Belonging to the Italian Mafia Boss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 7)
Belonging to the Italian Mafia Boss: Chapter 3

I sat at the end of a long table with a handful of people scattered throughout the room, talking among themselves. Jamison and Karsen sat at both of my sides as my brother stood guard at the door, and I waited patiently for Sabrina to arrive. Half of the room—the half of the men who weren’t my guys, looked around warily. I knew it was a meeting to discuss the Rizzo territory and businesses, but none of them knew the upper hand I wielded. I imagined they had all heard about the blood wedding, and I also assumed they thought Sabrina had been killed.

It was the plan. We’d killed everyone else, and it only made sense to kill her, too.

So I waited, looking at my watch and counting down the seconds until we reached the ten-minute mark that I’d given her. Twenty seconds short of it, Tucker backed up, and she strode into the room, wearing…

God damn. I’d had some of Karsen’s clothes sent up, anticipating that they’d be too large on her. Karsen was a medium-sized woman with plentiful curves, and Sabrina had a thin, sinuous frame. But she wore biker shorts that fit a little too well, and though the crop top was a bit baggy, it still fell barely two inches beneath the line of her bra. I couldn’t peel my eyes off her, and the other men in the room seemed to notice just as swiftly.

I stood, gesturing to the empty seat between Karsen and me, and Sabrina wordlessly approached, the same heat in her hard brown eyes that I’d come to expect.

She stood at my side, not bothering to sit like the others. Instead, she faced me fully and stared at me. “What do you want me to do?”

I didn’t think that she realized how precarious her situation was. If she ruined this—if leaving her alive cost me—I wouldn’t hesitate to end her where she stood. The thought of doing it turned my stomach, but I’d killed plenty of people I didn’t want to kill, and this situation would be no different.

I looked away from her and toward the rest of the table—all eyes wide and on me. They saw a ghost before them, and a sly smile pulled to my lips. “This is Sabrina Rizzo—the heir to all of her late father’s assets and lands. Another boss can try to name himself, but Ms. Rizzo is my wife, and what’s hers is also mine.”

“Bullshit,” one of the men on the other side of the table said, slamming his fist down and standing to meet me. I didn’t know his name, and I didn’t know much about him. What I did know was that he had been a high-ranking made-man under Rizzo, and he knew that he wouldn’t get a single thing from me.

I didn’t bother meeting him in his fury as I dropped back into the chair and crossed one leg over the other, gesturing for Sabrina to sit. She didn’t show an ounce of emotion as she followed my demand and crossed her legs similarly. I reached beneath the table and pressed a palm to her upper thigh. These people would see me drive the point home. If I had to sprawl her across the table and fuck her in front of all of them, I would do whatever needed to be done to convince them of my claim.

“I suggest you sit down and consider who has the power in this room right now,” I said, pressing a finger into my temple as I ran small circles around Sabrina’s thigh. “We are merging our people, whether it’s something you’d like or not. You’re in my home, and if I hear one more argument from you, I’ll splatter the fucking wall with your brains.”

It seemed to take him a moment to process my words as I delivered them with an even, almost amused tone.

He still fumed, and he opened his mouth, going to speak again.

In the span of a few heartbeats, I had my gun in hand, and I pulled the trigger, following through on my promise with deadly precision. Everyone at the table flinched. Everyone except for the bride that sat beneath my slowly moving hand. The small swirls I drew on her thigh continued, not missing a beat.

The heavy flop of the man’s body on the ground was the only one in the room. “Anyone else?” I asked, resting my pistol on the table in front of me rather than tucking it back into the ankle holster. Let it serve as a reminder to the rest of the people here. Nobody spoke or moved. “I’m open to healthy debate, but nobody will challenge my claim to what I want. Everyone I called into this meeting is here to contribute either knowledge or their loyalties. Do I make myself clear?”

“Have you thought to ask your bride if she supports any of this?”

I expected the question to come from one of her people, but instead, I turned my attention to Tucker. He stared resentfully at Sabrina, and I had half a mind to shoot him in the same way as I had the other man. He was meant to be on my side, not causing issues, but Tucker didn’t like playing by the rules.

“If she wasn’t willing to be here, she wouldn’t be here,” I told him, glancing over at her. Sabrina’s face remained stoic and expressionless.

“I don’t have Stockholm syndrome yet,” she said, and the movement of my hand on her leg paused as I looked over at her. She didn’t even have the decency to look fearful. Something about the way she so easily remained neutral had my cock hardened beneath the table. Aside from Karsen, all the other women I’d encountered would use emotion as a manipulation tactic. They would never be able to keep their cool in this situation, but she was completely collected.

She was fucking hot.

