Page 62

But somewhere between her sharp-ass mouth, that fire in her eyes, and the way she fucking melts under my hands… I stopped giving a damn.

Olivia stopped being a liability the second I realized I’d kill for her without a second thought. She stopped being a threat the moment I wanted her more than I wanted the truth. She’s mine now, whether she likes it or not. And as much as I want to fuck her all over again, I can see her mind is too tangled in this marriage bullshit. So, I’ll burn off this energy another way.

“Get dressed,” I say, lifting her off my lap and setting her beside me before I’m unable to stop myself from sticking my dick in her. I swing my legs out of bed, the sheets slipping off and leaving me in my boxers. “We leave for training in twenty.”

Any chance of sleep tonight is long fucking gone, and the first slivers of sunlight are already starting to creep through the windows. Guess it’s gonna be an early day.

“Training for what?” She rubs her eyes, slipping out of bed, tugging the shirt down like it’ll hide anything.Fuck, she looks good in my clothes. That shirt riding up her thighs makes it hard to think straight.

“Alonzo’s coming back today,” I say, leaning against the bedpost with my arms crossed. “Since you won’t let me kill him or cut off his fucking hands, I’ll teach you enough moves to defend yourself should you ever need to.”

Her eyes light up, a mischievous smile curling her lips. “Can I use those moves on you?”

I round the bed to her and swat her ass hard, making her gasp. “Only if you want to get punished afterward.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Warden,” she teases, but there’s a fire in her eyes now, one I love to see.

A sinister grin tugs at my lips, and I lean into her. “Oh, Liv, you have no idea what a good time with me looks like.”

Olivia takes off to her room to get dressed. She didn’t exactly say yes, but she didn’t throw the ring at my face and tell me to fuck off, either. I’ll take that as a win and a yes.

Alonzo or Antonio won’t get the chance to lay a fucking finger on her, I’ll kill them or any otherstronzostupid enough to fuck with my wife.

28

Liv

One minute, I’m being fucked within an inch of consciousness, and the next, I wake up with a massive rock on my finger.

It’s gorgeous and literally the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen. It’s sparkly, and way too much for someone like me. But the second I start thinking about what it represents, my head spins, and I can feel the spiral coming on fast.

I should be happy, right? He’s trying to help me, in his own twisted way. But Mafia people like Alessio? They don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts. Rip a heart out, maybe. But charity work isn’t exactly their thing.

I’d be an idiot to think he’s marrying me over a couple thousand in clothes. And the massive order of dicks should be put on Paola’s tab, even if I’m the one benefiting from the toys.

I was excited to finally have a chance to get out of my elegantly filled prison, but Alessio rushed me out this morning. I barely had time to fully panic, let alone find something to wear, before he was grabbing his keys and heading for the door. I threw on the first pair of black leggings I could find, paired with a matching sports bra and a navy tank top.

The fabric hugs my thighs a little too tight, making me self-conscious. They’ve always been on the thicker side, and normally, I wouldn’t care, but today, I feel every seam with every move I make. This is exactly why I hate online shopping.

My hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, though a few wild curls refuse to stay put because I didn’t have time for that either.

I took the diamond off, but I swear I can still feel it on my finger, even though I left it in the car. Alessio noticed the moment I slipped it off. He notices everything. His jaw clenches just slightly, that barely-there sign that he’s annoyed but won’t admit it.

His words from earlier play in my head,“You need it off for the gloves? Fine. But the second they come off, you put it back on. And you don’t take it off again unless I’m with you.”

I spiral every time I think about marriage.

After getting fitted for gloves, I stomp toward the center of what smells like a sweat-soaked gym. It’s gross but familiar, reminding me of the gym Clover used to drag me to for self-defense lessons when I was a teen.

This gym is small but clean and modern, packed with everything a gym needs, including a fighting cage in the middle. The only other person here was the lady at the front desk, who gave me gloves. But she’s vanished, leaving me alone with the devil himself.

I catch sight of Alessio lifting weights, muscles flexing and glistening with sweat, and a shiver runs down my spine. He’s wearing a sleeveless black shirt showing off every inch of his tattoos, and gray sweatpants that cling to his waist just right.

Damn him. Why does he have to look so good? And why, of all things, does he have to wear those pants?

The kitty between my legs starts to purr, but I quickly clamp down on that urge. Now is not the time to get turned on, especially not in these tight pants. No, it’s time to tell him I can’t marry him. The words die on my lips when he finishes his set and walks toward the cage.

“Shoes off and come here,” he orders, sitting up from the bench and heading toward the cage. I don’t even think, I kick off my shoes and follow him.