Savage Mafia Kings

Chapter 7 Emma

Emma

Our room. This man expected me to sleep in the same room, the same bed, as him. I wrapped my hands around myself as we walked to hide my trembling.

Between Angel’s father, who’s presence chilled me to my very core, and my new husband grabbing me by my throat within hours of exchanging vows, I would be stupid not to be afraid…but the heat pooling in my belly had very little to do with the fear that was driving my pulse.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I followed along after Angel, trying not to stumble over my own feet as I fought to calm myself down.

I watched the strain of his shoulders as we walked through the house.

Maybe I’m not the only one who’s feeling this way.

I kept shaking, but I did my best to ignore it.

I could be alone with Angel. I can do this, I told myself as we began to climb a set of side steps that were nowhere near as elegant as the grand staircase in the foyer.

“We have the entire third floor of the west wing to ourselves,” Angel said, not bothering to look if I was behind him.

“There’s our bedroom, a bathroom, and a large loft with a television. ”

“You’re not worried about privacy?” I asked.

Angel paused at the top of the stairs, allowing me to catch up. His eyes were sharp on mine. “Do we need much privacy, mi esposa?”

My heart pounded in my ears. “I just meant —” The words stuck in my throat, and Angel put his hand on the small of my back and pulled me closer to him.

My heart shuddered in my chest, and I wasn’t sure if it would be better to rip myself out of his grip…

or just let it happen. Indecision froze me in place, and Angel looked all too pleased with that.

“Yes?” he taunted.

Why was talking to him so hard? “How do you keep people from just barging into your space?”

Angel chuckled. “If anyone did that, they would leave with pieces missing,” he said. “There are places in the house that are for anyone to hang out in; the rest is best left alone, so don’t go snooping.”

That was the literal last thing I would do, I thought, but I didn’t say that out loud. Lili had been right: sarcasm would end up getting me killed if I didn’t watch it. “I won’t,” I promised instead.

Angel nodded. “Good.” He released me, and we kept walking.

We reached our wing. It was massive —easily bigger than any place I’d ever lived before.

It was also very masculine. Everything was dark: the sofa in the loft was black leather, the curtains were the kind that blocked out the sunlight.

The bookshelf and desk had an espresso stain.

Immaculately designed and tidy, but I found it oppressive.

Angel pointed out the bathroom, and I nearly gasped when I peeked my head in. It was still dark —seriously, he had never heard of color before —but the shower and soaking tub made my mouth water. “Do you swim laps in that tub or something?” I asked.

He let out a derisive noise. “It’s just a tub.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “You do realize that your bathroom is bigger than my last apartment, right? I’m not exaggerating.”

“Aren’t you lucky then?” Angel asked, and there was a hard edge in his voice.

Anger pitted my stomach, and I latched onto it, pushing down the fear and desire that had been warring through me for days.

“Yes,” I hissed at him. “I feel so lucky that I saw a dozen people die in front of me, and now I’m married to a violent psychopath because the alternative is that his rivals will do unspeakable things to me.

” Tears stung my eyes, and I did my best to blink them away. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

His jaw could cut glass, but surprisingly, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took my arm again, gripping just this side of too-tight. “Let me show you our room, mi esposa,” he said through his teeth.

The fear roared back over my anger, but I was able to keep my feet as Angel dragged me down the hallway.

He pushed open a door, and like all of the rooms that I’d seen so far, it was massive.

The bed dominated the space, but he also had a seating area situated around a television, and there was a door that I imagined led to an equally impressive closet.

“Your clothes have been put away in the closet,” he said. “You can go through them later.”

My clothes? “Someone packed up my apartment?”

Angel shook his head. “Lili went shopping with your measurements; she got you a few things, but you’ll need to fill out a proper wardrobe.”

Oh. Something in my chest felt cracked open. I knew that no one would probably think to get my things from my apartment. Most of it was nothing special, anyway, but…there had been a small box of mementos from my mother. “Thank you,” I said. “For that.”

“Thank Lili,” he said dismissively. “It was her idea.”

I made a mental note to do just that. Then, hesitantly, I asked, “Did…did anyone go back to my apartment? After your men cleared me?”

“Why would anyone do that?”

Because I had a whole life that you interrupted? “Nothing,” I said and tried to ignore the crushing pain in my chest. “Never mind.”

Angel hmm-ed softly. “Get changed,” he said, gesturing to the closed closet door. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He left me standing in the middle of his room, and for the first time in far too many days, I felt like I could breathe for a moment…but I also didn’t know how much time it would take for Angel to shower. I wanted to be wearing something more comfortable by then. With layers.

I walked over to the closet and opened the door, expecting to find a few things hanging for me on a rack.

Instead, half of the walk-in closet was filled with women’s clothing that I could only imagine was meant for me.

Between the “his” and “her” sides was an island like what should be in a kitchen, but both sides had drawers.

