Page 31 of Bought By the Mafia

“You know, you should have stayed where ever you were. Things were so much fun when you weren’t around.”

“Sorry to darken the mood, but I had to act like the good husband at some point.” I took her hand in mine and clasped it. “I don’t think you would want news of me leaving you alone at my brother’s wedding, spreading, no?”

Her gaze darted around the ballroom. Most people attended to their own affairs, yet a few gawked at us. Simona’s relatives, I assumed at first, but it might just as well have been people who liked to gossip. Our marriage was sudden, small and unexpected. And this was the first time were at a gathering where most families would have been invited. People would naturally be curious.

“So why did you leave me alone for an hour if you cared about talking?”

“Do you want me to leave and let the tongues wag? I could be all dramatic about it and give them a show.”

She squeezed my hand tighter. “You better not do anything foolish.”

“Don’t worry. Besides, I met an interesting friend of yours. Or was it an employee who told me some interesting things?”

She let go of my hand and for a moment there, I almost wanted to grab it back. The contact of her hand to mine made my spine tingle that I should have gotten used to by now, but somehow I had not. Why was it always like this with her? A simple touch and my body was behaving like that of an eighteen-year-old.

“A friend of mine?”

“Some guy named Jack. He said something about a storage facility and some clothes you were keeping in there.”

She took a deep breath and squirmed in her seat. Did I probe into something? She didn’t look panicked, not yet at least, but she did not look comfortable. Maybe I should have engaged that Jack fellow further. “Um.” She licked her lips and grabbed her phone. “Where did you see him? I mean, is he here?” She was frantically scrolling through her phone as she spoke.

“Came as a plus one with a friend, but why are you so worried? From what he said, it sounded like a simple logistics issue. Nothing is wrong, is it?”

She glanced up from her phone and squinted her eyes. “What did he say to you?”

“Something about you keeping your clothes there for charity, but I assume, of course, the charity part is a lie.”

Like a switch, her frantic demeanor disappeared as she relaxed in her chair. Shouldn’t she be panicking or did she realize how weak she looked and was now feigning strength? Then suddenly, she smiled. “Yes, the charity part is a lie. But I wouldn’t have to go somewhere else if you didn’t restrict my movements and where I was allowed to go.”

“I’m a part of this?”

“You said I couldn’t go downtown, remember? The place that has more and cheaper storage spaces. What was I supposed to do?”

For a minute, I had forgotten that Leonardo’s family controlled that area. “How many clothes do you have that you need extra space than the closet at home?”

She shrugged. “Your apartment is fine, but a girl like me can never have enough.”

“So you lie to get what you want?”

“I thought you said you knew me by now?”

“Yes. I know everything about you and it’s ugly.”

15

Idon’t know why I thought lying to him was a good idea. It was not. I should have just told him the truth, but I couldn’t. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t accept my words, and that feeling turned out to be true. Gio was eager to believe the worst in me, that even when he was told the truth, he thought that was a lie. Although it pained me for him to have a negative perception of me, it was for the best. Turns out, a hate-filled Gio was easy to deal with. He was callous and mean, which meant he wasn’t the heart-melting man I once knew, and that meant I wasn’t in danger of falling in love with him again. Not with this brutal villain. This Gio was a constant reminder of how foolish I had been back in the day and I would not act like that again. I was smarter.

But not smart enough to resist him. In that department, he still had a hold over me. I only needed to point to the way I behaved when we came back from the wedding. I was angry at him; he seemed reviled by me, but the moment the doors to the penthouse closed and his lips clasped mine, I surrendered to him. To his rough and brutal lovemaking. I was with him all the way. From the moment he pressed me against the wall of the foyer and practically ripped my dress open. To the moment he dragged me down to the floor and fucked me like he was trying to exorcise a demon. It was quick, but no less arousing. I thought I was not going to come until the last moment when I screamed his name. Like all the other times I’ve had sex with him, my orgasm was bone melting. He always made sure I came before him. Not out of consideration of another partner, no. He made me come to prove he wasn’t the only one under this awful spell. He wanted me and I wanted him. And we both hated that. Him just as much as I did. There was a toxic romance to it.

After we were done, I grabbed my clothes and rushed to my bedroom and opened the shower. I didn’t want to sleep in his scent. I would only dream of him and Gio tormenting both my waking hours and my dreams were not something I wanted to go through. My shower was quick and soon I was done and ready to go to bed.

My sleep was dreamless and restless and I was up earlier than my usual time. There was no point in trying to get more sleep when I couldn’t, so I got out of bed and went downstairs. Might as well make myself a cup of coffee, I thought. Say what you will about Giovanni, but the man had the best coffee machine in the world. The coffee beans themselves were even better. He had beans from every well-known coffee producing country. From Colombia to Kenya to Indonesia. It was like taking a trip around the world in a cupboard. I scooped a cup of the Jamaican blend and poured them in the steampunk-looking machine.

The apartment felt empty of day, making every sound hard not to hear. So, when I heard the buzzer echoing, I jumped until I realized what it was. The lobby. I wasn’t expecting guests, and Gio always mentioned if anyone would be coming up, including workers. But maybe he forgot?

“Hello?” I said into the intercom. The concierge cleared his throat. “Morning, Mrs. Morelli.” His voice did not have its usual bored but assured tone. It quavered, and it was high-pitched. “Uh, sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but there’s a woman here who claims to know Mr. Morelli.” In the distance, I could hear a soft voice said something inaudible to which the concierge responded with, “Of course.” Then he said to me, “She says her name is Allison, and you might know her as well? She says she’s been here before, but I don’t recognize her.”

Allison? We had spoken a few times since I met her, mostly via text and social media. We followed each other and she would like and comment on almost every post I made, even the inane ones. I hadn’t seen her in person since.

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