Seized Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle
Mia
Every single time Lorenzo touches me, my skin burns.
It’s like he’s fire, sent just to consume me, and although I know that I should try to protect myself by not letting him touch me, I can’t help it. I can’t help the fact that I love the way it feels when we’re close. I love how my core tightens and my stomach flips a little bit when he looks me in the eyes.
I love knowing that nobody is ever going to try to hurt me again. As long as Lorenzo protects me, I’m safer than I’ve ever been. I don’t have to worry about people wanting to hurt me, and I definitely don’t have to worry about someone like Taylor or Damon trying to take me.
I can only imagine what would happen if one of those men showed up right now and tried to take me with them. Lorenzo would kill them, I have no doubt. He’s dangerous, more dangerous than I ever could have thought. He’s a lion and a tiger, all wrapped up in tight muscle, his finger already on the trigger whenever he’s talking to someone.
And I want him.
Leaning down over the sink, I turn it on and splash cold water on my face, sucking in a gasp as I do. I didn’t really have to pee, I just needed to get away from the table. It felt...normal. It felt good. It felt all of these things that scare me because I’m not sure if they’re real or if I’m making them up in my head.
Maybe I’m just so starved for love and attention that I’m willing to pretend that people want me around when they really don’t. It’s been a long damn time since another woman was so friendly to me like Natalia was. Sure, she has her own crazy story with Dane, but that doesn’t mean that she really likes me.
It could mean that she was just seeing how stupid I was. How stupid I had to be to think that something with Lorenzo could really work out.
Turning, I grab a paper towel and dry my face off, scrubbing a lot harder than necessary to try to shake the feeling that something is really wrong. I’m just not worth all of this attention. It was one thing for him to want to tie me up and leave me in the tub.
That made sense to me. That fit with what I thought of myself and how other people had treated me in the past, but for him to want to take me out for French toast? For the two of us to sit and talk with his brother and sister-in-law? That’s different.
That’s foreign territory and I’m not sure how much I like it. It goes against everything that I’ve ever felt about myself, everything that I’ve ever believed. If he wants more from me than to just lock me in his house and fuck me then...
“Shut up, Mia,” I whisper to myself, balling the paper towel up and throwing it in the trash. “You’re going to spiral into oblivion in here and they’ll find you curled up on the floor drooling on yourself.”
Glancing at myself in the mirror, I try to see what Lorenzo sees when he looks at me, but I just can’t. I see my face, see my lips that he kisses, see my nipples poking through my shirt. Those are all the things that every man sees when he looks at me, but Lorenzo makes me feel like he sees more.
I just don’t get it.
Angrily, I walk over to the window and look outside. From here I can see one end of the parking lot as well as the main road leading away from the coffee shop. What would it be like to open the window and step outside? Would he really come looking for me?
Glancing nervously over my shoulder, I’m pleased to see that the bathroom door is still closed. I’m not really doing anything wrong, but I have a hard time imagining that Lorenzo would be happy to see me even near the window. He’d be able to read my mind, I’m sure of it.
He’d know what I was thinking.
Even so, even though I know that it’s dangerous, I grab the windowsill and push up, bending my knees to throw my weight behind the movement. The window pops up a tiny bit, maybe half an inch, but then catches on something.
It’s probably swollen and stuck from years of not being opened. Sighing, I turn around, wiping my palms together to get rid of the little flakes of paint still sticking to my skin, then reach for the door to go back out into the coffee shop.
Before I my hand closes on the handle, though, I hear a loud bang that makes me freeze in my steps. I’ve watched enough thriller movies to know exactly what the sound is and I step back from the door, my ears painful as I strain them to listen for something else.
Why the hell would anyone be shooting in here? Taking a step back from the door, I clamp my hands over my mouth when the screaming starts. There are so many people sitting out there getting something to eat and drink, and now they’re screaming, the sound painful.
My eyes dark up on the door and I’m shocked to see a small lock near the top. It’s a sliding bolt and looks rickety, but I rush back to the door and throw it anyway, the sound of the bolt sliding into place making me feel a bit better.
Okay. What the hell do I do? Frantically, I look around trying to find someplace where I can hide. The three stalls won’t work, it would be too easy for someone to come in and look under the door only to find me crouched on the toilet.
There isn’t a storage closet.
I have to go out the window.
Rushing back to it, I slam up on the bottom, harder this time, really putting all of my weight into my effort to get the window to open. It inches upward a tiny bit more.
“Come on, you fucker,” I grunt, slamming into it again. “Just open.”
My shoulder screams from me slamming up into the window, but when I take a step back and steady myself, I do the same thing over, yelling this time with the pressure that I’m putting into the hit. It hurts, bad, my shoulder burning now like it’s on fire, but I have the window open a few inches.
Behind me, in the coffee shop, everything is quiet. I want to rush back to the door and look out, but I’m terrified. I have to get out this way, have to hide, have to wait for Lorenzo to find me. He’ll come find me and make sure that I’m okay.
Another inch, then another. I can stick my arm out the window and feel the cool air on my skin, but there’s no way in hell that I can actually push it any farther. It’s really jammed now and I swear, reaching through it with both arms like someone’s going to be out there who can help me.
And then someone takes my hand.
I open my mouth, the screen rolling out of me as they grab my wrist, turning it and pulling me like they’re determined to yank me through the open window. There isn’t enough room for me to come out of it, but they don’t seem to care as they pull harder, my shoulder popping loose from its socket.
“Help!” I scream as loud as I can, bracing my free hand on the windowsill so that I can pull back. When that doesn’t make the person let go of me, I put my feet on the wall so that I have as much leverage as possible. “Lorenzo! Lorenzo, I need you! Help!”
I don’t even realize that I’m calling for him until his name is out of my mouth. All I can do now is hope that he’s going to come for me, because if he doesn’t, I’m fucked.
