Marrying the Mob Prince

Evie

I’m grateful that my husband hates family gatherings.

I stood in a suburban backyard packed with members of Tony’s family. They seemed like warm, well-meaning people, fooled by Tony’s put-together charade of a freshly pressed shirt, teased waves, and sardonic smile.

A beautiful, statuesque woman in a flowing orange and pink skirt picked her way across the lawn, her ebony hair piled on her head.

My jaw dropped.

Carmela.

“Anthony, want something to drink?” her cheerful voice chimed as she pulled him into a tight hug. “Seltzer?”

“No thanks.”

She peered at me, frowning. “Evie, would you like anything?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

I couldn’t help but notice that her lips pursed. She did not like me. Tony forced a grin, but it dissolved as soon as Carmela’s back turned.

“You know her, don’t you?”

I nodded, flushing.

It raised goosebumps on my neck to see Carmela. Everybody knew about Crash’s old lady, the Italian princess stolen from her mafioso fiance. She showed up on the back of his bike. At the time, I’d thought it incredibly romantic. Star-crossed lovers, and all that.

My stomach twisted.

“I-I saw her sometimes. She was Crash’s old lady.” I grew hot under Tony’s accusing glare. “I mean, he called her that, but who knows.”

“He took her against her fucking will.”

“I know. I mean, I heard he did terrible things but I never saw anything. I’m glad she’s all right.”

Hollowness gaped from his unspeaking eyes.

Ice rolled down my spine. I wished I hadn’t brought it up. Clearly, it was a sore subject for him. The ache in my chest pulsed angrily. A week had passed without my husband whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

The distance bugged me.

I was lonely. I was constantly frustrated. Jennesy came over to my house twice, but nothing made up for the fact that my husband avoided me. Was the date an act to placate the wife? Was he never going to hold me like he did that night?

“Tony, why are we here?”

“Sunday dinner.”

I glanced at my watch. “But it’s three-thirty.”

“It’s an all-day thing.” He sighed heavily. “A waste of my damned time.”

“Well, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, hon.” He lightly grasped my hand, and the gesture jolted my heart. “How have you been?”

I met his gaze and shrugged.

“I know I haven’t been around. I’ve been busy. I would’ve skipped this but Vinn is on my ass, and my mom’s coming over.” He gave me a meaningful look. “She has a talent for reducing grown women to tears.”

“Ah. So that’s where he gets it.”

His chest expanded under his shirt. “How do you brush off everything I do?”

“You need a crash course in what marriage in the twentieth century is like, but I’m not losing sleep over you.”

Because I’m back in denial.

He’d filled my life with stuff, and I thought it’d make me happy, but at the end of the day, I just wanted my husband to love me.

Tony peeked into the house. “My mother’s here.”

“I’m surprised a guy like you can’t blow off your mom.”

“Italian moms are not easily blown off.” Tony dragged me out of sight of the windows, his tone extremely tense. “She’s waited her whole life for me to marry, and now that I have? She expects kids. She’ll grill you.”

“So? She seemed fine at the wedding.”

“She was faking it, darling. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“First, do something for me.” I could practically hear his mind whirring as I linked my arm with his. “Name five things you’re grateful for.”

“Why?”

“Just give it a try.”

Tony considered me, a storm brewing in his expression. “I’m grateful I’m free, that I don’t have to hurt people anymore, and that I have a family that fucks me over and forces me to marry. I’m grateful for your tight virgin pussy. I’m thankful that you don’t know anything about what I did in the past or you’d never get so fucking wet for me. And I’m grateful that you are always trying to see the good in me. You’re a much better person than I’ll ever be.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Heat clawed my skin as his hands skimmed my waist. He took my hip, sliding under the flared shirt to stroke me. I swallowed hard, stunned by the impact of his gentle grip. As I let him escort us inside, electricity zipped up my elbow.

He brought us into the giant living room filled with feminine furniture. Isabella Costa was tall and graceful. She had a wealth of dark hair, like shining black glass, and it sat on her dainty shoulders. Her generous lips pulled over even teeth. She broadcast a regal beauty that seemed to shine through Tony’s eyes, mouth, and nose because he resembled her so much.

A beautiful smile hitched on Tony’s face. She offered her cheek to him, and Tony kissed it dutifully.

“How are you, Mom?”

“Good, good. I finally get to see you.” She beamed. “My handsome man. You look so happy.”

