Bella King
Claimed for Life
An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance
First published by After Midnight 2020
Copyright © 2020 by Bella King
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmittedin any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise withoutwritten permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distributeit by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it arethe work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localitiesis entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
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Introduction
They killed my father, so I married a madman.
Honey
He’s twice my age, ridiculously handsome, and filthy rich.
It sounds like I found my happily ever after, except that I didn’t.
I don’t really know him, but that’s beside the point.
He’s my husband now.
The only problem is, he expects me to serve him like a king.
But I’m not that easy, and I’m not going to drop to my knees at his command.
It’ll take a lot more than an arranged marriage with a mafia boss to break me.
Carter
She thinks this is about her.
It’s not.
I have better things to do than fool around with a younger woman.
I need to own her, to control her, and to use her to my advantage.
That’s what she’s here for.
That’s why I married her.
The cards are in my hand now, and I’m about to make the gamble of a lifetime.
I just pray it doesn’t end with one of us dead.
Claimed for Life is a heart-pounding dark mafia romance built on twisted desires, lies, and vengeance. It’s not for the faint of heart, and it’s certainly not for those who blush at graphic and intense scenes.
Chapter One
Honey
The dry heat prickles my skin, the needles of white sunlight poking through the linen that covers my arms and legs. The desert is host to a number of deadly plants and animals, but the sun is the most ruthless of enemies here. There’s nowhere to hide from it, and even the strongest succumb to its will in minutes if they come unprepared.
I wouldn’t say that I was prepared for this kind of heat, but my father was, thank God. Without him, the water in my body would’ve been sucked out by the dancing sun in an instant, and I would’ve perished in the sweeping red sand dunes that make up the Kalahari Desert in South Africa.
It’s a hell of a place, the Kalahari, but we’re not here to ogle at the vast expanses of sand and rock. As much as I would have liked to snap some pictures of the lonesome landscape, my father insisted that I not bring my camera along with me. The only thing I was allowed to pack was food, water, and a small pistol laced tight against my inner thigh.
One would think that a gun would be more threatening than a camera, but then again, everyone here carries a weapon of some sort. Where we’re heading, secrets are more valuable than lives, and a camera can do a lot more damage than a gun ever could.
I push the white linen of my headscarf away from my mouth and bring the water flask that hangs from my neck by a hemp cord up to my dry lips. The metal rim of the flask is almost hot enough to burn me, even though it’s had a cap on it this entire time. It’s also insulated, but the ice-water that once jingled inside the container has turned lukewarm. Two hours of walking, and I’m already at risk of a heat stroke.
The warm water still feels good against the back of my throat. Tiny molecules of dry sand floating through the air coat my esophagus every few minutes, and my mouth goes dry even with it closed. Water is the most precious thing in the desert, and I’m thankful to have it now, even if it is warm.
I never would’ve imagined myself trudging through the hot sand with my father and a line of armed guards, but when you’re involved in mafia business, life takes you to some interesting places. Last week I was on an island off the coast of South America, drinking a fruity cocktail while my father laughed along with rich sailors who acquired their wealth by moving cocaine across the open oceans. We were in no danger there. Life was good.
Now, we have to walk through the desert on foot, because taking jeeps would make us a prime target for a drone strike. We’d be blown from the face of the planet, our splattered corpses washed over with sand and forgotten in a matter of hours. They don’t care who dies in this desert. Enemies and allies alike have been wiped from the map for looking too suspicious. Our best bet is to stay humble, slow, and reminiscent of weary travelers.
I screw the lid back onto my water flask and let it swing back down to my small chest. We’re about an hour away, according to the guide, and that hour is going to be hell. I wonder why I agreed to come with my father on this mission in the first place. I
