Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Me: Meeting with Number 1 was short.
A moment later, I get a response.
Happy: Glad to hear it. Don’t think you’ll be so lucky with No 2.
Thanks, fucker.
Don’t I know it.
But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
Being the wife of Dino Gambino affords me some leniency. I get to do things other wives do not. But in saying that, I don’t get the freedom those women get.
I get to attend family meetings. Something no other woman is allowed to attend. Of course, I am a mob princess married to a mob prince and heir, who will become king of the domain when his father passes.
I do not, however, get to do anything on my own. Whenever I step outside of the house, I have someone on my tail. That person is there to “protect” me, but I know that it’s just another way for Dino to break my spirit. I understand the message he sends every time I’m blindsided.
I own you.
Any other woman in my position would make the most of their free days, go to a café with her friends, get her nails or hair done, or just go to lunch, and for a while, I did, but my friends got sick of the dogs on my ass, and without meaning any harm, they stopped reaching out. I shouldn’t have been shocked by it, but I was. I was hurt and upset. I can’t say I blame them. Dino did what he set out to do.
He alienated me from my friends and relatives.
I wasn’t allowed to visit people without a reason. Not even my family.
I know what you’re thinking. Why not just do it anyway?
Simple answer:
Because it isn’t worth the price of broken ribs, or rape.
More complex answer:
I am afraid of my husband. And I am afraid that one day, he’ll kill me without meaning to.
“I don’t understand why you were there all day yesterday,” Dino utters as he focuses on the road.
I fight a sigh as I attempt to answer without a note of sarcasm. “I was there because my sister just lost her husband, Dino. Veronica is heartbroken. She needs support.”
He huffs through his nose. “She’s got other brothers and sisters. She doesn’t need you there all day.”
I grit my teeth and try again. “Yes, but my other sisters are young and don’t understand what it would be like to lose a husband. She just needs someone to talk to.”
He turns to me, searching my face. “Would you be upset if I died?”
The question has a spark of excitement flair inside of me. I want to crow, “Fuck no!” but instead, I reach over and grip his hand, frowning, trying in vain to ignore the staccato beat of my rapidly beating heart. “You know I would. Don’t even joke about something like that.”
His eyes narrow at me, searching for any signs of insincerity, but he finds none. His hand tightens around mine as he mutters a gruff, “I love you, Ana.”
I smile, but it’s stretched thin, flat as a deflated balloon. “I know, baby.”
I spent an hour covering the bruise on my temple before we left. Dino’s brother Gio is rough in bed and usually used as a punishment to me when I do or say something Dino finds offensive. Gio is a large man, even bigger than Dino, and I’m a small woman. Gio is also emotionless. Heartless. Needless to say, the punishment works, because Gio enjoys it so much that he always takes it a step too far. Every time Dino calls on Gio, I’m left a broken shell of a person. Each time, a piece of that shell crumbles away. I worry that soon enough, there won’t be a shell left and I’ll just be, open and agreeable, with no part of Alejandra left inside of me. After Gio rapes me, Dino helps me shower, washing me with care, kissing every bruise, every scrape, normally ending making love to me gently while I cry, a broken woman. All the while, he croons, “See how good I am to you? You can have this all the time, baby.” He normally finishes with a whispered, “All you have to do is love me.”
Sometimes, days go by without me seeing the nasty side of Dino. Sometimes, things are so good that I’m transported back to when I was eighteen, when we laughed often and spoke for hours. In those rare times, I willingly give myself to Dino, knowing I won’t have my best friend back for long. And it never does. Last long, that is. Often, I’ll wake in the middle of the night and look over at my husband. My chest will pang with sadness, because I know that the angelic-looking man sleeping by my side is nothing but a vicious monster.
And Lucifer was said to be the most beautiful angel in heaven.