Mafia Wife (Book #2 - Mafia Series)

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Summary

A contractual marriage turned Gabriella Conti into Gabriella De Luca. What was meant to be an easy way out became an all out fake relationship. Now, Gabriella needs to learn how to be a wife to a mafia boss while navigating treacherous waters. Can she fool the family she never knew she had?

Genre:
Romance / Erotica
Author:
Megan Blake
Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
15
Rating:
4.7 16 reviews
Age Rating:
18+

Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to Book 2 ! :)

If you’re new, Book 1 is over here: https://www.inkitt.com/stories/romance/843099

I hope you’ll like this continuation!

***


“Gabby! What about this one?”

Gabriella’s gaze moved up, her previously blurry surroundings focusing in. Vanessa was holding a bridal magazine, showing her an outrageous wedding dress. It was puffy like a cupcake, and big enough that she would never fit in a doorway - not to mention the fact that maybe her nipples would be covered but the rest of her breasts would spill from the top.

“I-hm, I don’t think it’s really me.”

“Come on you could totes pull it off.”

“Something more simple maybe.”

She didn’t want to be doing this. She didn’t care what her wedding dress might look like. WORSE - she didn’t think there would be a wedding dress. The charade they put up in front of Francesco - she thought that was as far as it would go.

But no.

And if that wasn’t enough? The second the wedding was over, he shoved her in the car, forcing her to leave. It seemed he didn’t want her around so that no one could overthrow what happened. The further away, the safest.

Except he hadn’t come back yet - and it had been two days.

Two fucking whole days.

The marriage certificate had arrived bright and early the first morning, but no husband in sight.

She tried to ask about him but was told not to worry about Niccolo. They did however dump a shit load of bridal magazines for her to browse. A big wedding - a fancy wedding to show the world - and invite her unknown family, the Mancini.

Now, she would have to pretend in front of everyone. It was one thing to fake it in front of strangers, but it was a whole other thing to do it in front of the people she loved. Her mother, her brother - her best friend. How would she pull this off?

Plus, why was everyone so fucking excited about this? One look at the room, and one would think these girls were the ones getting married. Suddenly, they were all best buddies, trying to help her, picking stuff out.

Why?

They hadn’t been rude to her before or anything, but they hadn’t made a conscious effort to get to know her. Why now? Was it because she was technically married to Niccolo? Did that give her something she wasn’t aware of? Did it come with a special label?

She hadn’t asked.

She barely asked any questions.

“What about this one?”

The dress was a little simpler. A long tail with lace at the edge of it, a nice corset but see-through sleeves tied it in together. “Sure.”

Vanessa quirked an eyebrow. “Gurl, why do you look like someone shot your puppy? You are Niccolo’s wife. Do ya know how many girls tried to pull that trick and got tossed on their asses? You should be celebrating… using his credit card to order champagne and food! Go shopping. Go wild!”

Ohmygod! Jenna screamed. “We didn’t get to throw her a bridal party! Let’s do her bachelorette!”

“OH TOTALLY!” Vanessa replied, dropping the magazine onto the table, then clapping her hands together in excitement.

A little too much excitement. “I-I don’t know what you think I have, but I sure as heck don’t have his credit card.”

Vanessa tilted her head to the side, her ponytail swinging. “Sweetie, trust me. He didn’t leave his wife here with no means to take care of herself.”

“Vanessa - I don’t think you understand…”

Did anyone tell them it wasn’t a real marriage? Was anyone supposed to know that they were not madly in love? Panic seized her chest, constriction her airways and rendering each breath strenuous. Oh god. Maybe she had to pretend for real-real. Maybe no one could know. What would happen?

Fucking Niccolo.

This was all his fault.

He told her nothing. He didn’t explain a damn thing before he shipped her away, and now she was left scrambling. For now, she would withhold the truth. She would keep the details to herself.

“I don’t understand what?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, you’re right. I’m not used to this yet. I don’t know how it all works.”

It wasn’t really a lie. She had no idea how to do this, she had no idea how to be a wife - especially not in this… world.

