Bought Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle

Natalia

Idon’t really pay attention to where I am until Dane puts me down on a sofa and then leaves the room. I can hear him puttering around just out of sight and I recognize the sound of the sink running and then the click of the stove when he turns it on.

The realization that he’s making me tea washes over me and I feel myself relax, but only for a moment. It took me this long to realize that I’m not at my house and I dig my fingers into the leather sofa I’m on, looking around to try to get my bearings.

I must be in his home. It’s nothing like where I grew up and I let my eyes flick about the room as I try to take it all in.

The leather sofa I’m on is comfortable and worn in, strategically placed right in front of a full wall of windows where the light would be just perfect for reading. I love to sit and read and I’m actually excited when I see a huge bookshelf taking up one side wall of the room, but then I remind myself that I’m not on vacation.

This is Dane’s place, and it’s going to be where I live. Tears spring to my eyes and I force myself to breathe slowly. A fireplace, a huge desk with a rolling chair, and a few other pieces of furniture fill the room. The chandelier above my head casts amazing shadows through the room.

When I crane my head a little bit I can see through the door that Dane went through. He’s in a kitchen, but there’s another door leading to a hall off to the side of the room. It must lead to bedrooms and I feel all of the muscles in my lower stomach clench hard at the thought of what happens down there.

I can’t help but remember that he was making me tell him about touching myself. A brief question of whether or not he touches himself too crosses my mind, but I can’t let myself go there right now.

I feel like I’m close to spiraling and I take a deep breath, hold it, count to ten, then exhale.

Someone tried to kill us. They killed the man who was supposed to look out for me and I bend forward, resting my head between my knees. It’s only then that I remember that I’m wearing the world’s ugliest wedding dress and I feel a sudden urge to get out of it.

It’s too tight on my body. I feel like I’m in a cage, or a straitjacket, and I need to break free from it. Standing, I try to twist my arms to the back of my body to grab the zipper, but I can’t seem to grab it. It keeps slipping from between my fingers right as I’m about to pull and I swear, sweat breaking out on my brow.

Twisting in a circle, I feel the fabric wrapping tighter around my body and I breathe faster, doing my best to get any air into my lungs even though the air in the room suddenly feels thin.

I’m lightheaded and I feel a small scream of terror escape my throat even though I don’t know how I can possibly make any noise.

A moment later, there are strong arms around me. I feel like I’m going to collapse, but instead of letting me fall to the floor, which is what my legs are screaming for me to do, Dane gently pull me to him then sits down, angling me so that I’m on his lap.

His hands work quickly and I suddenly feel like I can breathe again when he unzips the back of my dress. I suck in a huge gulp of air, bracing my hands on his thigh to push myself up so that I’m sitting and not just leaning against him.

“You’re okay, Natalia,” he whispers, his fingers lightly dancing up my spine. He takes the zipper pull and gives it another tug, giving me even more freedom to move and breathe.

I’m well aware that he’s stripping me down and that I should be ashamed of that right now, but I can’t seem to care. It feels amazing to finally be able to breathe, to have that freedom, and I don’t care if he sees my body.

“Just keeping breathing, darling, you’re alive.” His fingers dance back up my spine and he rubs my back, his strong hands working into my tight muscles. “You’re alive and you’re safe, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I’d respond to him but I don’t know what to say and I’m not sure that I could speak without throwing up. My head pounds with the terror of what just happened, so I keep my lips pressed firmly together so that I don’t say something that I’m going to regret. He keeps massaging my back, turning me on his lap so that he can use both hands.

This time, when I drop my head down to between my legs, I don’t do it because I think that I’m going to be sick. It just feels so good to have him touching me, working out the stress that I feel in my body, taking care of me.

It seems like an hour disappears before I can finally speak, but when I raise my head, I see that the mug he brought with him is still steaming. It’s only been a few minutes, but his hands on my body make me feel like I can handle what’s coming next.

“Why?” I finally manage, shifting position so that I can look at him. This has the unfortunate side effect of making him stop rubbing my back, but I can’t care about that right now. I need to be able to look at him so that I can try to figure out what’s going on. “Why did that happen?”

“I have an idea,” he says, his hands still rubbing my back. It’s heaven and I can feel myself melting back into his touch, but I want to know the truth.

“Were they trying to kill you or me?”

HIs hands never stop. I never even feel him pause like he might have been surprised by what I asked. “Me. You would have been a casualty. Unless, of course, your dad is into something more than he’s letting on, in which case it might have been a two for one.”

My head pounds and I shift on his lap to reach for the tea. The mug feels like heaven in my hands, like it’s something real and grounding, and I grip it in both hands before taking a sip.

Chamomile. I never once in my life would have thought that someone like Dane would have chamomile tea at his house and would know what to do with it, but the floral tea tastes so good that I don’t care where he got it.

As I sip my tea, I think. Is is possible that my dad is involved in something that would put me in danger like that? It doesn’t make sense and I shake my head. “He wouldn’t do anything to put me in danger.”

“Besides arrange your marriage to me?” Dane’s voice is low and dangerous and it causes an involuntary shiver to run through my body.

“Is marriage that dangerous?” I hear myself ask the question but I’m not really sure how I managed to speak at all. The warmth from the tea is second only to the warmth that I feel from his body. It seems impossible that I’d be able to feel him at all through the multiple layers of this stupid dress, but it’s like I’m on high alert.

I’m well aware of every hard line of his body. I feel him twist under me when he takes my mug from me and leans forward to put it on the coffee table. I know that the hard rod I feel under me isn’t just muscle and I blush when I think about what that means.

But it seems impossible to think straight. All of my thoughts are running through my head, jumbled together, so confusing and exhausting that I find myself leaning my head on his shoulder before I know what I’m doing.

“You need rest,” he tells me, standing and scooping me up. “A nap is just what the doctor ordered.”

“I’m not tired,” I argue, but even as I speak I feel exhaustion deep in my bones. Adrenaline had torn through my body when the shots were fired and when Dane pressed me to the floor to keep me safe and now that that’s draining out of my body, I feel like I could sleep for days.

Natalia Van Winkle, reporting for duty.