Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance by Rosalie Rose

Author:Rosalie Rose [Rose, Rosalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance
Publisher: Rosalie Rose
Published: 2022-11-03T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Delilah

Last night feels like a dream. I can’t believe what happened was real. I dug my fingers into a man’s shoulder and pulled out a bullet.

I should feel like a badass because it was completely badass. But that the scent of burning flesh is still embedded in my nostrils.

“Are none of these rings to your liking?” Carmine asks, pulling me out of my thoughts and pointing toward to jewelry case.

He rented out an entire jewelry store, and Gianni and Victor are outside the doors. The only people inside are me, Carmine, and the salesman.

“What?” I blink at him, pushing the memory of Ari screaming from my head.

The muscle in his cheek jumps with annoyance as he marches over to me.

“We are doing this,” he grits. “We are getting the rings, getting married, and then we will go to your evening class. That’s the schedule for the day.”

“I don’t want to look at rings, Carmine.” I keep my voice low, so the salesman won’t hear me.

Carmine scratches his nose and gives the salesmen a kind head tilt before crowing at me, towering over my small frame. “That’s too bad, Delilah. This is the agreement. You agreed to wear my ring, and I expect you to live up to our agreement. Do you understand?”

“So, pick any of them for all I care. Just because I wear it, it doesn’t mean it means anything.”

We hold eye contact, neither of us looking away, neither of us backing down.

“I guess the man from last night is gone,” I say.

“The man from last night doesn’t exist,” he replies. “Not right now, and very rarely will he ever make an appearance. That ring might not have meaning now, but it will.” He grips my arm and tugs me closer. “But you’ll learn to love me, Delilah.”

Maybe last night was a dream. Maybe the memory of him washing me, taking care of me and speaking to me with such tenderness was something I made up in my head. This man was completely different from the one who brushed my hair last night then held me until I fell asleep.

What happened to him?

“Pick a ring,” he says, again. “Any ring you want.” His dark, husky tone lightens, and he cups my face. His touch sends a spark across my nervous system, reminding me of how he makes me feel.

And why he is right.

One day, I’ll learn to love him. It’s inevitable. He’s that guilty pleasure that I shouldn’t indulge because I’ll want to keep returning for more once I do.

He’s that regret too. The one where I’d wake up the next morning, asking myself what the hell I did? If it weren’t for the contract, he’d probably be the guy who kicked me out of his bed half-dressed. He wouldn’t care about me otherwise.

Then, I’d be the girl who always thought about the mean guy who gave her the best sex of her life.

He’s a complete asshole and arrogant. His mood swings are like night and day.

It’s a vicious cycle—he’s a vicious cycle.

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