Chapter 8 Allie
ALLIE
Istir in bed and come awake as Rosie’s little arms and legs smack me in the face.
And this is why co-sleeping is such a nightmare.
She laughs and swats at me as I grumble and pull her into a hug. “Too early,” I grunt, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
The clock says it’s slightly past five in the morning.
Rosie’s always been an early riser.
I groan as she pulls herself up. The room’s dark, though dawn light bleeds around the edges of huge curtains. I work up the courage to pull myself from bed. I have maybe a few minutes before I have to change Rosie’s diaper and start making her breakfast. But I’m exhausted and still a little sleepy.
Which is how I don’t notice the other person in bed until he adjusts himself.
“Oh, shit!” I grab my daughter and leap up. I’m standing on the mattress like an idiot. Mass is there on his pillow, slowly coming awake and looking like a God as he does it. How the hell is this man so stinking attractive even first thing in the morning? “Where did you come from?!”
I jump out of the bed with Rosie in my arms. She doesn’t like that one bit. She wasn’t ready to get up, and she lets me know it by crying. I try to shush her as Mass sits up on an elbow, watching with a curious frown as I pace back and forth.
Rosie eventually calms.
“When did you get into bed?” I ask, glaring at him.
“You mean, when did I get into my own bed?” He glares right back, lips pressed into a hard line.
Okay, the man’s got a point. But I’m not about to acknowledge it.
“You could have… I don’t know… told me!” I back away, shaking my head. “I wasn’t ready for this.”
“Weren’t you?” He stretches languidly, a slight smirk on his lips, and pushes the blankets away. He sits up and my eyes go wide.
He’s almost naked. His body’s covered with a pair of tight boxer briefs and nothing else.
Holy hell, Mass is built. His thighs are like iron studded with veins. His biceps bulge and his chest heaves. I want to bite each one of his ten dozen abs.
I clutch Rosie to my chest and get out of there.
This is insanity. I’m barely holding it together.
At least I find a highchair and plenty of good things for Rosie in the kitchen.
Satya must have brought it for her. There’s also a note left under six ripe bananas.
The guest room is set up for the little one with a very comfortable crib and plenty of plushies.
If she has any preferences, please tell me.
Dial 0 on the phone to reach me at any time. Satya.
“You don’t need a guest room, little girl,” I grumble as I get Rosie set up and start cutting a banana into little pieces. She happily shoves them into her mouth.
“I’d prefer not to sleep with a toddler in my bed.” Mass appears behind me. He’s in a black t-shirt and a pair of tight joggers. It’s only slightly better than the boxer-briefs.
“Like you get a choice. Give me my own room and there won’t be any issues.”
He stares at me flatly. His gaze sends shivers down my spine, and I busy myself cutting more bananas.
“We might need to discuss rules.”
“Oh, really? You have rules for your prisoner too?”
He ignores that comment and starts making coffee. “I prefer cleanliness in my space. I don’t like bringing staff in here if at all possible, which means—”
Rosie throws a banana piece on the floor and cackles to herself. I consider picking it up, but I smile sweetly at my new husband instead. “What were you saying?”
I expect him to be angry. But instead, he simply walks over, cleans up the mess, and places a new piece down for my daughter. The gesture is surprisingly gentle and not at all what I assumed would be a nasty meltdown.
“Neatness. Order. Your place is in my bed. Our daughter’s place—”
“My daughter’s place.”
“Do we need to have this discussion again? That girl is mine.”
“You don’t know that.”
He rubs his temple and glares at me. “I had her tested months ago.”
That strikes me in the gut. I step back and gape at him. “You did what?”
“I didn’t kidnap and marry you on a whim.” He continues making his coffee as if this conversation were normal. “I knew she was mine. I decided you would make an acceptable wife. We spent a good night together—”
“Define good.”
“Good. Adjective. It means I made you come so hard your knees nearly gave out and you lost your voice from screaming.”
My cheeks turn pink, and Rosie babbles happily as she keeps eating. “Okay, we had one acceptable night together. Not exactly a solid foundation for an actual relationship.”
