The mafia's unwanted wife

The heavy, suffocating scent of roses filled the grand hall as Donna Kent stood at the altar, every nerve in her body taut as a bowstring. The weight of dozens of eyes bore down on her, scrutinizing every inch of her as though they could sense the revolt simmering beneath her composed exterior. The gown, a masterpiece of lace and satin, clung to her like a gilded cage, every inch of it a cruel reminder of the freedom she'd just lost.

The man standing beside her was a stranger in every sense of the word, though his reputation had preceded him. Conner Todd-ruthless mafia boss, billionaire CEO, and the devil incarnate. He exuded power, his presence commanding the room like a silent storm. His sharp jawline, darkened by the shadow of stubble, clenched tightly as the officiant began to speak, his deep-set green eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Donna glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her stomach knotting. He hadn't so much as looked at her since she'd entered the room, not even when she had stumbled slightly over the hem of her dress. The cold indifference radiating from him was a stark contrast to the heat simmering in her chest.

She hated him.

This wasn't just an arranged marriage-it was a transaction. A debt paid in full with her hand in marriage, her life exchanged for the sins of her late father. She didn't even get the luxury of anger directed at him. Her father's mistakes had done this, his greed and deceit placing her squarely in the jaws of a man who could destroy her with a snap of his fingers.

"Do you, Donna Kent, take this man-"

"I do," she said, cutting off the officiant before he could finish. Her voice was sharp, clipped, and unwavering. She wasn't going to play the part of the simpering bride, not for Conner, not for anyone.

Conner's head turned slightly, his eyes narrowing at her as if registering the defiance in her tone. But he said nothing, turning his attention back to the officiant as though she were little more than an inconvenience.

"And do you, Conner Todd-"

"I do." His voice was like a knife slicing through the tension in the room, smooth and cold, with just a hint of boredom.

The officiant barely managed to finish his sentence before Conner reached for her hand, his grip firm, almost bruising, as he slid the ring onto her finger. The metal was cold, heavy, and final.

"You may now kiss the bride," the officiant said, his voice a pale echo against the roaring in Donna's ears.

Conner turned to her, his gaze dropping to her lips, but there was no warmth there. No affection. His movements were mechanical, calculated. He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers for the briefest moment-a kiss that was more of a warning than a gesture of love.

It was over in an instant, but the burn of it lingered.

The applause was thunderous, echoing in the cavernous hall, but Donna barely heard it. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing. She wanted to scream, to run, to claw her way out of the trap that had just snapped shut around her. But instead, she forced a smile, her lips curving into a shape that felt foreign and wrong.

As they turned to face the crowd, Conner leaned in, his voice a low growl against her ear.

"Smile wider, sweetheart. You're Mrs. Todd now. Act like it."

Donna's jaw tightened, her teeth grinding together. She tilted her head slightly, her smile growing sharper, more feral. "I'd rather choke."

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Careful, Donna. I might take you up on that."

The weight of his hand on her lower back was possessive as he guided her down the aisle, the applause and murmurs of the guests fading into the background. Every step felt like walking deeper into a prison, the gilded walls closing in around her.

When they reached the exit, the car waiting for them was sleek and black, a symbol of wealth and power. Conner opened the door for her, a mockery of chivalry, his expression unreadable.

"After you, Mrs. Todd," he said, his voice laced with dark amusement.

Donna didn't respond, sliding into the car with her chin held high. The leather seats were cold against her skin, the interior silent except for the low hum of the engine as Conner slid in beside her.

The car pulled away, the city blurring past the windows, but neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, oppressive, and Donna could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unyielding.

"You don't have to stare," she said finally, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Conner chuckled, low and dark. "I'm just admiring my investment."

Her head snapped toward him, her eyes blazing. "I'm not a commodity, Conner. And I'm not yours."

His smile was slow, predatory, as he leaned closer. "Oh, Donna. You became mine the moment you said 'I do.'"

She turned away from him, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. The weight of his words settled over her like a shroud, suffocating and inescapable.

When the car pulled up to his penthouse, Donna hesitated for the briefest moment before stepping out, the cold night air biting at her skin. The building was a fortress of glass and steel, its opulence glaringly obvious.

The elevator ride to the top floor was silent, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. When the doors opened, Donna stepped into the penthouse, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

The space was as cold and impersonal as the man who owned it, all sharp lines and muted colors. But it was the view that caught her attention-the sprawling city below, its lights twinkling like stars against the darkness.

"Welcome home," Conner said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Donna turned to him, her eyes narrowing. "This isn't my home. It never will be."

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "You'll learn to adapt, Donna. Or you'll suffer."

Her chin lifted, her defiance blazing in her eyes. "You don't scare me, Conner."

His smile was cold, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. "You should be scared, sweetheart. But don't worry-I'll enjoy teaching you."

She turned on her heel, walking toward the bedroom without another word. But as she closed the door behind her, her hands trembled, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

This was her life now.

