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December 22 - December 23, 2024
I’m about to beg for my life from the man deemed New York’s most dangerous. A man known for his cruelty and ruthlessness. Cristian Marchetti. The boss of the Marchetti Mafia family. My best friend’s father. My last resort. His name is only spoken in whispers. A silent monster, rarely seen but highly feared.
Cristian glares at me. “I should’ve kicked you out when you asked for help. Now, I have a dead soldier, and my son is over here with a hard dick, wanting to marry you.”
“How many men have you fucked, Natalia?” Those defiant eyes of hers harden as they flash back to mine. “None of your business.” “How many?” She pinches her plump lips together and stays quiet. I raise my voice. “Excuse me?” “Three,” she finally answers. “Good. That’s a short list of men I need to kill.” She winces. “What?” “If you’ve fucked my wife, then you need to die.”
“You won’t find love with me, Natalia, but when you’re mine, I will pleasure you and always make you feel untouchable.”
“Now, I’ll leave it up to my fiancée to decide how she’d like you to be punished for your smart mouth.” He smirks at me in amusement. “My sweet Natalia, how do you want me to deal with Carmela’s disrespect?”
“You’ll see the dress when I walk down the aisle.” I settle my hand on his chest, and even though the weight in the room is heavy, I can’t stop myself from smiling up at him. “And you’d better cry tears of love.” He chuckles. Swear to God, he chuckles.
The urge to tell him I’m not anyone’s is on the tip of my tongue, but it stays there. I don’t want him to stop touching me. Hell, right now, he could tell me I belonged to aliens, and I’d agree so long as he kept touching me.
Natalia is teaching me there’s more to life than being the head of the Marchetti family. I am a father, a son, and soon, a husband. And an Oreo fan, goddammit.
I circle my arms around his neck. “What am I now?” “My weakness,” he answers in seconds.
“You being my weakness doesn’t mean I’m weak everywhere. I will kill anyone who threatens my weakness because I can’t go without it.” “Is that your way of saying you like me?” As soon as those words leave my mouth, I feel immature. He smooths his hand over my jaw as his free hand travels up my thigh. “That’s my way of saying I breathe for you.” I cup my hand over his on my thigh. “What does that even mean?” “It means, sweet Natalia, that even though you’ve done nothing but create chaos in my world, within that chaos, you’ve stolen my soul with those delicate yet reckless hands of yours.” He
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