Flash Marriage With The Mafia Lord

MELANIE

An intense cold was eating away at my bones when I left the shelter. It was already late and the thin coat that covered my shoulders was not enough, but it was all I had.

I heard a muffled noise as I passed through an alley, but I decided to ignore it. New York was a place full of everything, including people with bad intentions, and the best thing anyone could do was mind their own business.

I heard it again, however, it sounded like a whimper. Could someone have been hurt?

Going against my better judgment, I decided to enter the alley. It seemed empty. I took the flashlight from my cell phone and illuminated the place. That's when I saw a shoe on the ground, but it was standing upright, so someone was wearing it. I approached and the groan, this time, was louder.

I ran closer and pushed some cardboard boxes that were covering the person. The first thing I saw was the red of blood on the white shirt. My throat went dry!

"Sir!" I finally looked at his face, which, despite being pale, was very handsome. I shook my head, because that was not the time! "I'm going to call the ambulance, hold on!"

My hands were shaking, but before I could press 'CALL', a hand grabbed my wrist. I looked down and the man was staring at me, his eyes more closed than open.

"N-no," he said in a weak voice.

"You've been shot! I have to call the ambulance and the police!"

"No!" This time, his voice sounded stronger. "I can't... they're going to kill me... I need... Home..."

And he lost consciousness. I cursed softly. What was I going to do? Someone had tried to kill him, for sure, so if he went to the hospital, maybe they would finish the job.

"I'm going to regret this, I know I will!"

How was I going to take that man away from there? I was in no condition to carry him, no doubt about it. I bit my lip and dialed the number of the person who would help me.

["Mel!"] Spencer's voice came from the other end of the line.

"I need you to come pick me up... by car. It's really urgent!"

["What's wrong? Are you having one of those days?"]

"Spencer! Please, just come! I'm at... Melrose and 152nd St. Please, just come. I'll explain it later!"

Spencer, as always, complied with my request and, not long after, we were putting a strange, semi-conscious man into my best friend's car.

"You better explain this to me very well, Melanie Walton. There's a man shot in the backseat of my car!"

"Sorry, Spencer! He... he said he couldn't go to the hospital, he was in danger..."

Spencer shook his head and sighed, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Your soft heart is going to get you in trouble. And I'm going to get in trouble too, because I can't say no to you!"

I smiled and winked, which made Spencer snort. He couldn't resist my cuteness!

Once at my apartment, Spencer helped me put the stranger to bed and clean the wound. He was a nurse, for which I was immensely grateful.

"You owe me one, cutie. Wow, look at those ripped abs! And those tattoos add the finishing touch..."

"Spencer!", I scolded him. Yes, the stranger had an enviable body, but please, that wasn't the moment!

Spencer shrugged.

"I'm not blind, thank God. Now, I have to go to my shift at the hospital. If you need anything, call me and I'll see if I can help you, okay?", he kissed my forehead. "As soon as he wakes up, Mel, talk to him and send him away. If someone is after him, they'll come after you!"

Spencer left me there, with the stranger.

I decided to make something to eat and, when I returned to the room, the 'patient' was waking up.

He put his hand on his waist, but found nothing there. The man didn't take his eyes off me and it seemed like he could penetrate my soul.

"How are you feeling?", I asked, after all, things like 'wow, you're awake', or 'are you okay?' didn't seem like the right thing to ask.

"Who are you?", his question was full of suspicion and... accusation?

I raised my eyebrow. How dared him?

"I should be the one asking you, after all, you're in my house. A stranger I found shot in an alley, in the middle of the night, and who refused to go to the hospital," I placed the bowl of soup and juice on the bedside table. "I'm Melanie Walton. Who are you, sir?"

"Where's my gun?" he asked as if he was asking where his phone was. I swallowed hard.

"You didn't have a gun when I found you," I moved my mouth nervously. So he wasn't just a victim of an assassination attempt or something on this line.

"Cazzo!", he replied in a low voice. Okay, I wasn't fluent, but I had studied a little Italian. Italian, weapons...

"Are you from the mafia?" I asked. Why keep beating around the bush?

"If you don't know who I am, you better keep it that way. I need a phone," he said, panting. It was obvious that the man was in pain.

"Okay. But first, eat something. I made potato soup with chicken. I blended it in the blender. It's pretty easy to digest." I followed Spencer's instructions. The man looked at me suspiciously and I rolled my eyes. "Sir, if I was going to poison you, it would have been easier to kill you when you were unconscious, don't you think?"

I clicked my tongue and grabbed the spoon, tilted my head back and poured some of the soup into my mouth, not touching the utensil. He was hurt and I didn't know if it was safe to transfer the bacteria from my mouth to his. I glared at him, daring him to say that the food was poisoned.

He moved his mouth and motioned for me to bring the plate closer to him. I filled a spoon, sat on the edge of the bed and brought the soup to his mouth. The man stared at me in a disturbing way, because at the same time that he was a little scary, he was very handsome and I have to admit that I was enchanted.

He ate in silence, not answering any of my questions.

"You've been shot. Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital? My friend took the bullet out, but I still think it's best..."

"Who's your friend?" his eyes darted to the door and then back to me, who was still holding the spoon near his mouth. I touched the man's lips with it, who opened his mouth and sipped the contents.

"My friend is my friend. And he's not a dangerous person!" I shook my head. "You should be more grateful!"

He said nothing and looked at his soup, indicating that I should serve him more. He really was insufferable! But he was sick and I would be a good Samaritan and swallow the harsher words stuck in my throat.

"I need a phone," he repeated and I wiped his mouth. The man looked at me and narrowed his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Mel," I replied. "And yours?"

"How many hours have I been here? I need a phone,"

I pressed my lips into a thin line.

"First, answer what I'm asking you!"

"If you think I won't do anything to you because I'm hurt, you're wrong!"