Chapter 7 - Angela

When my father told me I was to marry Filippo so we could become allies and win the war against the Russians, I didn’t argue. It was the first time he had ever spoken to me about mafia business. Women weren’t supposed to know about such things. We couldn’t learn to fight or go to college. Our role was simply to marry, to be a devoted and obedient wife, submissive to all our husband’s desires.

That’s what we were taught from a young age. That was how they ensured we wouldn’t get involved in the Famiglia’s business, that we would behave as perfect, submissive wives, raising more obedient women.

But ever since I met Marco Falcone, something urged me to ask the questions that had been in my head all these years. For the first time, I didn’t feel forced to keep my thoughts to myself.

He challenged me, even with his gaze, and his words wouldn’t leave my mind: *You could be the She-Devil of the Camorra by my side.* Those words carried so much weight. I knew exactly what “by his side” meant—I’d have to marry Marco; it was the only way. And as much as I knew my father would hate it, I couldn’t help but like the idea of becoming something more than a trophy wife.

“And what happens if you prove it, if you show me I was made for the Demon of the Camorra?” I challenged him, my heart racing with fear of his answer.

Just minutes ago, I thought he’d take me, throw me onto the desk, and claim my virginity as he described, but he asked if that’s what I wanted, and I said no, even though my body was burning at that moment and I felt a pulsing between my legs I’d never experienced before.

“You and I will be king and queen of everything, ruling with an iron fist and becoming the nightmare of anyone who dares look at us wrong,” he said without hesitation. Though I liked his answer, it wasn’t what I wanted to know.

“What I want to know is what kind of queen you’d want me to be.”

Marco furrowed his brow, but a smile soon spread across his lips. He leaned his elbows on the desk, getting closer to me. My body screamed to move closer to him, to let him touch me again with those big, strong hands, but my mind told me to stay as far away as possible.

“I want you to be whatever you want to be. If you choose to be submissive, stay at home planning parties and events, shopping, that’s fine. Or you can choose to get your hands dirty, killing and torturing our enemies. I already said it’d be a pleasure to teach you everything I know,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming with a shadowy intensity, mirrored by his smile.

His gaze traveled down my body, reminding me that my dress was in tatters, and I was sweaty, covered in blood and dust because of him. But Marco didn’t seem to like what he saw any less for it.

“So I’ll be able to learn to fight and shoot? I’ll have my own weapons?” He simply nodded as I spoke, his eyes fixed on my chest. “And what about a voice? Will I have a say in the Camorra’s decisions?” My last question caught his attention.

“If that’s what you want, yes. I’ll teach you how to earn the respect of our soldiers and leaders, and then you’ll be one of us, Angel.” I hated that nickname coming from his mouth. Even though he was calling me an angel, he made it sound erotic. “I told you, we don’t see women as breeders or a pussy to seal a deal. My sister is proof of that. At twenty, she chose Frank, my second-in-command, and married him despite our objections. Melissa knows how to shoot and fight; she was trained with our best soldiers, but she prefers the world of fashion.”

His answer completely surprised me. I had just met his sister, and she didn’t seem easily intimidated, but I’d only be sure of everything he was saying when it applied to me, when he started training me.

“So I’ll train with your best soldiers? When can I start?”

He quickly walked around the desk, kneeling in front of me and grabbing my leg without ceremony.

“Hey!” I tried to protest as my torn dress rode up, exposing my thighs, but his hands kept moving, removing my shoes.

“Before you learn to fight, we need to take care of this swelling,” he said. I kept my eyes on him, watching his fingers glide over my skin, up my calf, sending shivers through my entire body. “And I’ll be the only one teaching you to fight. I don’t want any other man touching you.”

“Touching what’s yours,” I muttered mockingly, huffing and turning my face away. “You’re already treating me like property, just like the others.”

I felt a different touch on my leg and turned back to him, only to see his lips on my skin. I swallowed hard as our eyes met, and he moved his mouth higher up my leg, setting my entire body ablaze and bringing back that pulsing between my thighs.

“You’re not mine yet, little angel. I haven’t heard you moaning and declaring you’re mine,” Marco said, sticking out his tongue and sliding it over my skin, making me gasp, nearly choking. “But I’d hate for anyone less than worthy to teach you.”

This was madness. All of it was madness. I didn’t even know how my family was, what had happened after the attack at the wedding. I’d been kidnapped and brought here, and I definitely shouldn’t be feeling these things for him.

But I couldn’t control my emotions or even my thoughts. So, before I realized it, I was asking him an even stupider question.

“And if I ask you to teach me how to kiss?” The words slipped out of my mouth without control.

Marco pulled away from my leg and stood, getting far too close to me. With his right hand, he brushed my hair aside and wrapped it around the back of my neck, holding me in place.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to teach you.” We were so close that his breath hit my face, making my own breathing quicken.

“Then teach me, Marco. Teach me how to kiss!”

He didn’t wait for another request before pulling my face closer and pressing our lips together, drawing a sigh from me. His soft but firm lips moved over mine with expertise, covering my lips completely before nibbling my lower lip, making me let out a soft moan.

“Open your mouth, Angel. Let me show you how it’s done,” he said, his voice even huskier. Panic surged through me, along with the memory of Filippo forcing his fingers into my mouth while rubbing himself against me and trying to grope my body.

Bile rose in my throat as that scumbag invaded my thoughts, and I placed my hands on Marco’s chest, pushing him away.

“Stop, Filippo! Please,” the words slipped out of my mouth before I could process what I was saying.

I opened my eyes, coming face-to-face with Marco staring at me with a fierce expression, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line. His breathing was uneven, but now I doubted it was from the brief kiss.

“What did that worm do to you?” he growled, sending shivers down my spine.