The Mafia Boss Who Captivated Me

AGE 25

The sound of my younger sister, Joey, squealing with laughter as she passes the dining room makes me smile. I have no idea what she's laughing about, but the sound has been so rare lately that I almost forgot that she knew how to laugh. Certainly since our father allowed her to come live here with Lorenzo and me, she has been much happier.

A second later, Maximo's head pops around the open doorway. "They're here," he declares.

"Then show them in," I say with a heavy sigh.

He nods before slipping back out of the door. This is my fifth date with Nicole Santangelo. Each time we have met at a restaurant and she has been accompanied by a chaperone, who has sat a discreet enough distance away for us to talk in private, but who has kept a watchful eye on his charge the entire time. Her father does not want his innocent young daughter sullied before she becomes a bride. Not that I particularly mind that. I have no desire to sully her in any way. She's not my type. Sure, she's pretty.

She plays her part well. Impeccable manners. A small polite laugh when the occasion calls for it. She's a perfectly programmed robot.

Except that I have been reading people's body language for as long as I could talk. And Nicole Santangelo has a secret. So tonight, I have insisted she have dinner at my home and she won't be leaving here until I find out what it is.

A few seconds later, she and her bodyguard, Vito, are shown into the room. She smiles politely.

As soon as she is seated, I turn to Vito. "Leave us."

She gasps and he blinks at me. "I can't, Mr. Moretti."

"It's not a request, Vito. Leave of your own free will or be carried out of here. It's your choice."

He looks at Nicole and frowns. From what I understand, the old guy has been her bodyguard since she was a child.

He's worried I'll take advantage of her.

"Her virtue is safe with me. I can assure you of that," I tell him.

"It's okay, Vito," she says softly.

"You can wait in the kitchen," I add.

He looks between Nicole and I, weighing up his options and realizing he only has one. "Just holler if you need me, Nicole," he says before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

She looks down at the table setting rather than at me.

"Wine?" I ask.

"Please. Just a small one," she replies with her practiced, polite smile.

I pour us each a glass and then I watch her. I spend a lot of these dates watching her - studying her. Adding up all of the small things that make up the bigger picture. The occasional wince when she sits or moves too quickly. Her differing appearance. Today she wears make-up. It's thick and heavy and it hides her flawless skin. I know her skin is flawless because on our second and fourth dates she wore none at all. She wears a high-necked blouse today that would look more fitting on sixty-year old college professor than a nineteen year old woman. It's a little too big, which tells me it's not hers.

She is hiding something.

"Take off the clothes, Nicole," I order.

"W-what?" she stammers.

"I said, take off the clothes."

Her cheeks turn pink. Her mouth opens and closes before she regains her composure. "No."

I push myself up from my chair, and she flinches as I tower over her. "Take off the fucking clothes before I take them off for you. And you can holler all you want for old Vito to come rescue you, but I can assure you nobody will walk through that door."

"B-but you said... you don't even like me," she stammers, confused and fearful.

"I'm not going to fuck you," I assure her. "S-so, why?"

"Just do it. I won't ask you again."

Tears fill her eyes. She pushes herself back from the table and stands. With trembling hands, she pulls the blouse from her jeans and starts to tug it off over her head.

As I expected, her torso is covered in bruises. Some fresh purple ones on her right side and some faint yellow ones on her left. There's a large bite on her left breast, peeking out from her bra. She keeps her eyes downcast as she unbuttons her jeans and pushes them over her hips.

"Just to your knees is fine," I tell her.

She nods almost imperceptibly as she follows my instruction. The tops of her thighs are covered with fingertip bruises and similar bite marks to the one on her breast.

Her chest heaves with the effort and the humiliation as she stands there allowing me to inspect her abused body.

"Thank you. You can get dressed again now," I tell her, walking to the window to allow her to do that in private at least.

I take my seat opposite her after she's done. "Who did that to you?" I ask, although I suspect I already know.

She's silent. Years of conditioning have taught her to lie.

To cover up the secrets and the shame.

"Your brothers?" I ask.

She nods.

"Does your father know?"

She looks up at me then, her eyes wet with tears. "Does he know?" she snorts. "Who do you think taught them to be the animals that they are, Dante?" she spits out my name, directing her anger at the only person available right now. Fuck! I suspected her brothers, but her own father too?

I knew those dogs were trouble.

"How long has this been happening?"

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"I was about eleven the first time," she says with a shrug.

"And how did they think I wouldn't find out? On our wedding night, was I not supposed to notice you're not a virgin?"

