Marrying the Mob Prince

Tony

1/4 oz Jägermeister

6 oz Red Bull

I needed my wife under control.

I thought I'd put the fear of God in Evie, but five days after taking her mouth, I woke to a notification that she'd charged twenty thousand dollars to my credit card. Evie's toddler tantrum bullshit tested my patience. What was wrong with her?

Hadn't I scared the shit out of her? Dragging her to Sanctum was supposed to straighten her out, but she'd brushed it off like rain rolling off her shoulders. What the hell had happened in that godforsaken clubhouse to make her impervious to men like me?

It wasn't enough that I allowed her free room and board. She sucked down my oxygen, ate my food, now she blew through my cash, my father's legacy, with light-fingered contempt. Damn her.

I wouldn't stand for this.

The money meant nothing-it was the principle that mattered. I was not her personal ATM.

I dialed her bodyguard.

"Christian," I roared into the phone. "What is going on?"

"Hey, T! Funny, we were just talking about you. I asked if she'd been to Vinny's yet. She said she'd rather sit on an uncovered gas station toilet seat than hang around Goliath." He broke off, laughing hard. "I guess that's what they call him at the MC."

Goliath was apt.

"Never mind that. Where the hell is Evie, and why are you letting her max out her credit card?"

Christian's heavy sigh brushed my ear. "Let her do what she wants. Your words, boss."

Did I say that?

Fuck.

I searched for my car keys. "Where are you?"

"At the store. You know, overseeing renovations. She wanted me to watch the contractors. Make sure they're doing a good job, but I'm clueless about that shit. You?" Renovations?

My mind reeled as he prattled on.

"I'm impressed with your wife. She's got a lot of ambition for a young girl. When I was her age, I waited tables and chopped up table-side steak tartare at your dad's place. Remember the Black Cat?" "Focus. Tell me where you are."

"We're at Newbury Street."

I hung up, seething.

Newbury Street was a high-end outdoor mall in Boston. She'd dragged Christian there to go on a shopping spree. I'd done worse at her age, but it still boiled my blood.

I spotted Christian leaning against the column of a storefront I'd never noticed before. The grizzled mafioso threw his lit cigarette on the ground as I double-parked my Lexus. I unrolled the window. "Where is she?"

A grin jumped across his wrinkled face, and he rapped his knuckles against the wall. I glanced up the tall glass windows and gaped at the serif letters etched into the building. What in the actual fuck?

EVIE

"We've been here all day." Christian patted his wool coat and grabbed his phone. "Working. Well, she's working. I'm overseeing things. You married such a nice girl, T. She bought everyone lunch." My stomach hardened. "You had lunch with my wife?"

"Me and the contractors." Christian's grin flashed, wide and infectious. "She ordered Halal Guys and beer. Never had it before. Pretty good."

The image of all those men around a table, breaking bread with my woman, sat in my gut like poison. The idea of Christian and Evie, cozy in a corner, digging into aluminum plates, laughing, set my blood to a low boil. I didn't care that it was crappy fast food. I hadn't so much as shared an olive with my wife.

My throat burned.

"T, don't get upset," Christian said bracingly. "Everybody had one drink. That's it."

"You know better."

"T, it's Halal Guys. Not a fucking picnic at the Common." Christian frowned, his gaze dipping to the golden band he still wore. "You know I'd never let anything happen to her."

Evie had charmed the fuck out of him.

Unacceptable.

I shoved my keys into his chest. "Park my car and meet back here."

My shoulder bumped the handle-less glass door, swinging it into a gutted store. The walls had been stripped, and a tarp lay on the floor. A chemical stench stung my nostrils as I stepped over power tools, hanging plastic billowing with the stream of outdoor air as I headed into a workshop.

Big windows poured light into the square room. I couldn't name half the things in the vast space. Several wooden benches ran along the wall, filled with instruments, pots, and other devices I'd never seen before.

A ventilation hood hummed over Evie, who sat at a bench, bending over a concrete slab. A leather apron wrapped her body. She fiddled with something, peering at a small object through safety goggles.

