Married to My Enemy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Married to my Enemy

  SEAL'd With A Kiss

  His Naughty Nurse

  Wanted

  Doctor's Orders

  Doctor's Fake Proposal

  Thank you!

  Copyright Page

  Table of Contents

  Married to my Enemy

  SEAL'd With A Kiss

  His Naughty Nurse

  Wanted

  Doctor's Orders

  Doctor's Fake Proposal

  Thank you!

  Copyright Page

  Married to my Enemy

  An Arranged Marriage Romance

  By Nicole Elliot

  CHAPTER 1

  Giovanni

  Like one of the oldest clichés in existence said, it was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.

  I pulled up outside of the rundown apartment complex and sat in my car for a moment, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead. When I’d gotten the call from my father earlier in the morning, I already knew what was coming, practically sensing his words before he even spoke them.

  “Son, I need you to take care of some business.”

  “Who?” I had asked.

  “Someone who hasn’t been repaying his debt. He owes me, and I want the money. Now.”

  I stared at the raggedy building before me, knowing that once I left, it was imperative that I had either good news or money, for my father.

  Luca Romano would accept nothing less.

  “All right—let’s fucking do this,” I said, giving myself a pep talk as I stepped out of my car. I pulled a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of my jacket, put them on, and walked briskly toward the apartment complex. A couple of teens stood outside the entrance, laughing and talking while bouncing a basketball. Perhaps sensing something dangerous about me, they stepped aside, permitting me a clear path to enter.

  The inside of the apartment complex didn’t look much better than the outside, and the air held a musty and stale aroma that would have made me gag if I hadn’t been used to entering some of the most downtrodden areas of the city. I grimaced slightly as I made my way to the stairwell, not caring to use the rickety elevator. Besides, running up a few flights of stairs was a good way to get my adrenaline pumping, which I certainly needed.

  Ignoring how the stairs groaned under my heavy shoes, I jogged up to the third floor, and I set off down the hallway. I pulled the slip of paper from my pocket where I had written down the apartment number. When I found the right door, I reached into my pocket for a third time, pulling out a hair band. My hair had grown quite long over the years, and my father urged me repeatedly to get it cut, insisting that my hair looked better suited for the daughter he didn’t have. But I ignored him. I’d grown fond of my hair, for it made me look more mysterious and menacing. And as an added bonus, women loved it.

  But for tasks like the one ahead of me, it only got in the way. So, after securing it into a ponytail, I took a deep breath and then knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” a nasal voice asked from the other side of the thin wood.

  I responded by knocking more aggressively.

  “All right, all right,” the voice said. “Hold your horses.” Several locks clicked and slowly, the door began to creak open. A cloudy eye peered out at me. “Who are you?”

  Showtime, I thought to myself.

  In one swift motion, I slammed my arm against the door, forcing it to swing open. The guy on the other side—Tommy—swore as it hit him painfully in the head.

  Forcing my way inside, I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it to ensure that we wouldn’t be interrupted.

  “Man—who are you? I’m going to call the cops!” Tommy yelled.

  “No,” I said, advancing on him. “I don’t think you will.”

  “You have no right to be here!”

  “And you have no right to hold on to the money you owe my father.”

  “Y-Your father? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s funny because I think you do.” I snatched the sunglasses off my face and returned them to my pocket, wanting the guy to see my full face. I knew I looked a lot like my father, especially around the eyes. Mine, like my father’s, were a golden amber.

  “Y-you’re a Romano?”

  I gave the most unnerving smile I could muster. “That’s right. How did you guess?”

  “Listen, man—”

  “No, you’re the one who’s going to do the listening right now.”

  I stormed through the apartment, trying my best not to shudder. The place was filthy. Dirty clothes and unwashed dishes scattered every inch of the floor, but I made no effort to avoid stepping on as much of it as I could.

  “Come on, man!” Tommy said. “Watch the dishes. You’ll break them!”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have them lying around on the damned floor,” I said. “This place is a pigsty.”

  “Oh yeah? Then maybe you should just leave then.”

  “Not until I’ve said my piece.” I pulled out an old rickety chair from beside a shabby wooden coffee table. Several bugs scurried for cover. Again, I suppressed a shudder, already desperate to get out of this filth. I was going to completely lose it if anything crawled on me. I clenched my teeth together, thinking about how my father owed me for making these kinds of errands for him because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand doing them.

  Nevertheless, I kept on my brave face and fixed Tommy with my sternest gaze. “Come here. Sit,” I said. Tommy folded his arms, apparently not appreciating being offered a seat in his own apartment. But I didn’t care. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I warned.

  “What’s the hard way? This, isn’t it? Because you sure could have fooled me.”

  I laughed and cracked my knuckles. A look of panic crossed Tommy’s face. I almost felt bad about what I was going to do to him. He was tall but exceptionally skinny, and by no means would it be a fair fight.