Vanessa leaned into her, grabbing her shoulder to squeeze it. “That’s why you’ve got me!”

Oh sure, now that she had a status, she could count on her. Well, she couldn’t spit on the help. It was all she had at the moment. Plus, if she was lucky enough, Vanessa would be more truthful and upfront with her than Niccolo ever was.

“Watch this,” Vanessa added with a smirk.

She hopped to her feet, her pink high heels clinging to the floor as she headed for the doorway. She stuck her head into the hallway, looking left and then right. “TONY!Vanessa pressed her back to the frame, waiting with a smile on her face.

It took a few seconds, but he arrived in view. “What?”

“We need a credit card.”

“Why the hell would I give you a credit card?”

Vanessa flattened her palm to her chest. “Me? No, not for me. It’s for his wife. You mean to tell me that Niccolo isn’t able to provide for his lovely bride?”

Tony’s glance shifted to Gabriella and she barely held his eyes. He was there. He knew what happened. He knew how it went down. Except, the way he was silent was telling her that her initial hunch had been right. They were not supposed to tell people.

“Hm, no. I… hm…” He looked at Gabriella and she frowned. Did he believe she had any kind of answer for him? He had to know she didn’t know anything about anything. He had more information than her.

If he didn’t know how to proceed, she couldn’t give him the answer.

“I-I think there’s a card,” he finally mumbled.

“Good. Girls, we got places to be.”

A loud smack startled everyone in the room. Tony had slapped his hand against the wooden frame, blocking Vanessa from walking out of the room. “I don’t think so,” he said through tight lips. “Gabriella doesn’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because Niccolo said so. She can’t leave until he’s back.”

Of course. So he had spoken to other people. It was with her he didn’t want to have a conversation. Classic.

“Fine,” Vanessa replied before rolling her eyes. “We’ll have our fun here.”

Gabriella didn’t know what it meant, and she didn’t care. At this point, she hoped it was attached to some expensive price tag. Niccolo’s behavior and attitude lately had been worse than ever and if this was a way she could get back at him, she would.

He wanted it to be real, he wanted her to plan a wedding she didn’t give a shit about? Fine. He would pay for everything single thing that came with that.

If he wasn’t happy about that? Well, he could have been here himself to stop it.

Too late.

***


Was this a migraine? It had to be a migraine.

Niccolo pressed his index finger to his forehead, pushing as hard as he could, the skin sinking in around his digit. His head was fucking pounding. He could feel the blood rushing through, the pressure of his brain in his skull - it was painful.

Migraine. That was what it was.

That or the few punches he took to the face.

Even now, the shades of blue were visible around his left eye. Motherfucker sucker-punched him.

The news of his nuptials was not received with much enthusiasm. He hadn’t expected that it would. Some people acted out irrationally, allowing their anger to dictate their actions. Others were more diplomatic about it.

It was done.

Gabriella had been on her way back to his house.

Nothing to be done.

He called bullshit.

If they had been in his shoes, they would have done the exact same thing. The only reason any of them had pretended to be considerate, and respectful was that they were never alone with her. One alone moment between Vincent and Gabriella, and the ending wouldn’t be the same.

He would not apologize for being faster and sneakier than them.

If it meant he got a few bruises, so be it.

Niccolo also knew that the second they were out of that room, those fuckers contacted someone from the Mancini family. They knew Niccolo would take advantage of every second he had, and they were not planning on giving him any opportunities.

Hence why he needed Gabriella to plan a real wedding.

He needed this to be real. Real enough that the Mancini family wouldn’t think they had a way to wedge themselves into their relationship. What better than an extravagant wedding?

Of course, seeds of doubt would be planted by the other families. Word of their quickie wedding would come out. This is why it needed to work, it needed to be an all-out show.

As the car pulled in front of the mansion, a loud thumping and bass echoed through, adding to Niccolo’s growing headache. What the fuck? There was no mistake that it was coming from inside but… why?

