Shotgun Wedding: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Natasha Tanner

  "He wanted you to kill him. Or try to," Kat says. "He wants to hurt you. He wants you dead."

  I stand suddenly. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be exposed to this shit. My world.

  "You shouldn't have come here, Kat," I say. "I told you to stay away. You said, 'Trust me, Gray.' And I did. And then you fucking turn around and come here? To the one place I said not to?"

  "What?" Kat cries. "It's not my fault he attacked me."

  "No, of course not. A man should never hurt a woman. A real man would never hurt a hair on a woman's head."

  Kat frowns. "So you've never hurt a woman?"

  "I've never hurt a woman. Except you."

  Kat's eyes widen in shock.

  "Kat, I didn't want you to be soiled by this life. That's why I didn't want you to come in here—this isn't your family's bar anymore. It's something else. It's no place for you, now. You're too good for this place."

  You're too good for me.

  "This is where I work. This is where I grew up. This bar is the closest thing I have to a home," Kat snaps.

  I hate that she is looking at me with disdain, with anger. But at least she's looking alive again. I'll take her furious at me over closed-off, any day.

  But I also call the shots, and she needs to know it.

  "You can't tell me what to do," Kat says, sitting up. "You may be the boss of everyone else in this place, but you're not the boss of me!"

  "Clue in, babes. We just got married. I'm the boss of this bar, and I'm completely, fucking, lawfully the boss of you."

  "You arrogant bastard!" Kat stands up on the couch so she's nose-to-nose with me, her small frame bouncing as she finds her balance. Is it wrong that I'm getting turned on while she screams at me?

  "This isn't Russia, and you don't get to be my own, personal dictator! In this country, people who get married have equal rights. Of course, you should know this, since you grew up down the effing street from me!"

  Kat's bouncing with rage, and I can't help watching her tits sway as she screams at me. I step closer, and she steps closer, balancing on the edge of the ancient couch.

  "Sweetheart, I'm doing this to protect you. I don’t want you here because I have spent my entire life trying to protect you."

  Kat blinks, confused. Fuck. I've said too much. I reach out and gently hold her arms. She flinches and that's when I see the bruise on her shoulder. Fuck.

  "Getting attacked wasn't your fault. Anything that happens to Markov now isn't your fault, either. He gets what he deserves. He was going to hurt you. And now I'm going to hurt him."

  Kat shakes her head. "Gray, I know it wasn't my fault. But also, I know you warned me not to come here. And, I'm sorry I didn't listen." Her eyes fill with tears and she's suddenly bawling in my arms.

  Fuck, she's breaking my heart. I hold her close, suddenly exhausted. Chase and I spent most of the day planning for the last-minute shipment Solonik wants me in on.

  Then I catch that asshole attacking my brand-new wife, in my brand-new fucking bar. All I ever wanted to do was protect Kat, and Jesus, I'm back in her life for one hour and she's been assaulted, bruised…hopefully not broken.

  This is why I left.

  My life, this shit, should never touch her.

  "I just want to go home." She slides down from her perch on the couch, bouncing onto the old cushions. "But I don't even know where home is anymore."

  We sit in silence. I can feel her breathing next to me. Her chest rises and falls. She stares straight ahead, then chances a glance at me.

  I should tell her. I should tell her why I left her, and what I really did all those years.

  But I can't.

  She'd never forgive me.

  I can't give her those truths. But at least I can be honest about how things are now.

  "Katya." I take her right hand with my left. Jesus, she's small. Breakable. "Kat. You were my sanity when I was younger. How many nights did you feed me after school, because you knew there'd be no food at my house?"

  She smiles, even though the memory is sad, in retrospect. "Lots."

  "You were the closest thing to a home I had back then. Let me give you a home now."

  Kat begins crying again, though this time she has a small, hesitant smile on her beautiful face. "Gray, do you mean that?"

  "Fuck yeah. You were the best thing about my childhood." I laugh. "And, the best and worst thing in my teenage years."

  "What do you mean?" She sounds shocked.

  "Woman, do you know how many nights I went to sleep with a hard-on that wouldn't quit, because my best friend was jailbait?"

