I Married a Mob Boss

by Shandi Boyes

  I lie lifeless on the concrete, no longer having the strength to continue my vicious fight. My vision is blurry, hampered by a massive amount of tears welling in my eyes, but it isn’t blurry enough that I fail to notice an unresponsive Katie lying inside the van. She looks like she's sleeping with her head lolled to the side and her lips slightly parted. My heart snaps in two when my bleary eyes lock in on a man seated behind her. His evil gaze alone is enough to make my skin crawl.

  “I’m sorry, Katie,” I mumble through a sheet of tears flowing down my face.

  I don’t know if I’ve reached hysteria or if Katie is conscious, but an upwelling of energy pumps into me when the faintest whisper of, “Don’t give up, Blaire,” sounds through my ears.

  Fighting against the pain roaring through my body, I roll onto my side, crawl onto my knees, then stand on a pair of shaky legs. I barely make it three steps out of the alleyway when my body is pinned to a chainlink fence on my left. My lungs heave when my attacker’s clutch on my throat becomes so firm, I can no longer breathe.

  Not even two seconds later, the brute of a man holding me against the fence is tackled from the side. He and another unknown man land on the concrete path with a sickening thud. I stand frozen, rendered motionless with fear as my savior throws his clenched fist into my attacker’s face, momentarily dazing him.

  I snap out of my tranced state when my dark-haired savior turns his eyes to me and says, “Run! Blaire! Run!”

  I ran and ran until my legs gave out.

  Katie was never seen again. . .

  “Wake up, Blaire!”

  The authoritativeness in the deep male voice has me snapping to his demand. My eyes pop open to scan the room as I gasp for air, struggling to replenish my heaving lungs. Although the setting of the room is familiar, it takes me several moments to gather my bases since I'm absorbing it from a different vantage point. My frantic breaths pan out when I grasp that I'm still sitting on the floor of my bedroom in the Popov compound, nestled in Rico's strong arms.

  “You’re okay, Kitten. I promise you’re okay,” assures Rico, his voice raspy.

  The after effects of my nightmare dampen when my eyes swing to the window, and I notice the sun has shifted from east to west. Heat blooms across my chest, filling some of the cracks formed there. He stayed sitting on the floor with me for hours solely to comfort me. I knew there was more to this man than just darkness.

  Lifting my groggy head off his chest, I peer into Rico’s eyes. Even though his backside must be hurting from sitting on the hard wooden floors for hours, nothing but genuine concern beams from his eyes.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Shh.” He places his index finger on my lip. “Don’t ever apologize for having a nightmare. You can’t help what happened to you.”

  My brows knit in confusion. “You know what happened to me?”

  A flicker of hesitation flares through his eyes before he nods.

  “I told you what happened?” I squeal in surprise, shock evident in my voice.

  Guilt has stopped me from sharing my story with anyone not in my inner circle. Even Lacey doesn't know the entirety of what happened that day, so I'm somewhat surprised I voluntarily shared it with Rico. Either the drug Timothy laced my drink with was stronger than anyone could have predicted or the power Rico has over me is substantial. When I peer into his remorseful eyes, I'm fairly sure the latter is a more accurate assumption.

  Rico stands, taking me right with him. From the agility of his movements, no one would suspect he’d spent the last three hours sitting on a rock-hard surface. He holds me in close to his body as he walks towards the bathroom. His long strides have us reaching the edge of the double shower at a record-setting pace.

  My wide eyes dart to his when he says, “Let me look after you, Blaire. Let me wash away your pain.”

  When I peer into his worried eyes, there's no possibility my mind will ever win this battle, so with my teeth grazing over my bottom lip, I nod. The hotness of his breath tickles the strands of hair clinging to my sweat-drenched forehead when he releases a relieved breath.

  After switching on the shower, he flicks off his black polished dress shoes before setting to work on the belt wrapped around his waist. I stand muted, grateful his riveting striptease is pushing my haunted memories to the back of my mind.

