Page 17 of Marrying the Mobster
“Are you the only one?” I blurt without thinking. “I mean … you live here so you must be special to him, but … I imagine women throw themselves at him all the time.”
Marcella gives me a puzzled look, then erupts into giggles again. “You think I’m Diego’s girlfriend? Oh my God, that’s hilarious! I can’t wait to tell Jovan!”
Now I’m even more irritated, thinking of that prick Jovan having a laugh at my expense. “Thatwasyou who sent him that lingerie pic the other night, wasn’t it?”
She shakes her head, still laughing. “God, no. No telling which of his … lady friends sent him that. And he’s never had a girlfriend, not really, and definitely never moved anyone into this house. He’s my brother.”
My face flushes with embarrassment. “Oh. I’m sorry, I … I shouldn’t have assumed. Your picture was the lockscreen on his phone, and I thought …”
Marcella gets up for a refill. “Don’t worry about it. I can see where you might have gotten the idea.”
“Well, there are no other women in this house.”
“That’s the way it’s been since our mother died,” she says, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. “You’re the first woman to step foot in this house since then.”
I frown, staring into my empty glass. “You mean he doesn’t do this kidnapping thing regularly?”
“Not with women, and never here at home.” She turns to face me, looking thoughtful. “You’re not from this world, are you? Mafia-world?”
“No,” I reply shaking my head. “My father is a real-estate developer. Before my mother passed away a few years ago, she was a curator for the Lowe Art Museum.”
Marcella offers me the champagne and I fill my glass, foregoing the orange juice.
“In this world,” she says, “the men handle their business away from their women. That applies to all the gangs, not just ours. We’re thought of as fragile and in need of protection. I might know most of what goes on here, but that’s only because the guys gossip like a bunch of high school chicks. I don’t have any say or control.”
“It sounds … stifling.”
Marcella shrugs. “It’s not so bad. Diego’s a good brother.” At my snort of disbelief, she laughs. “Seriously. I know he’s been a dick to you, but he’s taken care of me since I was born. One thing I can say about these men … they provide well and fiercely protect their children and women.”
“Oh sure,” I grumble. “It’s onlyotherpeople’s women who are in danger around them.”
She wrinkles her brow and gives me an apologetic look. “It’s not personal.”
“It is for me!” I shout, springing to my feet. “I’m the one who’s going to eat a bullet if you brother doesn’t get his money.”
“Elena … I wish there was something I could do.”
“You can! Help me get out of here. Diego never has to know it was you. I’ll make sure he gets his money eventually, I swear.”
Marcella gives me a sad look and slowly shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Even if I could do that, you wouldn’t be able to hide for long before they found you. Diego has connections everywhere.”
Before I can reply, someone knocks on the door. It turns out to be the maid, Antonella. She’s carrying a huge box, which she drops in the middle of the room.
“Your clothes came in,” she says, sounding as if she’s presenting me with a Christmas gift.
She and Marcella start digging through the package, throwing items of clothing across the bed. I ignore them and head to the champagne for another refill. I’m starting to feel a little buzz, and it’s helping take the edge off. I’ve been here for a week now, which brings me closer to the moment of reckoning. If my father has been in touch with Diego, I haven’t been told about it. The wondering and waiting are already starting to drive me insane.
“Oooh, this is cute!” Antonella exclaims, lifting a white dress from the box.
It’s meant to be form-fitting and looks like its perfect for a cocktail party. A pair of matching heels comes out next.
“Where the hell am I going to wear that?” I snap. “To my execution?”
Antonella spreads the dress out on the bed and lays the shoes beside it. They have gold trim and shiny red soles. “You never know. Besides,SeñorPérez let me charge all this to his credit card. Seemed like a waste not to take advantage of it.”
I give Antonella an approving nod. “Agreed. Please tell me there’s a diamond tiara in there, too.”
“Nope,” Marcella replies. “But this little number is sexy as hell.”