He didn’t wait for the driver to open the door - instead, he pushed it open himself. The sounds were louder from the outside. Someone was blasting music. Who the fuck would throw a party - when he was gone?

Niccolo took long strides, marching towards the door with heavy footsteps, leaving dents into the wet ground. He hadn’t reached the front door yet that Tony slid in front of him.

“What the hell is going on in there?”

Tony’s eyes shifted downwards, his lips rolled inwards as he swallowed hard. “I- it’s the girls.”

“The girls?” he asked as one of his eyebrows shot up.

“Gabriella - and the others…”

“And what are the girls doing?”

“A bachelorette party?”

“A what now?”

“You see- they asked - they were… planning the wedding…”

“Move out of my way,” Niccolo interrupted as he pushed him to the side. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

He winced as he walked in, the assault on his ears becoming unbearable. If only that was the worst of it. A lot of people were bouncing, and dancing in the hallways, and one look at their glossy eyes and uncontrolled motions was enough to know that there was more than alcohol flowing.

Motherfuckers.

He had his share of parties, and he had tried a few fun items himself but - he wasn’t present. They couldn’t use his house as they pleased and now was no time to be reckless. Niccolo didn’t trust a soul, and he had a feeling the news of his recent nuptials had already reached the Devil.

They had to be careful - very careful.

He pushed through people, shoulder-checking a few of them. Some didn’t care and others realized who he was before they got upset. Smart move. His eyes scanned every head, waiting for her to come into view.

Chug, chug, chug, chug!

Niccolo headed for the location of the cheering, finding himself in the common room. There was a crowd forming a circle, and from on top of their heads, he could see an upside bottle of champagne - a very expensive bottle of champagne.

Yeah, he had found her alright.

He pushed people to the side, breaking the circle, and as his view cleared up, he saw her. She was there, kneeling on the ground, her messy blond hair wrapped up in a ponytail, as Vanessa poured the champagne into her mouth from high above.

It was chaos.

Half of it was landing in her mouth, the rest was splashing all over the place. She was wearing a lacy white camisole, which was soaked and almost see-through, revealing peeks of her white bra. She wore black shorts, decorated with a flimsy white lacy skirt - though it did nothing to hide anything - and she was an erotic version of a bride.

Tony hadn’t been kidding about the bachelorette part. Even if a bachelorette party should have been before they got hitched.

Her makeup was smudged, and she was giggling, forcing more champagne to spill from her red-painted lips. Sometimes, he forgot her age, he forgot that before all this, she was a normal university student.

For the first time, she looked the part.

Carefree, foolish.

No stress, no fear from the kidnapping.

Just Gabby.

His chest tightened for a beat, and then he shook his head. She was trashed - they all were.

The chanting of Gabriella’s name continued until the champagne was empty, the last drops landing on her nose. Once it was over, she stumbled to her feet, her fists high up in the air as if she had achieved a grandiose event.

She toppled from the tip of her toes to the back of her heels, unable to hold still as a fit of giggles wrack through her body. Oh boy. Trash wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe what she was.

As she giggled at herself, her gaze moved across the room, cheering with everyone. Until her eyes landed on him. She hopped where she stood and pointed a finger at him. NICCOLO IS HERE!”

She ran in his direction and before he could blink, she smashed into him, ready to crumble unto the ground. His arms snaked around her waist, holding her up and compensating for her wobbly legs.

“You’re not su-supposed to be here,” she slurred as she poked him in the chest.

She frowned at him, completely disregarding the fact that she would have face-planted into the ground if it were not for him.

“I’m not supposed to be in my own house?” he asked, his hands gliding down until he was digging his fingers into her hips.

Nope, no husband allowed for the bachelorette.”

“Is that so?”

“Vanessa said so.”

“Vanessa huh?”

He moved Gabriella to the side a bit, glancing at Vanessa who gave him a sheepish smile. She knew better.

“Tough luck sweetheart because I ain’t going nowhere.”

“Ther-there were strippers.”

“Strippers?”

