Married At Gunpoint: The Mafia Boss Chose Me

Riley Collins POV:

Any hint of a smile vanished when I walked through the door and spotted Luca inside. He stood with his back to me, slipping off his shoes as if he belonged here—like this place was his private sanctuary instead of my gilded cage.

"Did you lose your way, or are you planning to redecorate my prison?" I stopped just inside the threshold, voice steady.

He didn't even bother to turn, loosening his tie with a slow indifference that set my nerves on edge.

Eventually, he glanced over, calm as ever. "I figured it was obvious. We're married, remember? Married couples share a room. If I ever grow bored, I can always spend the night elsewhere. But tonight, I'll be staying here."

A hollow laugh slipped out. "You call this marriage? That contract was signed with threats and loaded guns, Luca. You put one to my head and locked me up, don't pretend you've forgotten."

He shrugged, a careless motion. "Still counts. My signature's on the paperwork. And this bed's not exactly cramped."

Crossing my arms, I stepped further into the room.

"Then I'll take the floor," I responded, reaching for a blanket.

A quiet, derisive chuckle escaped him. He closed the distance at a lazy pace, the air around him thick with warning. I stayed rooted, but my pulse hammered when he gently pulled the blanket away.

He moved in until there was nowhere left for me to retreat, the wall pressing cold against my back. One hand braced near my head, the other hidden away in his pocket, and I found myself distracted by the warmth of his cologne.

Why did he always have to smell so damn good?

"Are you going to swing at me if I move any closer?" he said in a low voice, leaning in until his breath warmed my cheek. He took his time staring at my mouth and the clean lines of my jaw. He didn't look young. He carried the kind of age that settled around forty. "Or are you going to start begging when I'm inside you again?"

My throat tightened. I despised how easily he could take control with a single look. His body hovered near mine. T he smell of expensive cigarettes, leather, and some cologne he probably knew could get under my skin wrapped around me.

"I liked the way you looked down there. Even with that terrible hood and that awful outfit. Your pussy holds tight around me. Maybe I'll taste your lips next." His whisper brushed my ear as my hand searched for something steady and found the wall.

Nothing stung worse than knowing I actually wanted him. Some reckless urge in me wanted his lips against mine. That would put an end to this twisted back-and-forth. That would let me feel anything besides this fear that had clung to me all day, after everything we'd survived.

He just laughed. The sound cut through the tension. He drew back a step and looked at me with the kind of scorn that made my skin crawl.

"Calm down, princess. Tonight isn't the night."

My fists tightened at my sides. I forced myself to inhale and steady my nerves.

"If you're desperate for my attention, you're going to have to step up your game. My lovers have some sense of style. Right now, you look like you escaped from a church retreat."

The heat of embarrassment and anger flushed through me.

"Oh, I thought you had a thing for meek little brides. Maybe that's why you have to drag the bride to the altar and rob your own brother at the wedding."

He went rigid. The look in his eyes shifted, something raw and dangerous surfacing.

"What's the matter? Did I hit a nerve?" I asked, the sarcasm heavy in my voice. "Don't worry, 'boss.' You're not the only one who's not in the mood tonight."

I half-expected him to shove me away or storm off. But instead, he stepped closer. In one quick motion, he seized my wrist and yanked me forward. Before I could even catch my breath, he tore my coat off with a rough tug.

"Luca!" I shouted, struggling to break free, but he was already fumbling with the zipper of my pants, his anger boiling over.

"You really know how to wind me up, and now you want to back out? Sorry, but I'm not letting you walk away."

"Stop it!" I screamed, my voice breaking through the room. Fear hammered in my chest, sharp and relentless. "I'm telling you, I don't want this. Just stop!"

For a brief moment, he went still. His jaw tightened. His eyes bored into me, cold and unflinching.

"I said no," I repeated, standing my ground. "You don't get to decide when you touch me."

Neither of us moved. The air crackled, heavy with all the things neither world should have ever shared.

Holding back his anger, Luca let out a slow breath. He snatched my coat from the chair and tossed it in my direction.

"Put this on."

"Are you walking out?" I asked, my hands shaking as I caught the coat.

"I'm staying. We'll deal with this tomorrow," he said, his back turned. "Trust me, darling, when I'm interested, I make it worth your while. All it takes is the right outfit, the right attitude... You'll be begging for it again. A stack of cash makes anyone eager."

"You're an idiot. I'm not some thing you can buy."

"You only offered yourself because you thought he was the one, didn't you?" he said as his fingers tightened around my cheeks, forcing me to meet his stare. "Go on. Let your mind wander to that fool again, and you'll learn exactly who you're dealing with. If I ever catch you dreaming about Jackson, Riley, I'll end you."

"Relax. I can't stand either of you. Whether it's you or him, it makes no difference. The feeling is the same. I lost a year of my life because of him, locked away. And I got dragged into a marriage with a gun pointed at my head. You have no idea how much that broke me."

He went quiet after that. His eyes drifted over me once, slow and unreadable, before he dismissed me altogether.

"Get some rest, Riley. Your little speech tired me out." He removed his clothes until he was standing in nothing but his underwear. Then he fell into bed without a care.

"You've got a good body," he added. His toned stomach flexed as he shifted, and I hated myself for noticing.

I stayed rooted to the spot. My breath came too fast. My coat hung uselessly in my arms, and my pants were still ripped open around my ankles.

I should have been terrified.

Yet what rose inside me wasn't fear. Hatred spread through me like fire.

Some twisted urge in me wanted to stare at Luca while he lounged in his underwear, hoping for the kind of comfort he'd never offer. I wished he would reach out, wrap his arms around me, press his lips to mine, and promise me that things would turn out fine. That fantasy faded as quickly as it appeared. He wasn't the type to offer kindness, and there was nobody else waiting to pick up the pieces.

That's fine. I'll figure it all out on my own.