Bought Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle

Dane

Natalia cowers against the door when she hears my voice. She’s so small that I’m torn.

Part of me wants to pick her up and protect her. I want to tell her that nothing bad will ever happen to her. She’s tiny and fragile, like a baby bird, and I want to keep her safe.

The other part of me wants to throw her over my shoulder and take her to my bedroom to fuck some common sense into her. My face burns where she scratched me and I’m sure that the marks are deep judging by how painful they feel.

Her eyes flick up to my face and hold there. I think that I see the flicker of a smile when she notices her handiwork, but that quickly fades when she registers just how pissed off I am.

“I didn’t mean to scratch you,” she says, standing up and planting herself against the door. She’s pressed hard up against it like she thinks that she’s going to be able to push back and fall through it to get out of my way. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“You did mean to,” I say, “and you’re not sorry.” I have to cross my arms on my chest to keep from doing something stupid. “What the hell was your plan, anyway? To make a run for it? Did you think that I wasn’t going to lock the front door?”

Jutting her chin out at me, she tilts her face back a bit. “I hoped you were more stupid than you look,” she admits, still holding my gaze. “Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

“I’d say.” We stand in silence for a few moments while I stare at her and try to think of what to do with her. I can’t let her go home, I know that she’ll run. She has to be here with me, but I also can’t keep her locked up in the closet any longer. I saw how she sprung out of there like an animal from a trap.

“Come on,” I finally say, breaking the silence, and gesturing to the kitchen. “Let me get you something to eat.”

Her eyes fall on my gun before they snap back up to my face and I shake my head.

“You really don’t want to do that, Natalia. If you thought that being locked in the closet was bad then just imagine what it would be like to be tied to the wall if you really try to kill me.”

Her face pales but she pushes off from the door to follow me. “What’s in the kitchen?”

I eyeball her. She’s playing stupid, I’m pretty sure of it. There’s nothing about Natalia that makes me think that she’s actually that dumb. “Food for you. Aren’t you hungry?”

Her stomach rumbles in response and she claps her hands down on it like she’s going to be able to keep it from making noise. The look that she gives me tells me that she’s not entirely comfortable with people taking care of her, but fuck it.

I’m going to be her husband.

“How many people did you murder while I was locked in the closet?” She asks, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “I’m assuming that’s where you went, right? To kill someone.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Ignoring the real question, I take out some steak and eggs from the refrigerator and turn on the stove. While that heats, I cut a slice of bread and drop it in the toaster and pour her a glass of oj. When I slide it across the counter to her, she looks up at me and chews on her lower lip.

“Why are you being nice right now? Do you feel bad about the closet?”

“Not at all,” I tell her, turning back to the stove. “But you are going to be my wife, so I have to take care of you.” I’m actually pissed, but I’m not going to hurt her. Natalia will learn that she has to trust me and listen to me.

I can always punish her later.

She’s silent for a moment then I hear the stool scrape on the floor as she gets up. I take a deep breath, fully expecting to see her making a run for it again when I turn back around, but a moment later she’s standing next to me at the stove.

“I’m sorry about your face,” she says, her voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

“Sure you did.” Cracking a few eggs into the pan, I season them with salt and pepper before tossing in the steak. It’s leftover from my dinner last night but I don’t think that Natalia will complain. “You wanted to hurt me and then escape.”

“No.” Her voice is firm and I glance at her for a moment. “I wanted to get past you and escape, but hurting you wasn’t on my to-do list. I feel bad because now...” she flaps her hand at the stove.

“Because now I’m feeding you? I thought that food was the way to a man’s heart, not a woman’s.”

She sighs and leans against the counter. “Yeah, well, I can’t really help the fact that I like food, okay? Don’t judge me.”

That makes me glance over at her. “I haven’t yet. In fact, if you hadn’t tried to get out, I’d be a little worried about you.”

She’s silent for a moment. “I don’t have a chance of escaping you, do I?”

I plate her food and put it on the island for her to sit and eat before shaking my head. “Not at all.”

“You’re never going to let me go?”

Grabbing a glass, I pour myself some whiskey. Natalia’s a talker, alright. That’s not something that I ever thought about when I bought her. Of course, she was talkative as a little kid, but all of them are. It never crossed my mind that she’d grow up into a super talkative adult, but here we are.

The last thing that I want to do is talk about my feelings. It would be much better if she’d just sit down, shut up, and eat, but she’s staring at me like she can’t move until I answer her question.

Her whole life depends on what I’m about to say, but there isn’t any kind way to break it to her.

I shake my head. “I bought you, Natalia. You belong to me. This condo? It’s your new home and you’re never going to escape, do you understand?”

Tears well up in the corners of her eyes but she must have iron control over her emotions because they don’t fall. Her hands clench into tight fists and she pushes away from the counter, going to sit at the island. When she stares at her food but doesn’t eat it, I walk over and smack my hand down in front of her.

This makes her look up at me. I can see the anger in her eyes and I love it. Good. I want her to have emotions. The last thing I want is a shell of a wife. “You will eat,” I tell her, “or I’ll have the doctor come and put you on a feeding tube. If that happens, you’ll be tied to a bed until our wedding night. I’ll free you just long enough to consummate everything, then tie you back up.”

Her eyes are wide but she doesn’t answer.

“You belong to me and you need to get that through your head if you’re going to have any chance of enjoying the rest of your life. Be a good wife, Natalia, and I will be a good husband. Fight me, refuse to do what I tell you to, or try to hurt me again and I will make your life a living hell, only freeing you from your chains long enough to ensure that I have an heir.”

Her face is stony and cold as she stares at me and I think for a moment that she’s going to make a stupid decision. I can see it written all over her face--that she wants to tell me to go to hell.

That’s all she has to say and the rest of her life will be miserable. I don’t want to tie her up like that, but I will. I’ll do anything to keep her for my own and make sure that I have the thing that I bought.

Slowly, like she’s a robot, she reaches out and picks up her fork, weighing it in her hand for a moment before looking at her plate of food. The eggs aren’t steaming hot any longer, but I don’t give a shit. She’ll sit here and eat every last bite of what I made her or she’s going to have to answer to me about it.

When she stabs the yolk, the yellow leaks out all over the plate, but she still doesn’t take a bite.

“Don’t piss me off, Natalia,” I tell her. My voice is low, a warning, and she’s not stupid. She has to be able to hear how serious I am. All she has to do is listen to me. Do what I say. She’ll have a good life.

Instead of taking a bite, though, she puts the fork calmly back down on the plate then picks the entire thing up before standing and flinging it at the wall.