“They left. Vanessa said you wouldn’t like it.”

He chuckled; how could he be mad when she was so drunkenly and bluntly honest. This Gabriella was fun. “She’s not wrong.”

“It’s not real though,” she whispered near his lips.

It wasn’t, no.

“But it’s a secret, you can’t tell.”

“I wasn’t gonna princess.” He tried to search her face, but she avoided his eyes. “Is drinking all you did?”

She nodded sloppily, her head bouncing in every direction. “Some of the girls- though- they-“ She paused, her eyes narrowed before she bopped Niccolo’s nose with her index finger. “Yoooou knoooooow.”

Oh, he did.

“Not you?” It was one thing for her to drink, it was another for her to venture down the drug route.

“Nuh-uh. I’m a good girl.”

He chuckled before dipping his head forward, brushing his nose up against her jawline. “Are you now?”

In answer, her body pressed against his, even more, her breasts digging into his pectorals. “I don’t-I don’t like you. You’re m-m-mean” she protested while not attempting to move away from him.

She smelled good. He liked her feisty, he liked her mad.

But.

Drunk, she’s drunk, he reminded himself.

He didn’t touch drunk girls - not even the ones he was married to.

Married. He was fucking married.

It wasn’t real, but it was.

“Gimme that,” he gestured to an open bottle on the table near him.

Vanessa happily hopped to it and handed it to Niccolo. He took it and brought the neck to his lips, downing a lot of it in his mouth.

He did need a fucking drink after all.

***


Hot.

So hot. So sweaty.

Gabriella ran her tongue over her top lip but cringed as it felt like sandpaper was going over the sensitive membrane. It didn’t help that her tongue felt too big for her mouth. Pasty. She tried to lick around her mouth, but there was no saliva.

Drink. She wanted to drink.

Champagne? No - no more champagne.

Her brain was swimming in her head, everything in front of her jumbled and blurry. Standing was hard. So hard. One foot - then the other. Yes, one and then the other. But no matter how much she willed her brain, the same foot kept going forward.

Other one.

Water.

She wanted water. Cold, cold water.

Gabriella stumbled through the crowd of people, grabbing anything she could find: objects, walls, people. She allowed her half-opened eyes to lead her through the maze in front of her until she found a door that was ajar.

She slipped inside, slamming the door shut with her back. She tilted her head back - a loud bang indicating that she had done the gesture a lot harder than she had intended. She waited, but she felt no pain.

Good.

She cracked her eyes open, glancing at her surroundings. A sink. She had found a bathroom. Gabriella launched herself forward, her hands barely catching the sink in time to prevent a heck of a head injury.

Her hands glided across the smooth surface, searching the knobs to turn on the water. When cold water began pouring on her arms, relief washed over her. She would die if she didn’t cool off.

Gabriella splashed her face with the water, cupping it in her jointed hands. She shuddered as goosebumps traveled across her skin. Yes. Again, and again.

“Are you bent over like that for me?”

The sultry, deep, unsteady voice sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. She tilted her head to the side, water dripping from her cheek. Niccolo was standing in front of her, his hand on the handle while he was pressed to the door.

When had he walked in?

His eyes were hooded, a shine covering the blue of his orbs. He looked at her like a prey, a prize. Desirable.

She didn’t move, she didn’t answer.

He walked over to her, his steps unsteady. He had drunk. She had seen him. A lot of bottles. She had a lot of people. What was a lot? It was at least three. Was it three? Vanessa poured a few into her mouth.

Didn’t she?

She tried to straighten up, the water still flowing, but as she arched her back, she bumped into something. Someone. Niccolo’s hands snuck beneath her shirt, palming at the heated skin of her stomach. She arched her back more, leaning into him.

He was bad. He was mean.

He yelled at her when he shouldn’t. He thought he could treat her whichever way he pleased. He shared when he wanted, he allowed her to see and know things when it pleased him.

Him, him, always him.

“Nuh-uh,” she said, shaking her head.

