Married to the Mob by C.M. Steele

Chapter Eight

Domani

It’s been a week since we married, and I can’t express how happy this woman has made me. I’d planned a honeymoon for us, but with the deaths of my men, Aria demanded we cancel it. She has been a pillar of strength when it comes to handling the arrangements, making sure our men get their proper burials and their families are well taken care of.

I knew she had it in her to be amazing. Everything about Aria makes me fucking happy, and the sex has been incredible and often to the point that I’m sure her pussy has to be sore from how often I’m balls deep in her. What I wouldn’t give to get away just the two of us somewhere secluded where I can spend days worshipping her and spoiling her with no eyes lurking around.

Her parents are supposed to be leaving soon to go back to their home, but the rebuild will take another week. It’s hard to feel guilty when we come out of a room looking thoroughly fucked and her parents are around. If they don’t like it, they need to book a hotel somewhere because I can’t get enough of my bride.

Just sitting here thinking about her makes my balls feel heavy again, like I need to drain them in my queen, but we just went at it for hours early this morning. It’s insane how insatiable we are. I adjust my cock because it’s hard to sit like this, but I have to get my ass together. Not everything is about needing Aria naked.

A knock at my office door takes me by surprise because Aria’s with her mother as they sort through Aria’s things that have been brought from her parents’ estate. “Enter.”

“Domani. I need to speak with you.” That isn’t the tone I like to hear from her. It’s cold, almost indifferent. Nothing like the woman I was just daydreaming about.

“Yes, wife, but you know you never have to knock in this home. It’s yours,” I remind her.

A big mistake. Her eyes flare at me with an untold anger that concerns me, and then she lets me have it. “Don’t tell me what to do, damn it.” She shakes her head, chest heaving as she returns her glare straight at me. “I’ve just learned that you’re the reason that I’ve been locked away for two years. I can’t believe you did that. What—were you afraid I’d find someone else before I reached eighteen? That I’d be spoiled?”

In a flash, I step around the desk to try to calm her down. Just as I close the distance, her hand comes swiftly across my face. I grip it, absorbing the sting for the cheap shot that it was. “Wife. I will never lay a hand on you, but you will treat me with the same decency,” I grit out, pinning her ass to the edge of my desk with my body pressed firmly against hers.

“I don’t owe you any decency. I can’t believe you.” She yanks her hand from my grip, and I let it go because I don’t want her to hurt herself. When she heads for the door, I cuff her waist and lift her off her feet. “Put me down, you monster. I hate you.” I hear the tears in her voice, and I do feel like a fucking monster.

Setting her back on her feet, I hold her and lean in. “I didn’t lock you up. The day I made you mine, you became my weak spot.”

“Let me go. You disgust me.” She tosses her head back, nearly full-on headbutting me, but hits just my cheek. I let her go because for a moment I’m too damn heated to speak rationally to her. She darts out from the room like she’s afraid I’m going to give chase. Right now, I want as much distance as possible between us, and yet no distance at the same time.

I'm not going to chase after her because I don't know how to fix this. She can't leave the house anyway, so I have some time to figure out how to make it right. I slam my office door closed to avoid anyone coming to see what’s wrong. I walk over to my cabinet and pour myself a tumbler full of bourbon and drink the entire thing. I take a look in the mirror, and it looks like my little spitfire of a wife left a nice fucking bruise on my cheek. I sit down on my leather sofa off to the side with a fresh glass of bourbon and close my eyes.

There’s a knock at my door. “Go away.”

"Domani, can I speak to you for a moment?" my father-in-law asks through the door.

"I'm not in the mood to talk, so go away,” I snarl.

“This is about Aria,” he pleads.

I want to bite his head off right fucking now, but I relent. “Come in.”

"I came in to apologize. It's my fault. She learned that all the other families were supposed to stay away from her. I didn't tell her about the abduction attempt."

"What? I don't know how to fix this. She hates me."

"No, she doesn't. She's upset, but she loves you." I doubt it, shaking my head. We’ve only been together a short time, but she made it clear that I haven’t gotten any closer to winning her heart; in fact, I think I’ve done the opposite. Orgasms aren’t the only thing I want from her, and she proved that she doesn’t want anything from me. "She's young, Domani. Hot-headed and hurt. She’s pissed at me as well, but I’m sure she’ll understand when you finally get her to sit down and listen. Aria’s always been the bullheaded one. It’s one of the reasons I made the deal with you and agreed to keep it a secret. If she knew then, she might have done something stupid to get out of it and likely put herself in danger."

I could see that happening only in his head because I’d never have let her sneak away. My men were doing their job incredibly well by averting several attempts on her, and she didn’t even know it. I had my eyes on her nearly all hours of the day, either in person or via surveillance systems. My obsession with Aria was sick and twisted to the point that I learned everything I could about her. "I need to find her and fix this. Even if I have to tie her down to get her to listen.”

“Ties work well, and they’re less likely to leave any markings,” he says. He turns back and adds, “She’s gone into your mother’s garden.” He leaves the door open after he walks out, tempting me to go after my wife.

I really have to make this right between us. The longer it festers, the more damage will be done. I swing around my desk and close down my computer. I’m just about to walk out the door when my phone rings, and I scoop it off the desk. I find the silent alarm has been tripped by Luigi.

He calls me. “Domani, they’ve taken Aria.”

“Who took her?” I snarl, running out of my office and out to the front of the house.

“Her guards,” Luigi says.

“What? Her guards?” Aria only has one guard around the house that’s actually assigned to her since John disappeared.

“Yeah, her guards. John’s back, and he had her guard, Torres, with them as Aria got into the car.”

“They’re dead. We need to get my wife back now.” I’m seeing red as we watch the surveillance video. I load up her phone tracking, but it shows the phone’s here in the house. “Fuck. She doesn’t have her phone.” Then I remember. “Her ring. Please tell me she didn’t take it off.” I pull up the trace on her ring and get a steady ping of it flying down the expressway. My men and I hop in several vehicles, many with hidden gun compartments. We give chase at a distance because I don’t want to give them any excuse to harm her. My men scope out the vehicle and report that they can’t see Aria, so she must be in the trunk or the back seat, which means they’ve taken her against her will. It’s a bit of a relief that she didn’t voluntarily leave me, but I can’t stop the dread that’s filling me.

“They’re exiting on the ramp that leads to an airfield,” one of my men says through our walkies.

“We need a plan. I don’t want any plane taking off before we find her. There’s no way I’m letting her get in the air. Understood?” I call out to my men on the walkies.

“Got it. I have a friend who works there. We’ll call in an issue.”

“Good. Stall.”

How did John get access to a plane to kidnap my wife? We’ve had no information on the fucker for weeks. His bank and apartment haven’t been touched since the day he disappeared. Torres has had a clean record working with the family for three years and never showed any signs of betrayal. I’m gonna string them up and torture them when I get my hands on them.

I silently pray that Aria is okay.