Page 6 of A Wife's Duty

Another new apartment. Lucia glanced around the apartment she had been placed in just last night. This was similar to all of the others, including the soldier at the door, waiting, watching.

It had been three days since he last took her out. Other than late at night, feeling the bed dip, she hadn’t seen him. Even then, she hadn’t really seen him, just felt him as she slept with her back toward him.

Married life wasn’t quite what she thought it would be. At least, not right now. She still didn’t know a great deal about her husband, other than the fact he was an outstanding dancer. Three days ago, she had gone to one of his many nightclubs, and they danced. Not for long, maybe an hour, but it had been the most fun she ever had. She didn’t know for certain if that was sad or not. Even when she lived back home, she tended to be constantly on guard.

Moving from room to room, but avoiding the office, she had come to realize that Boone didn’t have a single personal effect. Not a single item to his name.

Well, that wasn’t true. He had a lot of items to his name, just none of them personalized. No pictures. Nothing to show who the man was. Sure, there were random books, from murder mysteries to romance, to horror, to mechanics. There were not a lot of books, but enough to keep someone entertained for a long time.

There was nothing of his history. She didn’t even know where he went to school or what he did for a living. She knew he must have some kind of association with what her own family did. Her father was one of many capos within the Bonaldi family.

Bonaldi was in charge, and told everyone else what to do. Boone was not part of their world, but was he like Bonaldi? He must have been, to instill that kind of fear into the men she had known, who once seemed to have none.

“What are you looking at?”

She spun around to find the man himself looking at her. She’d been so lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard him enter.

“Boone? I mean, Mister Grinder.” She felt her cheeks start to heat.

He didn’t dispute her.

“Is that how you greet everyone?”

“Uh, no, you are my husband.” Lucia hated this. She was so out of her depth. She didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing. Her hands felt a little clammy.

He’d not been home during the day before. Usually, he came in, as he did three days ago, barking orders about what he wanted to have done.

There was no dress in his hands this time. Nothing. He stood, one hand slid into his pocket, the other by his side.

“And my husband deserves to have a special title.” She was clutching at straws right now.

Normally, she wasn’t around when her mother greeted her father. She often heard a slap, and seeing as he was usually in a bad mood, it was safer for her to be elsewhere. That was where she often was—elsewhere. Her brothers and sister were usually there to greet him. He never wanted to see the disappointment, and that was exactly what she was to him.

Boone continued to stare at her.

“You can call me Boone,” he said.

She nodded and then pressed her lips together, as if it was going to be the most impossible task for her to complete. What the hell was going on with her? He was going to start hating the woman he married if she didn’t get her own head out of her ass.

“Good afternoon, Boone,” she said. There, it finally came out of her mouth, and she must have sounded like a stupid fucking child. She didn’t like this.

He smirked.

Why did he get to find this so funny? Nothing about this was funny.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“What are you looking at?” He’d caught her staring at—surprise—blank walls.

She turned to look at the blank wall and then back at him. “You don’t have any pictures, or much in the way of artwork. Back home, it is odd to see a blank wall.” Her father was always replacing artwork with newer, more expensive pieces. When they had parties where more families under Bonaldi’s power came together, it was her father’s bragging rights. The artwork, the expense of it all. Every single capo did it.

There was always some elaborate piece of furniture on display, or an expensive trinket. Parties were exhausting with men and women talking about their possessions. It was each capo’s way of showing the favor Bonaldi had given them. She didn’t know if any of them noticed, but in most cases, it was all the same. No one got better than the other, but all of it was earned.

She was under no illusion that someone had been hurt in acquiring certain artifacts or trinkets. Death within the Bonaldi meant more power.

She hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it. After all, she was just a woman, and no woman in that world had any power, other than her virginity. Their only selling point was their innocence and beauty. Unfortunately, she didn’t have beauty, much to her father’s irritation. At eighteen, he had tried to remove her from his family. Not by killing her, that would have been a shame on him. He tried to get her married to someone, anyone, but no one would have her.

She pulled out of her thoughts and instead focused on Boone.

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