The Mafia's Kidnapped Bride

Chapter one

Aryn

I pushed open the door to Brandon’s apartment, the sound of my pumps clicking softly against the polished marble floor. I thought about the look of surprise on his face when he saw my gift, and I smiled. Tonight, I was finally going to let him make love to me. I blushed at the idea. O was well prepared too. I thought hard about what I could get him since he had everything. Then I remembered him complaining about a keychain his mother had bought for him being broken. It was customized and hard to get, but I worked a number of part-time jobs and finally got it for him.

"Brandon! I'm home," I called, expecting him to come out of his room. Maybe he was sleeping. As I moved closer, I heard a woman’s laughter. And it sounded familiar. I have heard stories like this. So I walked faster hoping that it wasn't what I was thinking.

I froze in the doorway of his bedroom. Moans echoed out and they hadn't even had the decency to close the doors. Brandon was thrusting into her with reckless abandon as she clawed his back and shouted, "Harder, Brandon. Fuck yes!".

Her. Tricia. The girl he’d introduced to me as his cousin. The girl I’d spent months convincing myself wasn’t a threat.

“Brandon?” I whispered, my voice cracking. I felt like a fool. All the signs I’d ignored. All the excuses I’d made.

Their heads snapped toward me. His face paled, and hers flushed—not with guilt, but smug satisfaction.

“Shit! Aryn,” Brandon stammered, scrambling to pull on his pants. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

My hand shook and my voice trembled as I forced out the words. “It’s exactly what it looks like, you lying piece of soggy toast.”

His mouth opened and closed, no sound escaping as if he couldn’t decide how to explain how he found himself on his so-called “cousin.” Tricia made no effort to cover herself. Instead, she stretched languidly, her smirk like a knife twisting in my chest.

“I trusted you,” I spat, my voice shaking with barely restrained fury. “You told me she was your fudging cousin!”

“I can explain,” he started, reaching for me.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I snapped, stepping back. My grip on the gift bag faltered, and it hit the floor with a muted thud.

Turning on my heel, I bolted out of the apartment, my chest heaving. “Darn it,” I muttered under my breath, hot tears streaming down my face.

“Aryn, wait!” Brandon’s desperate voice echoed behind me, his footsteps pounding against the floor.

I ran faster, refusing to let him catch me. My mind raced with fury and humiliation. As I burst onto the street, I spotted a stranger walking along the dimly lit sidewalk. Without thinking, I sprinted toward him.

“Please,” I gasped, my voice desperate. “Play along.”

His brows knitted in confusion, but before he could react, I jumped, wrapping my legs around his waist and crashing my lips against his. It was a wild, reckless kiss that tasted like anger and heartbreak.

For a moment, he froze, but then his arms hesitantly wrapped around me as if he didn't want to crush me, then he grabbed my butt firmly and took over the kiss, he teased my mouth open with the tip of his tongue as if begging to be let in. I opened my mouth a bit and he salvaged my tongue with his, it sent a pool of liquid fire to my lady bits and I let out an involuntarily moan. The sound snapped me back to reality and I widened my eyes.

I didn't just make that sound right? The stranger smirked at me and I flushed in embarrassment. Yep! It was definitely me.

I, Aryn Flynn, who had never allowed a guy apart from her boyfriend hold her hands had moaned while kissing a frickin' stranger.

Brandon’s voice broke the moment. “What the *fuck* is this, Aryn?”

I pulled away, glaring at him. His fists were clenched, his face a mixture of disbelief and rage.

“Is this why you’ve been distant?” Brandon shouted. “You’ve been cheating on me?”

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and cold. “You’ve got some nerve, Brandon. Call it whatever you want. I don’t give a damn.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “We’re fucking done,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

“Good,” I shot back. “That’s a peppermint stick of relief.”

"You think anyone would fucking want you? I am the only one who can put up with you and your childish way of cussing. You would never find anyone better than me."

"Fuck off." The stranger said to him, still supporting me with his hands on my backside that I was very well aware off. Brandon stumbled back a bit and with one hateful glance, he turned and stormed off.

As soon as he disappeared, the adrenaline drained from my body, and my knees buckled. I collapsed onto the sidewalk, my hands trembling as I buried my face in them.

“Hey,” the stranger said softly, crouching down beside me. His voice was warm, calm—a stark contrast to the way he looked. Now that I have had a good look at him, he was probably six foot four compared to my tiny five foot three frame. It must be why Brandon hadn't moved closer.

“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

He smiled faintly, sitting beside me on the pavement. “Don’t apologize. You looked like you needed an escape.”

I let out a shaky laugh, wiping at my eyes. “Not exactly how I planned my night. I thought he loved me.” My voice cracked. “I thought it was real.”

He didn’t interrupt, letting me unload my pain.

“I trusted him,” I whispered. “I worked my ass off for him. And for what? To walk in on him canoodling his *cousin*? I’m such an idiot. I let that son of a biscuit to walk over me like I was trash.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re human.” He handed me a handkerchief and stood.

“Hey,” I called after him, my voice still shaky. “What’s your name?”

He turned, golden eyes glinting under the streetlights. “Don’t worry. You’ll see me again soon, Rosé.”

And with that, he disappeared into the night.