  The look on her face is priceless.

  "What!" Kat whispers. "Are you kidding me?"

  I squeeze her hand. "You knew. You had to have known."

  Kat shakes her head violently. "Gray, you never said anything…you never…I always thought." She stops stuttering and starts to laugh. "I thought I was just like a little sister to you."

  I laugh. "You were never like a little sister to me. But you were young. Jesus, how many times a night did I have to jerk off—"

  I stop talking because her face is red as a fire engine.

  "Kat, did you like me, too? Even a little?"

  She blushes even further and shakes her head.

  I lean closer to her, my lips just behind her ear. Her hair smells like flowers, and she skins smells so goddamn good. "Baby girl, did you need to take care of yourself, late at night, when you were thinking of me?"

  Kat lets out a little moan. "Gray, stop it. I can't believe you liked me. If you liked me so much, why did you leave?"

  There's a knock at the door, and Chase sticks his head in. "Ice, boss?"

  I stand, relieved not to have to answer her. Not now. Not yet.

  "I'll take it."

  Chase nods and hands me a plastic bag full of ice, with a worn kitchen towel wrapped around it. I kneel down in front of Kat, placing the cold pack against her cheek.

  The bruise is getting worse.

  Then her skin begins to turn a pale, glowing pink.

  "Damn, babes," I say, trying to take her mind of the fucking attack. "You and that pale Irish skin can't hide shit. What are you thinking?

  She shakes her head, trying to hide behind her thick mane of hair.

  "This is all crazy, Gray. I can't believe what you said. That you liked me when we were younger."

  "Believe it," I say. "I more than liked you."

  And then she bites her lower lip.

  I can't resist.

  I reach out and slowly trace the sweet spot on her lower lip, the pink padding below her even white teeth.

  Kat gasps.

  And lets go of her lip.

  And I trace her full lower lip with my thumb.

  The air in the room changes.

  Jesus, I can't keep my hands off of her or my dick from getting hard when we're in the same room. How the hell am I going to keep my cool, and not let her affect me, when it's just her, and me, alone, every night?

  But keeping my cool doesn't seem like such a good idea, suddenly.

  "This bar belongs to Solonik now," I say. "I may manage it, but the money flowing in and out belong to him. And with him comes a whole lot of dangerous individuals. I need you to stay away. From now on."

  Kat just nods. Then she tilts her head, still letting me hold the ice on her cheek.

  "Are you dangerous, Gray?" Kat whispers.

  "Fuck yeah. But not to you, Kat. Never to you."

  "I'm not so sure about that," Kat says in a husky voice.

  If she doesn't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to kiss her.

  She bites her lower lip. If she does that one more time, I'm going to throw her down on this couch and see what she tastes like. All over.

  "I just wanted to surprise you for lunch," Kat says slowly. She glances around the office, over at the desk, her eyes mournful. I wonder if she's thinking about her dad.

  "Well, what a coincidence. I have a surprise for you
. But first," I finger her torn shirt. "We need to get you dressed."

  Kat looks down and blushes, then her face crumples.

  "Fuck," I say. "We'll save the surprise for tomorrow. Let's get you home, get you a bath, and get you to bed."

  Kat nods. "Thank you, Gray," she whispers. She touches my face lightly. "Thank you."

  I hand her the ice pack and stand up.

  "I just gotta go settle up some things with the guys upstairs."

  Kat nods and presses the ice to her face, then glances back at the desk and dusty filing cabinets behind it.

  She catches me watching her, then startles. "Shoot! I think I dropped my purse in the kitchen—"

  "You just stay here, rest, and don't leave this room, okay? I'll get it. I'll take care of everything."

  Kat smiles tentatively, though I don't like the sadness I see behind her eyes.

  "Thanks, Gray. And trust me: I won't leave this room. There's nowhere else in this bar I'd rather be."

  23

  Kat

  It turns out, the big scary Mafia dude makes an excellent nurse.

  A bit bossy, but I'm getting used to it.

  "It's been three days," I whine. I know I'm whining, but I'm so bored. "I think I can make my own breakfast."

