Bred by the Mafia Monster (Breeding Season Book 7) by Sam Crescent (top 10 ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“Wouldn’t it be perfect to make peace? Then I wouldn’t have to worry about him hurting you.”

“What about me wanting to hurt him? I haven’t forgotten what he did to you, and I never will. Don’t ask me to forgive and forget because it’s not going to happen.”

Silence on the line.

“Can you at least think about it?”

“Okay. I’ll be home within the hour. Hungry?”

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for you. I miss you.”

His cock hardened just thinking of her there alone in the house. She was the one thing keeping him going every day. He wasn’t sure how he survived this superficial world before she came into his life. She grounded him, gave him purpose beyond money and death.

He pulled his car along the side of the road in front of his favorite pizzeria. His father insisted on gourmet meals every night, keeping a full-time chef in the house. Klaus wasn’t nearly as high maintenance. Sometimes Bella would cook because it was something she loved to do. She said she didn’t want a chef or maid. They both wanted something different out of life, simpler.

Klaus ordered their dinner—pizza, pasta, and garlic bread with cheese.

As he waited for the food, one of his longtime informants approached him.

“Klaus, can I talk to you for a sec?”

He nodded, heading outside to the alleyway beside the pizzeria. There wasn’t much lighting and they could speak in private. He always paid cash for good information.

“What do you have?”

“I heard this from one of the maids in the Lastra house. With my own ears, Klaus. She’s reliable. Wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Okay, okay, what is it?”

“They put out an Accardi hit. Non-exclusive. Thought you should probably watch your back.”

“You’re not bullshitting me?”

“I swear on my life,” said Jimmy, crossing his heart.

He slapped a few bills into his hand and headed back into the restaurant. So Lastra invited him to dinner because he hoped Klaus wouldn’t be alive to show up. It would make him look innocent of the crime. Classic scenario of making plans before a murder as a pseudo-alibi.

Klaus chuckled to himself. That bastard had no idea who he was dealing with.

Should he even tell Isabella?

Her voice had sounded so hopeful on the phone. The little girl in her still craved the acceptance of her father, even though he’d spent years tearing her apart. Klaus didn’t want her to resent him for refusing her. He’d have to think of how to handle this before telling her the details.

On the way home, his mind was a flurry of thoughts. He’d have to tell his father and brothers. Have everyone on high alert. He made phone calls as he drove, ordering his men to have extra security at his father’s home and their own.

He took a cleansing breath before heading inside their home. No way would he bring his concerns to Bella. She was his sweet innocence.

As he stepped inside, he noted headlights turning off near his house. His men were already arriving to guard the property. And he felt better being close to his wife. He only trusted himself to keep her safe.

****

Isabella heard the door unlock and rushed down the princess staircase. Klaus stepped into the foyer with a stack of food boxes.

“I’m home,” he called out.

She watched him for a minute. It was still hard to believe this was her life now. She had her own beautiful home, one absent of fear and tension. Just happiness. Her husband was patient with her and extremely protective.

In some ways, it felt like things were too perfect and they were just actors going through their roles until everything would fall apart. She had to stop expecting the worst out of life and learn to enjoy every day with her new husband.

“Your favorite pizza,” she said, helping him carry the boxes to the white granite island in the kitchen. Their house was on a hill and the views out back were breathtaking by day. She enjoyed sitting by the glass doors in the morning with a cup of coffee.

“I couldn’t resist. And I didn’t want you cooking.”

She sat up on one of the stools. “You know I like cooking. I used to help the chef at our house, so I know so many recipes.”

He came around the island, standing in front of her. Klaus smelled like the outdoors. And she could tell he was exhausted. “I was late. You shouldn’t have to cook. Another time, bella.” Then he kissed her forehead.

Now she could hear it, the tone of his voice was off. Something was wrong.

She ignored it for now, not wanting to be the classic nagging wife. Her role was still so new to her and she was afraid to screw everything up. She expected both sides of the family were betting on how soon it would be until one of them requested a divorce.

So far, they’d had a long, relaxing honeymoon and she only saw him in the evenings since they’d been back home. It felt like they were avoiding real topics, real life, and playing it safe. But she craved more, craved authenticity.

Would things unravel once they stopped wearing masks?

They ate in mostly silence. He kept checking his phone.

Was he already cheating on her? She mentally scolded herself for allowing her mind to go in the gutter. She had to think more highly of Klaus. He hadn’t given her any reason to think otherwise.

“Have you thought about the dinner?” she asked.

He set down his coffee mug a little too hard. “Whatever you’d like, Isabella. If you want to go, make the arrangements with your mother.”

That was too easy. Why was he agreeing when he admitted to wanting to kill her father?

“You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” He walked away, heading to the glass doors. The lights in the living room were off. There wasn’t much to see but a few stars at this time of night.

She sighed. This rift was making her uncomfortable.

“Klaus?” She approached him from behind, wrapping her arms