“This wasn’t the whim of some foolish horny idiot. I know your family. I know your background. I know everything about you, Allesandra Russo.” He finishes his coffee and takes a long sip. “You are my wife. That child is my daughter. The sooner you accept it, the better your life will be.”
I meet his stare with defiance while inwardly I feel like I’m falling apart.
Everything is happening so fast. I’m trying to think of a way to survive this without bowing to his every whim and desire and coming up with nothing.
Now that I understand who and what Mass really is, it’s like there’s a noose around my neck.
He’s one of the five most powerful criminals in the entire world.
Men like him only gain that level of power through ruthlessness and viciousness.
If he gets sick of me—worse, if he gets sick of Rosie—I doubt he’d think twice about cutting our throats and tossing our bodies in some godforsaken river.
But I also never asked for this. I don’t want him, and I definitely don’t want to be here.
This is one of those crossroads moments. I can give in to what he wants and make Rosie sleep in the other room, or I can take a stand and let him know that I won’t be a pushover.
The problem is I have no idea how he’ll react.
Maybe he’ll respect me for having a spine.
Or maybe he’ll beat me until I’m bloody and bruised.
It’s not all that uncommon in the mafia world. Everyone acts as though the men treat their women with respect and dignity, but abuse happens. It’s handled quietly, if it’s ever handled at all.
I’m distinctly aware that I’m trapped on an island and surrounded by people loyal to this man.
He can do whatever he wants to me, and there’s nothing to stop him.
Back home, my father and brothers might’ve protected me if something went bad.
But I’m totally alone out here.
I take a deep breath and face my husband.
“Rosie is sleeping in my bed,” I tell him, mustering as much courage as I possibly can.
My legs feel like they’re going to collapse out from under me as he stares back, his gaze like a hand wrapped around my throat.
“Until I’m comfortable, she’s staying close to me at all times. That’s nonnegotiable.”
His head tilts to the side. I think of a raptor studying its prey. There’s no emotion on his face, and I’m terrified of what he’s thinking.
“My daughter is safe in my house. Nothing will hurt her.”
“She’s not your daughter.”
“We can keep arguing the point all you like, but the fact remains. I fucked her into your belly. That little girl is mine.”
“Can you please not talk like that around her?”
His eyes flip to Rosie, and his expression softens. “I’m not used to having children around.”
“She’s starting to repeat things. Unless you want a daughter with a filthy mouth—”
“Like I already have a wife with one.” He glares at me again. I can tell he’s wrestling with this. “You will sleep in my bed. My daughter will sleep in her crib.”
“It’s almost like you didn’t hear what I said.”
His jaw ticks in frustration. I stand my ground, even though every single muscle in my body is tense and screaming at me to run away. I’m a mouse staring down a hungry mountain lion. He’s going to reach out one casual claw and rip me to pieces.
But instead, his phone starts ringing. The noise breaks some of the tension as he quickly picks it up. His conversation is in rapid-fire Italian, and I can only follow about half. Something about a meeting gone wrong and his office. When he hangs up, he finishes his coffee.
“We will address this more later,” he says and starts to walk off.
“Wait a second. What am I supposed to do here all day?”
“That’s for you to decide.”
“Hold on. What are the rules? Am I allowed to leave the apartment? Can I call my family? Check in with friends?”
“Soon I will trust you enough to have access to the internet. But not right now. And as for the Fortress…” He waves a hand vaguely. “You’re my wife. This is my home. You’re free to move around as you please, but only so long as you remain inside.”
“But one day you’ll trust me enough to let me wander around your private island, right?”
“I very much doubt that.”
He walks off. The room feels deeply empty when he’s gone, which is a strange feeling. Silence settles over me and a rush of relief and adrenaline slams into my system.
A big part of me thought he was going to smash my face into the granite counters.
I stood up to him and survived. I didn’t win the war, but at least I scored some points in the battle. I don’t know what this means for Rosie, but I meant what I said.
She stays with me. I’m not letting her out of my sight, not even when we’re sleeping.
When Mass is gone, I sit with my daughter and listen to the quiet of the apartment wrap around us like thick cotton, and I wonder what we’re going to do in this beautiful prison and if we’ll ever see the outside world again.