Mafia's Doll

CHAPTER EIGHT

Maybelline

He pulled my up onto my feet, fixing his trousers then running his hands down my sides to hold my hips.

"I changed my mind." He tells me, pulling me against him. "I don't want you to go to the mall. You're mine. No one else has the right to look at you." His fingers flicked through the ends of my hair.

"Actually..." I trailed off, trying to find the courage to voice what I wanted. "I... I was thinking it might be nice to get out of the house for a bit." I looked up at him, slightly fearful.

His brows furrowed. I shifted nervously on my feet.

"You're mine." His fingers tightened on my hips. "Mine, and no one else's. Understand?" He pulled me flush against him, and I try to ignore how nice it feels to be pressed against the sharp lines of his muscles.

His fingers gripped my hips harder, so much so that I winced. "Y-yes, yes, I'm yours, I'm sorry." I reassured him. "I just... Vincent liked to lock me up when he was mad. I don't... I don't want..." I trailed off again, the memories pressing at my mind.

Suddenly I was pressed to his chest, his thick, muscled arms wrapped tightly around me. I stood stiff like a rod, confused.

"I'm sorry," He muttered, "I don't want to hurt you, but you're mine, you're mine and everyone has to know – "

"Yes, I'm yours, okay? Just please don't lock me up like he did," I begged, looking up at him pleadingly.

He looked down at me with hauntingly dark eyes.

"I love you, sweet thing. I don't want to hurt you, but..." He trailed off, tilting his head at me. I shift in his arms. "I do have some things we need to get done." He separated us, pushing me lightly toward the wardrobe. "Find something to wear, sweetness. We leave in ten minutes."

~

I descended the stairs to Romano, following him as he leads me by the wrist toward the garage.

The house is bigger than any mansion I've seen before, and I know without a doubt I'd get lost without him.

A limousine awaits us, a black clad driver waiting in the front seat. Romano slid in first, before pulling me onto his lap so the back of my head rested on his chest. He wrapped his arms around my torso, holding my back to him.

"If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, they're dead, bambola," he murmured into my ear, "And I want no complaints from you."

I could only nod.

This man was dangerous, but something about that made my heart race with excitement. I knew he'd never actually harm me, not like my step father did; if anything, Romano seemed more interested in keeping me way too protected. I could feel myself growing more comfortable with him the more time we spent together.

He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. I sometimes used to get looks out in public – strangers staring at the thick golden locks that fell to my lower back only made me uncomfortable. Although I hated the attention, I couldn't bring myself to cut my hair; after all, it was my mother who had loved it long.

"What do you want from the shops?" Romano asked, resting his chin on top of my head. "Anything you want, I'll pay for it."

"I don't really mind. Maybe some clothes?"

"You can have all the clothes you want, but then we have to leave. You're mine, and I can't have others looking at you longer than necessary." His arms tightened around me.

"O-okay." I hesitated, "But... please don't k-kill anyone. That would be scary..." I trailed off, then twist around to see his reaction to me voicing my thoughts.

He stroked my cheeks. "For you, I will try," He pressed a kiss against my forehead. "But don't worry. If I decide to kill someone, I won't tell you."

I shivered, then turned back around to face the front with my brows furrowed. That didn't seem like a reassurance to me.

The car parked next to a large, fancy mall, and the driver opened our door for us. I climbed out first, and Romano followed me in his black suit.

He wrapped a possessive arm around my waist.