Page 34 of The Mafia's Bride

“Nico handles payroll.” I lean back, dropping the pen. My hands are cramping, bare, from the constant signatures.

Tony has seen my hands uncovered. He’s been my second ever since Nico gave me the reins and a friend longer than that. There aren’t many people I can trust in this world, but Tony makes the short list.

“And now you do. His orders.” More work, more tasks being delegated to me.

I could complain but it’d be pointless. When Nico thinks I’m ready, or when his body has had enough, I’ll fully own the family. This is just one more thing to prepare for.

Since arriving in Boston as a child, I’ve been prepared for this role. No questions, no remorse.

Shooting him an annoyed glare, I sign my name to the black line with a flourish. The papers are shoved back in his direction.

This is my family, and I was going to run everything right.

Including getting control over my heart and my fiancée. She might not think she’s mine, but the minute she came on my hand, she was.

The monitor goes off, drawing both of our attentions.Odd.It’s never gone off before.

The red, blinking light on my computer only goes off to alert me of a trespasser in the alley beside my club. It’s heavily guarded as it has to be. It’s my only exit to escape the club if we’re attacked, right by the entrance where I caught Sloane. My men should be there, watching, waiting, for my orders.

Instead, it’s empty.

Save for one person. I’d know that walk anywhere. The slight dip,those rounded hips rolling like a wave with each heeled step, body hidden under a heavy black trench coat. Even on the grainy screen I can tell the person coming closer wears clothing tailored to their frame.

My eyes find the bat dragging behind her.

I lean back in my chair, curiosity winning out over alarm. I watch my five-foot-nothing soon-to-be wife raise the Louisville Slugger and aim a perfect swing at the tinted window. One hit, two—she’s got some aggression to take out—before the black glass shatters on the third impact.

When she said she knew baseball, I thought she was lying. But from her aim, from her hits, I can tell it was truth.

Tony winces at my side, rubbing his bald head. “Should we stop her?”

Smirking, I shake my head. “No.”

Sloane is throwing one of her legendary tantrums. Something, ashamedly, I like very much about the woman. Whereas a simple man might mourn the car—she’s now denting the left door with a sick swing—I’m amused.

I want to see my fiancée burn, watch it,feel it, and let it consume me. The small taste in the hall was absolutely nothing compared to what she can truly do. I want that ire, that anger, and I want to be there when it finally explodes.

I want everything she is and everything she will be. I wasn’t boasting when I told her I could be her equal—she’s already mine. I know she can meet my demands, meet my passion. It’s all over the screen.

Fuck,I groan silently. I’m enamored with my fiancée.

“Fucking O’Brien women,” Tony mutters. Sloane turns toward the camera, bright red hair fluttering along her shoulders like angelic wings, as she blows a big kiss to the screen. Only this is no angel, she’s pure devil.

I’m going to sell my soul to her for just a taste of that fire.

She saunters away, my men watching her go with rapt attention.

Being my future wife has some clout with my men; at least they’re smart enough not to touch her.

“Now, what?”

Glancing to my friend, I try to control the need coursing through me. I want so badly to paint her ass cheeks red for that display and use my tongue to sing my praises for her wickedness.

“Get Mikey on the phone. He’ll need to take my car in.”

“You’re getting married next week.” He tsks, clicking a few keys, zooming in on the damage. “This thing won’t be ready by then. Even with your cousin pulling strings.”

My car is busted. Hood dented, windows smashed, she even took out both lights and broke part of the tire wheel. She made pretty quick work of it too.