Arranged Mafia Marriage

A day later

Aurora

“Open the door!” The banging on the front door reaches me. I stare at the coffee table wedged against it. That and the bolt I had dropped in place is all that’s preventing the asshole on the other side from getting through to me.

It’ll hold the door, surely, won’t it? I glance around the living room space but don’t see any means of escaping. Not that I haven’t checked every inch of this house in the last few weeks that I have been held here as a prisoner. Every window is barred, and the door to the terrace on the first floor is sealed tight. The only way in or out of this house is through the front door. The door upon which the man who is trying to enter is currently leaning his weight.

Shit!”

The door creaks as he puts his shoulder to it.

“Open the fucking door, Aurora, or I’m gonna break it down.”

“Who”-my voice cracks, and I clear my throat-“who’s there?”

“You know who it is. Who else comes to this house, except me?” Christian’s lowers his voice to a growl. “When I get through, I’m going to teach you such a lesson you aren’t going to be able to sit down for days!”

“Oh?” My stomach trembles. “OH!” I blink as the full meaning of his words sinks in. My heart rate ratchets up, and moisture laces my core. I should not find that so hot. Why do I find that such a turn-on?

“How can I be sure who it is if you don’t tell me who you are? Not like I can recognize your voice or anything, you know.”

“Is that right?” His tone is almost lazy now.

Like he’s realized I’m playing a game and has decided to go along with it. My belly twists. I rub my damp hands on my thighs. Why the hell did I decide to stop him from coming in? I should have known it would be futile, that nothing I say or do will deter him.

The door creaks again and pushes against the coffee table, which moves forward by an inch.

“Oh, hell!” I race toward the coffee table and push against the door to hold it in place. Something slams into the door from the other side again. The doorframe shudders, the bolt across the door shivers, and the coffee table moves forward by another inch. I yelp and take a step back.

“Don’t fucking make me wait, Aurora,” Christian growls.

I shiver. Even through the heavy wood of the double doors, the menace rolls off of his voice. Goosebumps pop on my skin. My toes curl. Shit, this should not turn me on so much.

That… that mean edge to his tone, the promise of punishment when he finally gets through… I shouldn’t want it so much.

“Last chance, Aurora. Open the door or-”

“Or,” I call out, “what are you going to do, eh?”

“Do you really want to find out?” He lowers his voice to a hush, but I can still hear him. “Do you, Aurora?”

Yes.

Yes.

“No,” I yell back. “I’m tired of being kept a prisoner here. Tired of being held without anyone telling me how long I’m going to be here.”

There’s silence for a beat, then another.

“It’s why I’ve come here,” he retorts, “to tell you what’s going to happen next.”

“Do you think I’m going to believe you?”

“I hope you’re standing clear, Aurora,” he says in a low-pitched voice. “I’m coming through.”

I straighten and stare at the door. He’s joking. He’s not really going to batter down that door, is he?

“Get back, Aurora,” he growls. “Now!”

I jump and stumble back just as he smashes into the door. The wood creaks and groans. The coffee table I’ve wedged against the door screeches forward. I yelp and slide back a few more steps. Just in time. For there’s another crash.

The entire door whines, and the bolt jumps then falls off right before the middle of the door cracks.

I scream, turn and race toward the bedroom, then close the door and bolt it. I sink down against it, and my shoulders shudder.

Shit, shit, shit. What is wrong with me? Why did I try to shut him out? I should have known I couldn’t win, that he’d find a way to come inside. But the truth is, I’m tired of sitting here in this house, trying to figure out what will happen to me next. Tired of not knowing my fate. Tired of being punished for helping out my friend Karma. She wanted to escape her husband, the then Capo-now Don Michael Sovrano-and of course, I couldn’t say no to helping her.

I knew how dangerous it was to do so. To go against the leader of the Cosa Nostra is to bring death to yourself and to your family… I knew it, and yet, something in me wasn’t able to turn her down. I recognized another woman in need, and something in me snapped.

Maybe it’s all the time spent as a woman in the heart of the Mafia. Knowing that we are often seen as disposable. Interchangeable. Good only to procreate, as wives, as mistresses, as objects to be lusted after, but never respected as individuals with our own minds, who can control our own destinies.

And you know what? I, sure as hell, am going to control my future… At least, that’s what I thought… That’s what I had aimed for during all of my years growing up. And while the Capo had paid off my father’s debts and paid for me to go to medical school in London, and I had accepted it then because it seemed like the only way to find my way out of the situation that I was born into-I don’t owe him anything. Right?

Clearly, he’d done it so he could indenture my family, ensure that he’d bought our loyalty and that of any future generations. Only, I’m not going to submit to my fate.

