Arranged Mafia Marriage

Christian

I dive forward just as she pulls the door open. I careen through the doorway and toward her, managing to swerve at the last minute. Still, I don’t avoid her completely, and my shoulder brushes hers. She yells out in surprise, and her body hurtles toward the floor. I grab her and manage to get my body under hers as we hit the floor.

The back of my head hits the floor, and the breath rushes out of me. On the other hand, it may be because of the soft curves that tremble against my chest, her breath that shivers against my throat, or her sweet scent like honeysuckle and crushed rose petals that teases my nostrils and goes straight to my head. The blood rushes to my groin and my cock thickens. She pushes off of me, or at least tries to, for I’ve thrown my arm around her waist and hold her in place.

“Let me go,” she snarls.

“No.” I sit up, then wince when the bump on the back of my head protests. I ignore the pain, push myself up to standing, still holding her close.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hisses as I head toward the bed with her in my arms.

“Let me the hell go,” she slaps her palm against my chest, “right now.”

“Fine.” I lower my arms, and she hits the floor on her ass.

“Ow!” She grunts, then stares up at me, a shocked expression on her face. “You … you dropped me?” she stutters. “Like, honest to God, you allowed me to crash to the floor?”

“You asked me to let you go,” I remind her. “I was only obliging you.”

“Asshole,” she snaps, then pushes up to stand to her full height, which still means she hits somewhere below my breastbone.

Gesu Cristo, but she’s tiny and also very angry right now. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair awry about her features.

She pushes a strand away from her face. “You’re a dick, you know that?” She scowls.

“Glad you recognize that.”

“Argh!” She makes a noise at the back of her throat. “And insufferable, not to mention, you’re so full of yourself that if anyone were to prick your skin, you’d take off.”

“Take off?”

“Yeah, all that hot air which you carry around would catapult you into the stratosphere, no doubt.”

I glare at her, then can’t stop the surprised chuckle that rumbles up my chest. “You’re funny,” I murmur.

“You’re annoying.”

‘You’re on my turf.”

“You’re in my house,” she shoots back.

“A house you’re living in, thanks to my intervention on your behalf. If not, you’d be dead by now.”

Her features flush further. “Should I be grateful to you for that? I bet you have your reasons for stepping in.”

“If nothing else, you’re smart.” I curl my lips. “So, you’ll realize that I’m being very serious when I say that I’m going to punish you.”

“Whatever.” She huffs. “Why are you here anyway?”

“It’s my place, remember? I can come and go as I want.”

She firms her lips, then spins around and walks out of the room. I follow her into the kitchen. She reaches the espresso maker, tops it up with coffee grounds, and places it on the stove. She grabs two cups and saucers, places them on the counter, then turns to me. “What do you want from me?”

“Marry me.”

“What?” Her gaze widens. “What did you say?”

“Marry me.” I allow my smile to widen. “Not for real, of course.”

“Of course.” She nods. “So, you want me to pretend to marry you?”

“For ten days.”

“What happens in ten days?”

“I’ll be able to convince my older brother and my nonna that we’re really serious about each other. After which time, you are free to go your own way.”

“Wait? Ten Days? That’s too short a time to convince them that we are serious about each other.”

I scratch my chin. “You’re right.”

“I am?” She scowls.

“Thirty days.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“What the-!” She gapes. “What do you mean?”

I raise a shoulder. “It’s a respectable amount of time and long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

“To convince them that we mistakenly thought that we were in love.”

“But we’re not in love,” she points out.

“Precisely.” I nod. “Which is why, when we decide to get the marriage annulled, no one will raise an eyebrow. In fact, given that, by then, we’d have proven to be incompatible, and it will be all too believable that,” I peer into her face, “our marriage was a complete mistake.”

“And what’s the benefit of that?”

“They won’t bother me about getting married to anyone else for a long time after that.”

She purses her lips. “Somehow, I can’t see you being bothered by anyone about being married.”

“Have you met my nonna?” I tilt my head. “She’s been planning our weddings from the moment each of us were born. And now that Michael’s married, and with Xander’s passing…” I firm my lips.

“You were saying?” she prompts.

“Nothing.” I straighten my spine. “Fake marriage. You and me. That’s all you need to know.”

“Hmm…” She takes in my features. “What’s in it for me?”

I glare at her. “Really?” I snap. “You dare ask me that?”

She pales but doesn’t glance away. “Yes,” she says in a firm voice, “I need to know what’s in it for me.”

