Marrying the Mob Prince

KNOX

I believed in nothing-least of all people.

Even the ones who are supposed to love you.

If Indie thought I’d soften, that I’d one day fall for her, she was mistaken. She was only here because my unholy obsession demanded her and wouldn’t allow me to move on. For some reason, the mental image of her kneeling naked had gripped my cock for months. I could scarcely breathe without a persistent ache behind my ribs. I needed her soft body to yield to mine.

She would open her legs to me. She would willingly crawl under my desk to service me while I worked. Soon, she would wear my ring and she would present her tight, wet cunt when I told her I wanted children. I had to leave a legacy, and Indie was wife material.

I’d dreamed about this.

She was mine.

Finally.

I could start planning for the future. Marriage. Kids. But not until I figured out what happened.

I closed my laptop and glanced at the sleeping Indie. Then I slid off the armchair and approached my bed. She slept on her side, hugging the body pillow.

I slipped into bed beside her.

She’d stripped off my clothes sometime during the night. Her pink-and-brown hair made a halo on the gray pillow. I pulled strands off her cheek, drinking in her curves, her breasts covered by the sheets. She’d warmed the bed, and it invited me closer. I peeled back the covers, revealing silky, tanned skin flecked with moles. I traced them as though mapping stars in a constellation. My head sank into soft clouds, and I blinked.

A vibrating hum startled me.

My neck snapped as I jolted into alertness. I pushed myself into a sitting position and reached for my phone. Four in the morning. My thumb hovered over the reject button until the name on the screen echoed in my foggy brain-Tony.

I answered in a hush. “Knox.”

His gruff voice crackled through the speaker. “Hey, I took care of your girlfriend’s victim.”

The absurdity of that statement threw me off-center.

I cleared my throat. “Good.”

“How is she?”

I glanced at her. “Still asleep. What about you?”

“I’m heading home to my angry wife. She’s not happy, but what am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, honey. I buried a dead guy instead of feeding our son.'”

I pictured the pint-sized Evie waiting for Tony at their North End triple decker, a screaming newborn in her arms. A twinge of guilt nagged me. She was one of the few in Boston who didn’t loathe me.

I swung my legs out of bed, speaking in an undertone. “There’s a simple solution for that. Tell her who the favor is for.”

Tony grunted.

I headed into the hallway, closing the door behind me. Then I strolled into the kitchen. “Did you find out anything?”

“Nothing. You?”

“His father, Alexei Kozlov, is a first-generation Russian who owns Leon Corporation, an investment and management company. And no, I’ve never done business with them.”

“Did you get another text from the phone?”

I hadn’t checked yet. “I took out the SIM card. I’m assuming your cousin wasn’t any help?”

“Vinny’s never heard of Andrey. Apparently, he’s not Bratva. Look, I have my suspicions, but I’m just as confused as you are.”Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Let’s hear them.”

“Well,” he began, his voice wavering, “I’m no expert, but this struck me as a gang initiation.”

I pressed the phone to my ear, my blood pounding. “There’s no way an oligarch’s son is in a street gang.”

“Then explain the texts.”

I couldn’t, which infuriated me.

“If my hunch is wrong, it was a crime of opportunity.” Tony released a heavy sigh. “If I’m right, someone else might come by her apartment. To take care of things. You know what I mean?”

Acid burned my throat. “I understand.”

“Do not let her out of your sight.”

“I won’t. Thanks again, T.”

I ended the call, slipping the cell into my pocket. Fuck, I was so tired of thugs. Miserable pricks.

I spent my childhood, what was left of it, anyway, living in a crime-ridden hell where screams lulled me to sleep. I gritted my teeth as my mind replayed images of bikers menacing my old neighborhood. They robbed us. Beat up elderly men. They pumped drugs into schools, spreading misery everywhere.

I fucking hated them, and my wrath extended to all gangsters. I only tolerated Tony’s cousin because I needed him for construction permits. Otherwise, he could burn in hell.

I’d find those responsible.

I’d raze the city if I had to.

Thoughts of Kozlov vanished into wisps as Indie popped into the kitchen. She wore my white T-shirt with nothing else; her nipples peaking the translucent cotton redirected all the blood flow to my cock. Hard to maintain a semblance of control when my dick wouldn’t stay down.

“You’re up early. Sleep well?”

“Not really,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “Who were you talking to?”

“None of your concern.”