It’s this streak of defiance in me that had urged me to help Karma. I had treated her when she’d been brought into the hospital in Palermo. She’d been faking the illness, of course, as she’d warned me she would. I had examined her, nevertheless, so the situation would appear as genuine as possible, and discovered that she was pregnant.

I hadn’t been able to stop myself from revealing that to her husband. We had returned to her room and found her gone… And the Capo would have killed me on the spot except… His brother, Christian, had intervened. He’d saved my life that day, and I suppose I should be grateful for it.

Only, I’m not sure about his intentions toward me. Since that day, he’s shadowed me wherever I go. Oh, he hasn’t made a move on me or anything like that… I wish he would. That way, I’d know what he wants from me.

No, he simply watches me with that gray-blue gaze of his that seems to peer into my soul. Wonder what he sees, though? Probably my larger-than-normal bust, no doubt. It’s the bane of my life. Every time I want to be taken seriously for my work as a doctor, my breasts get in the way. Hell, during my final examinations, where I had to present my paper to a team of supervisors-all men, of course-the assholes couldn’t take their gazes off of my tits. I’ve learned it’s best to play them down by wearing high-collared shirts. Not that it helps.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

I also have thick hips and thighs that could rival Roger Federer’s. No, they aren’t hairy. They are simply quite heavy, and it’s not due to muscles. And yeah, I think they look better on Federer. On me, they just look large. Overall, I’m told that my figure is a classical hourglass one. Which I hate. Honestly, I’d do anything to have Karma’s slender, svelte figure, all gentle curves and planes, not to mention a flatter chest. But I digress.

He’s the person who accompanied me when I went to see Karma while she was pregnant.

Subsequently, she’d lost her child in an unfortunate incident when her car had been rigged with a bomb which, luckily for her, had turned out to be defective. Although… It had killed Xander, Christian’s twin. Turned out, it was their father who was behind it. The chain of events had entrenched Christian even more firmly in the inner circle of the Cosa Nostra. So, the question is, why is this man, who can have any woman in the city-hell, on the continent, even-beating down the door to my bedroom?

“Go away,” I yell as I slap my hands over my ears. “Get the hell away from me…you…you asshole!”

“Now, play nice, Flower,” Christian drawls. I can hear him from the other side of the bedroom door.

Hell, I can all but feel the heat of his body as it permeates through the wood, which is likely my imagination. But every time I’ve been near him, it’s as if I’ve stepped past a furnace. The man has so much vitality, he can probably light up an entire Christmas tree by his proximity. I snort.

That’s fanciful thinking. Probably because I spent Christmas Day shut up in here, feeling sorry for myself. Hell, even criminals in jails get to celebrate Christmas. I spent it locked up here, and except for the brief time on Christmas Eve when Christian came in to check on me and lent me his phone so I could call Karma, I was alone. At least, I didn’t starve. The fridge is always full of food, as is the pantry, so there’s more than enough to eat.

Still, it didn’t fill the void of being alone, on the one day of the year when every family is together. Well, every family except my own. We have never been big on Christmas. Mostly, my father would be on call due to one emergency or another. I can count on my fingers how many Christmas Eve’s he’d actually been home. So, it had been my mother, sister, and me. And then, my mother had died, and while I had tried to make an attempt at arranging festivities, I have to admit, I hadn’t been very successful.

Karma had wanted to organize a Christmas gathering, but Xander’s death, and then her losing her baby, had put a damper on that. Christian had updated me that she was spending time in London and had even given me his phone to speak with her. A favor I hadn’t wanted to accept, but which I didn’t turn down, starved of company as I had been.

But everyone has a limit and I have reached mine. No way, am I going to allow myself to be shut up inside here. I want to leave this prison, go see my family, lead a normal life … Or else … I’m willing to die. Yeah, not being dramatic here…

When you live in the heart of the Mafia community, death is as much a part of life as going out to dinner is. And I-like it or not-am one of them.

I grew up surrounded by macho guys who think they own the world. And you know what? I have spent enough time among them to be able to play them at their own game. I’m not going to let one of them scare me, no matter that he happens to be big, brooding, growly, and sexy and … hot … and that he turns me on by just a glance. I’m not going to let my attraction to him get in the way. No. I’m going to tell him exactly where he can shove this awareness he seems to have for me, the one which has him pushing his shoulder into the bedroom door and applying his weight so the entire barrier shakes.

“Open the door, Flower,” he rumbles, “or I’m going to break this down and come inside, and then you’re going to regret shutting me out.”

Is that right? I jump up to my feet and tuck my elbows into my side.

“Last chance,” he warns. “Open. The. Door.”

I spin around, unlock the bedroom door, and yank it open. Just as he lunges forward.