Married to the Mafia Boss

Kira

He kissed me! The monster fucking kissed me as though he owned me. I won’t lie. The familiarity of the kiss stirred some feelings within me, but how fucking dare he. I am not his possession to do with what he likes, and I certainly don’t want to encourage this behavior.

He says I’m the monster, but he is so cold, so heartless, and then he does something like this, and I’m left wondering about everything.

What did I do that was so terrible to him? I was taken away from him, but surely he could get over that. We weren’t together that long, well, long enough to conceive a child.

Maybe I should tell him about Raphael? Maybe he would let me go? But there are other things that worry me about him finding out about our son. What if he takes him away? What if he kidnaps Raphael and tries to groom him to be the next Don? What if I never see my son again? What if he turns Raphael against me?

I’ve always been candid with Raphael about his father. I told him the truth, his father didn’t know about him, but his father was a dangerous man and was dangerous to our family. We had to protect our family at all costs.

Would Raphael be taught otherwise? Would he believe otherwise when he learns that his father is now Don of a very powerful family?

How powerful is the Rossi family? Especially given that Miguel would cross the Sorvino family. I know my family is the most powerful in New York.

I lie restless in bed, staring out the window and dreaming of my freedom. I didn’t have this problem in Italy. I resent Alessandro for bringing me back now. Yes, I missed my family, but Raphael and I lived a good life at the villa. A safe life.

I eventually doze off because the sun is rising when I open my eyes again. I get up, feeling stiff and sore, and go shower. The hot water washes over me and relaxes my stiff muscles.

I rewash my hair, mostly because I’m bored, and I want to cost Miguel as much as possible by using up all the products he had bought. The shower doesn’t take long, but I feel it’s much needed.

I get out and get dressed, leaving my hair wet, and tentatively try the door. It’s unlocked, so I open it to see Jarred standing guard across the hall. He inclines his head in greeting, but I ignore him.

I walk out and go downstairs. The sun is now fully risen, and there is activity in the kitchen. I wish I could check it out. Obviously, I love the kitchen so much and would love to cook up my own food to pass the time. I wonder if Miguel would let me, probably not because he doesn’t want me near knives.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

I don’t blame him. Personally, I’d totally try to escape using a kitchen knife.

I walk into the dining room, where Miguel is sitting reading his paper. I sit down and start on my breakfast. Another full English breakfast again, how boring.

“What did I tell you about greeting me in my home?” he asks from behind his newspaper.

“Fuck off,” I say after I swallow a bit of sausage.

He sets the newspaper down and gets up, walking around the table to me. I grip my fork tightly and raise it when he’s near, but he grabs my wrist and twists it, forcing me to drop the fork.

He yanks me to my feet and grabs my shoulders, bringing me closer to him again. “There are rules to follow, Kira. I told you if you’re not going to follow them, I will punish you.”

“No,” I gasp out, but it’s no use. He spins me around and forces me over the table. I try to push back, but he’s so damn strong. He yanks down my pants and wallops my ass. It stings, but at the same time, it ignites something in me. He hits me again, hitting the other side, and I bite my lip. I scold myself for the feelings I’m getting. I stifle a groan when he hits me a little lower and too close to my lips. He yanks my pants up and steps back.

“You will obey me,” he says authoritatively.

“I’m not your fucking toy,” I snap, and he forces me down again. My pants go down again, and he spanks me again. It’s not so hard that it’s that painful, but it’s more the humiliation of the action. Also, the feeling of him being so close to touching me arouses me, and I hate it. I feel disgusted with myself.

Suddenly the pressure holding me down releases, and I hear him walk off. I pull my pants up and turn to see as he leaves the room. His no-fuck attitude is rather appealing. He was so soft and sweet when we were in college. This is a controlling side of him that I’m not used to, and while a part of me is disgusted with how he has changed, another part of me secretly wishes he would touch me.

Argh! How can I be thinking like this? The man literally kidnapped me and is holding me hostage. I can’t be falling for my captor.

Especially when he is such a dick.

I sit back down, wincing slightly, and finish my breakfast. After that, I decide to give the home theater a spin to pass the time. I don’t see Miguel anywhere as I walk through the house. Jarred is always nearby, but he doesn’t say anything to me.

I scroll through the movies and put on one of Raphael’s favorite Disney films. As it plays, I think about my son and the smile on his face whenever he watches this. I remember how sweet he looked sleeping the last morning I saw him when I left him with Sofia. Who is taking care of him now? I hope it isn’t my father.

I wish there were a way I could check on him. A way to communicate with him without telling Miguel why I need a way to communicate with my family. I don’t want him to take Raphael, and I don’t know how he will react to the news that he has a Sorvino son. He might even have him killed so he doesn’t threaten to take over his position as Don one day.

I glance around and note that Jarred is sitting at the back, but his head has dropped forward.

It dawns on me that he’s dozed off because of the boring kid’s movie. This could be my opportunity to try finding a phone or computer to contact Alessandro.

I leave the movie playing. It’s loud enough to cover the sound of me going. I hold my breath until I’m out. I glance around. There are no other guards on this level, so I quickly make my way through the various rooms, trying to find one with a phone or computer.

Finally, I enter what must be an office. It must be Miguel’s office.

I sneak into it quietly and sit at the table. The laptop is already logged in, so I bring up his browser and log into my emails.

I compose a new one and am typing in Alessandro’s private email address when there’s movement at the door. I quickly close the browser and look up as Miguel enters the room. He glares at me.

“What do you think you’re fucking doing?” he growls.

I swallow hard.