Married to the mafia boss Series

ALESSIO

She wanted me. She hated me.

Honesty was killing my marriage. Mia reacted to Serena’s death like I’d pissed on her gravestone when all I’d done was call her out for being a terrible human being. Nothing thawed Mia.

I led her on a tour at Bourton. She’d awwed at the limestone buildings and delighted in the rare manuscript library. We ate dinner in the deserted dining hall flanked with tapestries of giant elks, and seemed to have a great time, but when we got home, she was as distant as ever.

She shut me out, and it frustrated me.

Nico had organized a Christmas party at The Black Cat, the upscale joint where I brought Mia weeks ago. He’d thrown caution to the wind and invited the whole gang. Things were going well. Legion controlled distribution. Costas took care of the overseas contacts, and the Irish handled the ports. Carmela’s return threw a wrench in our relationship with the bikers, but we were due to meet the president soon. Nico didn’t anticipate trouble, not when we raked it in hand over fist.

Nico was pleased. When he was happy, he liked to celebrate. The lounge looked like someone barfed red and green over the walls and tables. A rotund Santa Claus handpicked from the pool of soldiers by Nico every year sat beside a mountain of presents. A queue of children waited for their turn on Santa’s lap as he handed each a brightly wrapped package. Next to him stood a pine tree that nearly touched the ceiling, decked in golden baubles and strings of white light. Michael danced with his daughter as “Last Christmas” boomed from the speakers. Even Vinn had dragged himself to the party and was tapping his finger along with the music.

Everybody was in a festive mood, including my wife.

She bounced around, as flashy as an ornament. She passed out gifts and spread cheer to everyone-well, everyone except her husband. She’d slipped into a cocktail dress with a plunging neckline, her cherry lips grinning as she hauled an overflowing shopping bag.

The moment we walked inside, she detached from me and wandered toward Vinn, who slid off the stool to greet her. She gave him a smile that stabbed at my heart and thrust a present into his palms. His eyes widened as he read his name on the tag. Then she left his side and tapped Michael, tipping a pile of bright packages into his arms.

Stomach sinking, I headed for the bar. I inhaled a Manhattan, and then had another. I gritted my teeth against the many tidings of goodwill from the damned songs.

Fuck Christmas.

Nico pounded my shoulder, his cheeks flushed as he pushed a thin package into my hands. “Open that at home.”

A gun. Great. “Thanks. Mia has a gift for you from us.”

“I’m drinking it.” Nico lifted his other hand, showing the label of the Californian vintage. “Not Italian, but it’s fantastic. That girl has good taste.”

She probably poisoned the bottle.

“Yeah.”

He patted my back. “You okay?”

“My marriage is eating me alive, that’s all.”

“That bad, eh? Welcome to the club.” Nico watched Mia make the rounds, smiling when she glanced our way. “I thought you were getting along.”

“Nope.”

“Want some advice?”

From a man whose marriage was on the rocks?

Not really. “Sure.”

“Do something nice for her.”

“Nico, I’ve tried. She has a car, clothes, a fucking admission into an Ivy League, and all the money.”

“She doesn’t need you to buy her shit. Take her on vacation.”

“I suggested that. She needs to be here for her sister.”

“Then find out what she wants and give it to her.”

“Whatever.”

“Lighten up, Alessio. It’s Christmas.” Nico turned and disappeared into the crowd. “Thank you for the wine!”

I returned to my glass, emptier than before I finished the cocktail. Refusing to mingle was childish and anti-social, but I couldn’t fake-grin through tonight.

After the fourth drink, the joyful music faded to a pulsating beat. The party was tolerable until a hairy arm hooked my neck, and a familiar low baritone boomed.

“Sup, brother.”

“Anthony.” I inwardly groaned. “Hey.”

“Tony. I haven’t gone by Anthony since I was a kid.”

Anthony Costa would always be a child, mostly because he’d never grown out of his frat-bro mentality and still used Nico for everything. He hopped onto the stool beside mine, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. Anthony had shaved his head to piss off his dad when he was younger, but now his hair grew in thick, chestnut locks that brushed his shoulders. Black ink peeked from his chest and snaked his pockmarked arms. Prison tattoos. Lots of them. Though he hadn’t been jailed for anything more than minor drug offenses.

Anthony was that guy. He bragged about his father and waved his Glock, but he wasn’t involved in the family business. Nico took vast pains to give the shithead a better life. Anthony was supposed to continue his legacy, but he’d wasted his years partying.

The recent stint in rehab seemed to do him good. His skin had regained its olive glow, and he’d probably put on fifteen pounds of muscle. Anthony’s most defining feature was his eyes. They could be round and beseeching, or barely visible and menacing. I’d seen him lasso women from across the room with nothing but a heavy stare and a wink. He was excellent at getting people to do what he wanted. So many goddamned times, I’d caved after a tearful don’t-tell-my-father plea.

“You look great. Healthy.”

“Thanks.” His harsh features smoothed into a Cheshire smile as he grabbed my shoulder. “I can’t believe you tied the knot. Sorry I couldn’t come to your wedding. Being near that open bar would’ve been a nightmare.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Are you depressed?” He sounded delighted. “Over your wife?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re drinking alone.”

He was trying to get a rise out of me. I had everything going for me, and he hated it. It must’ve burned to see me so accomplished while he still begged Daddy for handouts.

“I’m fine.”

Red and green lights flickered over Anthony as he gestured at Mia. “That her?”

“Yes.”

“She’s cute.”

