Chapter 13
ANDREA
I’m blind with rage as I run to Hudson. I hate how fucking calm he looks. What, he can handle this? Then he should handle this knife on his throat!
When I get close to him, still relaxed in his chair–as if I pose no threat to him whatsoever–he leans to the left at the last moment, making me lose my balance and embarrassingly stumble into him. He mutters a harsh curse as he grabs my arms and pulls me onto his lap.
I growl angrily at how easily he out-maneuvered me. Alex should have taught me how to fight with a knife too! With one of Hudson’s arms around my torso, his other hand crushes the one of mine still holding the knife. I’m so shocked at the pain, not really expecting him to hurt me, and the knife clatters to the floor.
He pulls both of my arms behind my back and clamps them together with one of his, completely immobilizing me. The pain of being pulled back keeps me from sliding off him. I consider head butting him, but he must recognize the look of destruction in my eyes because he pulls my arms back, causing a cry to escape my lips and effectively pressing my breasts into the air in front of his smug face. I buck and twist, trying to escape, but he’s too strong.
“Surrender, pet. I’ve got you far out strengthened,” he murmurs silkily into my ear. I see my opportunity and bite his earlobe, hard. He’s clearly shocked because he jerks away, but the motherfucker laughs. His dismissal of my strength–or lack thereof–sends my anger spiraling; and I fight even harder, panting from the exertion. Sweat drips down my spine. Hudson curses again and shoves me down onto his lap; this action does one thing only: press his hard cock between my spread thighs. Lust bolts through my entire body like lightning, blindsiding me.
“That’s it, pet. Stay still and know your master.” His one hand still holds my wrists tightly behind my back, but he’s loosened the hold, so I’m not in constant pain. He runs his free hand through my hair gently, kneading my scalp until stars explode behind my closed eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs softly.
He goes still, and I drop my head back in what I think is a silent groan. Please tell me he didn’t hear that. The last thing his ego needs is reassurance that I’m enjoying his touch. He leans forward and runs his nose up the length of my throat. “I know you trust me, pet, when you expose yourself to me like this.” His hand continues its movement in my hair. He adjusts himself until his cock is pressing directly on my clit.
He grinds his hips into me. ”Ugghhh,” I groan into the desk, unable to stop myself from shifting my own hips, desperate for more friction. Yes, the line between anger and lust seems to be thinner than the line between hate and love.
His hand forms a fist in my hair; he releases my hands so he can grab my waist with his now free hand. I start moving on his lap. Call me a hypocrite, but my willpower is low when I’m on the verge of an orgasm. He makes a habit of taking anything and anyone he wants, so right now I’m going to indulge myself and take what I need…and what only he seems to be able to give me lately.
“You like that, pet?” he asks, voice gravelly as he pushes my hips down onto him. “Try to kill me all you want, baby. I’m not going to retaliate, but I’ll do my best to make you fucking see God. Now ride me until you get what you so clearly need.”
His words are combined with that deep raspy voice, the tight pressure of his hand in my hair, and the grip on my waist. The insistent stroke of his cock overwhelms me, and I wail his name as I come. He grinds me through my orgasm, prolonging it.
As I come down from my high, I realize that he’s still hard against me. I press my breasts against him and feel him exhale against my neck. I soon realize what I’m doing.
Fuck.
I scramble off his lap and wobble on my feet. Hudson grabs my arms to steady me. “It’s a good thing this room is soundproof, or I’d have to explain to my men why my wife-to-be screamed another man’s name while I made her come.” He winks at me.
I just blink at him incomprehensibly, but my cheek heats as his words sink in. I can’t believe that I just let him do that while we’re both still fully clothed like a couple of kids. There’s a soft knock on the door, and I jump back, startled.
“Ah, that’s Walker with your coffee, pet. But you don’t need it anymore do you?” he asks, staring at me shrewdly. I turn my back and slowly finger comb my hair, but it’s useless. My hair is too long and straight for finger combing to do anything to smooth out the knots his fist wrecked there. I pat my cheeks as I go back to my seat and resign to one of his men seeing me like this. My soaked panties stick to my core as I sit down and wince.
Hudson’s green eyes darken as he stares at me. “You look well and thoroughly fucked,” he says proudly. “Darned if I want anyone else to see you like this.” Before I can understand what he’s saying, he walks to the door and opens it just enough for him to accept the mug from whoever’s outside. Then he shuts it.
“You’ll meet Walker later when you’re more put together,” he tells me as he hands me the steaming mug of delicious-smelling coffee. I’m immensely grateful that he didn’t make me meet the man now. I might just have died of embarrassment. This man just kidnapped me less than a week ago. In fact, he told me a few minutes ago that he fully intends to go through with his threat to hurt my brother, so how could I just let him do that to me? What does that make me?