I grabbed one of the chrome drawer pulls and tugged it open. “What the —?” Everything in the drawer was silky and lacy, and there was absolutely no way that I was going to wear any of it.

I pawed through a few more of the drawers until I found something that seemed safe: a pair of yoga pants and a tee shirt. I walked back into the bedroom and heard Angel cursing in Spanish. He sounded like he was in pain.

Throwing the clothes toward the bed, I made my way to the hallway.

He probably stubbed his toe or something, I thought, but my feet kept moving until I was standing just outside that massive bathroom.

“Mierda,” Angel swore, and I turned the door’s handle, half-expecting that he would have locked the door.

The door swung open, and there was a shirtless Angel, standing before the mirror. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, thankfully, but the rest of him was bare to my view. At first, all I could see was miles of skin and broad shoulders and...holy shit.

Angel was covered in mottled bruises. Across his abs, wrapped around his ribs; it looked like someone had taken a bat to him. “Is that what your father did?” I asked. “What you didn’t want me to see before?”

He let out a deep sigh; he didn’t seem at all startled that I was standing there.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m healing.” He shifted to face me, and I got to see the whole of his chest. Holy sweet God, I thought, dragging my eyes across the chiseled planes of his torso.

My eyes got caught on the v-cuts peeking out of his towel and the patch of dark hair beneath his belly button.

But, for all of his loveliness, he was still covered in yellowing bruises. “Like what you see, Emma?” he asked, and I tried not to like how my name sounded in his mouth. You’re scared of him, remember?

But the dampness in my panties disagreed. “I heard you,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You sounded like you’re in a lot of pain…you should be checked out by a doctor with bruises like that.”

He scoffed. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

What the hell is wrong with this family? “I’m your wife now, right?” I asked him. “Isn’t it my job to worry about you?” Besides, didn’t my continued existence depend on him?

Angel smirked at me, dangerous and sharp. “You really want me to feel better?” he asked.

My mouth was suddenly dry. “Yes,” I breathed out.

“There’s only one thing that I need.”

I knew what he was going to say – I could feel it in my very bones – but I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What’s that?”

He took a step in my direction. “I think I’m owed a wedding night.” Another step, and I backed up on instinct. Angel stopped; the smirk dropped off of his face, and he stopped his advance. “I won’t force you,” he said. All of the sharp tease was gone from his voice.

Some of the tension in my shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”

Angel stepped toward me again, and this time, I held my ground.

He circled my waist with his hands. They were big and warm; I could feel the burn of them through the thin fabric of my borrowed dress.

My breathing was suddenly far too loud in my own ears.

“If you expect me to be faithful, however –” He let his words trail off as his lips found my neck.

I gasped and put a hand on his chest. His skin was hot against my palm. “Angel. Stop.”

“What are you worried about, huh?” He squeezed me gently, brushing a kiss over my pulse point. “I’ve never gotten any complaints about being a selfish lover.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I doubt even if a woman had a complaint about that, she wouldn’t say it out loud.”

“Emma.”

My name rolling off his tongue should not be hot.

Especially in that tone, like he was barely holding back how annoyed he was with me.

“I’m not worried about you not being good,” I said, biting my lip when he nipped at my skin.

Something so simple should not feel that damn good. “I’m worried that I won’t be.”

One hand let go of my waist so that he could grab my chin. He applied a little pressure, and I was suddenly drowning in the dark of his eyes. “I’m not sure if you’re insulting yourself or calling me some kind of man-whore,” he said. “I don’t like either option.”

I tried to shake off his fingers, but he tightened his hold, practically forcing me to bare my throat for him.

It was too vulnerable. The survival part of my brain kicked in hard, and it was screaming at me to run away from this predator creature who had me trapped.

“I’ve never done anything like this before. ”

His gaze darkened. It was the same intensity that I saw in the club, but now he was trained on me.

I throbbed between my thighs, and I squirmed in his grasp.

What the fuck? What was wrong with me? I shouldn’t want him like this.

“You never what, Emma?” he asked. His voice was low and predatory, but he wasn’t threatening me.

He was toying with me, like a cat with a mouse.

I shouldn’t have found it as exciting as I did.

“I’m a virgin,” I whispered.

Angel stilled. I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. “No one has ever touched you?” I shook my head slowly. “Why?”

How could I explain that taking care of my mother took precedence?

That by the time she was gone, I hadn’t had any desire to let anyone touch me, romantically or otherwise?

Flirting might have been fun, and I had gone on a few dates, but no one I wanted to get close to.

“I didn’t want them to touch me,” I finally said.

Angel looked far too pleased at that. “What about me?” he asked. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Are you —?” I swallowed. “Are you going to hurt me?”

He stared at me for a heartbeat. Two. Then, he shook his head. “I’ll do my best not to.”