Married At Gunpoint: The Mafia Boss Chose Me

Riley Collins's POV:

Snapping back to the present, I caught Luca staring at me. There was surprise flickering across his face, but it quickly gave way to something much colder.

"No blood, not a scratch. And for someone who swears she's never touched another man, you sure know how to act the part of a whore." His gaze drifted from my lips to my lap, lingering a little too long on the neckline of my dress. "You should watch yourself, darling. Liars don't last long in this world—and I take real pleasure in making sure of it."

Without waiting for a reply, Luca yanked the door open and stormed out, slamming it behind him. Footsteps sounded outside as someone approached.

"Take Mrs. Black to my suite," he instructed one of his men.

"Whoa, boss. You're married now? But..."

"Yeah, I went through with it." Luca's voice was low and bitter. "That son of a bitch Jackson played me— handed over a fake will. The real one's getting read tomorrow, and I had to be married to keep control of Amercana. I wired his office last night. It was this or hand everything over to a snake."

He gripped his gun so tightly his knuckles paled, eyes blazing with anger.

I sat in the car a moment longer, steadying my breath. I knew the Blacks were trouble, all of them. But my sister was out there somewhere. For her sake, I had to keep going.

When I finally got out, I blinked back tears and swallowed my rage. I followed directions, ignoring the curious stares of the staff, and tried to carry myself with dignity.

It was later, as I sat in the unfamiliar bedroom, that Luca reappeared at the door.

"I've got things to handle. You're staying right here."

"What do you expect from me?" I blurted out, surprised at my own boldness. He stared back, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as if he was wondering if I was really willing to play this part.

"For starters, you'll act like a proper wife. That means no wandering off. If I want you around, you'll show up when I say so." My gaze landed on a heavy vase on the dresser, and for a split second, I pictured smashing it over his head— but I kept my composure.

"You'll keep the house in order, come with me to every business or... less official meeting, and, above all, steer clear of Jackson. Is that understood?"

Drawing in a steady breath, I reminded myself he only responded to power moves and negotiation. I exhaled slowly and stepped closer, keeping my voice steady.

"I can play whatever role you want. All I ask is that you let me see my sister. Please, keep her safe. That's all I need from you, Mr. Black."

He gripped my chin, lifting it so I had to meet his gaze. "Do I really look that old to you? Or did you call Jackson 'Mr. Black' too?"

I pulled away from his touch, swallowing the urge to lash out. Every muscle in my body screamed to fight, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Then tell me—what should I call you?"

He circled around me, moving slowly enough that I could feel the heat of his stare pressing into my skin.

His voice was low, barely more than a growl. "That depends..."

Out of nowhere, his hand landed sharply on me, making me jump and suck in a breath.

"In public, I answer to Luca. I don't care for formalities. But in this house, you call me 'boss.' Understood?"

"Fine. Boss."

The moment Luca disappeared through the doorway and I heard the door click shut, all the rage I'd bottled up came spilling out.

"Arrogant... filthy bastard..." I muttered through clenched teeth, pacing the length of the cold, oversized room. Every inch of the place screamed of Luca—dark, imposing, expensive.

"Call me boss." I mimicked under my breath, jaw locked tight. "Who does he think he is?"

Fury churned inside me. I'd never met anyone like him. Jackson was rotten, but at least he wore his cruelty out in the open. Luca played the gentleman, but the venom was always just beneath the surface. It made him infinitely more dangerous.

I squeezed my face in my hands, forcing myself not to shout. This wasn't the moment to unravel. Emma was counting on me.

Just then, three solid knocks echoed through the room.

"Ma'am?" a deep voice called from the hallway. "The boss left instructions for your duties."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes as I crossed the room to open the door. The man outside wore a crisp black suit and handed over a thick stack of papers, along with a small bottle of pills clipped to the top.

"Just leave it on the table," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady and not let my disgust show.

He offered a flat, "Good luck," and walked off without waiting for a reply.

I closed the door quietly behind him, then made my way to the dark leather armchair, lowering myself with slow caution, half expecting the whole world to collapse beneath me. I sorted through the bundle, my curiosity giving way to disbelief as I read each rule.