  I reached across the room and grabbed his arm, making sure to painfully twist it as I forced him into the chair. He let out a howl as his butt hit the seat. I then positioned myself directly in front of him, squeezed his shoulders, and brought myself down to his eye-level. It was uncomfortable being so close to his face; I could smell his breath, which reeked of cigarettes and stale sour-onion potato chips.

  “Where’s my father’s money?” I said.

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Wrong answer.” I backhand slapped him hard across the face, the rings on my fingers drawing blood from the side of his mouth.

  Tommy sputtered for a moment, taking a while to recollect himself. “Look—I don’t have it yet! All right? I don’t have it!”

  I balled my fist and punched him on the other side of the face. “Still not the right answer, Tommy.”

  “I don’t know what else you want me to tell you,” he said, his voice distorted from the blood pooling his mouth.

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “I know you aren’t that stupid. You know exactly what I want you to say. So, let’s try this again. Where is my father’s money?”

  “I’ll have it next week. I swear! I’ll have it next week.”

  I stepped back and folded my arms. “Hmm…Next week.” Just for dramatic purposes, I swung my hand back, pretending that I was going to hit him again. Tommy cowered in his seat. I laughed. “I guess next week will do,” I said. “However, you better not be lying to me. Otherwise, I’ll be back, and I promise you, my next visit won’t be so fun.”

  I put my hand under my jacket, right at my hip, creating the illusion that I was armed.

  Tommy’s eyes widened, and he vigorously nodded his head. “Next week, I p-promise,” he stut
tered.

  I clasped my hand at his shoulder. “Nice doing business with you,” I said, and then let myself out of the apartment.

  CHAPTER 2

  Giovanni

  After leaving Tommy’s, I headed straight to my father’s office to report that I’d done my task.

  I had something else to tell him as well though…

  As I walked down the hall, heading to his office, several people nodded respectfully and fearfully at me, uttering quick and nervous hellos that I did not return. Everyone knew that I was Luca Romano’s son, which was a reputation that practically proceeded me everywhere I went.

  It was a running joke that we Romano’s provided waste-management services. We were thought of as the city’s ‘sanitation crew,’ hired to be all the muscle the mafia needed. Whenever there was a mess, we cleaned it up and took out the trash; everybody knew that we didn’t leave garbage lying around at any cost.

  When I reached my father’s office, I found him sitting at his desk, in the middle of a phone call. He nodded at me as I took a seat before him and crossed my feet on his desktop. Without missing a beat, he pushed my feet off.

  “Yeah,” he said into the phone. “Trust me, it’s being taken care of.”

  I began twirling my thumbs as I thought about what I wanted to say to him, and how I was going to plead my case.

  “Yeah, all right. Bye.” Dad hung up the phone and eyed me. “All that nervous jittering you’re doing—you better have good news for me, Gio.”

  “I visited your boy, Tommy. He says he’ll have your money next week.”

  “Good. Because that little weasel owes me far too much. I’m done playing around with him.”

  “Speaking of being done—” I said, standing up and beginning to pace the room, “—don’t you think it’s about time that I should be done with all those kinds of errands?”

  Dad folded his arms across his chest and leaned back, narrowing eyes that were the exact same shade of amber as my own. “What do you mean by that, son?”

  “Dad, I’ve been the capo for how long now? It’s time that I should get a higher role, don’t you think? What else can I do to prove myself? I feel like you’re stalling and just don’t want to give me more responsibilities. I’m your son, for crying out loud! I should have a higher role in our family business. I’m twenty-seven years old now. I don’t want to be stuck in the same position by the time I hit thirty.”

  Dad sighed. “I keep you where you are because you’re good at what you do. That’s a compliment, by the way.”

  “Yeah, but I can be even better at something else. How will you ever know if you won’t even give me a try?”

  “You’re so damned impatient, Gio. I wonder where you get it? Must be from your mother, since you even sport her hair style these days.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said. I untied my hair from its ponytail, partially just to annoy him. “You’re just mad you can’t grow hair like this, old man. Look at you—you’re balding. One foot in the grave already. All the more reason you need to pass on some more responsibility to me. It’s about time for you to start thinking about who you’ll leave the family business to. I am your firstborn son, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember, all right. Firstborn and the most hard-headed.”

  “I certainly know where I get that from.”

  Dad sighed. “Listen, Gio—do you want to know how you can really help out?”

  “I’m all ears, Pops.”

  “Get into the Marino family.”

  His statement hung in the air for a long time. A stretch of silence passed between us. I raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was implying what I thought. I cleared my throat. “Oh yeah? And how do you suppose I do that?” I asked although I suspected I already knew the answer.

  “Through their daughter, of course,” Dad said. “You get in good with the Marino girl. Work your magic and charm and whatever else it is that you do. Hell, the marriage doesn’t have to be like, you know, a real marriage. It just needs to happen so that you can secure our family ties with the Marino fortune. Got it?”

  I swore under my breath, but I definitely understood my father’s logic. The Marino family was loaded, and as the firstborn son, it made sense for Dad to want me to be the one to do such a duty.

