365 Days With the Mafia Don: His Five Million Dollar Bride

The air inside the bar smelled like stale beer, bleach, and pure fear.

I stood frozen in the dark hallway, my hands trembling against the cool metal of the tray I was holding. Through the crack in the door, I saw my father. He wasn't standing tall like he usually did. He was on his knees, his forehead pressed against the dirty wooden floorboards.

Two giant men in pitch-black suits flanked him—one on his left, one on his right, like vultures waiting for a corpse.

Standing over him was a man who looked like he owned the entire world and hated everything in it. He wore a tailored suit that probably cost more than our entire house, and his eyes were cold, dark, and utterly dead.

“Please! I'm begging you, just a few more weeks!” My father’s voice cracked. Tears streamed down his red, bruised face. "I'll get the money! I swear on my life, I'll get it!"

“Your life isn't worth the paper this debt is written on, Marcus,” the dark-haired man said. His voice was smooth, low, and terrifyingly calm. He didn't even look angry; he looked bored.

My stomach dropped into an icy pit. I couldn't just stand there and watch them break him. My mom was already gone—cancer took her three years ago—and I’d be damned if I let some rich monster take the only family I had left.

I dropped the tray. It hit the floor with a loud, metallic clang that echoed through the empty bar.

Every eye in the room snapped to me. The two bodyguards reached inside their jackets, but the leader held up a single gloved hand, stopping them instantly. His dark eyes locked onto mine, tracking me as I sprinted across the room.

"Get away from him!" I yelled, shoving my way past one of the guards. He barely moved an inch, but I didn't care. I dropped to my knees beside my dad, wrapping my arms around his shaking shoulders. "Dad, are you okay? What did they do to you?"

“Maya... no, go upstairs,” my father choked out, trying to push me behind him. "Get out of here, please."

"I'm not leaving you!" I snapped back, glaring up at the man in the suit. I squeezed my hands into tight fists, ignoring the way my heart was hammering against my ribs. "Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just walk into our business and hurt him!"

A ghost of a smirk touched the corner of the man's lips. It wasn't a kind smile—it was the look of a predator watching a rabbit try to bite back.

"I am the man who owns your father's life," he said quietly, stepping closer. The heavy scent of expensive cologne and woodsmoke filled the air. "He owes five million dollars to my family. And his time ran out ten minutes ago."

Five million? My chest tightened. We barely made enough to pay the electricity bill.

My father grabbed the man's polished leather shoe, his knees scraping against the floor. "I’ll do anything! Please! Just give me more time. I’ll sell the bar, I’ll work for you—anything! Just spare my life!"

The man looked down at my dad, then slowly raised his gaze back to me. His eyes swept over my face, calculating, measuring, and settling on my defiant expression.

"Anything?" the Don asked softly.

"Yes! Anything!" my father sobbed.

"Fine," the Don said, his voice dropping an octave, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. "I need a wife to satisfy my council. Give me your daughter for one year, and your debt is erased."

The room went dead silent.

“No!” My father suddenly found his strength and threw himself forward. “No! Take me instead, kill me, do anything you want with me—but not my daughter! You keep her out of this!"

“That is my only offer,” the Don said smoothly. He checked a silver watch on his wrist, totally indifferent to my father's agony. “You have ten seconds to decide if his life is worth your freedom, little girl.”

My dad was crying, screaming at me not to look at the man, begging him to take the bar instead. But I looked at my father's bruised face, the blood on his lip, and the desperate terror in his eyes. If I said no, they would kill him, and I would be left completely alone in this world.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut for two seconds, thinking of my mom, then opened them and stared directly into the Don's cold, dark eyes.

"I’ll do it," I said, my voice shaking only a little bit.

"Maya, no!" my father screamed, collapsing into tears.

"A brave little lion," the Don murmured, stepping right up to me. He reached out, his leather-gloved fingers catching my chin and forcing me to tilt my head up. His touch was freezing. "Pack your bags. You belong to me now."

He let go of my chin and turned toward the exit, his bodyguards falling into line behind him.

"Wait," I called out, my stubbornness flaring through the terror. "I don't even know your name!"

He stopped at the doorway, turning his head just enough for me to see the sharp line of his jaw in the dim light.

"You'll learn it tomorrow at our wedding," he said. "And if you try to run, little lion... I won't just kill your father. I'll make you watch while I do it."