Taken By The Mafia Lord

“Whooee-uueet,” Chelsea whistled low in her throat, the love gears in her head switching on.

Chelsea was not the only one taken by Marcel because Rose, who was sent to shut the door, was frozen at the spot and had her mouth open. Ashley was eyefucking him and for some strange reasons, the thought didn’t sit right with Arianna. She was certainly not jealous, trust her. Merely uncomfortable.

As much as she loathed him, Arianna had to admit that Marcel was god damn attractive. His blonde hair was parted at the side, sweeping over the neat pompadour, and looking classy. Marcel wore an Ascari brown three-piece suit that was tailored to his fitting, a crisp white shirt inside with no tie in place. Now, who does that?

But then Arianna had seen enough of that beauty in the past and that cute face betrayed her when she least expected it. So yeah, she wasn’t bothered over his beauty but rather his appearance. Marcel suddenly appearing on the day Elijah was supposed to bust her out couldn’t be good.

The both of them stared at each other and she could tell he was slowly taking her in. Arianna couldn’t help but blush from the intensity of his staring. Gosh, she hated feeling this way. She was supposed to be mad at him for Christ’s sake. And yes she was very mad.

Fate seems to be working on her side because all that she needed to activate that fury was a word from Marcel’s caustic tongue.

“You are a beautiful bride,” He said, stopping right in front of Arianna who sat, spine straight on her antique Victorian carved chaise lounge. Big Joe was trying every means to win her over with luxury.

Arianna’s gaze turned cold at once, was he kidding her? Whose fault was it that she became an unwilling bride when he had all the power to save her? How dare he mock her?

.....

If only she knew Marcel sincerely complimented her.

“What are you doing here?” Arianna’s voice was grave and tense, quite close to erupting.

But Marcel ignore her question and instead presented a bouquet to her as if everything was good between the both of them, saying, “A beautiful flower for a beautiful bride,”

Not one saw it coming, perhaps, only Marcel, but Arianna stood up abruptly and with a sweep of her hand, knocked the flower to the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, I don’t want to see your face ever again!” She growled at him with fury, veins almost bulging out of her head.

The girls stood awkwardly at the side, stunned at the drama. It seems their thoughts of hitting on the new eye candy were forever squashed before they could work on it.

Judging from the suffocating tension between Arianna and that man, they could safely deduce he was Marcel. Booze creates loose lips and during their party, Arianna told them one or two things about the smoking hot Mafia Don who set in motion the events leading to this moment.

On the bright side, Arianna was not wrong about the “smoking hot” part – each of them wanted a piece of him – but how were they going to stop the two couples who were about to tear each other apart? Nothing good could come out of their quarrel.

“Perhaps, we should give you two some privacy,” Ashley suggested. She didn’t want to be part of this war.

Arianna turned to her with a snap, “You are not going anyway, he’s leaving!” She gave her order.

But Marcel turned to her with a wink, “Good idea, sweetheart. You may leave now,” He charmed her.

Ashley nearly melted at the spot.

He was flirting? Arianna’s anger increased. How dare he flirt in her presence? Marcel was disrespectful and an asshole.

Marcel had no control here but Ashley, Rose, and Chelsea would obey that handsome candy over their angry friend right now. So they quickly hightailed it out of there, leaving the two parties alone.

“Finally,” Marcel breathed happily when the door was finally shut, “We can talk freely,”

“Talk your ass!” Arianna shot back and returned to her seat. She picked the magazine by her side and began to go through it even when she had zero interest in it. Marcel’s presence was tangible and impossible to ignore. But silence was her greatest weapon and she knew how to wield it.

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry,” Marcel finally confessed when he found it hard to do. He hardly apologizes, people are always the ones begging him – during their torture.

Marcel figured out that Arianna was mad with him and she had every right to be. But if he had the chance to repeat what he did, he would do it over again because that was the best solution he could come up with to preserve her life and get what he wants at the same time.

But he might as well have been talking to himself because Arianna showed no other reaction than to flip to the next page.

His jaw ticked.

Marcel was not used to getting ignored, it pissed him off the most and Arianna was good at pushing him to the edge with silence. That she-devil!

But he still went on with his apology, “I know nothing I say or do would change your impression of me. But you have to know that it was for your ....” He trailed off when Arianna laughed loudly at something in the magazine and that was the end of his patience.

Marcel covered the short distance between them in two angry strides, snatched the magazine from her hand, and tossed it to God knows where. She yelped when he pushed her down to the backrest of the chaise to her greatest shock.

“I hate it when you treat me insignificantly,” Marcel growled, leaning over her and locked her hands over her head, incapacitating her.

Arianna looked like a deer caught in headlights, her panicky eyes shooting to the door and thinking about the trouble she would be in if anyone were to walk through that door, especially in this ambiguous position they were in.

Oh, God.