Married to the Mafia Boss

Arianna

As I pull into the pit after going around the racetrack three times, I see Carmine frisking someone. I roll my eyes as I stop the car and get out.

“Good run,” John, my pit leader, says. “You’re improving your time with every lap.”

“Thanks,” I say to John, watching Carmine come over. “Why were you searching that guy?” I ask.

“Because my job is to keep you safe,” he says blankly, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone annoys me.

“I think I’m done for today,” I say, handing my helmet to John. “I’ll be back tomorrow or maybe the day after to try again.”

“No problem, Arianna,” John says with a big grin. He’s rather flirtatious, and I can see Carmine’s jaw clench. I find that amusing.

“So, back home now?” he asks.

“No, I want to go shopping,” I say. I don’t really, but I like the idea of torturing Carmine.

He stands outside the changing rooms as I get back into my jeans and shirt, tossing my hair over my shoulder. I come out to find him standing like a proper guard with his arms crossed in front of his body.

“So, are you seriously going to search everyone every day?” I ask as we make our way back to my car.

“Yes.” He looks at me. “Why?”

“How do I know you’re searching them properly? What if you miss something?”

Carmine chuckles. “I’m really good at searching people, Ari. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“But how do I know you’re doing it right?” I ask.

We reach the car, and he smiles. “Okay, put your arms out against the car, facing the car, and spread your legs,” he says.

I look at him, surprised. “What?”

“I’ll show you how I search people,” he says. “Stand, hands up against the car, and spread your legs.”

I do as I’m told, and he starts at my shoulders. He slowly pats me down. I’ve seen him doing this a few times, but he never goes this slow. Every time he touches me, a bolt of electricity courses through my body. He pats down my sides, and I’m hyper-aware of how his fingers brush the sides of my breasts. He moves down my body, patting my abdomen before kneeling behind me and starting feeling his way up my legs. He’s seriously high up when he starts on the other leg and makes his way up high once again. I lick my lips. They suddenly feel too dry.

“You’re clean,” he whispers as he stands behind me. The air is palpable with tension before he steps away from me. “So, where do you want to go?”

“Fifth Avenue,” I breathe out, trying to shake myself free of his touch and yet wishing it lasted longer. “You can help me pick out some outfits for La Club’s anniversary party.”

I swear he rolls his eyes, and I grin. “Get in.”

We drive over to Fifth Avenue and park in the private parking of the bistro my family owns. We walk up to the shops, and I explore the stores. I find a few outfits at the third one and make Carmine sit on the sofa while I try them on.

I walk out like a runway model and put a hand on my hips. “How do I look?”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

He gives a wolf whistle. “You’ll knock them dead, Ari.”

I grin and go back, changing into another. “How about this?”

He gives another wolf whistle. “I like this one more.”

I try on a few more, and he disappears now and then to find something he thinks I’ll look good in. The ones he doesn’t like, he groans, rolling his eyes, like the exceptionally bright yellow sun dress I put on.

“It just isn’t you,” he moans, pretending to shield his eyes.

We pay for the clothes and head to the next store, repeating the process.

I find a pair of barely-covering-my-ass denim shorts and a tight boob tube. When I walk out with my hair coming loose from its braid, Carmine stares at me for a moment, and there’s an awkward silence.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask nervously.

He shifts on the sofa and shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s just…you look really sexy in it.”

He doesn’t blush. It’s not Carmine’s way, but had it been any other guy, they probably would have. “I think you should get it,” he adds.

I grin and try on a few more outfits before we pay for those.

We get a hot dog each and slowly start to walk back to the bistro. Carmine gets mustard and ketchup all over his face, so I start laughing. He then starts laughing, and soon we can’t walk, laughing too hard to do much more than stand on the spot and giggle at each other.

I take his napkin and carefully wipe his face, aware of how close I am to him.

He looks at me, then above me, before he suddenly drops his food, grabs me, and pulls me to the floor.

Bullets fly above us, and I scream, crouching, covered by his muscular arms. It feels like they shoot at us forever, but I doubt it is more than a minute before I hear a car’s tires squealing as they get away.

Carmine stands first, looking around apprehensively before he says, “Okay, you can get up now.”

He helps me get to my feet, and I’m shaking. I’ve been in danger before, but that was a little too close for comfort if Carmine hadn’t seen them behind me. I look at the bullet holes in the building, dimly aware of the people running away from the scene in fear.

“I’ll call Dominic to smooth this over with the cops. Let’s get you home,” he says, putting a hand on my arm.

“You saved my life,” I murmur, looking up at him lovingly.

“It’s my job, Ari. I would die to protect you,” he says quietly, knowing he means it.

He starts to lean down to get my shopping, but I put my hands on his chest, and before he can react, I close my eyes and kiss him deeply. After a moment, I feel his arms encircle me and bring me close to his body as his tongue probes my mouth. I open it happily for him, my arms encircling his neck.

It feels like the moment lasts forever, as though everything is moving slowly, like through water. But when I break away, nothing much has changed. People are still freaking out. Some are on their phones with the police.

Carmine looks down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ll always save you, especially if that’s my reward.”

My eyelids flutter, and I rest my head against his chest. I feel so secure and safe in his arms.

“We should go,” he says finally. “Let’s get you home.”

We separate, and a coldness fills the gap between our bodies now, not from each other, but a lack of contact.

He scoops up my shopping, and we walk back to my car together.

“I’ll drive,” he says, taking my keys. He opens the passenger side door for me, and I climb in, buckling in.

He climbs in behind the steering wheel and starts the car. I hesitate for a moment, then I rest my hand on his leg, looking out the window.