What was she doing?

She replaced a tool on the shelf and picked up another, a dentist-like instrument connected to a hose. She held it to the tweezers. A blue flame passed through it.

The brightness pierced my eyes.

I threw up an arm, shielding my eyes.

Evie raised her welder's mask and whirled around. Her brown curls were windblown, tucked into a messy braid. Her bowed lips fell open.

The memory of her champagne-and-cum-soaked tits grabbed my cock. So fucking hot. Hardly any of it had made it down her throat, but it'd been worth it just to mark her curves. She must've made men at the clubhouse insane. Part of the reason I didn't want her within five miles of that place.

So many filthy things I could do to her. God, it'd taken everything inside me not to fuck her full of cum. The virgin-with-the-body-built-for-sin fantasy was at the top of my list.

It'd been weeks since I'd touched her.

She removed her helmet, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"You first."

"I'm working."

"On what, bankrupting me?" I stalked to her side, fingering the crockpot on the bench. "What is that?"

She took my wrist. "Don't touch. It's a pickling solution."

Heat from her gentle grip traveled up my arm.

"Pickling?"

"An acid bath for removing oxidation and residue left after soldering." She moved my arm away from the bench and clapped me on the back. "You know, for my plastic beads."

My lips tugged into a smirk at the memory of my careless words at the wedding. Evie was clearly on a different level than lanyards and beaded bracelets, but her asshole father had hinted otherwise.

Which was why I'd poked at her.

"Why didn't you set me straight?"

"Newsflash. You're an unfeeling monster." Evie stowed her tools and pushed my abdomen to move me out of the way, rippling warmth to my groin. "None of this would be a surprise if you'd bothered to get to know me." "What exactly are you?"

"A goldsmith," she murmured. "I appraise gems, refurbish watches, and cast rings and necklaces."

I stared. "Show me."

Evie turned her head, sweeping her hair aside.

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I closed the distance between us and brushed the stray strands. Softly, my breath fanned her face. I traced her ear, and she inhaled slightly. My heart pounded as I fingered her earring. Three pearlescent spikes stuck out from a golden loop. I twisted it in all directions, the stones shifting from cream to green and blue. It was a playful design. Simple but pretty. "What's it made of?"

"Fourteen karat gold with three opals."

A faint glow of pride warmed my chest. "Where did you learn this?"

Evie gazed at me as though judging whether my interest was genuine. "Mom taught me, and her mother taught her. She started when I was little, setting stones and things like that."

I dropped her earring and thumbed her neck.

"Tell me more."

Her heartbeat throbbed against my finger. "I design rings, cast metal into molds, and I buy old stuff to fix up. I began with jewelry people donated. I melted them down. Then I'd add alloy and make them into belt buckles, rings, whatever." Fucking cool.

I was silent for a while, processing.

Impressive as hell.

No wonder Christian fawned over her.

"Go ahead. Get it over with." Evie threw back her head, her nostrils flaring. "Tell me it's stupid and a waste of time. Insult me like you're dying to do."

I grasped her chin, and her startled gaze crashed into mine. "I kind of love that you're secretly a badass who works with fire. Show me more."

Shaking, she swiped open her cell, flicking through a gallery of stunning images. I made her enlarge them. I gaped at a man's antique watch, studying the bright stone making the knob, the blue hands, the flawless leather. Beautiful craftsmanship.

It was something I would've worn.

"I refurbished it," she explained, flicking through photos. "Here's a before and after picture."

I couldn't believe this. A war raged inside me. My mind refused to combine images of the woman in the leather apron with the biker girl I'd married. She'd blown me away.

"This is a seventy-thousand-dollar watch."

Pink patches burned on her cheeks. "I'm glad you think so, but I'll probably sell it for twenty-four thousand. You know, to cover my end of the bills."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'm trying not to dip into your savings. I want to make my way in the world without leaning on my rich husband."