His lips met the crook of her neck and she felt a dampness flood her underwear. His motions were sloppy, probably due to his drunken state, as he trailed the length of her throat with his warm mouth.

Focus.

But ugh. Felt so good.

Asshole. He was an asshole.

Her asshole husband.

Her insides tightened as rough fingers worked their way up, sneaking their way past the barrier of her bra. Her nipples hardened as he pinched one and she held her breath. Her skin was fire, her mind buzzing, swimming in the alcohol, and the desire burning through her blood.

“When was the last time?” he whispered in her ear, the smell of alcohol invading her nose. “Remember when I fucked you, bent over, outside. Ya liked that.”

She did. She shouldn’t have but she did. Niccolo had a way of turning off her mind, rendering her incapable of focusing on anything but the waves of pleasures that he could bring her.

Gabriella tilted her head into him, exposing more of her neck. He took full advantage of her motion, peppering her throat with more kisses. Using his thumb, he drew a circle on her nipple, tugging at the other one.

She was wet.

His hard erection was pressed in her rear while he painstakingly rubbed himself on her with small controlled thrusts. It could be better. She forgot about the cold water, she forgot about the drops dripping down the front of her chest. She was warm.

Everything was hot.

The air she breathed in, his fingers, his lips.

She’d gone so long without sex and now? Now she craved it.

It would feel good. She would feel so fucking good.

But he didn’t deserve it.

But sex.

“Are you wet for me, Gabby?” He lapped at her earlobe and she shivered at the nickname.

One of his hands worked its way down, slipping inside of her shorts and underwear. He dipped one finger inside of her and she bit back a moan.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned. “Such a good girl, always wet and ready for my cock.”

It shouldn’t turn her on.

Yet, it did.

She clenched her inner walls as if that would do something to stop the gush downwards. He chuckled, and she knew he felt it. Her eyes were heavy so heavy. She wanted to close them, she wanted to press her face into the cold counter.

With Niccolo behind her.

She was frustrated. She was mad.

She wanted everything and nothing.

Cold air brought forth relief as he tugged down her shorts, the half-skirt staying put. He dragged the underwear with the shorts, leaving her exposed. He added a second finger inside of her, keeping his pace slow, giving her enough to rile her up, but not enough to bring her to pure pleasure.

Gabriella tried to fight the urge to rock her hips against his motions, to deepen the reach of his fingers. Was she? She couldn’t tell if she was thrusting back, she couldn’t stop if she was.

Felt good.

“Ah!”

The hot tip of his cock was pressed into her entrance as his fingers slipped out. One of his hands was on her hip, stilling her. “Are you sure you don’t wanna?”

So confident, so sure of himself.

Like she was putty in his hands like she was a toy.

She could be in charge.

She shook her head in response and he chuckled. “No, you’re not sure?”

Gabriella shook her head again.

He pushed inside of her and she moaned against her will. Oh god. Yes! YES! As he was half inside, teasing her, dragging out the moment, she tried to will her brain to remember the plan.

The plan.

THE PLAN.

Focus. Focus.

His strokes picked up as he plunged in deeper and deeper each time, dissolving her resolve with each stroke.

You can do it.

And she did it.

She slammed her hips forward, forcing him out of her. Regret weighed heavy on her chest, butterflies filling her stomach as she spun around, the whole room joining her in the motion.

Actually, I’m good.”

She pressed her hand on his chest, giving him a small push. It did nothing. Still, his eyes were wide open, her jaw slacked as he looked at her.

Good.

She resisted the urge to rub her legs together, hoping to relieve some of the tension. It was payback but it sucked for her too. Ugh. She wanted it.

No. No. Bad Gabby.

Get out.

And she did.

She clumsily closed the door behind her, the latch never clicking. She had to get back to the crowd. She smoothened her semi-wet hair, tumbling down the hallway, a giggle erupting from her chest.

Happy wife, happy life right?

Well, a sexually-frustrated husband made for a happy wife.

She might pay for that in the morning but - worth it.

Welcome to married life, Niccolo.

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