And she would do whatever it took to survive it.

The bedroom was enormous, yet it felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. The king-sized bed, draped in crisp black sheets, stood as a monolith in the center of the room, and floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the city. But none of it mattered to Donna. The gilded beauty of her surroundings only amplified her suffocating rage.

She leaned back against the door, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. Her hands clenched into fists as her mind replayed Conner's smug expression, the way he had claimed ownership of her like she was some prize he had won.

"Not his," she whispered under her breath, her voice shaking but firm. "I'll never be his."

A sharp knock on the door startled her, and before she could even respond, it opened, revealing Conner. He filled the doorway, his presence dominating the space as he leaned casually against the frame.

"Privacy isn't really a thing for you, is it?" Donna snapped, her arms crossing over her chest.

Conner's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Not in my house, no. What's mine doesn't get to lock me out."

Her blood boiled at his audacity. "Do you hear yourself? You're insufferable."

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click. "And you're in denial. This isn't a fairytale, Donna. You don't get to stomp your feet and pout your way out of this marriage. You signed the contract. You're mine."

She stepped toward him, her anger overriding her fear. "I signed under duress. You don't own me, Conner. You can't control me, and I won't let you treat me like some possession."

He moved closer, his towering frame now inches from hers. His green eyes bored into hers, unreadable yet unyielding. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?"

"I know exactly what I'm dealing with," she shot back. "A tyrant with too much money and no soul."

Conner's jaw ticked, his smirk faltering for just a second before he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Careful, Donna. You don't want to see what happens when you push me too far."

Her breath hitched, but she refused to back down. "And you don't want to see what happens when you underestimate me."

For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension, neither willing to back down. Then, as if deciding she wasn't worth the effort, Conner straightened and stepped back, his smirk returning.

"Suit yourself," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "You'll come around eventually. They always do."

Donna's stomach twisted at his words, but she kept her expression neutral. "If you're done trying to intimidate me, I'd like to be alone."

Conner's eyes flicked over her one last time, lingering just long enough to make her skin crawl, before he turned and walked out of the room. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, leaving Donna alone once more.

She exhaled shakily, her knees threatening to buckle as she sank onto the edge of the bed. Her mind raced with everything that had happened, everything she'd just endured. She felt like she was drowning, trapped in a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

But even as despair threatened to consume her, Donna clenched her fists and straightened her back. She wouldn't let him win. Not now, not ever.

This marriage might have been forced upon her, but she wasn't going to let Conner Todd break her.

The next morning, the soft glow of dawn spilled through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. Donna hadn't slept a wink. She spent most of the night pacing, her mind running in circles as she tried to figure out a way out of this mess.

A knock on the door broke her from her thoughts.

"Donna," came Conner's voice, smooth yet commanding. "We have breakfast in ten. Don't make me wait."

She rolled her eyes, her fingers tightening around the satin robe she had wrapped over her nightgown. The nerve of him.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, where Conner was waiting for her. He was already dressed in a tailored gray suit, his hair neatly combed, and his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.

"You could've sent a text," she said flatly, brushing past him.

"You don't answer texts," he replied, falling into step beside her.

Donna didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, she focused on the layout of the penthouse as they walked. Every detail, every corner. She didn't know how, but she would find a way to escape this gilded cage.

They entered the dining room, where a lavish breakfast spread awaited them. Freshly baked croissants, a variety of fruits, smoked salmon, and eggs cooked to perfection. Donna didn't trust it for a second.

Conner sat at the head of the table and gestured for her to take the seat beside him. She hesitated for a moment before sitting down, her movements stiff and deliberate.

"Eat," he said simply, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"I'm not hungry."

He looked up at her, his expression blank but his tone sharp. "Eat."

The way he said it made her bristle, but she grabbed a piece of toast anyway, if only to avoid another confrontation. She took a small bite, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Is this how it's going to be?" she asked, her voice low but cutting. "You barking orders, me pretending to listen?"

Conner leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving hers. "You'll learn to listen eventually."

She laughed, a bitter sound. "Keep dreaming."

He smirked, but there was no humor in it. "You're feisty. I like that. But let me give you some advice, Donna. In my world, disobedience gets you killed."

Her appetite vanished, her stomach churning. But she refused to let him see her fear. "Good thing I don't plan on staying in your world for long."

His smirk widened, but his eyes darkened. "We'll see about that."

Donna set the toast down and pushed her chair back. "If you're done threatening me, I have better things to do with my time."

Conner's voice followed her as she walked away. "Better things? Like plotting your escape?"

She stopped in her tracks, her heart racing, but she didn't turn around. "If I were you, Conner, I'd watch my back. You might be the one who needs to escape."

For the first time, she thought she heard a genuine laugh from him, low and rich. "I think I'm going to enjoy this marriage more than I thought."

She didn't respond. She didn't need to. Her defiance spoke louder than words as she walked away, her resolve hardening with every step.

