Sold to Moretti Mafia

Julian

“I can feed myself,” she hisses like a kitten.

“I know you can, but you won’t. I told you, I’m feeding you, or you’ll get no food at all.”

Determination shines in her eyes. “I’d rather starve than let you feed me.”

Two can play this game, the question is, how long can she keep it up?

“Then that’s what it’s going to be.” I smile bitterly, hating that it’s come to this.

Grabbing the tray, I exit the bedroom, not even giving her a second glance. In the hall, I just stand there, staring at the wooden door. I’m tempted to go back inside the room and shove the food down her throat, but she’s made her choice, wanting to do things the hard way. So, we’ll do it her way.

Walking back downstairs, I enter the kitchen and place the tray on the island. Marie doesn’t look up from whatever she is preparing, but I can see her watching me out of the corner of her eye. I can’t imagine what she thinks I’m doing to Elena. Beating her? Raping her? She’ll never ask, no matter how curious or concerned because she’s far too afraid of what might happen if she does. Still, her accusing eyes make me want to lash out at her.

With everything I discovered last night before taking Lev out, and then the shit with Elena, I haven’t had a moment to breathe or think. If I hadn’t returned home when I did, who knows what would have happened? Who would have their hands on her? I would have found her regardless, the tracking device I had implanted in her ring would’ve made it possible, but what if I had been too slow? What if she took the ring off?

The thought of someone else touching her, or hurting her, makes me want to pull my gun and start shooting people. Paint the world red with my enemies’ blood. They’re all coming for me now. Romero made a colossal mistake putting a bounty on my head because if someone hurts me, they’ll hurt Elena too.

I go back upstairs and straight into my office. I haven’t slept all night, but there is no way I’ll be heading to bed anytime soon.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Closing the door, I walk over to the cellarette, grab a crystal glass, and a bottle of whiskey, and pour myself a healthy amount.

Sinking down into the leather chair behind my desk, I stare down into the amber liquid. Did I make a mistake killing Lev? His family will definitely seek me out to question me, maybe even try and attack me for killing their son. I very rarely doubt myself, but I find it happening now.

I can’t imagine not killing the fucker, especially after he touched Elena, but had I put myself out there for no reason, showed my one and only weakness. I’m not sure why I’m wasting so much time thinking about her feelings and wants. None of it matters, not really, or it shouldn’t. Shaking the feelings away doesn’t work. I’m wrapped up in the dark-haired beauty as much as she’s wrapped up in me.

I don’t want her to hate our marriage, but I can’t have her running away either. I’ll do anything to keep her safe and protected, especially from her father, who simply wants to sell her to the next ruthless criminal. Even if it makes Elena hate me, I know I’ll still go through with killing her father. He killed my mother. A life for a life is a worthy payment if you ask me.

I can’t believe Romero had Elena convinced that I was going to kill her. Part of me understands her need to run, to protect herself. It’s courageous and makes her look strong rather than weak, but it’s frustrating as hell when there are worse people out there waiting to take her from me.

Sipping my whiskey, I let it warm me from the inside out while contemplating my next move with Elena. I need to tell her that the wedding has been moved up, not that it will matter much to her, I’m sure.

I’m not supposed to fucking care if she hates me or not, but I do. I want her to want me, to crave me, and now for reasons other than revenge. That part changed… or maybe it was always there, just hiding under the surface, hiding under a lie.

Part of her already wants me, but what happened today set us back. Briefly, I wonder what my father would think? What he would expect of me? He loved my mother so much, and while he was a ruthless man, who many feared, he had a very soft spot for my mother.

He taught me compassion and love, but also to never let the enemy win, and Elena by association is the enemy.

A knock sounds against the door, and I turn in my chair. “Come in,” I tell whoever is on the other side, knowing it’s one of my men.

The door opens, and Lucca walks into the room. It’s hard to believe he is so young with the determination, skills, and way he carries himself. If his father was still alive, I believe he’d be tremendously proud.

“We’ve doubled up on security, and are monitoring the situation with Romero, sir. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“Very well,” I say, taking another swig of whiskey.

“A little early to be drinking, don’t you think, boss?” He pokes fun, and I turn my steel gaze to him once more.

“It’s been a rough morning,” I tell him, surprising myself by sharing this bit with him.

“It’s going to be hard to see you as a married man.”

I look at my ring finger, knowing that soon there will be a band resting there. My father took his vows seriously, and I think he would expect the same from me.

“It will be different, yes, but nothing will change in terms of how I’m running this organization. I’ll still be the same asshole I am now. Maybe even worse.”

“Yeah? I didn’t expect that to change.” Lucca snickers.

“Why? Are you worried?”

Lucca shakes his head. “No, you’ve always been good to my family, and are an honest man who stands by his word. The other men have just wondered if it will change you. Killing Lev might start a war when his family finds out it was us.”

“Nothing has changed, and nothing will change. If or when Lev’s family decides to attack, we will be ready. I’m the capo, and I say what goes, now get out of here,” I growl, the frustration mounting. The pressure on my shoulders is immense, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Even if I wasn’t, I can’t let Elena go.

I’ve already had a taste of her, and now I want everything, every single inch.