Page 27 of Mafia Queen
“I won’t, my violet.” He pulls back and realigns at my opening. “Maybe tomorrow.”
I’m so wet his massiveness slides in without friction, stretching and filling, but so slowly I’m taunted by every inch. He is unyielding but shaped for me, fucking with gentle force that asks no questions and tells no lies. In it, I am safe, but not from him.
Someday he’s going to destroy me, but not today.
Today, I am filled but not overflowing. Broken but not shattered.
He holds me so tightly, I am powerless.
“Be still,” he murmurs in Italian. “Just open your legs wide, so I can feel your sin from the inside.”
I am still.
He fucks me to the depth of my sins, and loves me for them.
9
SANTINO
I hold my wife, wondering if I can ever make her happy.
When I stole her and forced her into marriage, she was the signature at the end of a contract. I didn’t care if she was miserable, content, anything. All she had to be was breathing.
When I started to love her, I didn’t doubt I could be everything she needed.
Even after Damiano stole her, I was convinced she only had to be rescued to be content.
But this plea to be normal? I can’t pretend to misunderstand what she means. It’s not four children in an Italian-speaking house withdue cucineand big Sundays. It’s not the normal I know. Her normal is barbecues and July Fourth. There are lawnmowers and garden beds. Husbands working behind desks all day. There’s more to it, I’m sure, but I can’t picture it in the real world. It’s all television, but a different channel than the laughable mob movies where tough guys saycapeeshwithout any irony.
Maybe we can blend the two.
Once this is over, maybe. Once everyone who tried to take her is dead, and I’ve won her safety, we can try some version of happiness.
Maybe I can meet her between her normal and mine.
When I’m sure Violetta is asleep, I slip out from under her, dress, and go to the office down the hall.
Damiano and his alliance with what’s left of the Tabonas needs to be dealt with. There’s a list of people who are going to die with or without a war. They hurt my violet’s body, which is bad enough, but the torment in her heart is intolerable. They’re all going to pay for it.
My rage isn’t wild or reckless. I am in control. The procedure is clear. I am a surgeon, cutting away flesh to get to the people who hurt Violetta, then to the man who ordered her hurt. When they’re dead, I’ll drop the scalpel, pull away my mask and scrubs, and leave the body for the rats.
We’ll go to her doctor over the river, then to the crown. Just the two of us. Three men will scout ahead to make sure it’s safe, but otherwise, I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want to announce our intentions by making a show of moving men around to secure the area again.
Once I have the pieces of the crown, I’ll solidify the loyalties of everyone in Secondo Vasto. There will be nowhere for Damiano or his allies to hide.
My wife wants a normal life, but this is my normal. I’ve had it easy up until now. I’ve been lazy and complacent, letting so many of the Tabonas live as long as they left Secondo Vasto, believing Damiano would be satisfied with friendship. Too many years in America made me soft.
That’s over. They say taking a wife makes a man weak, but Violetta’s forced me to get stronger.
* * *
It’sthe dark time of day that’s both late and early. We’ve been in my office for hours, trying to come up with a way to destroy Damiano and his crew. Carmine’s fallen asleep in his chair with his head back and his mouth open. Gennaro’s fidgeting like a kid catching a third wind just as the pastries are coming around.
“Marco knows,” I tell Gennaro. “He knows where his daughter is. We find him, we find Gia, we find Damiano.”
“We gonna get it out of her the hard way?” Behind his words is a cringe of discomfort.
“We’ll do what we have to.” I sound more confident about beating information out of a woman—my young cousin especially—than I am. I don’t like it. “We’ll make sure Tavie’s far away.”