“Thanks, Mom. I am.”

“Why is this wrinkled?” she demanded, fingering a nonexistent crease on his shirt. “Doesn’t your wife know how to iron?”

She does not.

“Yes, of course.” Tony flung a protective arm around me. “Would’ve seen you sooner, but… newlywed bliss.”

Tony’s adoring gaze swept over me. Paired with his breathtaking grin, it was quite the gut-punch.

“You okay, baby? Cold?”

I nodded, grateful for the excuse.

His warmth had shattered my balance and short-circuited my thoughts. Wool glided over my back as he slid his jacket over me. My hands dove into his pockets, fiddling with crumpled papers.

“Are you pregnant yet?”

Isabella’s demanding tone dragged my attention to the conversation. My heart pounded. I clearly wasn’t her first, second, or third choice to marry her darling son.

“We’re trying.”

“Anthony, you need to take this seriously.” A dangerous edge grew in her voice. “I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to meet my grandbabies.”

Wow.

Mother-in-law was swinging with both fists in the baby argument, which seemed to thrill Tony. His reluctance to tell her off amused me.

I promised I’d behave, but the lure was too strong.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“She’s right, honey.” I plastered my hand on his chest and pouted. “We should really see a fertility doctor. You don’t want to be in your forties when the baby comes. Or your sixties when the kid turns twenty.”

“I agree, Anthony.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I’ll get on that.”

“You will.” Isabella growled like he’d ruined the party by pissing in the pool. “You are not ruining this girl’s chance to have children.”

“Ignore him,” I cut across Tony, grabbing her arm. “The way we’re going at it, it won’t be a problem. You’ll have a grandkid before next Easter.”

The air echoed with Isabella’s tinkling laughter. Suddenly, her tigress energy zeroed in on me. Mother-in-law officially scared me more than her son.

“Anthony, may I have a moment alone with Evie?”

Here we go, said Tony’s pained expression. He faced his mother, glowering.

“You will not upset my wife.”

“Yes, caro mio. I promise.” Her lips smoothed into an unconvincing harmless smile. “I’ll return Evie in one piece.”

“Be nice, Mom. I like her.”

“Of course.”

He went outside, throwing me a black look.

Isabella evaluated me with an intensity that rivaled her son’s, and then she smiled.

“Anthony should’ve married ten years ago, but he’s like his dad. Stubborn and independent. A marriage with him won’t be easy.” She picked lint off my dress. “You need to hold a gun to his head to get him to do anything.”

Tell me about it. “I’ve seen that side of him.”

“So you know how difficult he is.”

Psychotic, yes. “I can handle him.”

“I think so, too,” she agreed, astonishing me. “My boy has never had the patience for high-society women. Nico set him up with debutantes. Princesses. Soft girls. Anthony sent them home crying. He needs someone strong who won’t put up with his nonsense.”

She stared at me pointedly.

My jaw dropped.

A pep talk from my mother-in-law seemed wrong. Wrong that it came from her, and that I’d absorbed her encouragement like a flower desperate for water.

“I know he’s challenging. Believe me. I spent most of his life trying to fix him. Therapy. Rehab. Nico and I did everything. You can’t force him to do what you want, but you can convince him.”

“How?”

“By making him fall in love with you.”

Tony?

A laugh broke through my clenched lips. “That’s not in the cards for us.”

“It is. You’ll see.”

I gave her a bleak smile. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“Honey, if he didn’t he wouldn’t work so hard to hide you from me.” She cupped my face, her expression solemn. “And now I know why. I never cared for the girls Anthony brought over, but I like you.”

I gaped at her, my insides frozen.

“He’s told me all about you…about your business. He showed me your jewelry. I’m not easily impressed, Evie. You’re exactly what he needs, even if he can’t admit that yet.”

“Wow, thank you. I’m flattered, but…” I glanced at Tony, who stood behind the door, frowning. “I can’t get him to open up to me.”

“He’s still angry with your family. Right now, that’s stronger than any feelings he has for you, but that will change. He’s always had a big heart. It’s just wounded. My son is not a monster.”

The dying light in my heart flickered to life.

“Love him,” she urged me. “Accept him. And he’ll return it to you tenfold. I promise.”

I wanted to thank her, but my eyes welled as she stroked my hair. A memory of my mother’s warmth assaulted me, and my body trembled.