I hold the mug with two hands and drink the steaming nectar of the gods. Any tension left in my body melts as I sigh, my eyes sliding closed as I shudder. Ah, coffee, my old friend. When I open my eyes again, Hudson is watching me. He is always watching me.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you.” I murmur, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Are you embarrassed right now?” he asks and I shrug. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, pet. We’re engaged; people in our position do more, no? I won’t have my fiancée getting sexually frustrated. I’m at your disposal anytime you need to release those pent-up frustrations.”
I finally glance up at him and brush off his crass offer, “Ours isn’t exactly the normal situation of an engaged couple,” I point out, to which he shrugs dismissively.
“Do you want to talk more about the engagement, or should we pick it up later?”
I’d rather be alone to dissect everything that just happened, but isn’t prolonged contact just the thing to dissipate my embarrassment? I nod. “Yes, I’d like to talk about the details too and rules…if there are any.”
“Basically, a few of the elders in the family think it’s time for me to take a bride. They told me a week before I had secured you that I have two months to choose a wife myself or they would arrange one for me.”
I frown at him. “You’re the head of the family, no? I’d think they’d be too scared to give you an ultimatum.”
He sighs heavily and offers, “As much as I hate it, there is politics even in the mafia. I’m the head of the outfit, yes, but the heads of the family are the advisors and capos for the previous don; as such they have sway over the people in their jurisdiction. A word from them is not enough to get me out of my position, but enough to make things incredibly difficult for me.”
“Difficult, how?”
“The guys have no choice but to obey me since I’m their boss, but they could create a hitch in communication. If I’m unable to reach them, they won’t have to disobey a direct order. Do you follow?”
I nod in response. “Kinda like when I turn off my phone if I plan to miss a Sunday dinner at home. I have no choice but to go if either of my parents call me, but it’s another thing entirely if they can’t get a hold of me.”
“Exactly.”
“Wait. Does that mean that this is a life sentence?” My jaw drops. I’ve given a lot of thought to my marriage, especially since my brothers have found their significant others. Not once did I ever think I’d be kidnapped to marry a mob boss.
The reason I left Beaufort Construction behind to start my bar is because I didn’t want to be involved in a life of crime, no matter how mild. Crime is still crime. Not that I’m so deluded to think that my brothers haven’t snuffed out a life before; but still nothing they did could ever be as bad as the fucking mafia.
He pauses for a moment before answering, “I don’t want to be shackled into a lifetime of having to watch my back because my wife might be plotting to kill me, either.”
His response gives me pause. It’s not a direct yes or no, but what other wife would be plotting to kill him except for the one he had kidnapped? “You don’t have a habit of kidnapping women and threatening them to marry you, do you?”
His amused laughter reassures me a little more than necessary. I shake my head. It”s crazy to feel relieved that I’m his first stolen bride.
“Trust me, I don’t go around kidnapping women. You’re the first.”
“Good for you,” I snap. “Now, back to the rules. How long do you expect this marriage to last?”
“A year?” He shrugs.
“A year!” I jump to my feet and as my thighs rub against each other. I’m reminded of the mess between my legs. My face starts to heat up. “Do you have a restroom here? I need to pee,” I lie.
He points at a door and I rush to it. I lock it behind me, then face the medium-size bathroom. There’s a shower, toilet, and a single sink with an oval mirror above it.
I take off my pants, then my panties. After cleaning myself quickly with a wad of toilet paper, I consider tossing my panties in the toilet with it. It likely won’t flush. I sigh, then roll them up and tuck them into my pocket. I pull my pants back on, feeling a little weird going pantyless… but oh well. I flush the toilet and wash my hands in the sink. Feeling marginally better, I leave the bathroom.
“A year of marriage, don’t you think that’s too long?” I demand as I walk back to my chair.
“You think we can get away with a marriage of less than a year? In case you weren’t aware, marriage is something those of us in the mafia take very seriously. Then, after a year, you’ll go on holiday, where your car will explode and you will die.”
My heart skips a beat. “What?”
“There’s no divorce in the mafia.” Hudson flashes his teeth at me. I raise a hand to rub my temple, where a migraine is starting to make itself known. “Becoming a widower is my only option,” he asserts
“But they’re going to know me as Andrea Beaufort, aren’t they? So if I die–”
“Unfortunately, you will have to take on a new identity because you won’t be able to continue living as a dead woman, or you’ll likely find yourself truly dead.”
“This is starting to seem more and more unpleasant. There are way more cons than pros,” I complain. “I don’t think I can take much more of this.”
He shrugs. “What you can take depends on how much your brother’s life is worth to you.”
I stiffen, reminded of the reason I agreed to this in the first place. damn it, not only Ezra’s life would be at risk if his secret got out. Corner, meet Andrea, your new friend. My hands form fist at my sides.