“It was Tony, right?” She gave me a haughty, wide-eyed look, like a princess glaring at the help. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Sit,” I ground out, pointing at the chair. “Eat.”

Indie pursed her lips, but she obeyed. She slid over the leather barstool, my large T-shirt obscuring most of her red lace panties. She grabbed a croissant from the box of pastries on the counter. She picked at it, glum-faced.

“My assistant needs a list of your measurements. If there’s anything specific you’d like her to pick up-”

“He closed the windows,” she blurted, her eyes sparkling. “He made sure they were shut before attacking me. He didn’t want anyone outside to hear me scream. I thought about that all night.”

My stomach clenched with that disturbing detail. “Don’t dwell on that.”

“Knox, so much about yesterday makes no sense. What’s a guy like him doing in my apartment? It’s just so random. A rich guy’s son doesn’t need to stalk women for sex.” Indie ripped off a piece of croissant and put it in her mouth. “Why not hire a prostitute?”

“Because it wasn’t about sex.”

Indie dropped the pastry and shoved it away. A shudder rippled through her back.

“What did you and Tony talk about?”

I’d assumed that giving her a few details would satiate her curiosity. Apparently, I was wrong. I grasped the skillet where I’d scrambled eggs and tipped some onto her plate. “That’s not something you need to concern yourself with. Eat.”

“I have to know what’s going on.”

“You really don’t.”

Indie got up and grabbed the freshly brewed pot. She set it down hard, and coffee dripped over the glass. “God, does this have to do with you?”

My skin heated as her tone raised with a steely edge. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Oh my God. I’m right, aren’t I? Are you in some kind of trouble with the Mafia?”

What was this obsession with me and the Mafia? I had lunch with Tony one time in public. Ever since then, no one could talk about me without mentioning Tony Costa. Annoying as hell.

“When you’re a man with my considerable talents, you don’t waste your time playing chess with local gangs. Tony Costa and I are friends, nothing more.”

“You don’t have friends.”

The audacity of this girl. She shouldn’t be so willing to challenge me, but I kept forgetting that she’d stabbed a man to death.

I shook my head, forcing a grin.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re like a mouse taking on a pride of lions.”

She seized my arm, and the contact hissed through me like hot steel. Electricity surged through me, slamming into my fingertips. Everybody gave me several feet of personal space…except Indie.

I clenched my fist.

Control.

“Knox,” she began in a patronizing tone, “I have the right to know who is involved and why. What are you doing?”

I flipped her grip so that her soft skin glided under mine. My attention centered on her erect nipples peaking the T-shirt. I imagined lapping the buds until they were fully hard.

“Touching you soothes my desire to fuck your defiant mouth.”

“Don’t you talk to me like that!”

“Now that you’re living in my house, we need to come to an understanding. You will obey me in everything. Satisfying me sexually is your purpose.”

She turned a vivid red. “You don’t get to redefine that!”

“I’m not redefining it, Indie. Just look at how you’re designed. You don’t fully appreciate how beautiful you are. Of the power you hold over men. Even me,” I admitted gravely, not blind to my attraction. “You are the most fuckable woman I’ve ever seen. We pretend we have a higher calling…that we’re put on Earth for something other than breeding, but in reality, all I wonder when I look at you is how your pussy will feel around my cock. How many times can I make you come? What will our children be like?”

She blanched. “That’s because your dick does all your thinking.”

“Indie, bearing my son is your purpose. Nothing else matters.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She ripped from my grasp and stumbled backward.

I planted my hands on my hips. “Do you think we’ll be remembered for our achievements a hundred years from now? No. Pretending otherwise is a waste our time.”

“Your son?” She poured a glass of water, spilling half of it on the counter. “You are really getting ahead of yourself.”

“It’ll happen.”

She slammed the glass down, making even more of a mess. “Assuming I can even get pregnant. That I’ll still have the desire after your ridiculous speech.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“What if I don’t want kids with you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because you’re fucking crazy!”

“I disagree, Indie. I put a great deal of thought into this. It’s the reason I couldn’t let you go. We’re supposed to do this.”

An angry flush moved down her neck like a rash. “You can’t force me to have your kids!”

“When the moment comes, I won’t have to.”

I fingered her trembling chin, watching her cheeks fill with color. My cock pulsed with the need to be buried inside her. It wasn’t much of a conquest to overpower a woman. But to make her want me-that was a challenge. One day, she would be my compliant wife.

Her body already wanted me.

I just needed to align her mind with it.