  He also knew that I was the one who would always do anything for my family, no matter how unpleasant. And it certainly didn’t help that I was so desperate to prove my worth within the family. Fuck.

  I sighed. “Consider it done, Dad,” I said dejectedly.

  He smiled broadly. “That’s my boy.”

  I left his office, deciding that the sooner I set to work on my task, the better.

  I also knew though, that for tonight, I was going out to party as hard as I could before I set my focus on the Marino girl.

  After all, it was potentially my last night as a single man.

  CHAPTER 3

  Arianna

  “You did it, Lee!” I said, clapping my hands together.

  Lee gasped, his eyes widening in shock. He was eight-years-old, and long division had been giving him trouble ever since I’d introduced it to the class. But being the hard-worker that he was, he stayed after school whenever he could to get extra tutoring, determined to catch up to the rest of his classmates. Finally, his hard work had paid off.

  “I actually got it right?” he asked, dumbfounded.

  “You most certainly did,” I said, smiling and ruffling his hair.

  Abruptly, he jumped into the air and did a victory dance that I almost wanted to join in on. I didn’t mind staying after school to help him, but it was also nice to leave the school a little earlier. “So, looks like we can get out of here early today,” I said.

  Lee happily nodded his head and began packing his backpack. “See you next week, Ms. Marino!”

  “See you, Lee,” I said, watching him exit the classroom. I then set to work cleaning the blackboards and packing my own bags, more than ready to start my weekend even though I had no plans. Relaxing at home was good enough for me though.

  “Have a good weekend, Ms. Marino,” said one of my former students as I exited the school.

  “Thanks, you too!” I said, waving goodbye as I headed to my car.

  Setting my briefcase in the backseat, I climbed behind the driver’s wheel, thinking that before I got too settled into relaxing for the weekend, I needed to make sure I had the following week’s lesson plan ready.

  In the couple of years that I’d been working as a teacher, I’d easily gathered that it was a tiring career, but a rewarding one, especially when working with children as young as second-graders. Even on the toughest days, which were prone to be full of tears and temper-tantrums, I wouldn’t change my career for anything in the world. I’ve always loved children and always knew that I wanted to make a career that would allow me to work with them. So, when I’d landed my first full-time teaching position about two years ago, it had been a dream come true, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it since.

  Most of all, I was at least thankful to not have to be in the family business. Yet, being the only daughter, it was pretty much obvious right from the start that I wouldn’t be forced into the family line of work.

  It wasn’t a secret; I knew my father and brothers worked for the mafia and that our family’s riches were essentially ‘dirty money.’ Nevertheless, they kept my mother and me out of it, which is the most I could ask for. I happily permitted them to keep the wool over my eyes and let me live the life that I wanted to live, for the most part.

  There was one part of my life that I knew wasn’t entirely up to me, but that had always seemed too far away to worry about, until recently. With my 26th birthday having passed already, I knew the time was drawing near.

  The drive home wasn’t a long one, and I’d been in a good mood until I stepped through the front door of my house. I knew something was wrong when my mother nearly jumped a mile into the air when I walked into the kitchen, where she was at the stove preparing
dinner.

  It was nice to come home to home-cooked meals, although I was quickly getting to the age where I wished to be on my own by now. I often dreamed of possibly having my own cute apartment to decorate, but I knew that was nowhere in my near future. Given my family’s line of work, my parents insisted that I stayed at home until I was married and had a husband to look out for and protect me.

  “No proper young lady like yourself has any business living alone,” my father had said shortly after I’d started teaching. Just wanting to run the idea by him, I had asked how he would feel about me saving up some money to get my own place. But just as I had anticipated, the idea was almost instantly shot down. Needless to say, my parents harbored old-fashioned ideas. There was just no use fighting them over it, for their minds couldn’t be swayed.

  Just like there was no point telling them that they were hypocrites.

  My brothers all entertained women in their own places on a regular basis—women whose families apparently had no qualms about letting them grow up and be on their own.

  But that was just how double-standards worked in my family.

  “Goodness, you scared me, Ari,” my mother said, clutching her chest. My mother was a beautiful woman, who had likely been a knockout in her younger days. People often told me I was the spitting image of her when she was in college, but I’ve always thought she was prettier than me. There was a strong resemblance between us nonetheless though, considering we had the same face shape and hazel eyes. While my hair was dark brown like my father though, hers was a lighter shade.

  “Sorry, Mama,” I said, eyeing her suspiciously.

  She turned off a pot of something boiling on the stove that smelled delicious and gave me a rather forced smile. “How was work today, honey?”

  I nodded. “It was pretty good. One of the students I tutor on a regular basis made a lot of progress. I’m so proud of him.”

  Mama smiled. “Be proud of yourself, sweetie. You’re just an excellent teacher. I see all the hard work you put in for those kids. You’re going to make an excellent mother yourself someday.”