Arranged Mafia Marriage

Hmm, I went to drama school in LA, so we do have something in common, not that I am going to tell him that.

Instead, I snort, “Wow, so generous.”

“I know, right?”

I raise my eyes skyward. “Were you born with such an inflated opinion about yourself, or did you become that way, or…? You know what, don’t answer that.”

“See, you are getting to know me so well.”

“Now that I know we’re in the UK, I think I can make my way to London on my own,” I declare.

“With no cash? Not to mention, they’re probably not far behind us.”

I purse my lips. He has a point. I do need money, and some ID, and a cellphone, ideally.

“You don’t have any money, either, so how do you reckon we’re going to make it back?”

“Wait and see.”

I hear the smirk in his voice. Jerk. He drives past the turn off for St. Ives and keeps going.

“Don’t want to risk staying in town,” he explains as he continues up the highway.

“Where are we going?” I should have asked the question earlier, but it’s not every day that I’m shot at or shoot back, so guess I’m excused for the delayed reaction.

“You’ll see,” he replies.

“How do you know where to go? You seem to have a destination in mind.”

“I do; it’s a safe space.”

“According to whom?”

He blows out a breath. “So many questions. Chill, enjoy the ride, will ya?”

“Don’t talk down to me. I’m not one of your women who’s going to shut up just because you tell her to.”

“God forbid I’d ever think that.” I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. “And it’s one of the scenarios we drew up, if ever one of us were in such a situation in the UK.”

“We, as in-”

“Me and my brothers.”

“So, you expected that you’d find yourself in Cornwall and know where to go?” I shoot back.

“We have a few designated safe spots in each of the key countries where our rivals are located. UK is one of them. And yes, there is one such space not far from us. Now, can I focus on the driving without your honeyed tones filling my ears?”

What an ass. Don’t know what he’s complaining about. I do have a right to know where he’s taking me, after all. Anyway, I shut up and watch the scenery zip by and it’s quite spectacular, actually. On one side of the road are hills, and on the other, waves crash on a beach far below. Didn’t I read somewhere that this area is called the English riviera? Now I know why.

We drive for another hour, then he pulls off the highway and into a service area. He parks the motorcycle and I jump off. I take off my helmet and draw in lungfuls of air. He takes the helmet from me, locks it to the bike, along with his, and I follow him into the small complex of shops. I head toward the restrooms when he taps my shoulder. “Make it quick. We need to be on our way.”

I nod in his direction and keep going. He’s right, of course. It’s best not to linger in one area for too long, or we may be found out. But still, he could have asked me politely instead of ordering me, right? I take care of business, and when I walk out, I find he’s paying for food at the Waitrose counter.

“Wait, you had money with you?” I draw abreast with him.

“I had some hidden away in an inner pocket of my jacket.” He raises a shoulder. “Standard practice; we always carry extra money in a place where it’s difficult to find.”

“Standard Mafia protocol, you mean?”

He shoots me a sideways glance. “Is my background such a problem for you?”

“No.” I shuffle my feet. “I mean, yes. You have to realize, I’ve led a normal life so far. Then I’m taken, and I find myself in a room alone, and then they throw you in with me and expect us to… you know…” I grip my fingers together in front of myself. “You have to admit, it’s not a usual occurrence.”

He surveys my features. “You’ve done exceedingly well, considering what you’ve been through. In fact, it’s because you’ve been holding up so well that I forgot how bewildering everything must be for you.”

I stare at him. “Are you actually empathizing with me?”

He frowns. “I did, didn’t I?” He snatches up the paper bag with the items he’s purchased, then turns and walks toward the exit.

I follow him as we head back out and toward the bike.

“How much longer are we going to ride?” I raise my arms and drop them toward my feet, stretching out. I hold the pose for a few seconds feeling every single muscle in my body separate. A groan escapes from my lips. I straighten to find him watching me with a strange expression on his features.

“What?” I scowl.

“You really are flexible, aren’t you?”

“So?”

“Brings to mind possibilities, if you change your mind about letting me fuck you-”

“I won’t, and even if I did, it would be me f’ing you.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“So, you did think about it?” His lips kick up and his eyes gleam. A gust of wind raises the hair on his forehead and my heart stutters. Whoa, what was that? I don’t know this guy at all. He may be good looking-okay, he’s bloody gorgeous to look at, has a body I’d do anything to get my hands on-but he’s part of the Mafia, for heaven’s sake. He and I have nothing in common. Also, he seems to think he can snap his fingers and I’ll fall into his arms. And when that creep Freddie told us what he expected of us before he’d set us free, the man didn’t blink an eyelid.

If I had encouraged him, he would have fucked me, too, not caring who was watching. He definitely did seem to get turned on by the idea. He’s kinky and filthy… and that’s so hot. No, it’s not. I don’t want to sleep with someone who gets off on the idea of being watched. I don’t want to be ogled in my most intimate moments. And let’s not forget, that weirdo Freddie might have even been planning to film us, and then what would have happened, eh?

“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on this planet.”

“Oh?” He looks me up and down. “I do believe that’s an official challenge.”