Married to the mafia boss Series

Angelo

Sometime last night, I had fallen asleep while talking to Anastasia.

I crack my eyes open to see Anastasia laying a few inches away from me, her face at the edge of her pillow as mine is at the edge of my pillow. Our hands are in front of our bodies, touching. I don’t pull away from her warmth. I also don’t wake her afraid of startling her.

I almost forgot how comfortable my bed is. For the first time since Anastasia has come to live with me-no, not live with. For the first time since I brought Anastasia here, I’ve finally gotten a good full night’s rest.

Her hair is spilled over her shoulders and is draping down her face. The soft breath escaping from her mouth, which is cracked opened and undoubtedly snoring, causes a strand of hair to rise and fall. The red hair looks good on her but I have to admit I miss her blonde hair.

Looking over her body I read the clock on the bedside table, it’s barely seven o’clock. Normally I would start my day, but I slowly close my eyes and hope sleep retakes me.

The next time I wake up it is to the feel of fingers on my skin.

Anastasia is trailing her fingers across my forearms. That’s when my body becomes alert and I spring up in bed. I’m now hyper aware that I forgot to find a shirt to sleep in last night.

“What did you do?”

I know what she’s referring to but I refuse to talk about it. I give her the cold shoulder turning my back on her. It’s times like this I’m glad I’m deaf, or at least I’m glad she’s deaf too so I don’t have to hear a lecture.

Her warm hands clasp down on my shoulders. I can feel her presence behind me. The subtle scent of vanilla and chocolate wafting off her. She coaxes me to face her and I cannot resist her no matter how hard I try. She’s a hypnotizing force.

“Tell me when it started.”

The look of sorrow makes me feel guilty for the period of time when I had purposely harmed myself, but there is also a look of understanding, like she knows what I went through.

Because she went through them too.

“My first time was when I was thirteen.”

“What happened?”

“I was alone.”

Those three words hold something bigger in them. She doesn’t need to explain anything further. I realize then we did it for the same reasons. Isolation. Loneliness. Lack of feeling like we fit in. Depression. Feeling disconnected from the world around us.

It’s as if everyone has found their connecting pieces in a big puzzle but we’re pieces to a different picture.

I look down at her wrist to see one light scar. Reading the surprised look on my face and as if she can read my mind, she signs, “I stopped doing it once I saw how visible they are. I didn’t want my ballet instructors to see them or my father…” she trails. “My upper thigh is where I continued.”

“A few months after my accident, before I got my cochlear implant. I wasn’t supposed to lose all my hearing. It gradually got worse until I was completely deaf. The tinnitus didn’t go away though. I felt like it just got louder and louder. The world was silent and all I could hear was the ringing. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I felt like I was going crazy. I just wanted complete silence, I wanted something to calm the ringing. I was mad and depressed and I didn’t know how to deal with all my emotions,” I pause. “My father always taught me to display any type of emotion was weakness. It means you care too much. So I always had to bury it deep. I was going through so much…”

When I try to hide my scars Anastasia reaches out, gently grabbing my wrists and rubbing her thumbs along the makes.

It feels as though someone has reached through my chest and squeezed my heart. There’s also a fluttering feeling in my stomach and a stinging sensation in my eyes. I have to look away from her, just seeing the kindness in her expression is too much. It’s more than I have ever deserved from her.

“My father didn’t have the patience for emotions either. He always hated if I went crying to him. He was probably just as cold as your father growing up. I guess that’s another thing we have in common. Being children of leaders,” Anastasia gives me a half smile. “I was young when my mother died.”

I become aware at this moment that my father was the one to kill Viktor Vasiliev’s wife. I remember that day. I remember going out to celebrate. That woman my father killed was Anastasia’s mother.

“I felt lost for a period of time. I wasn’t close to my father like I was with my mother. It was hard, just my father and I. He never wanted me home, he always brought me with him and had his closest men watch me. I would have to endure abuse from his men and come home and endure even more abuse from my father and his bad temper.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Some would call me foolish for how much I trust you. How much I like you. But compared to living with my cruel and my ignorant friends, I feel a sense of belonging and friendship with you. I know it’s stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” I sign quickly. “It’s been years since Boston has felt like home to me. My men don’t like or trust me. My best friend is dead. No one understands me, not like you do. You’re the first person I’ve ever actually signed with aside from my teacher.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never admitted this out loud, but I love sign language. I loved taking lessons and I almost felt like I was meant to sign all my life. There are times before when I would take my hearing aids out, as if I wasn’t meant to hear. Then I met you and I was just so excited to finally be able to sign to someone. To be able to communicate in more ways than one.”

“None of my friends even know sign language. Never really bothered to learn. They never cared that the world isn’t accessible to people like us. The only long conversations I’ve had is through text message. I like being able to sign and have someone understand me. That’s why I loved ballet. You don’t need to speak in dance to convey emotion. People watch you and understand. Dance was one of my favorite languages and now it’s all gone.”

I frown.

