Owned by the mafia boss

VINN

Anthony had no interest in being a Costa.

He blew off a homecoming party, refused to talk to anyone that wasn’t me, and acted like we were strangers on phone calls, but he made good on his promise for the first time in his life. He didn’t want my job.

He had an axe to grind against Legion.

So did I.

I didn’t mind Anthony’s directive to fuck over the MCs because frankly, I’d always loathed bikers. Killian’s attitude toward my wife had cemented that view. The creep stalking Liana needed to die, and Anthony had given me the perfect opportunity.

My most pressing issue wasn’t Anthony or the Family. It was the pressure tightening my throat when I went home. Liana spent the last few weeks immersed in research. Anthony’s reappearance had inspired her to “do more,” or so she kept saying. I opened her laptop days ago, and a dozen different tabs related to human trafficking filled her browser. I snorted, glancing at a cover letter she’d written for an internship at a charity.

My wife, the humanitarian.

Our differences amused me to no end. I admired that she spent so much energy helping people and pushing me to do the same. I’d grudgingly agreed to volunteer for Habitat Humanity with her, like an idiot. She’d convinced me to run a toy charity drive for needy children in Dorchester, and I’d conceded.

I had to pull back.

If this woman looked at me with her stormy blue eyes and whispered please, I’d do anything for her, and it pitted my stomach with dread. I should’ve been content with owning her, fucking her, but as long as she wore the necklace…I was miserable.

It taunted me every day, a constant reminder of who I was. Who I wasn’t. More than once, I’d fantasized about taking a hammer to it. Grinding that salmon-colored monstrosity to dust. I couldn’t stand the thing. She started shoving it in her nightstand, but I couldn’t forget the other man. I couldn’t let it go. I raked her social media profile to find out who the fuck was it for the twentieth time.

My office doors burst open, admitting a flustered Liana. She was terrible with boundaries, and it irked me.

I slammed my laptop shut. “Can you knock?”

Red patched burned high on Liana’s cheeks. She wore a smoldering look that sometimes meant she was down to fuck.

“We need to talk.”

My mood nosedived. “If you’re here to rope me into another charity event, I have one word for you-No.”

That came out nastier than I’d intended. It’d been a bad day. Liana had a string of guys vying for her goddamn attention in her text messages, and one of them had invited her out for coffee. She turned him down, but that didn’t stop me from scouring his personal information and sending Vitale to his apartment with explicit instructions. She was probably pissed about that.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I didn’t care.

“Did you send Vitale to threaten my classmate?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

“Why would you do that?”

Because I had no self-control with my wife. Because the idea of her sitting down with someone else boiled my blood.

I cocked my head, refusing to respond.

A thin smile staggered across her face. “You know, I thought you cared about me. I was stupid enough to believe you had a good side, but you’ve gone too far this time.”

I didn’t like where this was going.

She stormed to my desk, her hair flying as she slapped a piece of paper down. I glanced over the business card, and my insides ripped apart.

Flatstick Pub

Her stare impaled me. “Tell me you had nothing to do with his disappearance.”

Fuck.

Liana swept around the chair, hand on my arm. “Please, Vinn.”

Her suffocated whisper tightened my chest. I couldn’t lie to her, but what would happen when I confessed? A rapid chill encased my limbs in ice. My brain froze with an image of her storming out the door. A wave of dizziness passed over me.

No.

She couldn’t leave.

“Vinny.”

“He’s dead, Li.”

Hurt lay naked in her soft eyes. She cupped her mouth, gasping.

My heart squeezed.

Fuck.

“Does human life mean that little to you?”

An inner torment gnawed at me. “Do you want honesty or are you just looking to feel better?”

“Honesty!”

I flinched. “I don’t see why I should care about everyone.”

“That’s soulless,” she hissed.

“Maybe I don’t have a fucking soul, then. Is that what you want to hear?” I shouted, agony piercing my stomach when she backed away. “Wait. Honey, I’m still the same man.”

She palmed her face with trembling hands, crying. “That’s what scares me.”

I sighed heavily. “You know what the Marines’ unofficial motto is? Get some. We chanted it all the time. Whenever someone brags about getting laid. Whenever we fired our weapons. Whenever we killed. Especially when we killed. There was no hesitation when I took a life, and that feeling hasn’t changed.”

“James was not a soldier!”

“No, he was a predator.”

“You think you’re judge, jury, and executioner?” she screamed, and I flinched. “You can’t kill people for making a-”

“Don’t you call it a fucking mistake.”

“I didn’t want him to die. I might’ve hated him, but I’d never ask you to do that.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and broke down.

A deep pain in my chest twisted and turned.

“Liana, it wasn’t you,” I said hoarsely. “It was all me.”

“You’ve made me feel like I’ve killed someone!”

I palmed her shoulder.

She cringed as though I’d struck her. “If I had said nothing, he’d still be alive.”

“Yes, he would,” I deadpanned, shrugging. “I caught him sprinkling powder in a girl’s drink, just like he probably did yours. I won’t apologize for what I did. That asshole deserved to die. Look me in the eye, and tell me your friend isn’t better off.”

Liana wiped her eyes, trembling. “It wasn’t for me. You didn’t kill him for the safety of other women. You were such in a hurry to defend my honor that you didn’t consider my feelings.”

“Li, I never would’ve put that burden on you.”

“You don’t get it,” she moaned. “It’s a betrayal. You killed someone after I confided in you.”

My first instinct to argue smoldered as that sunk in, adding fuel to the fiery gnawing. She was right.

I’d shot him because I’d despised the bastard.

My innocent wife gave me the perfect excuse. I’d traded her trust for my pride. She’d never look at me the same if she looked at me at all. And I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t do it again.

My cheeks burned as I grasped her hands, a violent battle wrestling in my heart. An apology hung on my lips. Then a pink-and-white piece of jewelry reminded me why I couldn’t let her go.

I took her face and kissed her.

She shoved my chest. Her groans faded to whimpers as I crushed her mouth in a bruising kiss. I dragged her to the floor and made her forget how much she loathed me. Then I carried her to bed and did it again, and I would’ve kept going if not for her gentle breaths warming my neck.

Halfway through the night, she slipped out of my arms and tiptoed into the walk-in closet. Her frantic packing pitted my stomach with bitterness. I didn’t stop her, even though it killed me.

Don’t go. Please.

Liana paused, lugging a duffel bag. She seemed to look in my direction, where I pretended to sleep.

Then she ran out the door.