Arranged Mafia Marriage

Jeanne

“No shit.” A shiver of unease runs down my spine but I push it away. Yeah, so, he’s part of the Mafia. Big deal. We are in Italy, after all; it stands to reason that they’re everywhere. Except… “Hold on a second. If you are the Mafia, as you claim, what are you doing on this side of the door?”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Clearly, my enemies have gotten to me. Which brings me to the question, who are you?”

I tilt my head. Do I want to tell him my name? Somehow, by not telling him who I am, I’ve managed to maintain some semblance of control over the proceedings. Once I tell him my name, I’ll be much more vulnerable to him. Not like my situation isn’t precarious already, trapped in here with him, but if I withhold my name, won’t it give me somewhat of an advantage over him, at least?

He surveys my features and seems to guess my line of thought, for he holds up his hands. “Look, I admit, we may have gotten off to a rocky start-”

“Is that what you call climbing all over me and molesting me?”

“Didn’t see you fight me off too hard, Angel.”

Anger flushes my skin. My cheeks heat. “You took me by surprise, is all,” I grumble. “Also, don’t call me Angel.”

“You enjoyed that kiss, admit it. And you still haven’t told me your name.”

“I did no such thing, and p. s., no way am I going to tell you my name.” I tip up my chin, then clamber onto the bed. I flatten my back against the wall and as far away from him as possible.

“Look, I don’t need to force myself on you, okay? There are enough women lining up to sleep with me.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“Hmph, you really do have an inflated opinion about yourself, don’t you?”

“It’s all true.” He raises a shoulder. “The problem is, I couldn’t stop myself, because we have an audience.”

“Excuse me?” I blink as I try to follow what he’s trying to say. “I really don’t understand.”

He blows out a breath. Then, to my relief, takes a step back. Not that it helps much, considering his bulk seems to take up most of the space in the room.

He drags his fingers through his hair then winces. “Cazzo!” He swears in what I assume is the ‘F’ word in Italian. Somehow, it sounds better than the English version. Cazzo, I roll the word around my tongue. Cazzo.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” I scowl at him.

He purses his lips, then seems to come to a decision. “Remember the camera?”

I glance up at the small device hidden in the ceiling, and the hair on my forearms rises. “That’s not creepy at all,” I murmur.

“Well, I have this fetish.”

I whip my head in his direction.

“Excuse me?”

“Now, don’t jump to conclusions.” His chest rises and falls. “It’s just, I like being on display.”

I blink. “You mean, like being watched?”

“Exhibitionism. It’s my kink.”

A pulse thuds to life low in my belly. No, no, no. I will not be turned on by this talk of kink and fetishes and such. “So, you’re trying to say that-”

“Being on camera makes me horny.”

I gape. Seriously, my mouth falls open, and I know I’m staring at him like he just told me he’s from another planet-which he might be, because I’ve never in my life heard something so… kinky.

“So, if someone is watching you… it makes me want to put on a performance.”

He rolls his neck. “Although, that’s not the only reason I kissed you. As I mentioned earlier, you were surprised, and I didn’t want you to scream and get their attention.”

“I… I honestly don’t know what to say.”

“How about we call a truce? If we need to stay in here together, we can’t exactly keep fighting.”

“I don’t see why not.” I bring my knees up to my chest. “And if you think coming clean about your perversions is supposed to be reassuring-”

“It’s not. I was merely being open, so you’d begin to understand me.”

“I don’t want to understand you.”

“Afraid, given the proximity of our situation, we may not have much choice but to get to know each other very well.”

I lower my chin and try to read the subtext of what he’s saying. A-hole that he is, he takes in the expression on my face-which I’m sure must be a mix of horror and fear-and he bursts out laughing, “Relax, Angel, I’m not coming on to you again; not unless you ask me to.”

“Which I do not.” I raise my hands. “Let’s be very clear. I don’t want anything to do with you. You stay on that side-” I stab my finger toward the opposite corner of the cell “-and I’ll stay here.”

“Now, that’s not fair, is it? You get the bed and I get the floor.”

“Well, I was here first.” And this is an insane conversation. We’re both trapped in here, and rather than discussing how to get out of here, we’re squabbling like a couple of children. But this man… He’s too big, too broad, too handsome, too confident of himself. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way. He’s just too over-the-top. Too much. There’s too much of him for this small space. And he smells too good. Goddamn it. For that alone, I should hate him. No one has the right to look so good. I mean, just being in his presence gives me an eyegasm.

“I have a better idea; why don’t we share the bed?”