I cleared my throat. “I planned to seek you each out individually and demand loyalty, but I will give you time to decide if that loyalty will benefit you. I can assure you that loyalty comes at a lesser cost than turning me away, but I am nothing if not fair.” My eyes moved to the blood splattering on my wall. “So long as I’m not provoked.”

“Why do you think Rizzo’s daughter holds any sway? She was locked away for years, and she doesn’t know shit about his investments and properties. You have a claim in name only,” a man across the table spoke. “My business will swear allegiance to whoever is in charge, and it doesn’t bother us either way, but others will not be so… considerate. The National Commission will name another mob boss in time. It’s unlikely they’ll take Sabrina into consideration.”

The Commission didn’t often interject in people’s affairs, but to end the bloodshed, the traditional ways of the Italian mafia became essential. If power transferred to me peacefully, I knew they would respect the transition and name me boss. But if bloodshed became too prominent, I’d be fighting to control that territory. It was a fight I could likely win, but there were risks.

If they didn’t agree to my claim, it would be… difficult.

Tucker stepped forward. “Killing her and taking the status by force will be the most efficient way,” he said, shaking his head. Sabrina’s back straightened this time, though it was the only reaction he drew from her.

“Name will be enough.”

“Showing your strength is always the best option, and it will get the Commission to name you boss more quickly. I can take care of it right now.” Tucker moved forward, and though I knew what he was thinking, the shock of his potential betrayal was enough to be taken aback.

Karsen, though, didn’t hesitate. Jamison didn’t step up, likely as shocked as me, but Karsen—the sweet girl who used to sell flowers and pickpocket rich men in the city—didn’t falter as she placed herself between Tucker and Sabrina.

“What are you going to do, Tucker?” she asked. “Go against your boss and kill his girl?”

“Everybody out,” I said in a low tone. It only took a moment for the room to clear. Karsen remained, standing between Tucker and Sabrina, and Jamison stood behind them, waiting. “That includes you three. Sabrina is the only one to stay.”

Tucker and Karsen stood there for a moment, staring down at one another. In an instant, Tucker turned and stormed out of the room, clearly angry about the confrontation. Karsen shot me a smug smile before striding out of the door, grabbing Jamison’s hand as she went. I slowly turned my gaze to Sabrina, and she sagged in her chair, crossing her arms.

“I need you to be with me. People can’t question that you’re my wife,” I told her.

Her brows shot up. “Husbands and wives typically look at each other,” she mused. “And speak to one another. And act as though they care for one another. I don’t think anyone in this room believed it.”

I clenched my jaw, knowing she was right and wishing she wasn’t. “It’s a business arrangement.”

“A one-sided one,” she said, shaking her head.

“Do you want me to treat you like my wife?” I asked, standing and coming around her chair. I gripped both armrests and leaned in. “Do you know how the other mob bosses treat their wives?”

Her eyes flashed something, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was as her breathing sped up slightly. “I can imagine.”

I smirked down at her. “Then you should want this arrangement to be nothing more than an arrangement. You shouldn’t want more than that for me.”

She cleared her throat, and I could see how her firm expression melted and other more powerful emotions arose. Though I couldn’t place exactly how she felt—not as she forced a smile on her face. “I never said I wanted to act like your real wife. I’m telling you that if you want these people to believe you, I need to go with you to their businesses when you get your final answer. If I’m not there, you will not get what you want. And if you don’t make it believable, you will not win this battle.” She spoke cooly, almost as if none of these things fazed her. “And even then, this plan of yours will only go so far.”

I wanted her words to be bullshit, but I also saw the validity of them. We didn’t have to be anything real, but people needed to believe we were. I leaned in a bit closer, taking in her floral scent. Something in my chest became inflamed with that smell.

“All I’ve ever wanted is to be free,” she admitted, shaking her head and taking a deep breath, her chest rising with it. My eyes fixed on the cleavage there for just a moment before refocusing on her eyes. The simple look had me fighting a hard cock, and I clenched my jaw. She wasn’t free now, but before I had her, I’d thought she’d been as free as I had been under my father.

Had she been a prisoner to him, too?

The memory of pulling the trigger on that man gave me a tinge of comfort as Sabrina raised a small hand and pressed it to my cheek.

“I’m going to do whatever I can to help you, but when it’s done, I want to be free for the first time in my life. I need to be free,” she cemented. “Is that a deal?”

I knew that the term “freedom” gave me a lot of ways to fulfill that bargain. Death was a type of freedom. Transferring her freedom to someone else would also fulfill the bargain, as I would be giving her freedom from me. But none of those things sounded as appealing as giving her what she wanted. Maybe it was the proximity or her soft hand on my cheek. Hell, maybe it was something else entirely, but the softness of her hand dulled me long enough to nod.

I wasn’t a good person, but I could do a good thing for a woman who made me feel something I had never felt before.

“If you help me get this shit done, sweetheart, I’ll give you freedom.”