Bought Mafia Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Bonanno Family Book 4) by Mae Doyle

Author:Mae Doyle [Doyle, Mae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-06T16:00:00+00:00

Natalia

I knew that Dane Accardi was a murderer years ago. When I found out that I was going to be married to one of the most ruthless men in the country, I cried. I remember hiding in my room, stretched out on my bed, crying into my pillow until I was so worn out that I just passed out like that, still dressed in jeans and sneakers.

My dad never came to me. He never wanted to see if I needed to talk, never asked me what he could do to help. To be fair, it wasn’t like I would let him help me anyway. What would he do? Call the whole thing off?

No, I know that the infusions of cash he got from time to time were from the arrangement. He’d be stressed out about money for one reason or another, make a phone call, then suddenly we’d have more than enough again.

It was obvious where it was coming from. He was leaning on my future husband to get the money he needed.

So, in my mind, Dane Accardi was a murderer. He was also my father’s benefactor, the one man who had enough money to keep us from going under. After my mom died and my dad retreated into himself, he spent most of our family fortune.

I don’t know how many people in town know that my dad is just one bad month away from losing it all. The house, the cars, everything. He couldn’t handle that, so he sold me off to the highest bidder.

Actually, I don’t know that. I stare at my future husband, trying to read his mind. Was the he highest bidder, or was he just the only person willing to take pity on my family and get me out of a terrible situation? What would my dad have done with me if Dane hadn’t agreed to buy me? If he hadn’t agreed to wait to take me for his own until our wedding?

We’ve all heard the stories of what desperate men will do to their daughters. Getting sold to the mafia to be a bride was bad enough, but it wasn’t anything compared to what happens to some little girls.

Dane doesn’t answer me. Instead, he slips his phone into his pocket, still staring at me, then gestures for me to join him at the kitchen island. I don’t move. My feet feel rooted to the spot, like they’re stuck in concrete.

That’s ironic, because I’m sure that my future husband has done that to at least one enemy in his lifetime. Or maybe I watched too many cartoons when I was younger and before my dad started better monitoring the TV.

“Who are you going go kill?” I repeat, reaching out for the doorframe for support. I’m so hungry that I honestly feel like my knees are going to give out under me but I keep my eyes locked on him, waiting for him to answer. He can’t ignore me. Even though I want something to eat and I need to sit down, I’m not going to let him get away with avoiding the question.

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