Page 16 of Marrying the Mobster
Goddamn it, I can’t do this. I can’t eventhinkabout fucking Elena. This agreement with her father is already complicated enough. Fucking her would make it even messier, especially if I end up having to kill her. Aside from that, I don’t want her to think she can use sex to manipulate her way into my warm, gooey places.
If she tried, she would learn a very painful lesson.
I don’t have any warm and gooey places left.
9
Elena
An unexpected knock on my door after breakfast brings me face-to-face with the woman from the pool. I’m shocked to find her standing there with a bottle of champagne and a carafe of orange juice, wearing a wide smile.
“Hi!” she chirps before bouncing into the room. “You’re Elena, right? Sorry there wasn’t time for us to properly introduce ourselves the other day. I’m Marcella, but you can call me Marcie.”
Standing near the door—which is still hanging open—I stare at her with a dropped jaw. Marcella sets her bottles down and then reveals that she carried two champagne flutes in the back pockets of her jeans.
Lifting them up, she gives me a sympathetic look. “I figured you might need a drink right about now.”
I push the door closed and tentatively approach, getting my first good, up-close look at her. Today she has her short hair pushed back from her forehead with a headband, and her face is enhanced with minimal makeup. Not that she needs it. She’s as striking as Diego is, with a heart-shaped face, full lips, and an adorable bump of a nose.
Some strange feeling rises in me at the sight of her. She’s the only woman I’ve seen in this house beside the maids, and I can’t help but think she belongs to Diego in some way. He’s made it clear that he owns everything and everyone beneath this roof, including me. So, who is Marcella to him—a wife, a girlfriend?
Marcella ignores my silent staring and starts pouring champagne and orange juice into the glasses. “Do you like mimosas? If not, I can send for something else.”
I want to refuse, but the offer of a drink is too tempting to resist. “I love mimosas.”
“A girl after my own heart.” She thrusts one of the glasses into my hands, then takes half of hers in one swallow.
I take it slow with mine, savoring the taste of an undoubtedly expensive champagne.
Marcella plops onto the edge of my bed like this is a slumber party. “I wanted to check on you sooner, but Diego’s been up my ass since I let you escape.”
I’m not sure I want to talk to this woman—whoever she is—but then I think it could help. Gaining any insight into Diego and his operation might give me an edge.
I sit on the other side of the bed. “I hope he didn’t blame you.”
Marcella shrugs and rolls her eyes. “He didn’t, but I still got an earful. Diego doesn’t like to be outsmarted or made to look stupid.”
She starts laughing and the sound is infectious; I can’t help but join in. “I guess I did kind of make him look bad in front of his guys, huh?”
Marcella hunches over, shoulders shaking. “They’ve been giving him shit about it for days! It’s wildly entertaining.”
“Then I guess it wasn’t for nothing.”
Marcella grows serious. “I want you to know I was rooting for you. What Diego did wasn’t fair. His business is with your father. You’re innocent.”
“Thanks. It makes me feel better to know someone in this house is on my side.”
Marcella sighs, and stares down into her glass. “It doesn’t matter if anyone thinks he’s wrong. He’s the boss … has been since he was old enough to know what being the head ofLa Familiameans. No one would dare to go against him.”
“Except you.”
She smirks. “I’m a special case.”
How?I want to ask.What makes you so special?
Probably that rockin’ body in red lingerie.
The thought, along with the memory of that picture showing up on his phone, annoys the shit out of me.
