THE MAFIA'S WRONG BRIDE

Chapter3

Aaliyah’s POV

The music reaches its peak in the background, teasing every fabric of my being. It doesn’t help that the one person I hate the most in the entire world is right in front of me, his hands on my waist, and his fingers teasing the exposed skin under my hoodie.

"What makes you think I am going to follow you onto the dance floor, Max?"

His lips quiver in a smirk. “That wasn’t a request.”

I wrap my hands around my frame, putting a small barrier between us. “I am not dancing with you, Max.”

He pulls me impossibly closer to him, his hold on my waist tightening even further. “You might want to consider that, mafia princess. I don’t think your father is exactly pleased you are denying his in-law a dance.”

I am about to scoff when my gaze lands on my father, who is now dancing with Iris. He shakes his head subtly, a stern expression on his face.

One I know all too well.

I have the liberty to refuse, but that only means I will have to be on the next flight back to Rome. I can’t go back. At least, not when I haven’t stopped my sister from getting married to this man.

“Fine. Just one dance.”

A smug look appears on his face as he pulls me with him to the centre of the room, where we will be visible from every corner.

“Do we really have to do this here?” I whisper as his other hand takes mine, outstretched to our right. “Everyone is staring.”

“Let them stare, kid.”

“I hate being the center of attention. It makes me feel so…” The rest of my words die on my tongue as Max suddenly hooks my leg on his, bringing me into a half-dip. I yelp from the abruptness, but it gets lost in the loud music.

He brings me up again, but I barely have the time to catch my breath as he begins a multiple spin that takes me from one end of the room to the other, before pushing me through the middle of his parted legs in a tango slide.

Really? Two can play the game.

"You were saying?" he murmurs as we return to position.

“I know what you are doing, Max,” I shoot at him, the orchestra changing into the opening notes of a tango. The crowd around us fades into nothing.

“Smile.” The smug look on his face is gone, and in its place is an infuriating confidence, heightened by his unreadable eyes. “Now that you’ve got them all staring, make it worth their while.”

"You're lucky I'm not holding a knife," I hiss, allowing him to lower him into a pivot. My right leg slides to the side, and his thigh brushes mine as he places his feet in between. It lasts only for a heartbeat, before we pull apart, snapping with the music.

"Do you even know how to use one?" He breathes, pulling me in again. Our chests touch, and our legs are entwined. We are in perfect sync, a strong lead and a sensual follow, just like I learned in Rome.

Only that I have never danced with someone as skilled as Max.

It burns where his hands touch, and I find a strange heat settling in my core.

“You’ll find out when you have one plunged deep into you.”

He spins me out, my hoodie whipping around me before yanking me flush to his arms again. I can feel his breath at my temple, warm and raging. It strikes a chord within me, and I bite my bottom lip, stifling a moan when his fingers graze my nape.

“Why are you back in New York, Aaliyah?” Max questions, my fingers digging into his shoulders when he dips me low. My hair unravels from its messy bun, spiralling onto the floor in its full length.

The crowd gasps all around us, but Max doesn’t break eye contact.

He pulls me up and lifts me in the air in a smooth swirl before I meet gravity again.

“To stop you from getting married to my sister.”

“You’re too late.”

“Why Iris?” I ask. “You can have practically anyone else. You are the Lord of all the mafia families in New York. You don’t need this alliance.”

Max stops moving as the music slows. Our faces have gotten so close now that all it takes is one tiny move to meet his lips. His warm breath washes over my face, and my eyes flutter close on their own accord.

“Your father has something I want,” he whispers, his gaze moving from my eyes down to my lips and back. “This is how I get it.”

“What does that even mean?” I question exasperatedly, just as the beat of the song makes us crash away from each other.

The heel of my foot drags along the marble as Max spins me in a small circle, one arm on my waist and the other on my shoulder.

And then, just as my feet snap back together, he whispers in my ear. “It means exactly what you want it to.”

I want to slap him, but at the same time, I want him.

What the hell, Aaliyah? This isn’t why you are back

“I just want you to stay away from Iris. You are going to ruin her.” My voice doesn’t hold as much strength as it should, but I hope my eyes communicate how serious I am.

“You are in no place to order me around, kiddo, and just in case you haven’t noticed, Iris is excited to be getting married to me. You can go toss your concern somewhere else. For once, try where it is actually needed.”

And just like that, the world that has faded into oblivion suddenly comes into view. I see Iris approach us from the edge of the floor, a scowl plastered on her face.

She doesn't say a word as she grabs my arms and pulls me off the dance floor.