Belonging to the Mafia Dons (Possessive Mafia Kings #23)

1. Christina

Christina

1

My fingers twist around the crop top I just found sticking out from beneath his bed. The bright fabric feels cheap. Just touching it is making the urge to throw up twofold. I hate how familiar this feeling is. This is not my crop top. But this is my boyfriend’s bedroom. Soon to be ex-boyfriend’s bedroom. Which means that whoever this belongs to took off her shirt and left it behind.

I’m an idiot. Why do I keep falling for this?

Furious, I dig my nails into my palm as I storm through the grandiose manor. Everyone in Millbury lives like this. Large, overly ornate homes that showcase a ridiculous display of wealth.

It’s practically an unsaid rule. Just like the facts that 1. everything in the city is run by the Mafia, and 2. those who don’t want trouble shouldn’t ask questions...

Matt’s father runs Ricci and Co. Construction, which means this house was absolutely built using Mafia money. I’ve spent most of our six-month relationship trying not to judge.

There are lots of ways a person can become corrupt, their profession included. That doesn’t mean their entire family should suffer a mark of shame for their actions.

I should know.

Unfortunately, with Matt I was wrong; his father’s money sources aren’t the only things tainted with this family.

Blood will out, isn’t that the saying?

I storm back into the living room where I find him still parked in front of the TV, playing video games. I bet the fucker didn’t even notice I was missing!

“What the fuck is this?” I scream, throwing the shirt at the side of his face. An unfamiliar rage boils inside me and I want to lash out.

His attention is fixated on his player who dies on the screen. I don’t think he realizes what’s happening at first.

“Fuck, Christina. How many times have I told you not to interrupt my games,” he yells, slamming his headset to the ground.

Typical. Aren’t we getting too old for this bullshit?

His blue eyes narrow and his lips tick down as he takes in what I’ve thrown at him.

He blinks twice, grabbing the shirt and tossing it aside before looking up to glare at me.

Motherfucker doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

I turn away, hiding my face from him and stride out the door. I’m done. I’m so done with this.

“Christina wait,” he shouts. “Fuck,” I hear him mutter beneath his breath as he runs to catch me.

I don’t stop to hear his excuses. I’ve dated enough liars to remember how it goes. I don’t know why I thought he would be different.

“Christina listen—” he grabs me by the arm and I whirl around, my dark hair whipping around me.

“What, Matt? What?” I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. My emotions are catching up to me. The tears of betrayal sting the backs of my eyes with hot, bleary pain as my mind goes through a list of names.

How could this happen to me again? Was it one of my friends? A random hook up from one of the frat parties he likes to go to? Why?

But I already know the answer.

In high school, I was the awkward kid – the nerd. No one cared what I did, and if they did ask me out, it was likely as a joke. But that all changed when I started my freshman year at Millerton University. Somehow, turning 19 and starting college meant I went from a joke to desirable. Initially, the change almost gave me whiplash. But I thought this meant my life would be better. That finally I would get the romance everyone else seemed to have.

Unfortunately, all I’ve learned is that curves and confidence don’t guarantee fidelity and romance. It’s been a hard lesson to learn.

“It’s not what you think,” he says, taking a step towards me.

I take two steps back and shake my head. “No? What is it then? Because I can tell you what it looks like!” I yell.

He takes another step towards me, and I sigh. “ I’m so damn tired of this back and forth.

“Was it Lauren? Ashleigh? Madison? Maybe Kennedy? Or is it someone new to your fan club? One of the sorority girls perhaps?”

He shakes his head, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes. He runs a hand through it, sweeping it back in a way that used to make me smile.

Now it just makes me sick.

“Tell me, which one of the girls from your little fan club came over trying to suck your dick.” I ask in a mocking tone.

“No, she didn’t suck my dick—”

“Oh!” I throw my hands into the air, the anger boiling over. “How convenient for you. Well, I hope it was worth it because I’m fucking done with you.”

“Christina, calm down. You’re acting crazy,” he says in that condescending tone that makes me see red.

“Did you at least warn them?” I hiss, backing up towards the door, “Or do they like micro surprises. Maybe it doesn’t look as small when it’s inside them, hmm?”

I hate him and I hate that he’s made me stoop to his level. I’m better than this. I just want to go home. But he moves so fast I don’t have time to react. His hands wrap around my throat, his thumbs overlapping as he presses harder.

“Matt, stop!” My words are cut off beneath his hold and I struggle to stay calm.

He’s choked me before, but never out of anger. My head swarms from the lack of oxygen. I can feel it in my cheeks first, then in my limbs. The tingle of warmth and the rush of energy that I feel when he does this during sex is gone. This feels panicky. The rage in his clear blue eyes drains me of any hope that he’ll come to his senses.

My vision blackens around the edges, and something makes a noise as his fingers release from my body, causing me to crumble to the floor.

I put a hand over my heart as I struggle to breathe. It’s okay. I’m okay. I repeat the words. The room starts to come back into focus. Then the sounds.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Matt’s brother Kevin, shouts.

From the floor, I can see Kevin’s feet shuffle towards Matt and then I hear the thud of a fist hitting his body. Matt moves, fighting back.

I don’t stick around long enough to hear the rest.

With shaky legs I run toward the garage door, grabbing my keys and shoes, and sprinting out to my car.

I get in, tossing my shoes on the passenger seat, and silently pray that my Beetle starts on the first try.

Come on. Come on.

The engine roars to life and I shift to speed away.

This is not the first time Matt’s lost his shit on me and hurt me, but it will be the last. He always apologizes after. The regret seems sincere. But this time, he’s gone too far.

What could have happened if Kevin wouldn’t have intervened? How far would Matt have taken it? I don’t want to think about it. Not when I’m alone. So, I do the only thing I can think to do. My fingers shake as I swipe open my phone and find Julia’s name under my most recent calls.

“Hi babe,” she says. She sounds happy and carefree and like everything I’m supposed to be.

I try to speak but can’t, choking on a sob before the words can come out.

Would Matt have really killed me if his brother hadn’t been home?

The truth is hard to even imagine.

“Christina, what’s wrong?” Her tone quickly changes to one of concern.

“Matt and I broke up,” I say, breathing hard as my heartbeat struggles to slow. I don’t dare to look in the rear-view mirror. I’m not ready for this to seem real.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” It’s partly the truth. I can’t bring myself to say the rest. If I tell her that he put his hands on me… I shudder. Millbury is a Mafia town. I can’t rule out Julia’s father being one of them. And I don’t believe violence is the solution to violence.

There’s a beat of silence. “You know what will solve this.” She clicks her tongue. “Dancing.

We’re going out.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of this, Christina. Go home, get ready, I’ll be at your house at eight.”

She ends the call before I have time to fight back.