Conquered by the Mafia Boss

How the fuck do you go from there to killing your dad?

The smile disappears. “The problems came in my midtwenties, when I started making millions of dollars for the family a month. I surpassed all the captains-surpassed him. At the time, my dad was a capo and I worked under him. I was getting a lot of attention in the papers for how successful I was. Basically, I was getting too big, too fast.”

The pain tightening his voice makes me want to reach out to him, even though I don’t even know what happened.

“They pulled me in for a meeting and everyone was there. They asked me all kinds of questions and my dad said nothing to defend me. I think they were nervous about me. Young kid, lots of money-I could have made stupid decisions and gotten the family under fire. Anyway, I left that meeting knowing that my time was limited. Sooner or later, one of them was going to pop me.”

Then his whole face clouds over. “I just didn’t expect it from my own father.”

Oh my God.

“Several of them ordered hits on me, including him.”

“Jesus.”

Johnny looks tired as he walks to the couch and sits down, his head in his hands. My heart clenches in my chest at the sight of him in pain. I sit down next to him and touch his thigh.

“How did you-”

He lifts his head and snaps at me. “I found him and blew out his fucking brains. Then I gave the boss a choice. He could resign or me and my crew would pick them off, one by one. He resigned.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I can see Johnny still fighting to swallow down the pain of his father-his hero-betraying him. He lifts his head.

“Karen left me right after that. She didn’t want to be with me anymore. It was too much for her.”

Is it too much for me? Something about the way he looks at me says that he doesn’t give a fuck. His hand slides over mine, still resting on his thigh.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’m sorry for what I said-”

“Maybe I am a monster,” he says, turning around to look at me. “But I don’t give a fuck if I am.”

I squeeze his hand. “I can handle it, Johnny.”

“I know,” he says with a smile, sliding his arm behind my back and dragging me into his arms. “That’s why you came to me in that bar. You wanted to fuck around with a wise guy.”

His smile intoxicates me, more powerful than booze or drugs. It slowly weakens me and an explosive spark ignites somewhere inside me when he bends his head and kisses me. I kiss back, yielding to his soft pressure. Shit, I already want him. I slide my hand around his neck, loving how warm he is. He pulls back, just hovering over my lips.

“I’m crazy about you, Maya. I think if I don’t fuck you every single day for the rest of my life, I’ll go insane.”

For the rest of my life.

“You always get me so fucking hard, baby.”

He gently nips at my collarbone as desire floods my veins like strong liquor. “If we get married, will you ease up on the MC?”

“If? You mean, when. We’re getting married, Maya,” he ends with a rough edge in his voice.

“I could change my mind,” I say in a dry voice, although it’s hardly a threat.

He smiles as though I’ve said a cute joke. “You’re not going to change your mind. Like I said, you need me, and I’m not letting you go anyway.”

A question I can’t fucking ask while I’m wearing a wedding dress.

I always assumed I would marry for love, not for politics. Not because I got knocked up. There are so many unanswered questions between us, but I still say “I do” when our vows are read. His head bows and catches my lips, and I try to kiss him back, but the roar of the crowd distracts me. And then all of a sudden, just like that, I’m married. He grips my hand and we walk down the aisle in a shower of lavender petals. I move slowly in the dress his mother helped me pick out, my legs shaking so hard that if it weren’t for him holding my hand, I would have collapsed. We make it to the limousine waiting outside the Catholic church, and then I finally have a few moments of blessed silence.

My husband slides into the limousine and shuts the door, giving me a mildly amused look.

This is fucking real. We’re married. He’s my husband. That’s it. I’m bound to him for life.

It terrifies me. Did I make a mistake?

“Maya, you look beautiful in that dress.”

It takes me a second to appreciate what he said, and a weak smile pulls at my lips. He looks mouthwatering himself. He wears some kind of dark-gray designer suit that I’ve never seen before, but it’s probably expensive enough to pay for a dozen of his regular suits. It fits him perfectly. The fabric glides over his lean muscles and tightens around his legs when he sits down. A smile breaks his handsome face.

“What, are you shy now?”

My heart beats in my throat as I stare at him. I want to ask him. I need to ask him.

But I’m afraid of the answer.

“Do you love me?”

His eyes widen slightly and he sucks in breath, looking stunned at my question. It hangs between us, making the air thin.

“You said, in the beginning, not to expect anything, but I can’t.”

I can’t because I’m in love with him. The thought of him not feeling the same for me twists a knife in my guts. Then I see the hesitation on his face and I know that my worst fears have come true.

The fucking man I married doesn’t love me.

“Maya-”

“I love you!”

My hands shake as a pained look crosses his face. It’s that look that absolutely kills me. Like a dagger to the heart.

“I love being with you. I love fucking you-”

“-but you’re not in love with me,” I finish, my throat already thick with tears.

God, it fucking hurts. It’s not his fault. Hell, he made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to have feelings for me, but it still hurts.

He touches my face. “Maya, I can’t promise you to be everything you want me to be, but you’ll have me forever. I’ll be a good father to our kids.”

A thrill shoots up my chest. Kids?