Page 49 of Marrying the Mobster
The question leaves me feeling warm inside, and I hate it. I can’t develop any soft spots for this man, no matter how charming he can be when he isn’t being an ungodly terror.
“Besides,” he adds, “being in the city for a while will be good for my own business. Which leads me to the next thing we need to discuss. What I do … what I am … it doesn’t have to be a part of our lives as husband and wife. Honestly, aside from having you attend occasional events and parties, I want your life to be as normal as possible.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Yeah, because everything about this is normal. My fairytale ending come true.”
Diego gives me a chastising look and shakes his head. “I’m serious. I’ll do my best to keep you away from any aspect of cartel business, and you will trust me to protect you from it. I’ve done it for Marcella for most of her life, so I like to think I’m pretty good at it.”
“Fine,” I reply. “I have no interest in your shady bullshit anyway.”
This gets another laugh out of him, and I notice he seems to be doing that more easily lately. He still rarely smiles but when he laughs, I get a glimpse of what that smile might look like. It’s charming and gorgeous … because of course nothing about him can be anything short of physical perfection. It’s the rest of him that’s fucked up, and somehow that just makes him more intriguing.
Holy shit. I’m losing my mind and he’s the one to blame.
“I want contact with my family and friends,” I blurt out before I can lose my courage. “I want a phone, and a laptop. I want to be able to call my sister and check my email, shop online. You know … normal people shit.”
All the humor leaves his face, and it’s like a stone wall has come up between us. “I’ll allow it in time. You have to understand that I can’t trust you with a phone or a laptop after last night. But I do want to trust you. I don’t want to keep you from your family or your friends. Give me time, Elena.”
I nod, admitting to myself that’s fair enough. I’m the one responsible for this—hopefully temporary—regression. Over time, he’ll give me more leeway and I won’t take advantage of it until the moment is right.
“There’s one last thing,” he says. “I still want you as much as I always have. Last night hasn’t changed that. But I won’t try to force you to give me your body. That choice will always be yours.”
Another shock, this one making me incapable of speech for a moment. I never expected to be given so much control, but Diego did say that this new agreement would be different. Where I once saw marrying him as a deeper form of imprisonment, I’m starting to think it might be a step in the other direction. As Diego’s ‘property,’ I was completely at his mercy in every way. It was something I was prepared to accept and endure. Now, he’s telling me I won’t have to accept or endure anything anymore.
“Okay,” I say with a slow nod. “Thank you.”
“And, adding to that … I need you to start some form of birth control as soon as possible. I’ll send for my personal doctor and he’ll prescribe it.”
I had been on the pill before being kidnapped, and have now been off it nearly three months. This development makes me feel better about the whole thing, but I can’t resist probing deeper. Something about the steel in his words tells me this is important to him.
“Why?” I ask. “I mean … if we’ll be married, why would you care?”
Diego leans closer, setting his cup aside and resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze is intent as it locks with mine. “I promised myself years ago that I would never bring children into this world. I have been a child raised by a mafia boss and his ruthless bitch of a wife. I won’t do to any kid what my parents did to me. I won’t shape or mold anyone in my own image. When I die, my mantle will fall to Jovan.”
I stare at him, open-mouthed and grappling with what I’ve just heard. His aversion to having children is a sharp contradiction to what I’ve come to understand about this world of criminals and conmen. Family structure is a part of their hierarchy, and his men take being husbands and fathers as seriously as they do being soldiers. I can’t help but wonder why Diego feels this way, and why he would refer to his own mother as a ruthless bitch. She must have really done a number on him.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to have children with him anyway; they would be just another thing binding us together and making it harder for me to escape. I should be thankful, not curious.
“Okay. I can agree with that.”
Diego looks relieved. Offering me a hand, he pulls me to my feet and steps close. He smells fresh from the shower and his face is scraped clean of stubble. I feel filthy in comparison and know my hair is a mess, but he’s looking at me like I’m perfection itself.
Cupping my cheek, Diego kisses me. It’s long and slow and almost sweet. I can feel the restraint he’s exercising, his body practically vibrating with the beast he let out of the cage last night. Part of me is reassured, and part of me wonders when I might confront that beast again. I shiver, swaying into him as he breaks the kiss.
“I don’t want us to be constantly at war,gatita. I want to try to make you happy. Will you let me?”
I force a smile, even though I feel sick to my stomach. There’s something inside of me that warms at his promise, that yearns for more of this tenderness and sweetness from him. The last bit of resistance I have left pushes back against that feeling, reminding me of the horrible things this man has done, both to me and to others.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. What else can I say? I have agreed to yet another form of attachment to Diego and have no choice but to go along with whatever he asks of me. I can only hope that in the end he won’t consume all of me. There might be nothing left for me to escape with.
“Good,” he says, giving me another quick kiss before stepping away. “Now, relax for the day. The salve I used on you last night is in the bathroom. Keep applying it a few times a day until you feel better. Your dress fitting will finish tomorrow, and I’m booking a spa day for you the day before the wedding.”
Without waiting for me to agree—because, really, why would he?—Diego leaves the room without a look back. The door doesn’t lock behind him, but it might as well have. The second I step foot outside this room, all eyes will be on me I’m sure Diego has his men on high alert after last night. My chances of escape keep getting narrower, leaving me with fewer and fewer options.
As I sink onto the bed and bury my face in my hands, I wonder if I’m deluding myself into thinking freedom is even possible anymore. Diego is determined to keep me, and God help me, there are parts of me that want to let him.
22
Elena
