#1 — Chapter 13
I’m asleep in bed when Antonio shakes my shoulder and wakes me up. I blink until the blurriness in my vision goes away and I can see him clearly. Antonio looks concerned as he sits at the edge of the bed, he one arm around me with his palm gently against my back.
“Rocco told me you aren’t feeling well.”
I shrug, “I didn’t feel like going partying.”
His forehead crinkles. “So you’re not sick.”
“Just low in energy and motivation I guess.”
“I could’ve used you,” Antonio pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does when he’s trying to contain himself. “There was a charity event at my club and everyone of power was there and I looked like a fool while they asked where my wife was.”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion and frustration. “Sorry I couldn’t be your little date. Next time let me know yourself when you want me to come to an event. Rocco just told us he was taking us to the club. Besides I had nothing to wear.”
“You have a million things to wear!” He proclaims and stands from the bed. He throws my closet door open and points to my side with all my clothes for emphasis.
“If you must know my dresses are a little small for me!” I shout back.
“Oh, my God, then why don’t you take my credit card and buy usual shit for yourself like I tell you too. You’re always cooped up inside here. Do something! Go out, that’s what Carmelo is paid to do!”
“I never asked for a bodyguard and I don’t want to go out shopping and I certainly don’t want a new dress!” I cross my arms over my breasts.
“My patience is running thin with you, Liliana,” he says through gritted teeth. He walks over to his mini fridge and grabs the same bottle of Jack Daniels he always does and pours himself a drink which he downs in seconds. He sits in a chair and rubs at his head as if he has a headache.
“If I would’ve known you wanted me there I would’ve come, but you don’t let me know anything. You don’t talk to me and you don’t pay attention.”
“Don’t pay attention?” He laughs to himself and shakes his head. “I pay attention. I’m Capo, I pay attention to everything. Detail and precision are part of the job description. I notice everything, like how you bought yourself a new laptop and how you signed up for online classes this summer. Also, I notice how you bought the M*A*S*H DVD bundle off of Amazon and you watch it every day because every day I check the DVD player and there’s a different season DVD in it every time. I notice that there are a lot of empty donut boxes and that the big fifty pack of microwave popcorn we got last week is now down to about three or four. So, don’t tell me I don’t notice things.”
I blink at him not knowing what to say. Does he pay attention to that stuff because I’m his possession that needs to be watched or because he cares. “Why do you have to pretend you don’t care?” I whisper and look down at my lap where I’m fidgeting with my fingers.
“Caring for someone leads to loving someone and loving someone means risking losing them. In the Mafia, losing someone is all too easy especially when you’re surrounded by enemies who would love to destroy you in every way possible,” his voice is low, “That includes killing everyone that person loves.”
“You never know who’s listening,” I repeat the words Rocco once said to me.
“Tatiana Sokolov,” Antonio pours and downs another drink.
“Who is that?” My voice waivers and I’m afraid to know the answer.
“Two years ago we had a spy, Gino, who disguised himself as a member of The Bratva. He earned Sergei Mikhailov’s trust, Mikhailov in The Bratva is the equivalent to my rank. Anyways, Gino overheard a conversation of Mikhailov and another man about how he cherished his lover and wanted to ask her to marry him. Gino came back and told us that Mikhailov loved this girl and upon digging we found out the girls name was Tatiana Sokolov. He kept things quiet from the public eye with her and only discussed her occasionally and only to certain men.”
“What happened to her?”
“We raised her apartment when she was alone and killed her carving a message onto her back for Mikhailov to find. We wanted him weak and knew that killing Tatiana would be a blow to him, thus a blow to The Bratva. From that he acted rash and out of anger and he lost a lot of good men by sending them our way and we knew because we were ready and level-headed.”
I didn’t say anything back. An innocent girl was killed for loving the wrong man. Even if Antonio and I were forced to be married, I still have the chance to be killed just to show the Capo that they can get to him. The thought of a brutal death by the Russians petrifies me.
“Just because we are alone in my house doesn’t mean we are truly alone,” he says cryptically as he stands and walks back to my side of the bed where I’m sitting up in. He gently pushes me back down to my pillow, brushes my hair away from face, kisses my temple, turns the bedside lamp off and whispers into the darkness, “Sweet dreams, Liliana.”
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That morning I woke up feeling better than I have in weeks. Antonio had actually confined in me last night and although getting excited over a kiss on my head is pathetic-that is the closest we’ve been in a long time.
Ready to conquer the day, I make a call to the spa and set up two massage appointments for Arabella and I. Normally you would have to call in advance to get an appointment, but as soon as you say your last name is Moretti, they are quick to move things around and squeeze you in.
Being with Carmelo and Arabella walking down the street is now… awkward. All I can think about is the fact that they were sharing a bed together. How many other times have they done while I was in the same apartment as them? Looking at them you’d think they’d be strange around each other, I know if I had casual sex with someone I didn’t like, I would feel weird around them. Then again, I’m not very custom to men seeing me naked. They seem perfectly normal as if nothing even happened between them. They occasionally talk and Arabella does her usually beaming, smiling and laughing.
How can she be a ray of sunshine in such a dark place we live in?
In an instant I find myself knocked to the ground, a man in a business suit walking on the street had bumped me with his full force with his shoulder.
“Watch where you’re going,” he says in a thick Chicago accent.
Carmelo grabs the man by his jacket and shoved him up against the nearest building. “Do you have any idea who you just knocked to the ground?” He says through gritted teeth and seething anger.
Arabella helps me up and I hold onto her as my jaw drops watching Carmelo make this man essentially crap his pants.
“N-n-no,” the man stutters and closes his eyes in fear.
“Her name is Liliana Moretti.”
The man’s eyes shoot open and his breathing picks up like he’s having a panic attack. “No! No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I should’ve watched where I was going. I’ll do anything, anything.”
“What’s your name?” Carmelo’s grip on the man gets tighter.
“G-Gordon.”
“Gordon who?”
“Gordon Kellner.” The man is either sweating or crying.
Carmelo let’s Gordon go and he runs so fast that in mere seconds he is on the other block and unable to see him anymore as he turns the corner.
“Are you alright?” Carmelo frowns and holds up my arms to see if there’s any damage.
“I’m fine,” I nod my head quickly but still seem shaken by the whole situation.
“Why’d you let him go?” Arabella huffs with her arms crossed.
“Because I got his name and Antonio will take of it.”
I go stiff, Antonio will surely kill the man. “You can’t do that. All he did was bump into me, he doesn’t deserve to die.”
“He disrespected you and in turn he disrespected the Capo.”
We continue on with the day as if the entire thing was a distant memory, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fear in Gordon’s eyes. How scared he looked the second he heard I am a Moretti. When Antonio hears about this he’ll be furious and I’m scared this man is going to have a harsh punishment in front of Antonio’s men just to teach them all a lesson on how not to mess with his possessions.
The massage is, in fact, a pleasant temporary distraction. I will forget for a few minutes until the man massaging me runs his hands over my now-sore shoulder. As he works his hands over the knots in my body I can feel all the stress and tension disappear. I let out a soft sigh and bite back a moan. This is exactly what I needed.
I turn my head over to see Arabella nearly drooling as the man works her body. I think of her and Carmelo and the release they probably found in each other and suddenly find myself slightly jealous. I try my hardest to shake the image from my head and let my mind wander to how my honeymoon was spent instead.