Page 70 of Mafia Bride
It’s daylight. Barely past lunchtime. It’s too early to even nap, much less sleep like a dead thing, but I hear Professor Windham’s voice in my head.
A common side effect in people who experience a trauma is exhaustion.
“I think I need to go to bed,” I say, leaning on the counter.
“It’s been a long day already.” Loretta snaps the dishwasher closed and it spins to life. “For anyone, what happened today is rough. Come this way.”
From blatant inappropriateness to concern in two breaths. No wonder Loretta’s obsessed with Santino; they’re both insane.
She leads me back to the guest room where I showered and changed, opens the top drawer of the dresser, and pulls out a simple heather gray nightgown.
“Does he always bring women here covered in blood?” I can barely keep my eyes open, much less stand up.
“No. Never.” She lays the nightgown over the bed. “You’re just lucky I don’t throw things away so easily. Lift your arms.”
I barely have the energy to lift them, much less resist her command.
She pulls the dress over my head, and I drop to the bed in my underwear. I almost flop down, but Loretta keeps me in a sitting position so she can get the nightgown over my head.
“Arms,” she says, and I push my arms through the short sleeves. She turns down the sheets and tucks me in, then pulls the curtains closed.
She’s his age, his level of crazy, and clearly deeply married to the entire concept of the camorra. It’s an entire world I never knew or understood, but also one in which Loretta is fluent. So why me? Why did he, a man who has his pick of any woman, waste his time on me?
He murdered someone over my life. I’m not exciting, I’m not well-versed in Italian, my looks are nothing next to someone like Loretta.
Objectively, she’s the better choice.
There’s no way I can be a lover like Loretta. I’m a freaking virgin. All the masturbation sessions in the world can’t teach me how to pleasure a man. My increasingly common fantasies won’t either. The mere idea of touching someone like Santino, even if he magically turns into a nice guy who wouldn’t have kidnapped me, is terrifying.
“Don’t worry, Violetta.” Loretta lightly pats my cheek, jarring me out of near-sleep. “If the king wants you, he will teach you how to use his cock.”
How can she read my mind?
Are we that much alike?
I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to bury myself in unconsciousness. Loretta pats my cheek once more with tenderness and saunters out, shutting the door behind her.
Today has hurt in so many ways and I want to forget it all. I won’t bother asking Santino any more questions he won’t answer, and I’m not going to get killed by men I don’t know over something I don’t understand, nor am I going to submit to him the way she has. I’m not ever going to become Loretta in this relationship.
I won’t let him turn me into a used doll stuck in a toybox on the side of a hill.
Never.
19
SANTINO
Forzetta.
She’s a trick of the mind. An innocent in need of protection with the soul of a warrior tucked into the smallest chamber of her heart.
I saw that warrior climb out of the car with a mask of fierce defiance on her face. She’s safe with Loretta, but only from other men.
She’s not safe from herself.
Café Mille Luciis quiet in the front, as always. It’s uninviting by design and may have the occasional curiosity-seeker, but it remains a setting for people whose families have been in town for two or three generations. It’s my place, and by extension it’s a Cavallo business.
So after someone tries to take Violetta from right under my nose, I go there.
