Married to the Don - A Mafia Romance

e you?"

arm resting across my leg, the barrel point

his shoulders that he knows exactly who I am. The nervous glancing out the front wind

s," he says in

p out, I've been a little behind. Trust me, I

says. "I had to do what I cou

delivered

t true. Still, I hold his gaze, narrowing my eyes until he looks away. George is

enforcers. They all changed their minds pretty quickly. The only reason George slipped through the cracks was because the prosecution kept his identity

It was under my leadership that a witness finally dared to come forward and testify. No one would ever have con

-he disagreed with me on many different points-but I learned a lot from watching him lead. He delegated everything, sending his

in this matter that intimately involves my brother, I want to be the one to pull the trigger

e says, his voice shakin

n't c

looks tired. "My wife wanted to leave town as soon as I testified

ur mistake,"

ather had still been in charg

told me I'm too weak to be a boss; I don't want to hear it from an ove

ir," he says,

slip slightl

"It's the only reason I kept my family here. Because I

king back down at the floor, and I'm glad. I d

tore, squinting towards the store hours. That sign says it should be o

would have found it unlocked, but he didn'

he yells as he screeches out of the parking lot, in se

e business, but he isn

O

help dry my hair a little bit before we have to head out into the cold. Walking around with frozen, crunchy hair all mornin

run. My shirt also sticks to my skin, but that's because the towel was too wet to do much good drying me off. I pinc

or months, I can't seem to grow comfortable with the arrangement. I always feel like I'm being watched. It's why Theo and I shower so early in the mornings. The first arrivals of the day are still in

mbership fee, however, which we don't have the money for. And showering in full view of other women beats smelling like body odor and diner grease, so I'll take what

nd just in time to see his little face squished in fury as he squeezes a

nd this bottle in one of the showers last week. It's a salon-grade shampoo, way out of our price range and probably left behind by one of the stay-at-home moms after a private Pilates class. Probably one of the same moms who glower whene

und the final "O," emphasizing it in a way that makes it har

cking the bottle into my stained duffel bag. "We