Page 94 of Mafia King
“Stop, please. It’s not like that.”
I throw the destroyed underwear to the side, and when I do, he sees me from behind and falls in the ornate wingback chair as if he’s been pushed. I get up and check the mirror. My bottom is almost fire engine red. I don’t remember him spanking my ass that much, but I was distracted by my craving for more. Admittedly, it hurts—just like my sore pussy and aching shoulders. I can find plenty of other parts in pain, but Santino’s posture is hunched. He’s covering his face, but not his eyes, as if he has to look at me to understand the wrongness of it.
“No,” I say. “What we did together is beautiful. Please don’t turn something so good into a sin.”
“It’s not good!”
“If I said stop, would you have stopped?”
He rubs his jaw, unable to meet my gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Would you have wanted to stop?”
“Yes, but… I was outside myself. Violetta.” He comes to me and cups my face, finally looking me in the eyes. “I lost control. This time, you liked it. What if next time you don’t? What will I do then?”
“You’ll stop.” I reach for him, laying my hands on his cheeks. He looks confused, perplexed even. He doesn’t look like the mighty ruler who defends against hardened killers and mouthy women. “You’remyhusband. Mine. I won’t let you give in to inertia. It’s my job to make you a good man, Santino, a great man. I’ll fight an army to clear you a path between you and who you really are.”
I let my hands slide away and get off the bed.
“I know you want to help Gia, and I know why you think you have to wait. But you can’t. There is no time.” I look away. “Because I’m worried about the baby.”
I look back at him, waiting for the recognition of what I’m saying.
He whispers my name like a prayer.
“I’m worried if we’re having a girl, and you don’t stopthis from being okay rightnow…” My sobs rush so fast, I can barely get the next part out. Santino reaches for me, but I put my hands out to keep him away. “I’m afraid you’re going to sell her.”
“No.” His first word of denial is laced with awe and surprise, but falls on deaf ears.
“I didn’t kill you, but I will. To protect her, I will slit your throat while you sleep.”
“Why are you talking like this?”
“Because I mean it. I love you, but I’m not making empty threats. My daughter will be born free.”
“No child of mine—” he starts, but I put my hand over his lips.
“No child. Say it. Say no one will be born with a price tag.”
Without a stern word or command, he takes control of the conversation, tenderly holding my neck and jaw in his huge hands and putting the tip of his nose to mine.
“I swear to you now, my wife, myForzetta, my blood violet, that as far as my territory stretches, every daughter and son will be born free. There will be no more arranged marriage. No debt brides. No forced weddings. So help me God, I’ll burn in hell for everything I’ve done, but not for breaking this promise to you.”
I take him by the wrists and put his palms on my belly. “Your promise is to her.”
“Sì.” When he agrees in Italian, I believe him, releasing doubt and fear.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks and the tension flows out of me, because believing him is all I want right now.
He kisses the tears from my cheeks and neck, getting on his knees and wrapping his arms around me with his ear to my stomach, listening to the sound of life growing inside me.
24
SANTINO
Kneeling before her while she sobs, my brain is soup being stirred. I feel the meatballs bang on the spoon. Escarole gets tangled in the handle then washes away. This and that. No and yes. Up-down-sideways. Save her and free her. Bring and take. Lock and key.
All the while, I’m being cooked, and there’s no going back to who I was or what I wanted before. The times I wanted to crawl inside Violetta and live there were prayers made whole. I’ve taken root, and I cannot bear her misery any more than I can stand for her to be in danger.