Don’t fucking cry.

She kissed my cheek. “My son will pass you my number. Call me anytime.”

“I-I will.”

She gave me a fierce hug.

I clung to her shoulders, bewildered by her aggressive kindness. When she pulled away, my vision was glassy. I sank onto a couch and bit my tongue.

The sliding door opened and closed.

Cold wrapped my limbs. I held her words close to my chest, huddling around them like a candle, until Tony’s presence melted it completely.

“Jesus Christ.” Tony rolled his palm over my shoulder and squeezed. “Mom’s going for the Guinness Book World of records.”

Heaviness centered on my chest.

Tony sighed heavily, sinking into the seat beside mine. “She promised she’d be nice.”

“She was, actually.”

“Yeah, right. What the hell did she say?”

“Don’t you wish you knew?”

Tony leaned in, his thick brows creased as he scanned my face. “You probably shouldn’t have egged her on about kids. You can expect her to call and text you for updates.”

“We should talk about it, Tony.” My hands fidgeted in my lap. “You haven’t-we haven’t tried for a baby.”

Tony said nothing for a while. “Is that what you want, a baby with a man you barely know?”

No, but once I realized my fiance was hotter than ninety percent of the male population, I’d fantasized about him. I pictured him throwing me over his shoulder and tossing me on the bed. I thought he’d glimpsed me somewhere, and had to have me.

It explained all the weird shit in the prenup, and there was something obscenely hot about a man determined to seed me with his DNA. I assumed he wanted a family with me. Reality had been a major disappointment.

I stole a glance at Tony, who massaged his temples. “We have to decide what we’re doing.”

“You’re Mrs. Costa until the day you die.”

A flood of relief surged through my veins. “Well…then we really should try for a baby. You don’t have time, and I definitely want kids.”

“Well, I don’t.”

My insides froze. “Why not?”

“Because,” he exhaled hoarsely. “I’m a drug addict who’s never had his feet on solid ground. I have no interest in continuing my legacy. I can’t take care of anyone.”

“You’re taking care of me.”

“That’s not the fucking same, and you know it.” He released a frustrated sigh. “I’m not a good father figure.”

“That’s not true. You’re complicated. Snarky. Tense, at times, but mostly, you’re just a man. A flawed man. So what? We’re all carrying some kind of baggage.”

“Compared to the guys in the MC, I’m sure I’ll be father of the year.”

“You don’t have to mock them to make your point,” I hissed, annoyed with him. “And you were willing to go further at Sanctum. You shoved your cum inside me, remember? You realize I’m not on birth control, right?”

“And that makes you think I’m a sane, rational man? That I could shoulder responsibility? I can’t even deny my instincts with you.” Tony shook his head, wearing a grim smile. “We’re never having kids, Evie.”

“But the prenup-”

“I don’t care what a piece of paper says. I would rather lose half my net worth than be a parent. So if you had your heart set on having them with me, I’m sorry. It’s not happening.”

“You don’t want kids, so I can’t have them?”

“You’re welcome to find a donor at a sperm bank. I will set you up with enough money so you and the kid are taken care of. They’ll have my last name, but I will not be involved in their life.”

The hurt was swift and brutal. That ripped open something vulnerable I never knew I had.

He never wanted children with me?

Was my DNA not good enough for him?

A glance at his hard mouth confirmed my suspicions. The blow crushed me. He rejected what my body could give him just because it came from me. I couldn’t take any more heartache. My throat closed up. I rose from the couch, bristling.

Tony’s glare softened. “Evie, I’m-”

“You’re the last man I fucking wanted! I still said yes.” My shouting burst to the ceiling as Tony’s offending hands gripped me. “Dad made it sound like you picked me to be the mother of your kids. I thought it was disturbing but sweet. Like you couldn’t get me out of your mind.”

I trembled as people faced us, but the humiliation of his family listening in on my meltdown was second to his behavior.

“I said yes, you selfish bastard, because I assumed you were serious about building a life with me…but you’re not interested in that. You would rather cut off your nose to spite your face.”

Anguish flashed across Tony. His pained stare dove into me.

I’m done.

I ripped away from him and shot outside, running through the garden-side exit. My feet hurtled over the steps and down the street. Then I ducked into someone’s open garage and cried until my chest caved in.

I opened my phone and sent a message to Dad.

Come get me.

I can’t do this anymore.