Chapter 7:

MYA

TIT FOR TAT

I stared at the unfamiliar room, disoriented, before everything that happened the previous day came rushing back.

The wedding. The running. The almost becoming a whore. Angelo.

I sat up, my hands instinctively flying to my body. I checked between my legs, my clothes. Everything seemed intact. My dress wasn’t torn, and there was no pain, no soreness between my legs. That was good, I guess.

I clutched the blanket, I was utterly confused. Was this really the same man everyone feared? The man with a reputation so terrifying even my brothers, who thought they were invincible, trembled at the mere mention of his name?

Maybe he was toying with me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Maybe last night had been a show of restraint so he could enjoy watching me squirm before pouncing when I least expected it.

The thought sent shivers down my spine.

I pushed the covers aside and slipped out of bed, my feet touching the cool floor. I made my way to the adjoining bathroom. Inside, I turned on the shower and let the water run down my body.

“You’re too young for me.” His words were replaying in my head.

Too young?

I didn’t know his exact age, but I knew he was over thirty. My fingers tightened around the sponge as I scrubbed my skin, trying to make sense of his behaviour. Everyone said Angelo was ruthless, a monster, someone who didn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who crossed him. So why had he let me go last night?

I shook my head, water dripping down my face. It didn’t make sense. And worse, I had no idea what to expect from him today.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, I felt chilly and scared. I dried off quickly and went to the wardrobe. A large box sat on the floor, was already open. I frowned as I knelt beside it, sifting through the contents.

The clothes inside made me curse under my breath.

Flimsy. Cheap. Inappropriate.

One of my brothers paid one of his... Sluts to shop for me. My cheeks burned as I held up a stupid dress, quickly dropping it back into the box. Most of the outfits weren’t even wearable in public. It was basically just strings and net.

I sighed and settled on a simple black skirt that reached mid-thigh and a cropped top that at least covered me decently compared to the other options. It wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t go around the house in a towel.

My reflection in the mirror didn’t help my nerves. The skirt clung to my hips, and the top revealed at last half of my stomach. I looked... I didn’t want to think about how I looked.

“Just get through today,” I whispered to myself, running a hand through my damp hair.

I stepped out of the room, my heart pounding as I made my way downstairs. I was really praying that Angelo wouldn’t be home. I didn’t know how to face him, didn’t know what to say if he asked why I’d run.

But, of course, he was there. My stupid luck.

He sat in the living room, leaning back on the couch with a remote in his hand. It would be nice to see that my husband was watching me on TV if it was under normal circumstances and I wasn’t scared of the man I was married to or had a bounty on my head and was being accused of murder.

My stomach twisted painfully as his eyes flicked up to meet mine.

“Come here,” he said, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated but I knew better than to be disobedient. I walked slowly, my hands clenched into fists at my sides as if I could anything.

When I stopped a few feet from him, his eyes swept over me, taking in my outfit. His expression hardened.

“What is this?” he asked, gesturing at me with a slight frown.

Heat rushed to my face, and I instinctively tugged the hem of my skirt, though it didn’t make much of a difference. “It’s, um, the most decent outfit I have,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s decent?”

I nodded quickly, fumbling for an explanation. “I—I wasn’t the one who packed my belongings. One of my brother’s... acquaintances handled it.”

His frown deepened. “An acquaintance,” he repeated flatly, his tone laced with disbelief.

“Yes,” I mumbled, my face burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t have any say in what they brought.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me as if trying to decide whether I was telling the truth. Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Sit down,” he ordered, pointing to a chair across from him.

I obeyed quickly.

“Thank you,” I blurted out suddenly, the words tumbling from my lips.

His brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For... last night,” I said, my voice faltering. “For not touching me. And for helping me.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at me. “Let’s get one thing clear,” he said slowly, his voice firm. “I was never going to touch you. Do you understand?”

I blinked, startled by his bluntness. Why did he make it sound like I was unpleasant or something?

“To me, you’re a child,” he continued. “If I had known your age beforehand, I wouldn’t have gone through with the wedding.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel about the words he just said to me. A child? My brothers had always called me a grown woman, a capable adult who could handle herself. But to Angelo, I was just a child.

He leaned back, watching my reaction carefully. “I’m supposed to annul this marriage today,” he said, his tone calm but unyielding. “That was the plan.”

“But,” he said, his voice growing colder, “you’ve managed to get yourself involved in a mess that’s very dangerous.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting into knots.

“And even though every instinct I have is telling me to leave you to deal with it on your own,” he went on, his eyes narrowing, “something is stopping me.”

His words shocked me, and I stared at him, unable to hide my disbelief. Angelo—the ruthless, feared mafia lord—was considering helping me?

Before I could speak, he held up a hand. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said sharply. “There’s more you need to hear.”

I nodded silently, my fingers tightening around the hem of my skirt.

He sat back, his expression unreadable. “The man you killed,” he began, his voice low, “was a retired clan leader. He was a rival of my father’s, so in a way, you did me a favour.”

I stared at him, my mind racing to process what he was saying.

“But,” he continued, his tone hardening, “that doesn’t change the fact that by marrying you, I’d be declaring war.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“If I marry you publicly,” he said, his eyes boring into mine, “it’s a direct challenge to anyone who wants you dead. They’ll have to go through me to get to you.”

This wasn’t the time but that made me blush a little.

“And I don’t do favours without expecting something in return, especially not one this big.”

My stomach sank, and I looked down at my lap. What could I possibly offer him? I had nothing—no money, no power, no connections. The only thing of value I had was...

I bit my lip, a lump forming in my throat. I had nothing of real value, my brothers made sure of it. If I was hoarding anything of value, I would have made use of it a long time ago. The only thing that I still had and was proud of was my body. I was really grateful that he didn’t take that from me because if he had, he would have left me feeling completely useless.

It’s not that I was eager to give him my body either but it was a good deal. He was going to protect my life. I had nothing to give him in exchange for that that would be worth anything. He was my only hope and come to think of it. It was only logical that I gave my virginity to my husband. He was the one that was going to take it anyway. Right? He was my husband, right? I was trying really hard to make it make sense in my head but I couldn’t.

“Well?” he prompted, his voice sharp. He was running out of patience.

I lifted my head slowly, meeting his gaze. “I... I’ll give you my virginity,” I said softly, my cheeks burning with shame. There was no guessing what would come out of this man’s mouth. He had no filter for his words whatsoever.