I’m a mom. My c-section definitely wasn’t planned, but the proof is there and if Trevor sees it—or feels it—he’ll be able to figure out my secret.

He’s not stupid, not by a long shot, and the fact that he hasn’t figure out the truth yet is shocking. If I stay here, though, if he gets the opportunity to see me naked or touch my bare stomach, he’ll know the truth.

He’ll know about Annie.

He’ll find her, see how old she is, and figure it all out.

And then what? We all live happily ever after as a mafia family? I think the fuck not.

Turning away from the sink, I eyeball the bathroom. As far as they go, it’s a nice one, with marble floors and a gorgeous shower and tub, but that’s not what I’m interested in. I also don’t give a shit about the fluffy rug on the floor or the chandelier that probably cost more than my first car in high school.

No, the only thing that interests me right now is the window.