Married to the mafia boss Series

Angelo

I hate giving her the silent treatment.

For the first time in three years I found someone I want to talk to and she wants nothing to do with me. Of course, I know that’s not entirely true. I can tell by the way she hovers close to me, avoiding eye contact-but barely. Her eyes will land on mine for a millisecond before pretending she is looking at something close by me. I know she wants to talk and I know what’s keeping her from doing so.

She’s fighting with herself.

There’s an undeniable connection between us that’s unexplainable-but maybe it’s because I had never met someone like me and maybe she never met someone like her either.

Deaf and suffering from the status our last names hold.

I fear that no matter what she will always see me as her captor, which is a crazy thought because one day Vasiliev will get her back after he fulfills my demands and that will be the day she will exit my life for good.

She’s not my friend, she a pawn in a business deal. All eyes are on me to make this deal go through and if I somehow fuck it up-if I decide to be selfish-my men will turn and I won’t hear them as they slit my throat from behind.

Already my men are arguing with me, telling me how I should treat Anastasia. Their cruel ideas make me sick to my stomach. I hate Viktor Vasiliev as much as all my men, but Anastasia is innocent. She doesn’t have blood on her hands-not like her father. Not like me.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

It’s dark by the time I’m finally finished at my office after arranging pick ups for drugs and weapons, paying and ordering new fixtures for what was destroyed at The Dark Twist. Sending money to families of men we lost. Sending more threats to Vasiliev. Figuring out how to avenge Nario.

I look over at Anastasia who must’ve fallen asleep. I hadn’t noticed, I’ve been so engrossed in my work. I didn’t expect to be this long but when I put my hearing aids in, I can tell she must’ve really needed the sleep. I don’t blame her-I wouldn’t have been able to sleep in a stranger’s room either.

I kick the loveseat hoping it’ll wake her, when it doesn’t I shake her shoulder. She sits up alert and looking around the room for a potential threat.

“You were snoring.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “I was not!” She signs defensively.

“It’s okay, it won’t bother me at night because well… I’m deaf,” I smile at her and she actually graces me with a smile back. “Come on. It’s time to go home.”

She blinks a few times and frown, “Home?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “My home,” I correct myself.

“Right,” she stands up and looks disappointed.

The car ride home I can’t help but think of why she looked so disappointed. Did I make her think I was taking her back to her home? Was she upset I correct when I called it my home-wishful thinking Angelo-why did she look like that? At my penthouse, she still has that sad disappointed look on her face. Even through dinner which Isabella made for us and had waiting. It bothers me so much that I finally cave and ask her, “What is the look for?”

“What look?”

“That look. Why do you look like your disappointed to be here?”

She shakes her head and doesn’t answer. I watch as she picks at her food instead of eating it.

I shake my hands, “What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she signs getting increasingly more irritated.

“Tell me!”

“No! Nevermind”

So there is something wrong. “I know I’m holding you against your will, but I’m trying to make you feel comfortable-welcome even!”

“I was just disappointed because I thought maybe we could do something after you were done instead of coming back here.”

I’m stunned by her response. That was not what I was expecting to hear.

When I don’t respond she shakes her head, “I told you nevermind. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. I forgot I had told you we were going shopping and I forgot,” I rub at my forehead.

“Whatever.”

My stomach is riddled with guilt. She had been excited to go shopping, which is still shocking to me, and I forgot all about it. Aside from forgetting, I thought she’d be annoyed to go shopping. I pictured her aggravated by me doting on her and using my credit card to buy whatever catches her eye.

“It’s late now,” I frown. “But tomorrow I’ll skip work and we can do whatever you want.”

She bites her bottom lip pondering my request. “Really?”

I smile. “Really.”

“Okay, I guess I forgive you,” she teases and my heart skips a beat.

Her smile brightens up the room and makes me feel happy myself. My stomach feel nauseous almost-like butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I’m sure if a doctor was here to check my heart rate, he’d probably think I had just ran five miles. She makes me feel so breathless.

I watch as her smile quickly turns into a frown and she picks at her food once more. I’d give anything to know what is going on inside her head.

Was it so bad to joke and be friendly with me?

If I had to guess she probably just reminded herself that I’m her kidnapper.

I’d also give anything to show her I’m not the monster she thinks I am.

I am a monster but I won’t be to her.