  "What? I'm not taking good care of you?" Gray grins and spoon-feeds me another bite of oatmeal, covered in heavy cream, brown sugar and pecans. He's wearing pajamas pants and nothing else, which should be a crime. He hasn't touched me in three days, at least, not sexually.

  And I never would have thought it, but him not bringing up sex somehow means I think about it all the damn time.

  "You take wonderful care of me. Though you could, you know, take care of me in other ways…" I pretend to pout. Okay, I'm actually pouting.

  Gray laughs, his eyes shining in the morning light. He didn't come home last night until almost 5 a.m., but he's still more chipper—and more gorgeous—than anybody.

  "Katya, you experienced trauma. You need to heal."

  I wrap my arms around his warm, naked chest. "It wasn't that bad. You saved me. Now take your pants off."

  "Yoohoo!" Elle's voice sounds from the hallways.

  "Saved by the Elle." Gray grins.

  I roll my eyes, but call her name.

  Ever since Markov attacked me, Gray has had me with my feet up in his bed, waiting on me hand and foot. He bought me the girly versions of his expensive body washes and lotions. A mountain of cooking books. The softest, most comfortable pajamas I've ever owned.

  Okay, after that shopping trip he also came home with a ridiculous, hot-pink lace teddy and matching thong. He says it's for when I feel better. I say it's for never, ever, ever.

  He even bought me a laptop, so I can read and watch movies in bed.

  And this time, when he begged to put a bodyguard outside when he couldn't be here, I agreed.

  The memory of Markov, straddling me…

  He could put a hundred men outside. As long as Elle could come in.

  "Oh!" Elle stops short in the bedroom doorway, her eyes taking in Gray, Gray's massive chest, and the rumpled bed sheets. "Am I interrupting you guys?"

  "Not at all. It's entirely innocent," I grumble. Gray grins and places the oatmeal on the bedside table.

  "Ladies, I actually have a meeting."

  "Already?" My voice sounds so petulant. But I'm worried about him. "You worked all night and have barely slept! Do you really need to leave right now?"

  "Ah, Katya, you worry about your husband." Gray runs his hand softly over the top of my head. "I'm strong like bull. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

  I shake my head, but he just kisses my forehead and walks toward the closet, then turns suddenly and comes back to the bed. He folds his arms, scowling, and my gut clenches.

  "What's wrong?" I gasp.

  Gray just shakes his head sadly, then turns to Elle. "You care about your friend, da?"

  Elle just stares at him, wide-eyed. Though I'm not sure if it's his question—or his massive, naked chest—that has her bug-eyed.

  "Of course I do," she finally says.

  Then she turns to me and mouths "oh my God."

  It's the chest.

  And probably the abs, too.

  "Well, we have a problem," Gray says. "She has barely any clothes. So I buy some for her, and all she wears are the grandma-pajamas."

  Elle starts to giggle.

  "You crazy bastard." I try not to laugh. "You scared me. And that pink lacy atrocity does not qualify as 'clothes.'"

  Gray walks over, grabs my purse, and rifles through it. My heart clenches. Oh God, what if he—

  "Here," Gray says, handing Elle the black AmEx he ordered with my name on it. Well, with Katherine Petrokov on it, the smug bastard. "I give her this gift, and she never uses it. Once she heals fully, you could take her shopping, yes? Help her buy some clothes that would make both her and me happy?"

  Elle beams and takes the AmEx from him. "Oh, certainly. It would be my honor." She places her hand over her heart, then laughs.

  Gray nods and smiles, then turns to me—and his smile changes. Softens.

  Goddammit.

  I'm surprised my heart doesn't just melt.

  "Take care of yourself, Katya," Gray says. "I'll try to be back early tonight. If you feel up to it, I have someplace special I want to take you to dinner."

  I nod at him, suddenly shy. Elle and I are self-consciously quiet as he dresses, hidden in the walk-in closet. It's only after he leaves the room, and then we hear the front apartment door close and lock, that Elle throws herself onto the bed next to me and screams.

  "Oh my God! That body!"

