Under Control – A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
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Mama looks surprised, and I don’t blame her. That comment took me off guard too.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him.

Valentin’s head tilts to the side. He drinks some of Mama’s tea. “Very good,” he murmurs, nodding to himself. “But what I mean is very simple. Miriam, you know your brother. You grew up in the Brotherhood for many years. I want you to tell me everything you know about their organizational structure, about where they live, who they’re married to, whatever you can think of, even the smallest details imaginable. I want it all.”

Silence falls over the room. I stare at Valentin in shock. He didn’t mention he was going to do this, and now I understand why.

Because I would never have let him come here had I known.

“Absolutely not,” I speak up before Mama can say anything. She’s pale and her hand trembles slightly as she takes a sip from her cup. “No, Valentin, this isn’t part of the deal.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” he agrees. “But your mother isn’t stupid. She knows that at this point, her best chance of surviving is if I win this war. Don’t you know that, Miriam?”

“Stop it,” I snap at him and push at his arm. It does absolutely nothing to move him. “You’re scaring her for no reason. This is ridiculous. I thought you wanted to get to know her.”

“I do,” he says, staring at my mother. “Only not in the way you supposed.”

Anger rips through me. Mama hates her past and never talks about it, and I don’t want Valentin to traumatize her all over again just to glean some tiny bit of information that might help. More likely, he’ll get nothing, since Mama hasn’t been back to Baltimore in such a long time, and it’ll only make her upset.

He doesn’t care though. The selfish asshole wants to win his little war, and he doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.

“It’s fine,” Mama says, her voice sounding small.

“No, Mama, it’s not fine. Valentin, we’re finished here.” I shove my chair back and stand.

He ignores me. “You’re willing to talk,” he says to Mama.

“Not for you and not for myself.” Mama nods at me. “I’ll talk because you’re right, I want your little crime syndicate to win this stupid war. Once that happens, maybe then you can let my daughter go.”

Valentin leans back in his chair. A vicious smile spreads across his face. “I’m sorry, Mama, but that isn’t going to happen.”

“Miriam,” she says sharply. “You don’t get to call me that.”

“But you are Mama to me now, aren’t you?” He leans forward, and I take a step back from the table, deeply horrified and trembling with anger. “Tell me everything you can. You never know what might help.”

“Mama, you don’t owe him anything. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“Karine-jan, go wait in the living room while I discuss things with your husband.” Mama’s voice is sharper now, the tremble gone from her hand. This is the strong, assertive woman I grew up with, the woman she was before my father passed.

“Mama—”

“Go,” she says sharply. “Leave him to me.”

I back away to the door. Valentin turns and stares, and there’s something in his expression. It’s almost apologetic, except he’s not the kind of man to ever admit fault or wrongdoing.

No, in his mind, this is totally justified.

And as I sit on the couch, fuming while they talk in the kitchen and feeling like a little kid banished from the grown-up table, I know he might even be right.

This is going to be a bloody and brutal war, and if he can get an edge from asking my mother questions, that’s worth the small amount of discomfort she’ll go through.

It could save lives.

But it still pisses me off. My mother doesn’t deserve any of this, and Valentin didn’t warn me about why he really wanted to come here. I thought it was to get to know my family better—and I suppose it is.

Only it’s not about me.

This is about my husband’s revenge and his fight.

They talk for an hour. I lose patience at one point and wander up into my old room. It’s barren and strange, and I barely recognize it now. I can remember sitting on my bed and picturing my future husband, but he never looked anything like Valentin, and definitely didn’t treat me the way my actual husband does. In my dreams, I’d marry a kind man, a gentle man, a man that could both provide physically and emotionally. Valentin is almost none of those things.

He’s a brute. He’s vicious and selfish. Yes, the sex with him is unbelievable, and there are moments of real tenderness and caring between us, but that’s all overshadowed by the darkness lurking inside of him.

And this ugly, violent drive to dominate.


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