Predestined for the mafia boss

Our marriage

Lyana

I need to hold my breath to keep my legs firm when I feel the warm touch of the satin fabric. I still don't quite understand my feeling of disappointment after his words.

I’m guided towards his car, before Dad gets in the way I open a smile that calms him down, and we talk about it. The conditions of what I need to live to achieve revenge against my mother’s death.

On the one hand, I admit to being a little grateful for being a familiar face, but at the same time, I am lost amid these contradictions. Yurich makes sure to open the car door dismissing the driver who just accepts the order, his brother behind us carries a ladino smile when making a call, I imagine he will request the car itself.

Oh my good God let even within this madness we live as two "normal" people

I get into the car after the little prayer without losing the sparkle in his eyes, put on the seat belt, and grab the small bag as if it were my true salvation. Soon I will return to that dark mansion, I shudder with these thoughts.

"Are you cold?" The hoarse voice too close attracts my attention.

When I turn my face I am caught by the sight of red and full lips, marked by the closed beard that grew more in the last month. Did he catch himself thinking of me as much as I thought of him?

"Lyana?" gets my attention again.

"Oh sorry, I’m not cold," I answer another question by adjusting my posture to impose a distance between us.

I look outside through the windshield and see that Nureyev’s car is the first to leave with the soldiers accompanying him in another car, my father takes a little longer to get into his but soon does.

I feel the warm touch against my skin, plucking a low groan of contentment the woody scent invades each of the olfactory receptors causing the memory of that tight hug in the middle of the snow to return with everything.

"It’s not what it looks like." Finally hits.

Talking hoarse against my ear and sweating the suit behind my back without caring about the seat belt. I pass my tongue to wet my lips, feeling the pulse in the lower abdomen.

"Thank you for that," I murmur.

Finally creating a little courage I can look at him from the corner of my eyes, he closes his belt and starts the car with a singing smile, so libertine.

"No need to thank you for doing the least, in a little while you will be my wife," she says firmly.

At that moment I check the street seeing that the soldiers go in front and then behind comes the car of my father and his men, ready to undo this agreement at the slightest sign.

"Sir."

He holds up his hand, interrupting me, swallowing dry.

"Yurich, for you always Yurich" he looks back at mine when the signal closes.

I inspire and release the air seeking control to organize thoughts clearly before this version full of charm him.

"Yurich, we’re going to sign a marriage contract it’s not like I’m expecting you to change your whole life when I’m not willing to change mine." I declare.

The next silence becomes uncomfortable, his features close back to the same empty expression he carried when talking to my father at the dinner table. I bite my lower lip too nervous to say anything, as I watch the streets lit up with people outside the war that surrounds us. When the car stops I’m about to open the door to impose a distance between us but I feel the warm touch gently pulling my chin.

"If you don’t want to have a real wedding start by stopping biting your lip." Her warm gaze makes the butterflies roll around inside me.

"What do you mean?" I question

The thumb reaches my lower lip pulling him tracing an imaginary line in the outline, a sigh instigated by touch.

"Every time you bite your lips like that I feel like sucking every piece of your body until you beg to be my real wife." He pronounces his voice getting rougher still.

Shaken too much by the words I end up looking at his lips, the smile half open and the closeness between us ignites my lower abdomen.

Why does the danger of having Yurich turn me on so much?

"Let’s go before your father decides to break the car"

I leave the blinking torpor I see him getting out of the car faster than I would like and coming back to open the car door, I lift my gaze meeting with him as I accept the outstretched hand. I walk forward entering the courthouse with his hand firmly on my back.

Dad watches everything with the gaze of an eagle.

As we enter the place I notice that everything is closed or should be, until Nureyev appears showing us the way to an open door. The man with a few good years of age expressed in the wrinkles that mark the features, worry, and fear that he carries appears in each tremor of the hands while opening a huge book.

Yurich extends the briefcase with the contract to the man.

"I want the contract to be registered"

The notary nods in agreement seeking some stamps, and preparing the parts for it to be signed, I’m sure he wants to get rid of the criminals who threatened him to come and perform a wedding so late at night.

"The signature of the witnesses" The trembling voice of the man finally pronounces something.

My father and Nureyev stepped forward, they signed the terms.

"The bride and groom’s signature" he declares.

With trembling hands accepting the pen, I step forward finally feeling the reality hitting my face. I’m marrying the same man who a month ago was able to kidnap me, the same man who was ripping off another man’s fingers for no reason.

His fierce gaze at that moment seemed to be beastly, now, as he looked over his shoulder, I met a dense forest full of secrets. I breathe in and out slowly remembering why I’m doing it. I sign the papers lifting the body then to meet with Yurich without looking away he signs the documents.

I just signed a contract with the Mafioso.

"I wish happiness to the couple." The old man closes the book as if he were hitting the hammer of fate.

Organizing all the papers leaves the room leaving only us.

"Shall we go home?" Yurich asks me.

"I need clothes." I try the first excuse that pops into my mind.

"Don’t worry about it I’ll send some soldiers, the most important thing now is to keep my wife safe."

"I wish I didn’t have to, though, agree with my son-in-law," Dad pronounces the word with such disgust that I see the glow of hatred passing in Yurich’s face.

"We’ll let the couple go organize the house while we work we’re all family," Nureyev speaks sarcastically.

His ironic smile is terrible but it’s enough to attract my father’s attention. Nodding in agreement accepting the hand that Yurich extends, we left inside the registry office holding hands.

When we stopped on the sidewalk the sound of tires dragging against the asphalt was the only thing I could hear before the shooting and blinding pain hit my mind, Yurich’s screams mixed with the sight of his eyes full of worry as I tried to stay alert, with the feeling of losing blood.