Let him think he was in control. Let him think he'd won.

She'd make him regret underestimating her.

Donna walked through the sprawling penthouse, her heart thudding in her chest as she put distance between herself and Conner. Every step felt like an act of defiance, though she knew it was merely a small reprieve in the larger battle ahead. The penthouse was vast and opulent, the kind of wealth that reeked of cold detachment. It was all marble floors, glass walls, and furniture that looked more like art than something a human being would use.

She passed a grand piano in the corner of the living room, its sleek black surface catching the morning light. A part of her was tempted to slam her fingers against the keys, to fill the sterile space with chaos, but she resisted. This wasn't the time for petty rebellion. She needed to think, to strategize.

Her bare feet carried her to a balcony overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking-skyscrapers glinting in the sunlight, the hum of life pulsing below. But it offered no comfort. She leaned against the glass railing, her mind racing.

There had to be a way out of this.

A sudden voice broke her thoughts. "You'll find no escape down there."

She whipped around to see Conner standing in the doorway to the balcony, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He was infuriatingly calm, as though he hadn't just cornered her into a life she didn't want.

"Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people?" she snapped, crossing her arms.

Conner stepped onto the balcony, his every move calculated. "When those people are plotting against me, yes."

Donna laughed bitterly. "Not everything revolves around you, Conner. Contrary to what you might believe, I'm not spending every waking moment thinking about you."

He arched a brow, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. "That's funny. Because I spend quite a bit of time thinking about you."

Her stomach tightened at his words, but she refused to show it. "Flattery doesn't suit you."

He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. "Who said I was trying to flatter you?"

Donna turned back toward the city, refusing to meet his gaze. She couldn't afford to let him see the turmoil swirling inside her. "Why are you here, Conner? Don't you have empires to run, people to intimidate?"

"I do," he said, his voice lower now. "But my wife is more entertaining."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad I can be your source of amusement."

"You are," he admitted, leaning against the railing beside her. "But you're also a problem. And I don't like problems, Donna."

"Then maybe you should've thought of that before dragging me into your world," she shot back, her eyes flashing.

Conner tilted his head, studying her. "You're angry. I get it. But let me make one thing clear-this isn't just about you. It never was. Your father owed me, and you're the payment."

Her chest tightened at the mention of her father. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but she kept her voice steady. "You could've taken anything else. Money. Assets. Why me?"

Conner's gaze darkened, his smirk vanishing. "Because your father made it personal. He crossed a line, and now you're in the middle of it. Consider yourself collateral damage."

Collateral damage. The words hit her like a blow, but she refused to let him see her crumble. "You're a monster," she said quietly, her voice trembling with suppressed fury.

"And you're a survivor," he countered, his eyes boring into hers. "That's why I chose you, Donna. You don't break easily. But don't mistake that for freedom."

Donna turned away, her nails digging into her palms. She needed to get out of here, to clear her head. Without another word, she brushed past him and disappeared into the penthouse, ignoring the weight of his gaze on her back.

Hours later, Donna found herself wandering through the library-a room she hadn't expected to find in Conner's cold, calculated domain. The shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books that seemed untouched, their spines pristine.

She ran her fingers along the shelves, the feel of the leather-bound volumes grounding her. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, to escape the weight of her reality.

"You read?"

She spun around, startled to see Conner leaning against the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Do you follow me everywhere?" she asked, her voice dripping with annoyance.

He shrugged, stepping into the room. "It's my house. You're in my space."

"Trust me, I wouldn't be here if I had a choice," she muttered, turning back to the books.

Conner watched her for a moment before speaking. "What are you looking for?"

"Peace and quiet," she replied without missing a beat.

He smirked. "Good luck finding that here."

Donna pulled a random book from the shelf, flipping it open to avoid his gaze. "Don't you have anything better to do than hover?"

"Not at the moment," he said, his tone casual. "You're much more interesting than my business meetings."

She snapped the book shut and glared at him. "I'm not here to entertain you, Conner. Go play your games somewhere else."

He stepped closer, his smirk fading as his expression turned serious. "This isn't a game, Donna. Not for me, and definitely not for you. You can hate me all you want, but you're in this now. And the sooner you accept that, the better."

Donna's jaw clenched, her nails biting into the leather of the book. "I'll never accept it."

Conner's eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then you'll suffer."

Her heart pounded, but she refused to look away. "So will you."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air between them thick with tension. Then, as if deciding he'd had enough, Conner turned and walked out of the room, leaving Donna alone with her thoughts.

She sank into one of the chairs, her hands trembling as she clutched the book to her chest. She hated him with every fiber of her being, but she couldn't deny the truth in his words. She was in this now, whether she liked it or not.

But that didn't mean she was giving up. If Conner thought she would simply fall in line, he was sorely mistaken.

Donna Kent was a survivor. And she would find a way to take back her life-no matter the cost.