"You live in my house. You eat my food. You just charged twenty grand on my credit card, hon." I cupped her burning face and stroked her frown. "What part of you is independent?"

"The one that's going to slap you."

I grinned, removing my hand. "So I'm not allowed to buy your jewelry?"

She shook her head, and my chest prickled with heat.

I wanted that watch.

"I'm not an idiot, Tony." She shoved the phone back in her pocket, sighing. "This is temporary."

"I'm in no rush to set you free. Especially now that I know you'll be a hit at cocktail parties. Have you any idea what the average mob wife is like?" I slid off the bench, strolling to another workstation with a giant drill. "High-maintenance, stupid, and useless for everything except fucking and breeding."

"Yes, I'm sure that's why you were unmarried for so long. Because they're boring."

She had a point.

I'd never married because I was constantly in a drug-induced psychosis. I had too much noise in my head. Drugs were the only thing that made it stop. Frankly, it was a miracle I didn't stumble into a Vegas chapel with a showgirl.

I pushed a switch, and the drill screamed to life.

Tutting, Evie shut it off. "My workshop isn't a playground. That'll rip off your thumb if you're not careful."

I was itching to poke around. "I still can't believe this. I thought you'd dropped twenty grand on a diamond."

"I mean, not yet. Though diamonds are always my bestsellers." Evie frowned at her ring, grimacing at the stone. "But they're my least favorite gemstone."

"In my defense, most women aren't jewelry designers."

"I made you a ring. I had it ready weeks in advance. I wanted to size it, but you never showed up to the meetings. You were an ass at the wedding, so I torched it and used the gold for something else." My jaw hardened.

Her gaze flicked at me. "You're supposed to apologize now."

"Nobody ever said sorry for making me what I am."

"A rude jerk with no self-awareness?" She'd turned away from me, flaunting her perfect ass. "A sadistic, murdering, jaded rich boy with too much free time?"

"I'm not a boy. I'm a man. You should know that from when we were last together."

I snagged her by the loops in her jeans and tugged her into my arms. She let out a gasp as her back hit my body. I fisted her hair and wrenched hard.

She yelped, her heartbeat hammering my palm. Crimson climbed up her neck as I traced her breast.

"What is with you?" she growled. "You don't talk to me for days. Then you show up here, yapping about credit limits when you make a fortune every hour, and next thing I know you're copping a feel." Yapping. She even made flapping motions with her hand to mimic a mouth.

I had to admire the sheer gall. "I have the right to be concerned about my wife's money laundering scheme."

Evie paled, saying nothing.

"Sorry, are you not laundering diamonds for Jett?"

Evie looked at me, her eyes large and liquid, two pools of misery.

Grim satisfaction seared my chest.

I was right, but I hated her tears and I loathed her father for forcing her into this position. No wonder he'd downplayed her business as a "hobby."

"I'm not a criminal."

"Of course not, sweetheart." I kissed her temple, and she shuddered. "You're a real artist when you're not helping Daddy with his illicit deals."

A blush ran like a shadow across her cheeks.

"What, no clever comeback?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine. I'll comb through your financial records. Your tax returns. They'll tell me everything."

Her arm spasmed.

I let her go and headed for her office.

"Tony, hold on."

She seized my wrist, and blood rushed to the spot where she touched me. An unwelcome flush heated my cock as she fit her hand in mine. She squeezed, dragging my attention to her beseeching gaze. "You're right, okay? Dad calls in favors, and I do my best to help him. Trust me, I've wanted to break free for years. It's hard when your father is all you have left."

That sank in like jagged claws.

Too familiar.

"I'll set you up with a business credit card. If you want to buy precious gems, equipment, whatever, that's great. Have at it." I held up a threatening finger. "But he is not in your life anymore." Her glare burned through me, but I refused to bend. She needed to stop visiting her outlaw family.

"Evie, I expect you to test boundaries and act out. I'll be watching for it. Just know that I've seen it all, and I'll be there every time to catch you. And then I'll put you in your place. You won't like that, but I will."