Rules and duties for Mrs. Black:

1. Wake up by 6AM. The bed must be made by 6:15. I can't stand walking past a messy room.

2. Only wear what's provided in the closet on the right. You'll get a notice when it's ready.

3. Take the pill attached. I don't want any children. Ever.

4. No animals in the house.

5. Don't touch or ask about the weapons.

6. Be prepared for meetings every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

7. No questions about my work—especially nothing about Jackson.

8. Obey my mother. No arguments. No excuses.

9. Never enter my main room unless I call for you.

10. Don't smile. I hate smiles. Don't smile at me or any man who works for me.

My hands shook as I stared at the last rule. Fury rushed up my throat. With a snarl, I flung the papers across the room, the bottle rolling until it hit the edge of the carpet.

"Don't smile? Is this supposed to be a marriage or some kind of prison?"

I picked up the little bottle and turned it over in my hand, my gaze lingering on it for a long moment. Every detail of this arrangement screamed control—what I wore, when I woke, even if and when I could have a child. He wanted power over every inch of my life, right down to my smile.

But I wasn't some trophy for his shelf. I wasn't going to let him turn me into a puppet.

Moving to the mirror, I traced the cool surface with my fingertips, studying my reflection in the white dress. The symbolism was almost cruel— a picture of innocence in a world where there was none.

"Fine, Luca Black," I whispered, voice steady with resolve. "You'll get your dutiful wife. You'll get your perfect actress. For everyone else's sake. But trust me—someday, you'll pay for all of this."

I straightened up, forced myself to take a deep breath, and pressed down the ache in my chest. Without flinching, I twisted the cap off the bottle and swallowed the pill— not because he ordered it, but because there was no way I'd ever bring a child into this nightmare. Emma still came first.

With new determination, I strode out of the room. The halls felt even more cavernous and cold, every polished surface a reminder of how completely I was trapped.

But I needed a phone. I had to find out about Emma. She was all that mattered now.

Rounding a corner, I nearly collided with an older woman, impeccably dressed and silver-haired.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," I exclaimed, still catching my breath. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

She knitted her brows for a moment, but the smile she offered was gentle.

"It's quite all right, dear. You look a bit shaken, though. Are you sure you're all right?"

I took a shaky breath, debating whether or not I should trust her.

"I... I need to use a phone. It's urgent—I have to call the hospital about my sister."

She studied me for a moment, her eyes searching mine. At last, she nodded.

"There's a telephone at the end of this hallway, right by the stairs. And there's a private line in your room, too. I'm sure Mr. Black wouldn't mind you using it."

The mention of Luca's last name sent a chill through me.

"Actually... I'm not so sure about that. He isn't fond of surprises—and he definitely doesn't like anyone breaking his rules."

Her lips curled in a knowing smile, as if she understood exactly what I meant.

"Thank you," I managed to reply, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'll be quick, I promise."

She guided me down the corridor and pointed to an old rotary phone perched on a dark wooden table.

My hands were trembling as I dialed, each number making my chest feel tighter.

The line rang.

"St. James Hospital, good afternoon."

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.

"Hi. I need information about Emma Collins, please. I'm her sister, Riley."

There was a click on the line, and then—silence.

"Please hold a moment."

The silence on the line stretched, every heartbeat making it harder to breathe. My palms grew clammy, and I pressed the receiver tighter.

"Miss Emma's condition took a turn for the worse this morning. Things have escalated quickly... She'll need surgery very soon, or..."

My knees threatened to give way. I gripped the edge of the dresser for support.

"Or what?" My voice was so faint I almost didn't recognize it.

"If she doesn't have the operation, she may not survive."

Everything around me faded into white noise. I stared at nothing, unable to process the words. My hands were shaking so hard the phone nearly slipped. Tears threatened to spill over.

Trapped in this gilded prison, surrounded by people I couldn't trust, my only family was slipping away.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the wave of panic.

What should I do? Should I beg Luca for help—or risk everything by trying to find Jackson?