4. Nyah
NYAH
Dear Diary,
Today I decided the best way to survive a Mafia marriage is to get naked and wait in my enemy’s bed.
My future husband wasn’t even home when my father’s driver delivered me.
I stared up at the mansion, twice as big as my parents’ current place, and sighed.
It was surrounded by tall fences, and the security cameras blinked at me.
Two burly men waited just inside the doors, and neither bothered introducing themselves, so I didn’t either.
The interior of the house was as cold and quiet as a tomb.
A short woman, probably in her sixties, watched from the corner of a living area with the highest ceiling I think I’d ever seen. She raised a hand in a half wave at me, a tentative smile on her full lips.
My heart leapt at the possibility of an ally behind enemy walls, and I tried to return her quiet greeting. She was the only friendly face I’d seen in weeks.
But one of the men stepped in to block my view of her, and when I managed to sneak a glance past him, she was gone.
I sighed, following the men down the hallways, feeling more like I was being led to slaughter than to my new living quarters.
The walls were lined with expensive artwork, and the space had clearly been expertly designed down to the nth degree.
Part of me was surprised when they led me up the stairs.
Surely they didn’t keep prisoners in lofty, light-filled, upper-story bedrooms?
Surely the prisoners were kept down in the basement.
Because that’s what I was.
A prisoner who had to find the gumption inside her to seduce a man twice her age so she could pass off the baby in her belly as his.
All while desperately yearning for the baby’s real father to sweep in and save her.
I’d never thought of myself as a princess, even though the term had been bandied about plenty in my lifetime.
I’d heard the whispers, about Jeremiah Matish’s only daughter, the Mafia princess.
I’d never believed any of them. In my youth, I’d been more likely to steal a car than be chauffeured around in one.
But in that moment, I wouldn’t have minded if some knight in shining armor wanted to swoop in and save me.
Preferably one named Dax, with his sweet nature and kind eyes.
God, I so desperately missed him. We’d been together mere months, and yet he was it. I knew it with every part of my being. I was so stupidly in love with him I could barely breathe.
I’d known all along that I wouldn’t get to choose the man I spent my life with.
But for a little while, I’d had a taste of what freedom was.
And now I would do anything to keep the baby he’d given me.
All my problems could have been solved with a simple termination.
I knew I couldn’t have been any more than two months pregnant, so I was still well within the window where a termination was a possibility.
But I would have clawed the doctor’s eyes out before I’d let him come near me.
If all I got to have of Dax was this child, I was going to do everything in my power to keep it.
If that meant bouncing up and down on old man Guerra’s shriveled dick, then I would feed him all the Viagra necessary and do it.
My stomach rolled at the very thought of it, but what else was I supposed to do?
If I told him I was pregnant, and he refused to marry me, my father would kill Dax and probably me swiftly after.
If I married Carlos but couldn’t convince him this child was his, he or she would be sent away. Or killed.
Or worse, sold off at auction.
I knew what the Guerras did to make their money. I knew they had a finger in all the illegal pies, human trafficking being one of them.
They weren’t good men. They weren’t even men at all.
They were pure fucking evil.
And my father was no better. I’d thought for a little while he was.
But I’d been wrong about so many things.
This baby wasn’t one of them though. I rested my hand on my nonexistent belly but dropped it quickly when we rounded a corner and the two men escorting me stopped in front of a third man guarding a door.
“Mr. Guerra’s instructions are she does not leave her living quarters until he returns,” one of my escorts informed the door guard.
None of them seemed to care what I might think about the situation.
“Did he just?” I interrupted, shoving down the panic over the fact they clearly did, indeed, intend to keep me in a pretty light-filled prison. “And how long, exactly, will it be before Mr. Guerra decides to grace me with his presence?”
Neither of Carlos’s soldiers paid me any mind. The guard on the door looked at me, and then back at them, like he was confused as to why they weren’t saying anything.
I rolled my eyes and pushed past all three of them. “Forget it.”
Bodyguard number three leapt to open the door for me. “Wait, let me get that for you, Mrs. Guerra.”
I whipped around so fast I practically gave myself whiplash. “Do not ever call me that.”
The guard took a step back, pure surprise and shock in his expression. “I’m sorry. I was led to believe Mrs. Guerra would be occupying this room…”
He trailed off at the expression on my face.
