Married to the Mafia Boss

Sofia

Dominic pulls me along until I pull away from him and simply keep up. “If you had just listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

“Listen, Princess…”

“Stop calling me princess. I have a fucking name,” I snap at him, sick of his bullshit.

He sighs but doesn’t say anything to me. I walk beside him, “Men! It’s impossible for you to take directions, especially from a woman!”

We weave through the cars in the parking lot, and I point to some in the middle. “Those look reliable if you can break into them.”

He snorts. “We want something a little less conspicuous. This will do.”

He stops outside a rusted sedan. I roll my eyes. “Are you serious?”

He opens the door, which is unlocked, and tosses his things in the back. “Get in or stay here. At this point, I don’t give a fuck.”

I hurry around the car and climb in. I can’t believe the gall of this guy. He needs my father’s help and is treating me like shit.

“Can I at least know where we’re going now?” I ask as he pulls out some wires and starts hot wiring the car.

“Central park,” he says. “Hold onto your hair clip, honey, ’cause this isn’t going to be as smooth as the Land Rover.”

I roll my eyes, he is so lame it isn’t even funny, and his cutesy names for me are wearing me down. The sedan revs to life, and he puts it into gear, pulling out of the parking lot.

Strange noises are coming from the engine almost as soon as we join traffic. “How long until we get there?” I ask, concerned as I spot some smoke coming from the engine.

“About an hour and a half. Why?” he asks.

“I don’t think this car will get us that far,” I say wearily. “There’s smoke coming out the engine.”

Dominic waves a hand. “The owner has been driving like this, so it should be fine. We’ll drive slower and take a little longer to get there.”

I shake my head but settle back and look for my seat belt. There isn’t one. Great! Isn’t this super safe!

After driving for almost twenty minutes, Dominic mutters to himself, “Shit.”

I look over at him. “What is it?”

“Car’s getting a bit hot. We may have to pull over for a bit. I’ll stop at the next gas station and top up the water,” he explains, hitting the steering wheel.

“Can’t you just steal a car that isn’t from a thousand years ago and that actually runs?” I ask with a hint of snark in my voice.

Dominic doesn’t look at me. He stares straight ahead, and I think I see his lips move for a moment.

“Are you counting?” I ask with a frown.

“Counting, so I don’t shoot you myself,” he retorts. “Just keep quiet and stop trying to be helpful. You aren’t helping. You’re just irritating me.”

I look out the window. “Fine, see if I offer any more help.”

“That’s the point,” he snaps. “I don’t want you to. Just shut the fuck up.”

I don’t respond, he’s angry, and I don’t know how far he’ll go before he does snap and does something to me. He’ll make sure my body is never found. I don’t have to remind myself that he’s a killer and a good one at that.

While driving, he takes out a phone and dials a number. “Hey, it’s me. I need a car. Can you get one to me?”

I listen, but I can’t determine what the other end’s voice says.

“I’ll send you where you can drop it once I stop,” Dominic says. “Just get it there. I’ll do the rest.”Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

He pauses, and the voice gets slightly raised, so he says, “They attacked me, I just… took them out. They’re the ones doing this in public, Alessandro.”

I look at him, confused. Is he getting into trouble for shooting those men? I frown, I know he had to do it to save us, but clearly, someone isn’t happy we just left the bodies there.

“I know, I know. I’ll clean it up once I’ve delivered her. Just relax. I’ll speak to you later.” He hangs up and tosses the phone to me. I catch it.

“Take the sim card out,” he explains. “And break it in half and toss it out the window.”

I start to open the phone. “Why?”

“So they can’t track us,” he says. I break the sim card in half, which is really hard because it’s small, then roll down the window and toss it out. As I finish rolling the window up, the lever for the window comes off in my hand. “This is seriously a piece of junk.”

Dominic shakes his head. “Please stop whining.”

There is a spluttering sound from the front of the car, and Dominic and I look at each other.

“I’m not trying to be helpful. I’m just pointing out the obvious, and it’s obviously not a good sign,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender.

Dominic’s eyebrows knit together, and he growls, “Piece of shit car. Let’s take the next off ramp and find somewhere to stay.”

“I’m really grateful you saved me, but can we also get me some clothes and some food?” I ask. “‘Cause I’m fucking hungry, and your clothes are literally falling off me. Again, I’m super grateful you saved me.”

Dominic mumbles, something I don’t catch, but I don’t ask him what it is. He takes the next turn-off, and I see a sign that says Islandia. I know more or less where we are-about another half an hour or so away from New York City, in a normal car.

Dominic pulls into the parking lot of a casino hotel and gets out. “Let’s check in, grab some food, eat in the room and relax a little.”

I nod. “Sounds like a plan I can go along with,” I say.

Dominic glances at me and then leads me inside the hotel.

“Welcome to Jake’s Fifty-Eight Casino Hotel. Are you checking in?”

“We’d like to book a room,” Dominic says. “Cash. You can book it under Mr. Sam Miller.”

The receptionist’s nails click-clack against the keyboard, “We have a room available on the fourth floor, single bed.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Dominic cuts me off, “That’s fine, we’ll take it.”

After more typing, a payment, and a rather generous tip from Dominic, we walk toward the elevators. The receptionist wanted to get a bit flirty, but to my amusement, Dominic wasn’t having it.

We go to the fourth floor, and in a few minutes, we find our room. Dominic lets me go in first and locks the door behind himself.

“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you,” I protest, looking at the double bed.

“I’ll take the sofa,” he says, pointing to a two-seater in front of a television. “Just don’t snore.”

I offer him a smile, but he doesn’t return it. “I’ll be back in a little while. I’m going to go get some food.”

“Why don’t we just order room service?” I ask. I don’t like the idea of him leaving. Every time he does, we land up running for our lives.

“Because if I go get food, I can scout around and make sure we weren’t followed,” he says shortly. “Now, don’t go anywhere.”