Chapter 1: A total silver fox

Note to readers

This is a Mafia Dark Romance story and it is strongly rated 18. It contains mature themes and emotionally intense content, but you will be notified at the beginning of each chapter if there are any specific trigger warnings.

PS: This story is for the girls who love their men, obsessed, possessive, and just a little bit unhinged.

With love, Anne Bodeen.

***

Natasha fidgeted on her seat as her fiancé, Charlie, drove down the tarred, dusty highway. They had been on the road for about an hour.

He was irritable and kept muttering under his breath.

The hot weather didn't help. And to make it worse, the air conditioner was bad. So even with the windows down, the heat was overwhelming.

Natasha tried all she could to sit still, but her thighs were sweaty and itchy. Her gown kept riding up her laps, and she had to keep pulling it down.

"For fuck's sake, STOP FIDGETING!" Charlie snapped suddenly. "You're making it hard for me to concentrate."

"I'm sorry, Charlie. It's just my gown..." she started to explain but he cut her off with a sharp glare.

"I told you not to wear that. I told you to change into something else because we would be joining my father for dinner, but you just don't listen."

He swerved sharply to avoid a pothole, but he wasn't quick enough. The entire car shook violently as it fell in. The tires screeched, and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air.

"FUCK!" he cursed as he struggled to get the car under control again.

He managed to swerve towards the side of the road before the car sputtered and died.

Groaning in frustration, he hurried out to examine the tire. "No, no, no, no, no! FUCK! Not my car."

He banged his fist on the bumper, startling Natasha. Out of curiosity, she slowly alighted and moved around the car to check.

The front tire was completely busted. It would take a repair man to change it, and they were stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Suddenly, he turned on her. "Why didn't you call my attention to the pothole?"

"I didn't see it." she protested. "You were the one driving."

"It's your fault! If you had just listened to me and changed that fucking dress, I would have been concentrating."

"Charlie, please, that's enough."

He glared at her. "Don't you tell me what to do. Look at you. You look like a slut. Your breasts and thighs are exposed. What were you even thinking?"

Tears burned behind her eyes but she held them back. "I wore them for you. I wanted to look pretty for you."

"I didn't ask you to look pretty for me." he snarled. "We've been together for six years. How hard is it for you to just obey my instructions?"

He turned and stormed back into the car, while she just stood there, looking embarrassed. Charlie's coldness and explosive temper wasn't new. She was used to it.

Over their six years of dating, that same temper had caused a lot of breakups between them. But he always came back begging, promising to change.

And she kept forgiving him because she loved him. She loved him so much that she would do whatever he asked and endure whatever abuse he threw at her.

Tears spilled down her eyes but she quickly wiped them. Charlie hated weak women. Her tears infuriated him.

He got out of the car again, holding his cellphone. "I can't get any reception. I have no way of calling my father."

She checked her own phone, but it was the same. The service had totally disappeared.

"Do you have a spare?" she asked hopefully.

He gave her a dirty look. "Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with someone as dumb as you. If I had a spare, I wouldn't stand here chit-chating. I'd change it!"

"I'm sorry," she murmured and lowered her eyes.

As Charlie thought of what to do, he noticed three men heading down the road, holding farming tools.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he called and waved at them. "How many miles is the nearest gas station?"

The men exchanged looks amongst themselves and one started to speak in a strange, ancient dialect which Charlie didn't understand.

"You bastards don't understand English, I guess," he muttered under his breath.

Then he noticed them pointing at Natasha, smiling lewdly and making disgusting noises at her. Fury burned through him.

Natasha noticed this too and tried to shield the exposed part of her cleavage.

"You just find every fucking opportunity to embarrass me," Charlie spat angrily. "Get in the car! These bloody fuckers probably think you're a whore."

Natasha turned and hurried back to the car. His insults stung her and she couldn't hold back her tears anymore.

It wasn't always like this. There was a time he used to be sweet, the best boyfriend she could ever ask for. Then a year ago, he proposed to her.

She happily accepted, and that was when everything fell apart. The cheating began. The fights grew serious and he always blamed her for all of it.

Sometimes she wondered what exactly went wrong.

The heat was becoming unbearable. Not a single car had driven by and dusk was fast approaching.

Luckily for them, the sound of an approaching vehicle echoed down the road.

Charlie waved it down, and to her utter relief, it stopped. She didn't dare step out again, not after what happened the first time.

Charlie and the driver discussed in low tones. Minutes later, the driver brought out a spare tire from the back of his truck and some tools, and worked on changing their busted tire.

An hour later, they were ready to go. Charlie paid the kind man a generous amount, then he got behind the wheel and continued down the road.

By now, it was getting closer to dusk. He didn't speak to her all through, until he drove into the parking lot of a cozy bungalow.

He turned off the car and exhaled softly. Then he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

"Can we pretend today never happened? I really didn't mean to yell at you. You know how angry I get when you don't listen."

He leaned over and kissed her, then tidied her hair. "You look a mess. Once we're in, go take a shower. If you behave well, I wouldn't have to lose my temper. You know that, right?"

She nodded. "I do. I'm sorry I made you angry."

He kissed her again and pulled back. "I forgive you. Now get the bags out. My father must have heard us come in."

She nodded eagerly and stepped out of the car. As she dragged their bags toward the front door, she missed her step and came crashing down just as the door opened.

She looked up, her blue eyes widening slightly at the sight of the tall, sturdy, older man who stepped outside.

He had the kind of rugged handsomeness she had only read in novels. Smouldering gaze, chiselled facial features, strong jaw, thick muscular arms that filled out the black t-shirt he had on.

His hazel eyes were compelling, freezing her in place the moment their gazes met. Streaks of grey hair fell over his forehead as he leaned down and offered a hand to help her. He was a total silver fox.

His lips lifted in a slow, sexy smile as he gently pulled her to her feet and steadied her. Goddamn, he was hot! The kind of man she’d like to fuck in her fantasies.

"Are you okay?" His voice was a low, velvety timbre that sent her heart flurrying wildly.

Unable to speak, she nodded.

His smile widened, revealing the dimple in his cheek.

"You must be the fiancée. I'm Leonard Masseria, Charlie's father."