My Ruthless Mafia Husband

Emma

I woke up to the shrill ringing of my phone. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. My body felt stiff, tangled in the oversized sheets of a bed that wasn’t one that I was used to. The events of last night came crashing back into my head and for a fleeting second, I considered ignoring the call altogether. But then, I saw the name flashing on the screen. It was my cousin; Eleanor.

Sliding out from under the heavy duvet, I sat on the edge of the bed and answered with a raspy, sleepy voice.

“Emma!” Eleanor’s voice exploded in my ear, followed immediately by Isla’s excited giggle.  

“Congratulations!” They shouted in unison, their voices gleeful and carefree.  

Despite myself, I smiled. It had been weeks since I last heard Isla’s voice, and I didn’t realize how much I had missed her until now.  

“Thanks.” I said softly, holding the phone close.  

“Emma, this is a big deal!” Eleanor’s voice was filled with exaggerated drama. “Do you know how many women would kill to be in your shoes? Zane Mendoza! That man is the ‘It Man’. Rich and dangerous, and all. Even the tabloids are losing their minds.”  

I sighed and rolled my eyes before steering the conversation away from my sudden and unwanted marriage.  

“How’s Paris?” I asked.

“It’s amazing!” Isla chirped, her sweet voice bringing warmth to my chest. “We went to the Eiffel Tower yesterday, and Eleanor made me eat snails!”  

I laughed despite myself. “Snails, Isla? Did you like them?”  

“Ew, no!” She said, giggling. “But Eleanor said it’s part of the ‘French experience.’”  

Eleanor’s voice returned, smug and playful. “We’ll be back soon, and we’re coming straight to see you. You can tell us all about your new life over champagne. The type that wealthy folks drink.”  

I laughed at her ridiculous statement. “Can’t wait to see you both.”

“Can’t wait to see you too, big sis!” Isla giggled and my smile wavered slightly at the title she had just called me with. She didn’t know the truth and thought I was her older sister. Telling her the truth about me being her mother was a conversation I wasn’t ready to have yet. At least, not in my one year contract marriage with Zane.

Before I could say more, a loud noise suddenly interrupted us. It was a sharp, cracking noise that caused my entire body to stiffen and the phone nearly slipped from my fingers.  

“What was that?” Eleanor asked sharply.  

“I… I’m not sure,” I stammered, already rising to my feet. “I’ll call you back.”  

Hanging up, I made my way out of the room, my hands gripping the banister as I descended the grand staircase. 

When I reached the foyer, I froze.  

Zane was standing in the center of the room with a cigar between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. He was shirtless, his tattooed torso gleaming under the harsh chandelier light. His other hand gripped a gun, the barrel still smoking.  

On the floor before him was a man, haggard, bloodied, and trembling. A gunshot wound in his leg oozed with blood, staining the expensive tiles beneath him. Surrounding them were Zane’s men, their tattooed arms crossed over broad chests, with their expressions cold and unfriendly.  

“Are you ready to talk?” Zane’s voice was calm but deadly.  

The man on the floor whimpered, clutching his leg. “I’m telling the truth, boss. I swear! The goods were hijacked by Don Carlos’s men at the border. It wasn’t my fault!”  

Zane exhaled a plume of smoke, his expression still calm. For a moment, I thought he might actually believe the man.  

Then, without warning, he fired again.  

The man screamed as the second bullet tore through his other leg.  

My hands flew to my mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape.  

“Let’s try this again.” Zane said, crouching down so he was eye level with the man. “Tell me the truth, or I swear to God, it won’t cost me a thing to end you right here.”  

The man sobbed, his voice breaking. 

“Don Carlos… he threatened my family. He said he’d kill them if I didn’t give him the transportation map. I had no choice!”  

Zane’s jaw tightened, the name Don Carlos clearly struck a nerve inside of him. 

“Carlos, that old bastard.” He muttered under his breath. Then, he hissed at the wounded man. 

“You’re lying. Carlos doesn’t make threats. He makes deals. How much did he pay you?”  

The man shook his head frantically. 