  I follow the trail his fingers make as he undoes the buttons on his dress shirt before slinging it off his shoulders. My eyes absorb and categorize every inch of his torso. His muscles are so well-defined that his skin is pulled tautly over them, but he isn't overly musclebound in a bulky bodybuilder type of way.

  When he slides his trousers down his thighs, I’m not at all surprised to see that his penis is flaccid. This isn’t about relieving sexual tension. He's comforting me as the aftershocks of my nightmare cling to my sweat-slicked skin.

  Kicking his trousers to the side, he curls his arms around my neck to unlatch the fastener of my dress. Scenes from my nightmare rush to the forefront of my mind when his hand brushes past my neckline. He's barely touching me, but I swear I can feel my assailant’s hand wrapped around my throat, strangling me.

  “No one will ever hurt you, Blaire. Not while you’re with me,” Rico assures me as he lowers the zipper on my dress.

  Once the fastener has been pulled down to the two dimples in my lower back, my dress slips off my hips and puddles around my feet. Steam curls around us when we enter the shower. As the heavenly hot water sluices down the front of me, Rico's body heats my back. His fingers lace together around my stomach as the stubble on his chin scratches my neck. He doesn't speak; he just comforts me by solely using his body. I close my eyes, allowing the water and Rico to chase away the remnants of a nightmare still playing havoc with my body.

  When the violent shudders tormenting me have eased, Rico steps away from me. I inwardly sigh. My disappointment doesn’t last long when he snags a shower puff from the tiled hob and loads it up with body wash. My nostrils flare when the spicy, intoxicating scent graces my senses. The smell is virile and manly, and it pushes the ghastly odor of blood and sweat to the background of my mind.

  Remaining quiet, Rico lathers every inch of my skin with a thick layer of suds. His dutifulness causes a fresh batch of tears to well in my eyes. I should relish being so loyally cared for, but my mind wanders to Katie and her present situation. Is she being taken care of by the man she married, or is she. . . A sob tears from my throat, my body choosing its own response to the life Katie is most likely living.

  “Kitten.” His voice sounds as pained as my heart.

  He slings his arms around my torso and draws me in close to his chest. Tears flow from my eyes as steadily as the water pumps out of the shower faucet.

  “I should have never begged her to come with me. She didn’t want to go. She said it was nearly dusk. But I pushed and pushed,” I sob, my voice coming out with a quiver. “It’s all my fault.”

  Rico pulls me back by my shoulders and glances into my eyes. “It was not your fault. None of it was your fault.”

  I suck in a shaky breath while shaking my head.

  His fingers flex on my shoulders, his demeanor switching from consoling to stern. “Nothing that happened that day was your fault.” He stares me straight in the eyes as I did during our tussle in the Escalade last week and quotes, “Nothing.”

  I try to speak, but no words can squeeze past the lump in my throat. When Rico reaches for the shampoo, I close my eyes and let the words he spoke play on repeat in my mind. I've been told the same phrase time and time again the past ten years, but for some reason, hearing them from Rico has a much greater impact.

  I was only a child the day I begged Katie to walk to the corner store with me to get an ice cream, but it doesn't lessen my guilt. When she said she didn't want to go, I should have respected her decision. Instead, I insisted. I was a teenager, and I didn't want to be strangled by my overbearing parents for a minute longer. I was wrong. So very very wrong.

&
nbsp; The thump of my head lessens under the magic of Rico’s fingers as he washes my hair without a peep spilling from his lips. Once all the suds have gargled down the drain, he shuts down the water and steps out of the shower recess, carefully taking me with him. He pays the same dedicated attention to drying my hair as he did washing it before he paces to the vanity. My brows furrow when a fluffy bathrobe magically appears in his hands.

  “Maya brought them in while you were sleeping,” he informs my shocked expression.

  He wraps me up in the heavenly softness of cashmere before scooping me into his arms. I’ll be honest, even in the heart-strangling situation we are immersed in, I love the way he can carry me with such ease. He makes me feel guarded and safe.

  “Bed or food?” he asks when we enter the main area of our bedroom.

  I drift my eyes between the silver serving tray stacked with breakfast delights on my left and our bed on my right.

  “Bed.”