Hearing Anastasia speak about her past makes me feel like some type of fate has pushed us together. Anastasia understands me to the core. Every word of explanation toward our newfound friendship is exactly how I’ve been feeling. She’s the melody that’s been stuck in my head for too long. She’s the reason I have been waiting for. She’s the wings I’ve needed to escape my torment. She’s the other half my soul has been missing for too long.

“I’m sorry,” I sign to her again.

“Don’t be,” she leans in closer to me, “I think you understand my pain more than anyone.”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Abusive father, shitty acquaintances, horrible emotional coping skills, and crushed dreams.”

“Don’t forget we’re both deaf,” she smiles.

“That too.”

She turns around to glance at the clock. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready?”

“How about we skip and lay in bed all day.”

She raises an eyebrow and gives me a wary look. I mentally facepalm myself, she must think I mean something differently. “At least I’ll have a more comfortable place to finish Red Rising,” she grabs her book and cracks it open. I chuckle. Her raised spirit and contagious smile makes me feel so light. I know I have tons of duties to get to today. The Mafia is still feeling the hits from the last few Bratva attacks. Carlo’s is closed. Funerals are still going on. The Dark Twist is finally reopening this week, but word has gotten around that the Bratva has attacked in our territory and my people are worried. Christian and Piero will handle the reopening and act as manager and security. I don’t think it’ll be the source for attack now that Vasiliev knows his daughter isn’t being held there.

I’m sure he’s already received my photos. What he’s going to do in retaliation to them, I have no idea. I know I’m not safe, if word gets out the Vasiliev of where I am, he’ll be there. Just like at Carlo’s. My closest men will probably want a meeting to discuss what he might do and how we can secure our territory and keep our men and goods safe, but laying in bed with one of the most interesting girls I have ever met, sounds so much better.

She looks beautiful when she reads. She is a beautiful girl, short and slender with beautiful light features, but they seem miniscule in comparison to her personality. When I think of her, I don’t think of how gorgeous she is, I think of how she can make me smile and laugh. I think of her stubborn and sassy personality. I think of her resilience and intelligence. I think of how much fun she is to be with and how empty this house is going to be when she’s gone.

How empty I’m going to be when she’s gone.

“You’re staring at me again,” her eyes don’t leave her book.

I grab the book and place her bookmark in between the pages she’s left off, and I set it down on the bedside table next to me. I lean over and press my lips against her. I’m tired of fighting my cravings. She smells so sweet and taste even sweeter. I crawl on top of her, her arms wrapping around me pulling me flush against her. The feel of her fingertips trailing across my bare back gives me goosebumps everywhere. I shiver at her gentle touch as I deepen our kiss.

My tongue sweeps across her mouth savoring her delicious taste. I can’t get enough. My lips begin to trail off hers and down to her neck. Her grip tightens and I wish I had my hearing aids in to hear her moans. Her mouth is parted and eyes screwed shut in pleasure. She’s so responsive for such simple touching.

I realize then just like majority of single women in the Mafia, she has to be a virgin. She probably has never even been kissed before.

For her sake I try to go slow. I take my time exploring her neck with my mouth and all the sensitive places that make her squirm beneath me. Her fingers tangle themselves in my hair, the rough tug and pull only turns me on further. I moan into her neck sending vibrations against her.

We’re both breathing heavy, heaving and panting with a need for more. And there will be more. Some day but not today. I pull back to look in her eyes, the trust is there but I know she’s not ready. This is all too overwhelming for her and even though she nods her head in permission, I still feel as though I’d be taking advantage of her.

I kiss her forehead.

“More,” she begs.

I oblige her with more kissing. She seems to like that, her lips greedy for mine and eager to learn. Her lips are so soft and smooth. They’re red and swollen from my ministrations, but she’s just as dominant as she becomes more comfortable sticking her tongue in my mouth and nipping at my bottom lip.

Taking things a step further, I slip my hand underneath her oversized sweater. She gasps in my mouth as my cold hands hold her bare waist. I slowly make my way up her torso skimming past her ribs until I reach her breast. I cup and skim my thumb across her hard nipple. Her back arches into mine and she leans her head back giving me perfect access to her neck.

She closes her eyes and lets me explore her body. Withering with enjoyment from new sensations. Her cheeks are flushed and hands shaking from excitement.

In my perpetual, my phone flashes. I try my hardest to ignore it but when the flashing stops, it starts back up again. I know it’s either Christian and Piero wondering where I am.

I pull back from Anastasia and groan. I reach over her to grab my phone and hearing aid. “What?”

“Boss, where are you?” Christian hisses. The tone of his voice pissing me off.

“Home. I’m taking a day for myself. Got a problem?” I’m fuming.

“It’s just… well… you might want to come in.”

“And would you like to explain to me why the fuck you think I should come in?”

“It’s Vasiliev. He’s sent us a message.”

“Fuck,” I rub my forehead. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

Anastasia looks at me with big blue eyes, her lips still swollen and neck covered in my marks, I wish I could ignore my duties and explore even more of her body like I planned.

Her head tilted in confusion, “Who was that?”

“I’m needed in the office.”

The look of disappointment clear on her face. Her shoulders slump as she crawls out of bed. “I’ll start getting ready.”