His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)

I was in the middle of my squat reps when the gym door crept open. Sofiya rolled into the room, looking nervous. I hadn’t seen her since I stormed out yesterday—she’d been in her room by the time I returned late in the night. This morning, she was wearing tight black leggings and a top so small it was closer to a bra. My heart rate sped up even as I set down my weights.

“Is it okay if I’m in here?” she asked. Her eyes crept down my bare chest before snapping back to my face, and I felt the inexplicable urge to lift something heavy.

I raised my chin in assent, and she gave me a little smile before going over to the dumbbell rack. I picked up my own fifty-pound weights as I watched her grab the never-before-used five-pound dumbbells. I kept an eye on her as I continued with my reps, the burning in my muscles forgotten as I tried to figure out what Sofiya was doing. She grasped the weights clumsily and started doing shoulder presses. I gritted my teeth at her shit form. She was going to hurt herself.

I dropped my weights again and stormed over. “What are you doing?”

Her lips parted as she tilted her head up to look at me. “Umm, lifting weights?” She looked so fucking adorable it made me irritated.

I crossed my arms. “You’re doing a terrible job.”

She blinked before averting her gaze. “I just want to strengthen my shoulders so I can push my chair easier.”

I let my eyes wander down her arms, taking in the expanse of smooth skin, before forcing myself to look at the wheelchair she was using. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before, too focused on the beautiful woman in it, but it was black and clunky. It looked too big and heavy for her.

“Is that the best wheelchair for you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

She froze and one of the dumbbells slipped from her hand, hitting the floor with a thud. I grabbed the other one before she dropped it and sat down on the weight bench so I wasn’t looming over her.

“Sofiya?” I arched my brow.

She twisted her hands together before glancing at me. “Well… I just… I did something really bad.”

My chest constricted. Was she going to admit to lying to me? Spying on me? The sound of two gunshots echoed through my mind.

“Tell me,” I demanded through clenched teeth.

She looked back down at her hands, her shoulders hunched. “About six months ago, walking started to get really hard for me. I was still using my rollator, but my legs were weak, and I was getting these dizzy spells when I stood up. I was in a lot of pain, and I kept falling and dislocating my knee. My father refused to allow me to get a wheelchair. He said I just needed to be stronger and try harder.”

My hands flexed.

“My sister and I were trying to figure out how to get one for me, but they’re really expensive, and we didn’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean, they’re expensive?”

Sofiya gave me a confused expression. “They cost a lot of money?”

“Your father is head of the Bratva. He has almost unlimited money.”

“Mila and I don’t, though,” she said, smiling sadly.

“He didn’t give you an allowance?”

She shook her head. Motherfucking bastard.

I ran my hand through my hair. “So how did you get this?” I gestured at her chair.

Sofiya buried her face in her hands. “Please don’t judge me. I know I’m a horrible person, but we were getting desperate. I hadn’t been able to leave my bed for weeks and Mila was panicking, so she convinced our bodyguard to help her break into a medical supply store and steal this.”

I waited for her to say more, but she remained silent.

“And?”

“And what?” Sofiya responded, her voice rising. “This is a stolen wheelchair. It’s not custom or anything, so it’s not like someone was waiting for it, but it’s still horrible.” Her eyes snapped to mine and she reached out to touch my hand. “It’s not Mila’s fault. I made her do it.” Her voice carried an edge of panic, as if she thought I was about to whip out my phone to report a crime.

My lips twitched. My innocent little wife.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you had to steal a wheelchair that clearly doesn’t fit you because your father wouldn’t give you money for one, and you thought I’d be most upset about the theft?”

“Stealing is wrong,” Sofiya said seriously.

I gripped her chin. “You were a Bratva princess, and now you’re a Mafia queen. You’re surrounded by much worse criminals than wheelchair thieves.”

Sofiya gave me a reluctant smile. “That’s what Mila said.”

“Are things better since you got it?”

“Yeah, it’s been better,” she said softly.

“What did your father do when he saw it?”

“Oh… he didn’t know about it until the morning of the wedding.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “Mila and I pretty much stayed in the east wing of the second floor. We rarely saw our parents.” She cleared her throat. “He wasn’t happy when he saw it, though. That’s why he refused to walk me down the aisle.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw.

I was a cold man. It was who I’d been created to be, who I had to be. But it was hard not to feel something when staring into Sofiya’s big blue eyes.

“You need to engage your core and keep your elbows in when doing shoulder presses.”

She blinked at the abrupt change in topic.

I picked up the two dumbbells and handed them to Sofiya before pushing off the bench and standing behind her. I caught her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror covering the back wall of the gym. She was all light—bright hair, bright eyes—to my darkness. My eyes trailed down her body. From this position, I could enjoy all her curves—the spread of her thighs, the soft roll of her stomach, the way her hard nipples pressed against her top. My fingers itched to move, to touch, to figure out why she had such an effect on me.

She sat up straight, clenching the weights in her hands, and lifted them above her head.

“Keep your elbows soft,” I said, tracing my fingers up her arms. She inhaled sharply and the sound went straight to my cock.

Fuck. I had to stop. This was dangerous. Purposeless. The whole reason I’d agreed to this marriage was for the alliance. The arrangement was supposed to be simple, straightforward. I never mixed business with pleasure.

I cleared my throat. “I have work to do.”

Sofiya’s quiet “thank you” followed me out of the gym.

Her sweet scent haunted me into the shower.

The image of her tits in that tiny top played in front of my eyes as I stroked my cock.

I came embarrassingly fast.

I needed to get laid, or I was in serious danger of making a move on my wife.