“Thank you.”

Anthony snapped back as though he picked up on the warning. His grin widened. “You are destroyed by this chick. Unbelievable.”

My jaw clicked. “We’re married. She gets that privilege.”

“Dad said she’d bring us a lot of money. Is that why you won’t hang out?” He slapped my arm, and I stiffened. “Too busy juggling the wife and your new contacts?”

More like I used them as an excuse. “Yes.”

“I heard about your thing with Patrick.” He leaned in, his eyes glittering with savage humor. “And that you wasted three men in front of-”

“I can’t discuss that.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Nico’s rules.”

“It’s bullshit,” Anthony growled. “I’ve been sober sixty days, and before that, I was clean for a year. I should be involved.”

That would be a disaster of epic proportions. “Nico’s decision, not mine.”

“Yeah, but you have his ear. All you gotta do is tell him I’m ready. He’s always liked you.”

“He’d rather you not follow in his footsteps.”

“So it’s good enough for you, but not his son?”

“Tony, he’s saving you from getting shot or a lengthy prison sentence. You could be anything. Why the hell do you want to do this?”

“Why do you?”

“Because I know nothing else.”

“I’m the same way, Alessio. We’re both rich boys who wanted to please our fathers, but we were never cut out for sitting in cubicles from nine to five. That world bores us to death.”

“It may be boring, but it’s safe.”

“Since when do you care?”

“Since I married a woman who’s having my children.”

His eyes rounded. “She’s pregnant?”

No idea. Jesus, I needed to ask her.

“Not yet, but soon.”

He seemed to marvel at that, shaking his head. “Whatever. My dad doesn’t get to decide how I earn my living.”

“I have zero to gain by asking Nico to involve you.”

“We could be partners.”

“In what? Smoking weed? Come on, Tony. You’ve burned me too many times to consider this seriously, and you don’t have what it takes.”

I knew Nico. He’d force Anthony to start at the bottom, just as I had. Unlike me, he would fail. The likable party boy didn’t have the guts to commit a real crime.

Anthony glared as though you’d make a horrible gangster was an insult. “You’ve spent so much time inside a pussy that you’re becoming one.”

“Shut up, Anthony.”

“Does Mia carry your balls in her purse?”

“One more word and you’ll wake up next Thursday, you jealous cunt.”

He chewed the straw of his cocktail, twisting the red tip in his teeth as he watched me like a hound that scented a rabbit.

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I have no tolerance for insults against my wife. I wouldn’t let anyone else say that and walk away.”

“My dad-”

“Oh, Anthony. Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“Tony.”

“Tony.” I smiled.

“I fight my own battles.”

Dickless loser. “Sure.”

“You’re not the only guy who’s been through hell.”

“Oh?” I feigned interest as I poured seltzer into an empty glass. “Tell me more. I want to hear what you’ve sacrificed for the family.”

“I can do anything as well as you.”

I snorted.

He leaned forward, like a kid who needed to prove himself. “You have no idea what I’ve done.”

“True. You’ve been known to cover yourself in shit.”

“Stop being such an asshole.”

I couldn’t help it. I hated him.

The parasite ruined everything. I was burnt out on saving his ass. I would’ve told him to fuck off, but Anthony’s gaze flicked to something behind me.

“Hey, babe.” A blissful touch sliding across my shoulder accompanied the soft voice. She pecked the shell of my ear and whispered, “Merry Christmas.”

Ignoring Anthony, she kissed my mouth. Heat scorched my lips, fanning into my face. She hadn’t done this in days, and the alcohol’s warmth combined with my lust and turned me into a furnace.

I grabbed her waist and dragged her over my knees. Mia barely had time to catch the chair. She braced on my chest as she collided into me. She swept up my shirt, ripped it open, and splayed her palms on my skin.

Fuck. It’d been too long.

Weeks without her body gliding under me and watching her eyes shatter as I fucked her. It drove me crazy. Did she expect me to tolerate this for much longer?

She cupped my face. Her button nose trailed my cheek. Then she gave me a bruising kiss that echoed the gunpowder of a month ago when we made out at Nico’s house. She sucked my lip, attacking me with teeth and broad strokes of her tongue. I held her lower back, caressing the sheer fabric as she jerked my lapels. She clutched my neck and pressed her forehead to mine.

“Part one of your Christmas present.” Her alcohol-slicked smile grew as she moved my hand over her skintight dress, her curves filling my hands. “I miss you. I really miss you.”

I didn’t give a damn how many drinks it took to make that confession. All that mattered was that she had said it.

“Me too.”

Her boozy smirk left no doubt to her intentions. “We should find somewhere private for the rest of your gift.”

“Exactly what I wanted. How thoughtful.”Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“What do you get the man with everything?”

“Indeed.” I yanked her off the stool and dragged her to the bathrooms.

She resisted my tug.

“What?” I asked.

“Too dirty.”

Princess. “You’re the one who wants to do this here. You might’ve given me a heads-up.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. What about your car?”

“It’ll be freezing.”

I searched the bar for a discreet corner that didn’t exist, not with the place glittering like the North Pole.

We exchanged a grin as I gestured to the door.

I forced it open. Her laughter echoed down the hall as we groped through the darkness. We stumbled through the packed lounge. Her rosy face beamed. I followed her. She bumped into a door, laughed, and my hands slid under her dress and grabbed her ass. A wave of lust slammed into me as I caressed her silky skin while she fumbled with the handle.

I opened it for her. “After you, Mrs. Salvatore.”