"There's an operation you can have to have your hymen replaced," she says. "You were never supposed to see me until our wedding. And once we were engaged, my father said they would all stop so that you would never find out." "They think I'm that stupid?" She flinches at my tone.

"I know we can't be engaged now," she sniffs. "But can you please not tell them that you know. They'll suspect, but if they can't prove it, maybe I can convince them. Vito will tell them that you sent him out though. They'll think that you tried something and saw and then..." She shakes her head and starts to cry.

Then what? They'll hurt her even more than they already have.

"We'll get engaged. Today," I tell her.

She lifts her head and blinks at me.

"As my fiancée, you will live here in my house. You can stay in one of our guest rooms until we're married. Your virtue will be safe here. Nobody will touch you while you live in this house."

She shakes her head. "They won't let me leave."

"They won't have a choice, Nicole."

"Why would you do this for me?" she whispers.

I run a hand over my jaw. "If I tell my father we're engaged to be married, he might let me breathe a little," I lie. But the truth is, her father and brothers have been top of my shit list for months now. "Go say goodbye to Vito, and my housekeeper will show you to your room. I'll go speak to your father and bring back some of your things."

She sucks in a shaky breath, her eyes narrowed as she stares at me, wondering what my angle is. It's a fucking sin that the men who were supposed to protect her violated her instead.

"You'll be safe here, Nicole," I assure her.

"My name is Nicci," she whispers. "I hate Nicole." "Nicci."

I STAND OUTSIDE the guest room and take a deep breath.

Jimmy Santangelo did not take the news kindly that his daughter was moving in with me. Of course I didn't tell him that I knew about the vile things he and his twisted, fucked up sons had done to her.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

When he spouted off about her virtue, it took every single ounce of willpower in my body not to cut off his cock with a rusty spoon. He could barely contain his anger at me taking his plaything away from him. Sick piece of shit! But he accepted it. He can't go against me.

The faint noise from the TV tells me Nicci is still awake and I knock on the door.

"Come in," she calls.

I step inside and she's sitting on the bed, her face scrubbed of make-up, revealing a purple bruise around her eye, and her hair pulled into a high pony tail. She's wearing a pair of Joey's pink, unicorn pajamas.

She looks so young and innocent. Like a nineteen-year-old instead of the Stepford housewife she was trying to be to secure our engagement. I sit on the bed beside her, and up close, I see the faint fingertip bruises on her neck too. My chest tightens, and I suck in a deep breath. "I spoke to your father. I told him we're engaged and that you'll be living with me from here on out."

"Was he okay with that?"

"He accepted it."

"Okay," she whispers, and I notice the fear creeping into her voice. She shrinks back from me a little, and I take it as my cue to move a little further away from her.

"I have no intention of marrying you, Nicci, but until I figure a way out of this, everyone must believe that we are engaged. Do you understand me?" "Yes."

"That includes Sabine."

She blinks at the mention of her friend's name. She told me about her on our second date, and then again on our third and fourth.

"S-Sabine? What does she have to do with anything?"

"I don't want you speaking to her for a while."

"B-but she's just my friend, Dante. I... she won't..." Fuck! The naivety of this girl is gonna get us all in trouble. "Nicci!" I snap. "This has to look real. I am the head of the fucking Cosa Nostra. Do you think I would allow my fiancée to consort with her lover?"

Her cheeks turn bright pink. "She's n-not..." "Do not fucking lie to me. I am not your fucking white knight, Nicci. I will keep you safe here. I don't care who you fucked, who you love, who you want, but you do not get to fucking lie to my face." "H-how did you know?" she whispers, tears running down her cheeks. "Nobody knew."

"She was the only person you ever mentioned other than your brothers and father. The only time there was ever any light in your eyes was when you spoke about her."

She blinks at me.

"And on our second date when you were sleeping over at her house, you had a manicure. You trimmed your nails extra short and smooth."

She gasps, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink. "You're like some sort of a... wizard."

"That's definitely something I've never been called before," I say with a frown.

"It's true. I mean, my nails? Who even notices that stuff?"

"I do," I say as I walk out of the room. "I notice everything, Nicci," I warn her. "And I mean it about the lying. You have no reason to lie to me. If I find out you have..." "You'll what?" she asks, her eyes narrowed. "If you put my family at risk, I will kill you. And I won't lose a wink of sleep over it."

She nods her head in understanding. She might be young and naïve, but she knows the world we live in. She knows my reputation.