Page 49 of Mafia King
“I trust none of you,” Paola hisses, then pastes on a smile as Anette returns.
Now that we have two more guests, I can’t sit and remain respectful, so I refill the teapot and turn on the burner. Anette gets cups. Paola pulls down a cookie dish.
“Ciao.” Santino enters the kitchen, kissing aunts between compliments like a mayor up for reelection. I catch his eye and he shrugs slightly while he pecks Anette’s cheeks.
“Surprise?” It’s all I can think to say when my husband caresses me from behind and kisses my face in greeting.
“Is it?” he asks, knowing the answer. Something you should have seen coming is never a surprise.
Armando accepts the cookies from Paola and puts them at the table as he sits. Everyone’s in the kitchen like good little Italians, waiting for a suitor to arrive.
“Please, sit, sit!” Gia pulls out a chair for Santino, but he doesn’t sit. “Is tea okay or can I get you an espresso?” She’s slipped into caregiver mode, playing the fledgling attentive bride and hostess—the future woman of the house.
“What about me, eh?” Armando complains, waving his biscotti.
“Santino is first,” Gia scolds, grabbing the espresso pot before her aunt can. “Sambuca?”
“How about we skip the espresso then?” Armando suggests.
“Mando, you are my favorite,” Gia coos at him in Italian and dances her way to the china cabinet for the right cups.
Santino takes a softpinolecookie and leans against the counter, as if it’s not peculiar that he showed up, fully at ease and completely commanding with everything in his purview—except me, obviously.
With the chatter in the kitchen rising, I have a moment to talk to Santino without leaving the room. “I thought you were taking a swim.”
“I did.” He bites the cookie. The crumbs leap into his mouth rather than drop onto his shirt.
“Awfully fast swim, that was.”
“How long should it take to get wet,Forzetta?”
My husband holds up the cookie. He wants to feed me.
My first instinct is that I’m perfectly capable of eating my own cookie, and if I wanted one, I’d be getting crumbs on my shirt already. But I fall victim to his intense gaze and obediently open my mouth. It’s milky and sweet and utter perfection. His thumb lingers under my chin for just a moment and everything inside me catches fire.
“I want to be exactly like you guys when I get married someday!” Gia gushes, fanning herself—which is utterly embarrassing. “It’s so romantic, watching you two together. What a beautiful life you have! A handsome, doting husband and a gorgeous, loving wife. You guys are such a pair. Like a power couple.”
Santino winks at her, then at me. I shove another piece of anisette toast into my mouth to cork the truth before it gets out. A power couple consists of two equal partners at the top of their respective profession. That’s not what we have, but it’s what Gia deserves. She’s not a piece of real estate. Period.
Then she says something that—coming from her mouth—sends me right over the edge.
“I can’t wait to be married!”
My resting heart rate doubles. My skin emits heat as blood flows to the surface.
“No need to rush,” Paola says.
“I know.” Gia’s mouth puckers into a perfect pout. “But married life is perfectfor me. I can cook for my husband. Take care of him. And when he’s at work, my girlfriends can come swim in the pool, or we can go shopping, we can see the movies. I know how busy the men get in their work. Isn’t that right, Violetta?”
Wrong. It’s all wrong. She won’t see her friends. She won’t go shopping. She won’t see another movie. The people in this room know exactly what she’s in for and they refuse to acknowledge the horror behind it. My heart bangs against my rib cage.
“Yes,” Santino hints. “Isn’t that right, Violetta?”
Besides Scarlett—who I may never see again—I can’t remember the last time I saw my own friends. My return to school isn’t guaranteed, and shopping isn’t a substitute for freedom.
Maybe it’s my innocence I miss. The possibilities. Life was a wide open road, spooling endlessly into the future. Someone stole the steering wheel and hauled me over the median, and now I’m going in the other direction.
I have to let her know. I have to save her. I have to spare her.