  "Shut up!" I pretend to try and suffocate her with a pillow—but as I'm doing it, I think of Markov and drop the pillow, my eyes filling with tears and my heart pounding.

  "Oh, honey," Elle says. She's come over every day, worried beyond measure ever since I told her what happened. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "I'm fine, I'm fine." I wave her off. "I really don't want to talk about it anymore. And it's not like anything horrible happened."

  "Kat, something horrible did happen."

  "Yes, but many women the world over have worse things happen to them, on a daily basis. Gray saved me." I pause and fidget with the comforter. "I think what's freaking me out today is, that's his world. I can't accept Gray without accepting that, too."

  Elle sighs and holds my hand. "I wish I knew what to say. Or do."

  I shrug, then give her a wan smile. "You've done enough. You've done everything. Thank you."

  The day after the attack, Elle had snuck in all the passport paperwork. I filled it out and signed it, and she'd mailed everything for me. I'd also given her my ATM card and passcode, and had her withdraw the daily max amount each of the last two days.

  "I can't believe he was looking in your purse!" Elle moans. "Do you think it's still a safe place?"

  I nod, picking it up and stuffing the AmEx back in the wallet he'd bought me.

  "He never looks in here, that was a fluke. Besides, there's nowhere else to hide the money. This is his place. I don't have a safe place to stash anything."

  "Are you sure you really want to go through with this?" Elle says.

  "I'm not going through with anything yet. I'm just ensuring I have a backup plan."

  Elle hands me the travel sewing hit she brought, then grimaces as I rip out the lining from the bottom of the purse.

  "I can't believe you're doing that to a Bottega Veneta. I think I might cry."

  I shake my head as I carefully pull the lining apart, revealing a small square place at the bottom of the bag. Perfect for hiding the passport, once it arrives at Elle's apartment, and a couple thousand dollars. I slide the money under the bag's soft, black interior lining, then pause.

  "Do you think I should stitch it up now? Or wait until I get more cash from the bank?"

  Elle sighs. "Babes, how much more do you have?"

  "Not much."

&
nbsp; "Stitch it now. Gray won't think it's strange if you have a couple more thousand in your wallet. Hell, he basically tried to throw that much at you before, didn't he?"

  I shake my head as I carefully thread the needle. "It's insane. If you would've seen us years ago, we were so poor. And now this." I gesture at the room.

  Elle lays back on the bed and whistles. "Damn, this bed. It's like sleeping on a cloud. This is reason enough to stay! And to think, you get to share it with that hot body…and Kat: he likes you."

  I nod, carefully sewing the hole in the lining closed.

  Elle reaches out and touches my arm. "No, I mean, I see how he looks at you. His face, when he's watching you? It's, like, soft. Maybe the only soft thing about that man."

  "I get it, Elle. You want to jump his bones." My voice comes out sounding more annoyed than I intended.

  "No, you don't get it," Elle says sadly. "But maybe someday you will."

  My head hurts, my jaw hurts, and I don't feel like fighting with my best friend. So I just ignore her. She's a born romantic, but I can't afford to be that way.

  Right now, more than ever, I have to be logical. Rational. Cold-hearted.

  It's the only way to stay alive.

  So why, when I think about leaving Gray, do I feel so dead inside?

  After Elle leaves—promising to drag me out of the house tomorrow, go shopping, and find out if a black AmEx truly has no limits—I sleep.

  And sleep. And sleep.

  When I wake up, it's after four in the afternoon and it hits me: I haven't been having my usual nightmares.

  I soak in the tub and dress carefully. I don't really have any fancy clothes, so I hope Gray wouldn't take me to a really nice restaurant. But I put on a simple green sundress that, while not that stylish, compliments my green eyes.

  Okay, and makes my chest look pretty great, too.

  Not that I care what Gray thinks, I tell myself. But still, I groan when I see the bruise on my cheek. At least it isn't a deep purple anymore; now it's more like a green-tinged eggplant.

  Not exactly sexy.

  I rifle through my makeup bag, wishing for once I paid more attention to things like cover up. I do the best I can with what I've got, then put on some shiny pink lip gloss and straighten my hair until it falls like a dark waterfall down my back.