MY KILLER'S HUSBAND

The sound of the pen scratching paper felt louder than the ticking clock.

Jacob Blake sat motionless at the end of the long mahogany table, his fingers twitching around the Montblanc pen someone had shoved into his hand. He hadn’t moved in five minutes. Not because he was reconsidering, but because he knew the second he signed the damn thing, there was no going back.

Across the table sat Leo Moretti.

Immaculate. Cold. Unforgiving.

Leo’s black suit fit his body like a second skin. He didn’t wear jewelry; he didn’t need to. The room bowed to him. Even silence bent when he spoke. Jacob couldn’t stop staring at the man's hands, clean, long-fingered, steady. Not the kind of hands that killed.

But Jacob knew better.

Leo Moretti’s hands didn’t just kill. They signed orders, closed deals, pulled triggers, and now they were about to own him.

Marriage.

To a mafia heir.

Male.

Murderous.

God.

Jacob wanted to throw up.

“I don’t have all day,” Leo said, his voice sharp enough to cut skin. “If you're going to back out, do it now. Saves me the paperwork.”

Jacob looked up, swallowing hard. “Why me?”

Leo's lips twitched. Not a smile. A smirk. “Because you’re the only Blake I can legally tie to my house without putting a bullet in his head.”

Charming.

Two days earlier...

Jacob was asleep when the door got kicked in.

He’d barely scrambled off the couch when three men in black stormed his shitty apartment like it was a war zone. One of them grabbed him by the shirt. Another shoved something cold into his back. The third, tall, lean, with a shaved head, said five words that chilled him to the bone.

“Your brother stole from Moretti.”

Jacob blinked. “What? Who?”

“The Moretti family,” the bald man repeated, stepping into the light. “And unless you want to collect him in pieces, you’ll come with us.”

That was how it began.

Now, here he was.

Facing Leo Moretti in a room that smelled like cigar smoke and polished floors. The contract lay between them like a curse. Twenty pages of legalese, with words like “consummation,” “joint living arrangement,” “public acknowledgment,” and, God help him, “non-termination clause.”

It wasn’t a marriage. It was a sentence.

“You’ll stay under my roof,” Leo said, his fingers tapping the table. “You’ll wear the ring. You’ll smile when you're told. And you won’t so much as breathe in another man’s direction. Understood?”

Jacob clenched his jaw. “And in return, you let my brother live?”

Leo’s expression didn’t change. “Your brother lives. But he belongs to me now. Just like you.”

A storm raged in Jacob’s chest. Hate. Rage. Terror.

“Sign,” Leo said.

Jacob stared at the paper.

Then he signed.

Later that night…

Leo’s estate was exactly what Jacob expected: massive, cold, and terrifying.

Marble floors. Hallways that echoed with the sound of nothing. Security cameras. Armed men in black suits. Jacob tried not to stare too long at the art; he didn’t need to see if any of it had blood on it.

“Your room’s on the second floor,” a man named Matteo said, leading him up the stairs. “Boss wants you showered and downstairs for dinner by seven.”

Jacob blinked. “Dinner?”

Matteo nodded. “You’re married now. Welcome to the family.”

Jacob wanted to laugh. Instead, he walked to the room, closed the door, and collapsed on the bed.

He didn't cry.

Not yet.

At dinner…

Leo sat at the head of the table like he owned the universe. He didn’t speak. Just poured himself wine and cut his steak with terrifying precision.

Jacob sat three seats away. No one else spoke either. The silence was brutal.

Leo finally looked up. “You didn’t eat.”

Jacob flinched. “I’m not hungry.”

Leo tilted his head. “Eat anyway.”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

The table froze.

Leo put down his knife. “You don’t get to say no in this house.”

Jacob’s fingers curled into fists. “Then maybe I should have let you kill my brother.”

Leo’s eyes flared. He stood.

The room went still.

Leo walked over slowly, his footsteps echoing like warning shots. He leaned down beside Jacob’s ear.

“You want to test me, husband?” he whispered, voice calm and deadly. “Because I promise you, this house doesn’t survive love stories. It survives obedience.”

The next morning…

Jacob woke up to a knock on the door.

He ignored it.

The door opened anyway. Leo stepped in, wearing a white shirt and a watch worth more than Jacob’s entire neighborhood.

Jacob sat up. “You don’t knock?”

Leo ignored him. “You’ll be coming with me today.”

“To where?”

Leo tossed a black suit on the bed. “Public appearance. You’re the new husband. You’ll play the role.”

Jacob stared at the suit. “And if I don’t?”

Leo walked to the window, looking out at the sprawling lawn below.

“Then I let your brother die in front of you,” he said simply. “And I send the pieces to your mother.”

Jacob’s heart stopped.

Leo turned. “Now get dressed.”

At the charity gala…

Flashbulbs.

Red carpet.

Fake smiles.

Jacob walked beside Leo, their hands inches apart but worlds away. The cameras clicked, the reporters shouted, and all Jacob could think about was how far from normal his life had fallen.

“Smile,” Leo murmured. “You’re supposed to be in love.”

Jacob forced a smile, teeth clenched.

Inside, the ballroom shimmered with chandeliers and secrets. Politicians. CEOs. Mobsters. The air reeked of money and murder.

Jacob sipped champagne and tried to breathe.

“Is he the new one?” someone whispered as they passed.

“He’s cute,” another said. “I give it a month.”

Jacob wanted to scream.

Leo leaned closer. “Ignore them.”

“You’ve done this before?” Jacob snapped.

Leo’s jaw tightened. “Not like this.”

Later that night…

Jacob sat on the edge of the bed in silence.

Leo stood at the window again, back turned, shirt half-unbuttoned.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Jacob whispered.

“I didn’t either.”

Jacob looked up. “Then why me?”

Leo didn’t answer.

Instead, he walked over, slow and measured, until he stood right in front of Jacob.

“You want honesty?” he asked.

Jacob nodded.

Leo bent down until their faces were inches apart.

“Because you remind me of someone I lost,” he said, voice low. “Someone who lied. Someone who died.”

Jacob swallowed hard. “Am I supposed to feel special?”

Leo’s lips twisted into something bitter. “You’re supposed to survive.”

And then he left.

Jacob couldn’t sleep.

He stared at the ceiling for hours, the sheets tangled around him, his heart a constant throb of fear and fury. He hated Leo. Hated the way he looked at him. Hated the power he held. Hated that he wasn’t sure if he feared him or wanted to understand him.

This wasn’t love.

This was war.

And Jacob had just stepped onto the battlefield.