I take a step toward her and she leans back, only there’s nowhere for her to go so she presses back and into the counter. I close the distance between us, plant my hands on the counter, and cage her in.

“You were saying?”

“I was asking a question, actually.” She tips up her chin. “What’s in it for me, Christian?”

I peer into her features, and her pupils dilate. Her brown eyes lighten until they seem almost golden in this light. I lean in closer until my breath raises the hair on her forehead. I run my finger down the side of her cheek, and she shivers.

“Don’t,” she murmurs, “don’t try to distract me.”

“Oh, so I do distract you?”

“Don’t change the topic.”

I step back, and the breath rushes out of her.

“Your life, Aurora. You get a new lease on life.”

“So,” she furrows her forehead, “if I pretend to be your wife for thirty days, I’ll be free to leave and live as I want?”

I nod slowly. “If you fulfill all of the conditions, and provided you put up enough of a performance that my nonna and brothers are convinced of the veracity of our relationship.”

She bites down on her lower lip, and hell, if my gaze isn’t drawn to her glistening flesh. Why the hell does this woman affect me so? She’s only a convenience, after all. Someone to use and discard. So I can go back to the life I prefer to lead. To be surrounded by enough pussy so I can forget I lost my twin brother. The other half of my soul. The one who’s been with me since before we were born.

Xander and I were so different, yet so alike. He was the artist, and I’m the numbers guy. It’s why steering the finances of the Cosa Nostra fell to me. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting the numbers to speak to me. Numbers don’t lie. They can’t hide. They can’t hurt you like our father did.

After Michael left to study in the States, my father had turned his anger on us. Luca, our second oldest brother, had gotten the brunt of it. Massimo, our middle brother, had already grown big and tall enough that our father didn’t dare hurt him. But Xander and me? We were still small and young enough that he knew he could hurt us without fear of retaliation.

Perhaps it’s because I was older by a few minutes that I felt responsible for both of us. I had tried to protect Xander from being physically beaten up by our father, and I mostly succeeded. I still have the scars to show for it too… I saved him then, but when he was killed by the car bomb that our father had meant for Michael’s wife Karma, I wasn’t able to go to his rescue. The bomb was faulty, but a piece of metal had embedded in his chest and killed him immediately. Karma had been in the car, and she managed to escape, but she was pregnant and had lost her child. We’ve all suffered.

But losing Xander… It’s a trauma that haunts me, that sticks to me, that accompanies me day and night, like a shadow which refuses to peel away from me. I’ll never be the same again, never be able to see myself in the mirror without seeing my twin brother. Never be able to experience life without thinking that he’ll never be able to see, smell, and taste life. It should have been me who died in that incident, not him.

Me who was buried under the earth, not him.

I don’t deserve any happiness, not when Xander won’t get to experience it.

I should turn away from life itself… Except, that’s not what Xander would have wanted. It’s for him that I will continue living… Doesn’t mean I have to let myself feel, though. It’s for him that I will support my family and help Michael consolidate his position as the new Don of the Cosa Nostra.

Michael killed our father… Too bad I never had the opportunity to do so. I should feel some level of satisfaction, considering it was our father who was behind rigging the car, the reason that Xander had died, but all I feel is a numbness. Like I’m not in my body. Like nothing else matters except trying to get through life. Trying to swallow down the grief that threatens to overwhelm my every waking moment. And her… How dare she try to infiltrate the nothingness that I have surrounded myself with since Xander died? Why is it that thoughts of her occupy my mind when I should have only enough space to mourn Xander?

“And if I don’t?” She tips up her chin. “What if I disagree?”

I move so fast that she flinches. I wrap my fingers around her throat and haul her up to her toes. “If you value the life of your family then you’ll do as I say.” I tighten my grasp, “Besides, I don’t recall giving you a choice, Flower.”

She swallows, and I feel the movement against my fingers. Such a slender throat. How would it feel to have my cock sliding down it, hmm?Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I tighten my grip, and the color fades from her cheeks. A soft sound emerges from her mouth. She parts her lips, and I take in her flushed features, the contours of her pouty lower lip, and my balls throb. Fuck this, why the hell should I deny myself when I’m going to marry her anyway? Only temporarily, of course. Still… Soon, she will be my wife, and I’m going to take full advantage of it. I pull her even closer until her breasts are flush against my chest, then I lower my mouth to hers.