The two who’d led me up the stairs, who were clearly more informed or had been around longer than Three, just put my bags down and ignored my little outburst. “She’s all yours,” Two said as he and his buddy walked away.
I went to pick up my things, but Three beat me to it. “Please let me do that for you. I won’t call you Mrs. Guerra again.”
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own bags.”
His gaze swept over my face. “I’ve no doubt. But I’ve been standing at this door for three hours and I’m so stiff and bored that you would honestly be doing me a favor.”
Even still, he waited for me to give him permission.
I eventually nodded, watching him bend at the knees and gather up my things. I squinted at him. “You were seriously just standing here in an empty hallway, guarding an empty room for three hours?”
He nodded as he indicated for me to go inside the bedroom.
“It’s my first day, so not really surprising I wasn’t given anything more exciting to do, I guess.
I’ve counted every painting on the walls.
There’s seventeen if you’re interested. One of them is a landscape, perhaps of Tuscany?
I really don’t know. I’ve never been out of the US, but it’s pretty.
Anyway, the photo is of these grapevines.
About two hours into standing there, I started counting the individual grapes. ”
A smile flickered at the edges of my mouth. “And how many were there?”
“Enough to make a barrel of wine, I would think? I was at seven hundred and thirty-three when you showed up.”
“I suspect that’s not even enough for a glass to be honest.” At least not one the size I wanted to drink. Not that I’d be doing that for a few months.
He shrugged, stopping in the middle of the opulent bedroom. “I’m more of a whiskey sorta guy, if I’m being honest. But it felt like a lot when I was standing there counting them. Where do you want these?” He held the bags a little higher.
I glanced around the room as nonchalantly as possible.
There was nothing of a personal nature inside the four walls.
They were a neutral cream color, and the artwork had the same gilded gold frames, thick as my forearm, that the paintings in the hallway held.
The bed had wooden posts at all four ends that reached almost to the ceiling, and a gauzy curtain canopy decorated the top.
But there were no clothes in the closet. No personal photographs or knickknacks to show someone lived in the room.
It was beautiful.
But it wasn’t going to work for what I had planned. “This isn’t Mr. Guerra’s bedroom.”
Three peered around at the space. “I don’t suppose it is. I think it’s a guest room.”
I put my hands on my hips and forced out the words I really did not want to say. “Well, then, this won’t do.” I grabbed one of the bags, the lightest one, from the floor at Three’s feet, and marched back out into the hallway.
Three yelped and chased after me. “Where are you going? The goon brothers said you had to stay in your quarters!”
I paced down the hallway, opening each door and poking my head into them. “And I will, but those are not my quarters. I’m marrying Mr. Guerra. What’s the point in putting all my things in a guest bedroom? No, I’ll be moving straight into his bedroom, thank you very much.”
I glanced back at Three and the completely baffled expression. I raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to argue?”
He shrugged. “Lady, I couldn’t care less where you want to sleep at night. I’m just the hired grunt here to make sure you’re protected. Pretty sure it’s not my job to protect you from your future husband, so if you want to sleep in his bed, who am I to stop you?”
I grinned at him, then reached up and patted his cheek, the condescension fully intended. “There’s a good Three.”
“Three?” he asked, confusion pulling at his brow.
“The goon brothers, as you called them, are One and Two. Which makes you Three.”
He followed me a little farther down the hallway. “Or you could call me Lynx.”
I stopped and turned back to face him. He was kinda cute, following me around like a lost puppy dog, clearly no idea what he was supposed to be doing.
But at least he wasn’t just grunting at me like One and Two had.
I didn’t know anyone in this house. I was a complete outsider, with nobody on my team.
And that put me in a vulnerable position.
I needed someone. The woman I’d seen downstairs had run off as soon as I’d looked in her direction. So maybe Three, or rather, Lynx, was it.
I dropped the sassy Mafia princess act and stuck my hand out to him. “I’m Nyah.”
He shook my hand, and we stared at each other for a long moment.
An inkling of recognition sparked somewhere in the back of my mind.
We both dropped each other’s hands at the same time as we recognized each other.
He got the words out first. “I know you!”
“You’re Levi’s old cellmate!”