“What? No!” I straighten my spine. “I already gave you the cover earlier, didn’t I? So why don’t you take that and retreat to your corner of the room.”

He glances around, then walks over and snatches up the cover. When he straightens, he sways a little. “Cazzo!” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Those stronzi sure did get to me.”

“How did you get to be here anyway? Do you know who knocked you out?”

He stabs his finger over his shoulder in the direction of the camera.

Of course. I firm my lips. He walks over, places the cover on the bed, then stalks in the direction of the bathroom. He steps in, and I hear him moving around. Then he pops his head through the doorway. “Come ‘ere.”

“Eh?” I scowl in his direction. “You’re joking, right?”

“There are no cameras here,” he says in a low voice. “It’s safer if we speak in here.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Are you sure?” He glances about the room again, then lowers his voice to a hush, “Don’t you want to find a way out of here?”

“Not if it means being with you.” Well, of course I want to get out of here, but no way am I going to admit that to him.

He leans a shoulder against the door, then narrows his gaze on me. “Come here, Angel.” The low hum of his voice lights up my nerve-endings.

I hold his gaze for a beat, another, then shove my legs over the side of the bed. I straighten and walk toward him, not missing the flash of victory in his eyes. “I’m only coming to you because there isn’t a camera in there.”

He shuts the door behind me, and instantly, it feels like we’re locked in a bubble. This space is so tiny, it’s like the bathroom on an aircraft. There’s barely enough space for the commode and the sink. Add his bulk, and there’s no way to stand in there without touching some part of him. I flatten myself against the wall and try to hold in my breath.

A chuckle rumbles up his chest. “Now this is cozy, isn’t it?”

“Save it,” I snarl. “What is it you wanted to say to me?”

He turns on the tap over the sink, and the sound of running water fills the space. “Just to make doubly sure they can’t hear us,” he explains, then leans in closer until his chest almost touches mine. “I have an idea on how we can get out of here.”

“Do I even want to hear this?” Umm, yes, I do, but nope, not going to admit it to this egomaniac.

“Do you have a choice?” he retorts.

I snap my jaw together and stare at him.

His grin widens. “So clearly, we’ve been put in the same cell together because they wanted us to meet.”

“Or maybe they didn’t have enough space?” I speculate.

“It’s possible, but I’d say it’s more likely they wanted to see how we would interact.”

“You mean, like an experiment or something?” I hunch my shoulders. “This just keeps getting creepier and creepier.”

“Maybe they thought we wouldn’t get along?” He purses his lips. “More likely, they knew about my tendencies and wanted to see what would happen if they locked us in together. Although, there’s one more possibility…”

“What’s that?”

“They had you locked in here with the woman and her kids we came to save.”

“We? Who’s ‘we’?

“Me and my brothers.”

“More of the Mafia Seven?”

“The Sovrano Seven,” he corrects me.

“So, you came to save these people?”

“They’re the family of the man who attacked one of my brothers and his wife,” he replies.

“Now, I’m really confused. Why would you save the family of someone who attacked your family?” I scowl.

“Because he was forced to do it, and he agreed to help us track down Freddie-that’s the guy who’s holding us, incidentally.”

“Okay, so you and your brothers offered to help him and his family in return for-”

“Him giving us information on Freddie’s whereabouts.”

“So, you came to look for this man’s family and ended up being taken yourself?”

“We underestimated Freddie. Two of my brothers and I went into the house where Freddie was holding this guy’s family. We managed to get them out, but Freddie’s men came after us. My brothers left with the family. I stayed behind to hold them back. I thought we had succeeded, too. Then, I was ambushed. The next thing I know, I’m being thrown into this cell with you.”

“But why did he take me?” I bite the inside of my cheek. “I have nothing to do with the Mafia. I’m an actress and a jazz dancer, and I’m only in Palermo to perform an interpretation of Beauty and The Beast. I was on my way back from dance rehearsal when someone kidnapped me. I woke up in this room, two days ago… At least, I think it was two days.”

“And you haven’t seen anyone?”

“No one but you.”

“Hmm.” He rubs his jaw. “It makes no sense.”

“You’re telling me.” I shuffle my feet. “Can we go back into the room now?”

He tilts his head, then nods. “Go on, I’m going to wash up quickly, and then I’ll be there.” I head out of the bathroom, but instead of clambering onto the bed, I begin to pace the room. This entire situation is so bizarre. Why am I here? Why did they bring him here? Why have they locked us together? What do they want to do with us? And damn it, why am I so attracted to my fellow prisoner?

That’s when the door opens and a man walks in.