  I’m not tired; my tummy is just too swishy to handle any food right now.

  Rico pulls down the covers of the bed and places me inside before ambling to a set of drawers to dress in a pair of boxer shorts and a short-sleeve shirt. After running his fingers through his hair to remove the excess droplets of water, he slips into the bed beside me, then gathers me in his arms.

  Chapter 18

  We’ve been lying in bed for nearly twenty minutes before Rico breaks the silence. “Have you been suffering nightmares this whole time?” He carefully pulls me back so he can peer into my eyes.

  Usually, this type of question fills me with shame, but because it’s coming from him while he's looking at me with nothing but remorse in his eyes, I don’t feel as embarrassed admitting I'm an adult who suffers from debilitating nightmares.

  I nod. "Yes. They aren’t usually as bad as the one today. This one felt like I was back in the alleyway. It was one of the most realistic dreams I've had the past ten years."

  He runs his index finger under my eyes as if he's preparing to catch my tears before they have the chance to fall. "Is it because of the situation you’ve been thrown into?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. . . maybe?”

  Another stretch of silence crosses between us. It’s long enough that the color of the sky slowly switches to the color of his eyes. The silence isn’t awkward. It strangely feels right.

  My lips are dry, so I lick them before asking, "Did I have a nightmare the night we got married?"

  Rico smiles before shaking his head. “No, but we didn't get much sleep that night." He may have been aiming for an informative tone, but it comes out witty.

  He chuckles when I punch him in the chest. "I gathered that when I found the strip of condoms hidden under the bed last week."

  The heart-fluttering smile stretching across his face grows. “I was wondering where those went to.”

  I roll my eyes, pretending I’m not appreciating his playfulness, where in reality, I’m loving it. Although the aftermath of a nightmare is still clinging to my skin, his cheekiness is easing the pain crippling my heart.

  "Who keeps a strip of condoms joined anyway? That's just. . . weird.” My mouth gapes, shell-shocked I mumbled my inner dialogue out loud.

  “Not as weird as my wife showing me her balloon twisting skills while she's lying next to me naked.” Rico’s tone is the smoothest I’ve ever heard.

  I stare at him, slack-jawed and blinking. “I showed you my balloon twisting skills?”

  Rico nods.

  I grimace. “With condoms?”

  “You take what you can get and run with it.” He smirks. “Although I wouldn’t recommend showing the same trick to your students.”

  I playfully punch him again. “And here I was the whole time thinking we’d done the. . .” I stop talking to swallow away a lump in my throat, “deed three times in a night.”

  "Oh, we did that." He scoots closer to me, so we share the same breaths. "And so much more."

  My eyes light with excitement, and I swear the panties I’m not wearing combust. The mood shifts. It's quick and resolute. Gone is the debilitating effects of a nightmare, replaced with nothing but unbridled lust. All of a sudden, nothing else matters to me but either unearthing those lost memories of our wedding night or recreating them.

  I don't need to speak for him to notice the change in my demeanor; he can see it beaming from my hankering gaze. Like he could narrow the space between us any more, he scoots even closer. My heart hammers as my palms sweat, but I meet his intense stare, feeling the most desired I've ever felt. His eyes are sleepy, his hair a tousled, sexed-up mess, and his lips are curved into a mouthwatering smirk, but it's the optimism beaming from his eyes that makes him the most handsome I've ever seen him. Just the carefree look on his face alone is worth the sacrifice of having my heart broken. I'd be willing to give everything to see that gleam of contentment in his eyes time and time again.

  Wanting to hide my stupid sentimental tears, I burrow my head in Rico's chest. His heartbeat goes from a leisured pace to a wild thump. A grin curls on my lips. Even knowing I shouldn't admit this, I love the way his body responds to my touch. So much so, I can't stop my hand from sneaking under the hem of his shirt to caress the smooth skin on his lower back.

  The smile stretched across my face enlarges when his muscles constrict under my faintest touch. They bunch with every slither of my fingertips.

