The Mafia Contract Series

I can’t believe what’s happening. What the fuck is going on? I understand this isn’t love’s young dream, but this man is the coldest one I’ve ever met. A business arrangement, he says.

Well, tell me something I don’t already know. No kids, no sex, just a smokescreen of happiness and strangers behind closed doors.

As he helps me from the car, his hand closes around mine and it’s as if it burns. My husband. Why did I never imagine it would be like this? Where is the fancy wedding with all the guests and celebrations? This is, as he described, a business meeting.

I feel like a fool. I could have worn my combats and torn t-shirt for all he cares. Thinking of the humiliation I suffered to be ready for him is a fucking joke.

As his soldiers close around us and we head up the steps to Hell, it’s as if the walls closing in on me. No kids, no family, no love. Just an emotionless life, trying to play a part until he doesn’t need me anymore.

I should be dancing up these steps because I’m free from my parents and I won’t have to endure the degradation of having sex with a stranger. I should be happy about that.

As we walk into the building, I feel my heart thumping wildly inside. My wedding day. I never thought it would be like this.

We are met by a woman in a suit who must be in her late sixties. She looks nervous and I can’t say I blame her because this is a fucking freak show.

Without a word spoken, we follow her into a pleasant room that overlooks the landscaped grounds, and she clears her throat as we stand before her.

As if on autopilot, she recites the words of the civil ceremony and as I pledge my life to Angelo Sontauro, the words sound empty and false. There is no emotion, no love, and no happiness, as we declare our futures to one another for as long as he lets me have one.

I try to focus on the man I’m marrying and hate that he causes my pulse to race and the heat to spread between my legs. He is so good looking, so desirable and yet there’s nothing inside the pretty packaging.

As he slips a wedding band studded with diamonds on my finger, I return the compliment with one solid band of gold. This is the first time I have seen these rings, and it all seems like one huge empty promise, anyway.

Then as she declares us husband and wife and utters the usual words, ‘you may now kiss your bride,’ I almost expect him to kiss my hand and am surprised when he steps forward and with one arm reaching behind my back, pulls me in close. Then, looking deeply into my eyes, I see a storm building that causes my breath to hitch. His mouth descends to mine before I even register what’s happening and my traitorous lips part and welcome him inside.

With one hand behind my head, he grinds my lips to his, and kisses me fiercely, passionately and with an ownership I can’t ignore. Tongues clash and saliva joins as he brutally assaults my senses in a punishing kiss of promise. I am his now and he is taking his reward and as I kiss him back, I just hope he doesn’t realize this is my first one. I am so inexperienced and hate that part of me, but this- nothing prepared me for how this kiss would affect me. My body literally comes alive as it presses closer to him, desperate for something it doesn’t know anything about. My mind is racing with turbulent thoughts of how intoxicating this is. How much I want him, but how? The wet trail between my legs is demonstrating how ready I am for something I never wanted before. Not with a man like him, not with someone who doesn’t love me. How is this possible?

Then it’s over as unexpectedly as it began and he pulls away and takes my hand, turning and striding from the room with his bodyguards closing around us as before. We sign the necessary paperwork and leave, and that is as good as my wedding day gets.

We travel in silence to wherever home is, and yet I’m still reeling from that kiss. He never once looked at me after he dropped me so suddenly and now, as the car sweeps through exceptionally large electric gates, I take my first glimpse of a prison that is masquerading as a home.

A beautiful white building swings into view that’s set in glorious landscaping that appears man made. I am blinded by its beauty and as we sweep in a crunch of gravel to the front step, I look in awe at the building that rises majestically from the ground.

The door opens and I’m surprised when Angelo says firmly, “Wait there.”Content rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.

He leaves and rounds the car and, to my surprise, takes my hand, helping me from the car in a surprising touch of chivalry. I blink against the sunlight as I take in the sweet fragrant air, courtesy of a nearby Jasmine tree, and as his hand closes around mine, it almost appears as if this is genuine.

The door opens as soon as we approach and a uniformed maid stands to attention with a respectful, “Congratulations Don Sontauro. Ma’am.” She curtseys and I smile shyly as Angelo pulls me into a marble tiled entrance hall that is so big, I can’t see the end of it.

A huge sweeping staircase wraps around the cavernous space and there are two entrance points that meet in the middle upstairs. An iron balustrade provides a decadent touch, and the spotlights are reflected on the shining white marble floor. A beautiful mosaic circle breaks up the space and a huge natural dome skylight floods light into the room. Chandeliers sparkle and small chairs are tucked in the corners, offering places to rest for weary travelers or waiting guests. A galleried landing above circles the room, at the end of which I spy a huge glass wall offering views of an infinity pool.

I can’t take it all in and then a woman steps forward dressed in black, who nods respectfully.

“If you will follow me, Mrs. Sontauro.”

For a moment I forget that’s me and look at Angelo in confusion. He merely shrugs and turns away, heading across the vast space, followed eagerly by his constant dark companions.

The woman smiles wryly. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mrs. Bourne, Mr. Sontauro’s housekeeper and your new best friend.”

I take her hand and shake it, and only the twinkle in her eye relaxes my turbulent emotions.

“Come my dear. I’ll settle you in.”

For the first time, probably in my life so far, somebody is offering me kindness, and it’s so welcome. I am so grateful for a kind word and a gentle touch, and I hate the tears that spring to my eyes as she offers me a hand. “Welcome home, Jasmine. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

She leads me toward the giant staircase and I briefly wonder where Angelo has gone. Will I see him again today? Something tells me no and I hate the part of me that’s disappointed about that.