Bought Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle
Natalia
The dress is huge. Puffy. Fluffy, like when a kid gets to decorate a cupcake and puts on enough frosting to clog not only their arteries, but also the arteries of their best friends if they all were to share it.
It flows out from my body in floating layers of white fabric and tulle, sparkles with tiny crystals that have been sewn all over it, and is tight enough to my torso to make me look like I just walked out of a magazine shoot.
All in all, I look ridiculous, and I know it. This should be one of the happiest moments of my life. I should have a giggling group of girls standing by me telling me how great I look, and my mom should be here to tell me how proud of me that she is.
But there’s none of that, and I can’t help the sinking feeling in my stomach when I finally catch a glimpse of my one of the men my dad sent to watch over me.
He’s standing off to the side of the room, tapping away on his phone while frowning, like whoever he’s talking to his on his last nerve. I’ve been on the receiving end of that scowl often enough to know that I’m grateful that his attention isn’t on me right now. Slipping his phone into his pocket, he goes outside to find a good vantage point to watch everything.
“What do you think?” Bethany, the fresh-faced girl currently holding up my train, walks around my side to look at my face. She’s got an armload of fabric that she’s trying her best to keep from dragging on the floor and I force myself to smile at her.
“It’s...something else,” I finally say. “Are you totally sure that Princess Diana’s train was longer than this? Isn’t it excessive?”
She pauses and tilts her head to look at me. “You’re marrying Dane Accardi, right?”
I nod, a warm flush creeping up my neck to my cheeks.
“Then I think that it’s probably about right. He hasn’t come in to talk to us about the dress or anything, but someone from the family did call and say that they wanted a traditional dress.”
“It certainly is that,” I say,” running my hands down the fabric. What I don’t want to tell her is that it’s hideous. It looks like something that some poor woman would have worn back in the 70s and I consider for just a moment about asking her if she has some blue eyeshadow that I can borrow to go with it, but I bite my tongue.
It’s not this girl’s fault that she has me in the world’s ugliest dress. I’m not mad at her, and I know that. I’m angry at the entire situation that I’m in and the fact that there doesn’t really seem to be a way that I can get out of it right now. If I had the money, or if my dad would let me out of his sight for longer than five minutes, then I’d be able to make a run for it.
But even now, just by turning my head a little to the side, I can see my guard sitting out on the sidewalk. He’s scrolling his phone and not really paying attention to me, but I know that all I’d have to do is walk out of the store right now and his head would snap up and I wouldn’t be able to get away from his gaze.
I’m fucked.
Shivering, I force myself to look back in the mirror. It’s not like I’ve been dreaming of this day or anything, not even before I knew that I wasn’t going to get to choose my own groom. This is just one more event in my life that I have to suffer through, and the sooner I accept that and move on with my life, the better off I’ll be when I’m walking down the aisle.
“You don’t like it.” Bethany takes a step back from me and crosses her arms on her chest, staring at me. I have the distinct feeling that she’s somewhat disappointed in me and I’m half tempted to lie to her and tell her that it’s amazing just to make her feel better, but before I can speak, someone does it for me.
“It’s hideous. Of course she doesn’t like it.” The voice is strong and commanding. It comes from behind me, from the other part of the store where the tuxes are kept, and I shiver as I turn around to see who in the world is brave enough to save me from looking like his.
Dane Accardi. We lock eyes and the shiver that I felt creep across my arms turns into a full-body one and I wrap my arms around my torso to try to stay warm. Even if there was something that I wanted to say to him, I’m not sure that I could. My tongue feels dry and thick and all I can do is stare at him.
“I’m...I’m sorry?” Bethany stutters out, staring at him. “What’s wrong with the dress?” She walks to stand next to me and I see how she’s twisting her fingers together in her shirt.
Been there, girl.
“Besides the fact that it’s hideous and makes her look like she’s a walking cotton ball? Nothing. But she won’t be wearing that to our wedding, I guarantee you. Fix it.”
He glances over at me but lets his gaze slip off of me like he’s not really interested in the fact that I’m standing there. I want to scream and argue with him that I can pick out my own dress, thankyouverymuch, but it’s not like I picked this one out in the first place, and I hate it.
So I stand silent, just staring at him.
He’s wearing the tux that he’s going to wear for our wedding and, I swear, I’ve never seen a more gorgeous man. Everything about him exudes power and confidence, from the way he has one hand held in front of his body to the way he’s now eyeballing my dress again.
I feel a flush bloom on my chest as his eyes light on my face and, for just a moment, I feel myself falling into his gaze. He stares at me like he’s not quite sure what he wants to do with me, or whether or not he even likes me.
Shivering, I brush my hands down the front of the dress again, doing my best to smooth it out. It’s just so poufy that it immediately puffs right back up into shape.
“Leave us.” He’s speaking to Bethany but still looking at me and I shiver when she turns and scurries from the room without arguing. Dane approaches me, still scanning my body like he’s not quite sure what he’s looking at, but stops just far enough away that I can’t reach out and touch him.
Not like I would. What, do I want my fingers to burn at how sexy he is? Do I want to accidentally cut myself if I were to stroke the strong line of his jaw? And what about his muscles--it’s not like I would reach out and run my fingers over them just so see how strong he is, right?
Yeah, I can’t answer that.
“What do you think of the dress?” HIs voice is still deep and sexy but there’s something there that I hadn’t expected. He’s curious about what I want and that surprises me since I’ve never really gotten to have a say in my life before.
For a moment, I don’t answer. It’s obvious that he doesn’t like it, and so part of me wants to keep it just to spite him. He bought me and I have to marry him, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be a great wedding.
At the same time, though, he’s interested. I can see in the way he waits patiently for my response. From what I know about the Accardi family, they are not patient men.
“I hate it,” I finally admit, giving a little shrug. “I feel like I’m wearing a curtain.”
“You look like you’re wearing a curtain. There’s no way that you can wear that to our wedding. Who the hell picked it out?”
This makes me shrug again. “She said that they were told it was going to be a traditional wedding and so I needed to look the part.”
“Yeah, of a blushing bride, not of someone who snuck in after stealing the drapes.” He turns from me and stalks over to a rack of dresses before yanking one down and handing it to me. “Wear that.”
Our fingers brush against each other as I take it from him and even though I know that I should hate him right now, should hate the fact that he’s going to make me marry him even though I don’t want to, I can’t help the burst of heat that flashes through my body when we touch.
“Okay,” I manage.
“And only that.” Reaching out, he cups my chin and tilts my head a little to the side so that he can get a better look at me. I suddenly feel like I’m on display in a meat market and I want to pull away, but his touch is searing and I can’t move.
“I don’t want anything standing in my way when I take you to bed, do you understand? I’ve waited a long damn time to taste your pussy, Natalia, and I don’t want to be kept waiting any longer.”
Just when I thought that there might be something more to this man, I realize what a monster he is. He’s disgusting. Horrible. There’s only one thing that he wants from this union and I know that I’m not going to have a choice but to give it to him.
My stomach twists hard when I think about him between my legs, but it’s not all disgust running through my body. I want him but there’s no way in hell that I’d ever admit that to him.
He’d be insufferable.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you or do you want a little demonstration to help inspire you to follow my directions?”