  Feeling the incline of my cheeks against his chest, he places his hand under my chin and lifts my head. I bite on the inside of my cheek, trying to hold in my immature smile. Nothing works. Even knowing I shouldn’t enjoy being wrapped in his warmth, nothing can take away the feeling a woman gets when she's caressed in a pair of strong arms. I feel protected nestled against his big body. Like no one could ever hurt me. Which is utterly ridiculous considering the man who is caressing me is the same man who causes my greatest worries. He's the sole reason I'm living in an unknown environment, hut he’s also the reason my heart is beating so fast. I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.

  The heat creeping across my chest increases when my eyes connect with Rico, and he mutters groggily, "There's my Blaire."

  “Blaire, what happened to kitten?” I jest, my tone witty.

  With a mind-hazing orgasm still surging through my blood and the disappearance of the headache that’s been riddling me the past week, my attitude has taken a swing towards the positive.

  My eyelids twitch when Rico runs his index finger over the curve of my brow. “This set of eyes belongs to Blaire.”

  My breathing quickens when his index finger leisurely travels down my body, only stopping when it hits the curve of my naked breasts peeking out from my dressing gown. I draw in a shaky breath when his thumb brushes over my nipple before his index finger joins the party. His talented hand soon works me into a frenzy by doing nothing more than tweaking my now sensitive nipples. It shows his skills in the bedroom, a natural dominance I’ve only just scratched the surface of. Pair that with the confidence he exudes in bucket loads, and he has an aggressive set of skills that wildly turn me on.

  I only just manage to hold in my disappointed groan when he moves his talented hand away from my breast to run his index finger over my beaded-with-sweat brow once again.

  “These eyes belong to Kitten,” he mutters, staring into my massively dilated eyes.

  "But why Kitten? It doesn't make any sense." My words come out breathy, shamefully exposing my arousal from his touch.

  Before I have the chance to react, Rico pounces. My back is consumed by the softness of a cloud, and my front is assaulted by a set of ripped muscles that belong to a tall brute of a man.

  When he rocks his hips, the crown of his thickened cock rubs my pulsating clit. Shockwaves ripple through my body at the same time a purr escapes my O-formed lips. I straighten my spine and snap my mouth shut, beyond mortified by the erotic groan that just rumbled through my lips. I've never moaned like that before. Not once.

  My eyes snap t
o Rico when he croons, “That’s why I call you Kitten.”

  The deep timbre of his voice spurs goosebumps to prickle my forearms. He stares down at me as he did in my flashbacks, his hair falling into his chiseled face, his lips slightly parted, and his delicious scent filling every inch of my aching-with-desire core. He's breathtakingly beautiful, and thigh-shakingly dangerous at the same time. How is it possible for him to be two completely different people?

  “Who are you?” I whisper before my brain can cite an objection.

  The corners of his lips curl into a heart-fluttering smirk. “You already know. You just need to remember.”

  He stares down at me with the same pair of eyes that stole my heart in less than a minute and demands, “Kiss me, Blaire.”

  Ignoring the dangerous beat of my heart, I cup his jaw with my shaky hands and kiss him. For a man with a rough exterior, his kisses are nothing but gentle. I sigh and sink deeper into the mattress when he slides his tongue into my mouth in long, tempting strokes. He rocks his hips in a rhythm matching the pace of our kiss, allowing me to feel every inch of his stiffened shaft.

  I weave my fingers through his hair and pull his head nearer to mine, not only deepening our kiss but strengthening our odd kinship. Rico growls at my assertiveness, then switches the intensity of our embrace, shifting it from soft and gentle to needy and urgent.

  Just like every kiss we’ve shared, when he pulls away, I'm completely and utterly breathless. His eyes stole my heart in under a minute, but it's his kisses capturing my soul. I keep my fingers knitted through his hair, not willing to let go just yet. I’ve only just come to terms with the expeditious speed of our relationship, and I need a few more moments to bask in this beautiful surreality before I tiptoe back into the Amityville House of Horrors.

  The reasoning behind his sudden withdrawal becomes clear when a loud knock bellows on our bedroom door. My bottom lip drops into a pout, disappointed my trip to Pleasantville didn’t last as long as I was hoping.