A Bride For The Mafia King

Portia.I sigh as soft, feathery lace falls across my face. It's black and heavily stained from being tucked away for so many years, and the smell that clings to it makes my stomach churn. It's musty. Dry, and reeks with dust. I suppress the urge to fling it away because it belonged to my mother. It's the same one she wore on her wedding day. The same one my grandmother wore on her big day as well.Clove pink and discarded daisies are scattered, littering the stone floor. The huge, black woman who's been brought to help me prepare grumbles behind me. It's the fifth time she's wondering aloud why she has to work with an old, musty, smelly veil when a new one stays tucked in its box a few meters away. I move my foot, tossing the delicate clove pink about, before crushing it, impaling it's bright pink petal with my heel.It's my wedding day, but it feels like a funeral. No, a funeral would have been better. My funeral.Wish I had it a while ago.The strong, heady smell of the pink carnat

Portia“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” Vincent is the first to speak up, taking a step toward the man like the stupid loser he is.The boss's lips curls upward as though in amusement, and I watch him with bated breath as it takes the most minute tilt of his head to have a soldier charging at my brother, shoving him back to the floor.The man's eyes flit to me now as though he's curious, and my heart beat faster at how deeply those blue eyes twisted the knots in my belly. It feels like forever, the both of us, holding each other's gazes, neither wanting to look away first until he gives up, scanning Gregory and Nathan, who is still passed out. What the hell did they do to him?“And him? The boy.” he says suddenly. I don't blink. They're the first words I hear from him, and his voice, fuck, his voice is deep — almost like a rough growl but a low one. I start wondering how a growl can sound so quiet. It's without a doubt firm, and assets the control he possesses. I get the feel

CallahanI've always hated Heathcliff Esmeralda. He always struck me as a lost cause. A petty, opportunistic piece of shit.Never trust your man who turned on his own family.The girl is arguing something, but I don't stop to listen. I don't care. They'll figure it out. She's safe, for now. So is the kid.“Are you going soft, Brother?" Antonio asks me.I don't dignify the question with a response. He knows better. Or he should, at least.I strip off my jacket, toss it aside when I walk into the main part of the house. I've only been back a few times since my return from the dead. Couldn't take a chance on being seen. Not before I interrupted that wedding.Dust cloths are still strewn over most of the furniture and I stop to glance at the pieces that have been uncovered. At the paintings of my family. Another of my ancestors.The ancestors are easier to look at. I didn't know them. They don't mean much to me. But I move to the one of my mother. My father commissioned it when they got e

PortiaI stand at the wall and watch the door close. I don't breathe until it does. I don't move until his footsteps have receded and a full minute has passed.Punish her cousin.Shit.He could have threatened to throw me back into the cell. Could have threatened me bodily harm. But he's too clever for that. He knows I'll obey if he threatens Nathan.Face down, ass up.I can't even begin to think about that part because, what the hell just happened?And the comment about no one coming in. Who would come in? My uncle? I'm an enemy to every single person in this house. I guess he wants to be sure I'm in one piece when he gets back to do what he thinks he's going to do.I shake my head, try to clear that thought and the ones that follow. Because I'm not stupid. He doesn't need my permission to do anything.I look down at myself, at the torn, ruined dress, then shift my gaze around the room. I thought maybe we were at Fernando's compound where he'd been keeping me the days leading up to t

CallahanI can't help but wonder if Portia felt anything at all, watching her brothers executed. She barely flinched. What could they have done to her to make her hate them so much? They're her brothers for crying out loud. Her own flesh and blood.I'm sitting in the boardroom along with Antonio, two of the family attorneys, my uncle and two representatives from the charity to which I've made a sizeable donation. Diamente didn't accompany me to this meeting. This is the legitimate side of things. He's in charge of the other side.One of the women is ogling me from across the table and I'm trying to avoid having to look at her. I'm only half-listening as I turn the diamond link on my cuff around and around, bored out of my skull.“Callahan," Uncle David starts. "Are you even listening?" He smiles to the women and gestures for me to get my head out of my ass and pay attention. But I can't be fucking bothered."No, not really, Uncle." I get to my feet as he clears his throat, looking ann