Unwanted Wife: The Mafia Boss's Regret

Bailey POV

Mr. Abernathy’s office reeked of old money and mahogany polish.

With a trembling hand, he slid the deed across the glossy expanse of his desk. He clearly wasn't accustomed to clients settling their accounts with untraceable offshore funds.

"The island is uncharted, Miss Douglas," he warned. "No electricity grid. No cell towers. It is completely off the map."

"Perfect," I replied.

I signed the papers, my hand steady.

I wasn't purchasing a vacation home.

I was securing a grave to resurrect myself in.

I left his office with the coordinates burned into my memory. The private jet was scheduled for two days from now.

I just had to survive the next forty-eight hours.

I hailed a cab back to the Blair Estate.

I still had clothes there, but more importantly, I had my passport hidden beneath the floorboards.

The wrought-iron gates swung open automatically for me. They hadn't revoked my biometric access yet.

That was their mistake.

I stepped into the house.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

I made my way to the kitchen.

The scene before me stopped me dead in my tracks.

Jameson stood at the stove.

He was stirring a pot of risotto, wearing a chef's apron over his crisp dress shirt.

In five years, Jameson had never so much as boiled water for me.

He had never cooked a meal.

He barely ate dinner with me unless it was a mandatory business function.

Haleigh sat perched on the marble island counter, swinging her legs like a petulant child.

She held a glass of wine in one hand.

Derrick and Blake leaned against the fridge, casually eating olives from a jar.

They looked like a family.

A twisted, violent, perfect family.

And I was the intruder.

Jameson turned and locked eyes with me.

The domestic softness in his face vanished instantly.

The mask of the Underboss slammed back into place.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice ice-cold.

"We expected you at the ceremony," Haleigh chimed in.

She took a leisurely sip of wine.

"It would have been nice to have my sister there to support me."

"Support you marrying my fiancé?" I asked.

The words tasted like ash on my tongue.

Derrick scoffed.

"He was never yours, Bailey. You were just holding her spot."

"For five years?" I shot back.

I looked at Jameson, searching for a flicker of humanity.

"I warmed your bed for five years, Jameson. I nursed you when you took that bullet to the shoulder last winter. I stood by you when your father died."

Jameson turned back to the risotto, dismissing me entirely.

"That was your duty," he said, not even deigning to look at me.

"Haleigh is my wife. You are her sister. Act like it."

"She has cancer," Kane said, stepping out from the pantry. "Show some respect."

"She looks healthy enough to drink wine," I countered.

Haleigh’s eyes narrowed into slits.

She hopped off the counter and sauntered over to me.

She held out a small, velvet box.

"I got you a gift," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "A peace offering. For missing the wedding."

I didn't want to take it.

Jameson turned off the stove.

"Take it, Bailey," he commanded. "Don't be difficult."

I took the box.

It felt unnervingly light.

I lifted the lid.

Something dark and skittering blurred inside.

Pain exploded in my finger.

I screamed and dropped the box.

A black widow spider skittered across the pristine floor tiles.

My finger throbbed with a sharp, burning fire.

"Oh my god!" Haleigh shrieked.

She clutched her chest, stumbling back against the counter.

"She tried to throw it on me! She brought a spider to kill me!"

I stared at her in shock, my breath hitching.

My hand was already swelling, the venom racing up my arm.

"You gave it to me," I gasped.

"Liar!" Haleigh screamed. "Jameson, my heart! It's the stress!"

Jameson was at her side in a heartbeat.

He scooped her up into his arms as if she were made of glass.

"Get the car!" he roared at the brothers.

Derrick shoved me aside as he sprinted to the door.

I hit the wall hard.

My vision blurred.

"Jameson," I whispered. "He bit me."

Jameson looked at me.

He looked at my hand, which was rapidly turning angry shades of red and purple.

Then he looked at Haleigh, who was sobbing dry tears into his shirt.

"Stay here," he snarled at me.

"If anything happens to her heart because of your jealousy, you're dead."

He turned and ran out the door with her.

My brothers followed him without a backward glance.

They left me alone in the kitchen with the spider.

The room began to spin.

I slid down the wall.

My heart hammered against my ribs, irregular and terrified.

They left me.

They actually left me to die.