Page 49 of Mafia Bride
He pulls into an underground lot and stops. The trip is over before it even begins, and I find myself wishing for a longer drive.
“My lady enjoys fast cars.” He smirks, shutting off the engine.
“I’m not your lady.”
“There are rings that say you’re wrong.”
Out of habit, my thumb touches the fourth finger of my left hand, and finds it bare. I realize, right then, that there’s a big hole in my plan to escape. I have no money and no rings to sell. Shit.
“Well I’m not wearing the rings right now, so I guess they say nothing.”
“Don’t make me put a dog collar on you.” He gets out before I can call him a disgusting pig—which he is—and takes a little yellow card from the valet before he opens my door. He says nothing. Barely even looks at me. And I’m supposed to get out because—in the end—he’s right. I have a collar on me, and it’s choking me even if no one can see it.
Snapping open my seat belt, I get out of the car and the valet takes it away. Ramp to the right. Elevator a little to the left. Exit door to the street—
“Don’t even think it,” he says, looking down at me.
I’m sheepish, because I know he saw me checking for a way to run but I need plausible deniability.
“Think what? I need a bathroom.”
He takes me by the chin.
“You won’t get far, Violetta. No matter how fast you run, I’ll run faster. No matter how far you go, I’ll find you.”
Gently, I push his hand away. I don’t want to make a scene in a parking lot, but neither does he.
“You’ll find me in a pee-soaked dress if I don’t get to a bathroom soon.”
Santino opens his mouth to retort but he’s jumped by a squealing girl with a mane of thick, dark hair.
“Cugino!” she squeals.
“Gia, my darling.” He embraces her tightly and joyously. Happily. He’s so affectionate it almost makes me sick. And by ‘so affectionate,’ I mean he displayed some fractional semblance of affection. Up until this point, I thought it impossible. “Graziefor meeting us here.”
“Are you kidding?” She’s upbeat and perky, as always. “I love the shopping!”
She wiggles out of his grasp and loops her arm in mine, pulling me to the elevator.
“I’m going to officially undo the disaster I made of your closet!”
Great. Now if this kid could only undo the disaster her cousin’s made of my life.
“Bathroom first.”
She knows the way. It has no windows. I do my business and let her guide me back out to my husband, who’s waiting by the elevator.
“This time,” he says, hitting the button. “My wife picks and I choose.”
He winks at her just as the bell dings. Winks. As though he’s not a maniacal and catastrophic kidnapper.
The doors close and we go up one floor, opening onto the very best of the best within a day’s drive. My friends and I don’t even bother with Flora. It’s a few hundred dollars to take a deep breath on the outdoor street that’s closed to cars and open to fat wallets.
“Let’s shop!” Gia grabs my hand, dragging me onto a curved, cobblestone walkway. I’m suddenly wedged between Prada and Gucci.
“Nothing opens until eleven.”
The buildings are sleek but encased in brick. It’s so old world but so new, as if it understands my absurd life in this country.
