Married to the mafia King

I cried out and tried to back away from the assassin, but the door had already closed behind me.

I flattened myself against the door and peered up at him in terror

But he just gazed down at me with his blue eyes and gave me an amused smile.

Niccolo yelled from 20 feet away. “Lars, for God’s sake, get away from her! You’re scaring the life out of the poor thing!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said to me in a deep, gentle voice.

“I said get away from her, not talk to her!” Niccolo shouted.

The blond man smiled at me once more, then walked across the room.

“Does this have to happen now?” Adriano asked angrily.

“She’ll be here for the foreseeable future,” Niccolo said, “and we can’t very well keep Lars in the cellar, now can we? Best we get everything out in the open as soon as possible.”

Niccolo swept over and took me by the arm, then walked me to a padded leather chair and gently forced me to sit.

“Don’t worry, Lars is a teddy bear… unless you go up against the family, in which case you should be worried. Here, have a drink,” Niccolo said as he poured a light brown liquid into a glass on the table beside me. “You could use a little something to put the blood back in your cheeks.”Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

I looked around, frightened out of my mind. I was in some sort of a parlor, filled with leather chairs, dark wood paneling, and dim lighting. The scent of cigar smoke hung faintly in the air. It was all very masculine, like a private club within the house.

Lars strolled towards Adriano and Massimo. They stood off to the side with drinks in their hands.

“Is that the girl you saw?” Adriano asked.

“If it wasn’t her, I don’t think she would’ve nearly fainted when she saw him!” Niccolo shouted over his shoulder.

Lars just nodded to Adriano like That’s her.

Dario sat at the far end of the parlor in a high-backed leather chair behind a massive desk. He looked like an emperor on his throne.

There were also two other men in the room I hadn’t seen before.

One looked very similar to Niccolo but with slicked-back hair and a dour expression. He was the only person in the room in a three-piece suit with a tie.

The last one, the youngest of the lot, leaned against the wall. He was absolutely beautiful, with sensuous lips, a scruffy beard, and a mop of unruly hair. He could have been a world-famous pop star or movie actor, he was so gorgeous. When he caught my eye, he smiled and winked.

I turned away in embarrassment.

“Drink, drink,” Niccolo said as he offered me the glass.

“No thank you,” I mumbled as I stared at Lars, my mind racing fearfully.

Had they brought me here to kill me like Lars had killed the man in the cafe?

But… why?

“It’s only brandy drink!” Niccolo ordered.

“She probably thinks you poisoned it,” the dour man in the three-piece suit said.

“Don’t say such things, Roberto putting ideas in her head Madonn,” Niccolo cursed, taking the name of the Virgin Mary in vain: Ma-DON, short for Madonna. He gulped half of the brandy in one swallow and set the glass back down beside me. “See? No poison, just brandy! And now my germs, yes, but the alcohol will kill all that. Drink, for God’s sake!”

I took a sip, mostly to quiet him down and keep him off my back.

I coughed as the liquid burned in my throat.

“Are you alright?!” Niccolo asked in alarm.

“I get the feeling she’s probably never had liquor before,” Massimo said.

“It’s not scotch or whiskey, it’s brandy!” Niccolo exclaimed.

The giant shrugged. “She’s rather innocent.”

Niccolo looked down at me. “Have you had brandy before?”

I shook my head ‘no’ as I coughed some more.

“Madonn,” he cursed again. “A babe in the woods.”

“And a beautiful one, at that,” smirked the movie star leaning against the wall.

“Hands off, Valentino!” Niccolo threatened him. “Stick to banging the help!”

“I wasn’t going to touch her,” Valentino protested.

“You touch anything with a pussy,” Niccolo snapped, then turned back to me. “Pardon my French.”

“Not ‘anything,'” Valentino said. “She has to at least look good.”

“Oh, so you have standards wonderful,” Niccolo sneered.

For the first time since I had entered the room, Dario spoke.

“Alessandra is our guest,” he said in his deep, smoky voice. “No one is to touch her. Understood?”

“I meant no disrespect,” Valentino said somberly to Dario.

“Don’t say it to me say it to her.”

The gorgeous young man looked at me with wary eyes. “Sorry, signorina. I meant no disrespect.”

I just nodded mutely.

“Wonderful, everyone’s kissed and made up,” Niccolo said then started shouting at Dario. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

Niccolo was certainly the most theatrical and loudest person in the room. And he was the only one who seemed willing to go up against Dario. Everyone else paid the mafia don deference, but not Niccolo.

It would have been funny if they weren’t a bunch of thugs and killers.

Dario replied in a slightly mocking tone of voice. “Her absence will loosen her father’s tongue or don’t you agree, consigliere?”

Consigliere

‘Counselor.’

It was the term used for a mafia don’s right-hand man, the godfather’s most trusted advisor.

So Niccolo was not only Dario’s brother… he was also the don’s consigliere and the second-most powerful man in the room.

No wonder he joked and shouted while the others kept quiet.

“You could’ve done that without bringing her here!” Niccolo fumed. “Have you forgotten what line of work you’re in?! A few threats would’ve worked nicely!”

Then Niccolo turned back to me hastily and said in a reassuring voice, “Not that we would have necessarily followed through on the threats, mind you.”

‘Necessarily’ was the one word that stood out.

I understood all too well the implied threat.

But despite the danger I was in, I couldn’t help but imagine the Seven Dwarves from Snow White when I looked around the room.

Instead of Grumpy, Doc, Bashful, and Dopey, however, it went something like this:

Adriano was the Hothead.

Massimo was the Bear.

Lars was the Blond.

Roberto was the Banker. I seriously would have expected him to work in finance, not in the mafia.

Valentino was the Loverboy, the ladies’ man.

Niccolo was the Trickster

But Dario was still il Mostro.

A chill ran down my spine every time I glanced over at him and saw him watching me like a predator looks at its prey.

I thought of Filomena’s warning:

Don Rosolini just returned home after four years in prison… he has not had a woman to the estate since his arrival… never be in a room alone with him.

The way Dario looked at me, I understood all too well what she meant.

Suddenly Niccolo plopped down on the leather seat across from me. He smiled warmly. “Well, bella, you’ve certainly had quite the evening, haven’t you? Have another sip of your brandy.”

I choked down a bit more. I had no desire to run afoul of a consigliere.

“So… this fellow Lars dispatched so abruptly…” Niccolo shot the blond man a stern look like he was a very naughty boy indeed, then turned back to me. “Had you seen him in your cafe before?”

“No.”