“No, I swear…”

“I’m done with you.” Zane said, standing and raising the gun to the man’s head, ready to end him.

“No!” The word tore from my throat before I could stop it.  

Zane paused and his head snapped toward me. For a moment, our eyes locked, and the tension around him died. 

“Emma.” He called my name softly. Then, biting his bottom lip, he lowered the gun and handed it to one of his men. 

“Take him away.” He ordered and they obeyed at once. Two of the men dragged the bloodied man to his feet and hauled him out.  

Zane turned back to me, his expression still calm. Then, he stubbed out his cigar on a nearby ashtray and strode toward me.  

“Good morning, Mi Reina.” He said smoothly, pressing a kiss to my cheek.  

I flinched, my body still trembling with fear.  

He smirked and pulled back a little, his hand sliding around my waist. 

“Scared of me already, Mrs. Mendoza?”  

“What…” My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, trying again. “What was that?”  

“Business.” He said simply, as if that explained everything.  

I shook my head. “You can’t just…”

“Emma.” His tone was firm but not unkind. “You don’t need to concern yourself with what you saw. It’s my business to handle.” 

Handle it? I scoffed in my head. Is that how causal he valued human life? 

He tilted his head, studying me. “How about breakfast at my favorite restaurant? Go get dressed.”  

Then, without another word, I turned and headed back up the stairs, my legs shaky beneath me.  

A few minutes later, I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the delicate satin dress Zane had sent up for me. It was a soft champagne color, clinging to my curves in a way that made me feel both elegant and exposed. My reflection stared back, my large amber brown eyes uncertain. My hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing my face. I looked put together, but the truth was far from it. My fingers trembled slightly as I adjusted the thin straps of the dress. I clenched them into fists to stop the shaking. 

I didn’t hear the door open at first as I was lost in my thoughts. And then, I saw Zane through the mirror, leaning casually against the doorway, his eyes scanning me from head to toe with an intensity that made my skin prickle. A smirk played on his lips. 

“Why are you taking so long?” He asked as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I like my women obedient, Em.”

I froze as he closed the distance between us in a few strides. His cologne —a mix of musk and danger, made my head spin. His hand brushed my arm, then slid down to my waist. My breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips grazing my ear. 

“You look beautiful.” He murmured, his voice low and almost possessive.

Before I could respond, his hand slipped lower, slipping underneath my dress and I felt his fingers press against the thin fabric of my panties. Heat rushed to my face, my body betraying me as I gasped softly. 

“Zane...” I managed to whisper shakily. 

He didn’t stop. Instead, he nuzzled his head into my neck as he kissed on it gently, causing me to flutter my lashes close as the sweet sensation weakened my resolve. Slowly and gently, he circled his thumb against my panties, my moistness welcoming him. 

But then I forced myself to remember. This wasn’t the carefree man I had known five years ago. This was Zane Mendoza, a completely different man who smoked cigars while shooting people without flinching. A man who held power in the palm of his hand and used it ruthlessly.

“Stop.” I whispered again, reaching down to grab his wrist. He paused, his smirk faltering slightly as he stepped back. 

“You’ve changed.” I said, locking eyes with him. “You’re not the same guy who used to jump the window into my room and laugh at everything. That boy hated commitment and didn’t have a single tattoo. Now you’re… this. A mafia don who doesn’t bat an eye at killing people.”

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze softened just a fraction, but his face remained unreadable. Instead of answering, he knelt down in front of me. I flinched slightly, unsure of what he was doing, until I saw him reach for the strap of my heels. His fingers worked deftly, buckling the strap as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re right.” He said, looking up at me. “I’m not that boy anymore. Back then, I was a fool who didn’t realize your worth. It takes a man to see that you’re gold, Emma. Gold enough to be the only one who could ever bring me to my knees.”

I stared at him, my throat tightening at his words as he stood up again, towering over me again. He reached for my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was so gentle, it made my heart ache. 

“Come on now, Mi Reina. We’re going to be late.”

Oh my god. What had I gotten myself into?