Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Salvatore grunts but doesn’t otherwise respond. “Did he hit you?”
I nod. “Of course. He had a vicious backhand and wasn’t afraid to use it.”
I try to decipher his responding grunt but can’t.
“So your father was terrifying. Understandable.”
“What was yours like?”
“I don’t remember much. He died when I was younger, but I know from what I’ve heard and the few memories I do have, he was no cakewalk.”
I look over at him, to try to catch his eyes, but he’s intent on his phone. Still, I can ask him.
“When did your father die?”
He doesn’t look up from his phone or show any reaction at all. “A long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. The only reason I’m acting Don of our group is because he died and I’m second-in-command after my uncle. Or, was.”
“Oh?”
“His brother, my uncle, became acting Don until I took a wife. Archaic mob laws trump all.”
God, don’t I know it.
So that’s why he was so eager to get married. Must’ve been an age restriction or time limit. Interesting. And I had to go and somehow fuck that all up by hiding a girl I didn’t even know. Now here I am.
I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Yesterday, I saw him beat the shit out of one of his men, then toss him off the plane as if he didn’t matter, as if he didn’t count at all. I guess some women would’ve been terrified of him, but it’s not much different from anything else I’ve seen my brothers do.
And I love my brothers.
Maybe… just maybe… I can grow to love Salvatore.
Then a stark realization hits me. Out here, he’s no different from any of the men I grew up with.
But what will he be like when we’re… alone?
When we’re in bed?
I look out the window and squirm uncomfortably at the thought.
As if reading my mind, he interrupts my pondering with a bold question.
“Are you a virgin, Marialena?”
My cheeks flush. I could pretend I don’t hear him with the muffs on, but he’ll ask it again sooner or later.
“Can’t hear you,” I say, looking out the window. I jump when his grip on my knee tightens.
“You’ll look at me when I’m speaking to you.”
My pulse quickens. Now that we’re married, is he going to go all psycho on me?
I look up at him like the obedient little wife I’m not. “What was that?” I say. I’m going with feigning deafness here.
“I asked if you were a virgin.”
I swallow and nod. “Of course.”
Another squeeze of my thigh. “You’re not right out of college. You’re old enough that it might have happened sooner or later. Are you telling me the truth?”
He’ll find out for himself soon enough. I close my eyes briefly before I open them again and nod. “I’m telling you the truth. It’s one thing that’s non-negotiable in my family. I was once sexually assaulted, but it didn’t go far.”
“And your brothers took care of that?”
I look away. I can still see Romeo’s broken hand, dripping with blood when he took his turn beating the guy who assaulted me, some dumb college student at a frat party. But it was Orlando, our group heavy and the largest one of all, who was the one who made him bleed, who castrated him and hung him from the Zakim bridge. It took me all summer to forgive them, but not for beating and murdering the man. I was grounded to the house all summer for ditching my guard and attending the party to begin with and I wasn’t too happy about that.
“Oh, yeah,” I say with forced nonchalance. “For sure they did.”
“He still breathing?”
The tightening of his mouth and grip on my thigh warn me in this he’s like my brothers as well. He wants a name, and he’ll hunt that name down.
“Of course not.”
“Good.”
I’m under no delusion he really cares about me. Someone touched what now belongs to him, and his code of ethics demands retribution on some level if the perpetrator’s still at large.
It’s the way things are in my family, too.
I tilt my head and look at him. “Are you still a virgin?” I ask. I know it’s a brazen question, borderline insolent. I know I risk being punished by being bold and impertinent. I can almost hear Romeo’s groan, but the truth is, I could write a literal novel on the double standards in mob life and sometimes I get a little ornery about it.
“Careful, sweetheart.” Fear pricks my consciousness when he bares his teeth in a smile without a hint of warmth. “You overstep.”
Eh, I kinda hope he’s not a virgin. Might be nice being married to a guy who knows his way in a bedroom. I wouldn’t know. And I don’t care if there were others before me. We both know this is a business transaction. The sex and orgasms are just the benefits. The free wine and dessert with a business dinner.