Married to the mafia boss Series

Anastasia

Angelo enters the bedroom looking tired and stressed out. The solemn look on his face tells me whatever happened between him and Antonio Moretti didn’t go well.

“Your father will stop at nothing to get you back,” he doesn’t look me in the eyes when he signs. Like he’s purposely avoiding me.

I step toward him bending until I’m in his line of view. “I am his only daughter. I’m all he has left.”

“My men want me to send your father proof that you’re being tortured her.”

My eyebrows furrow. I’m confused at what he’s proposing, but not scared. Many times he’s told me to trust him and every time I have. He’s not let me down yet.

So, I trust him.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“What are you going to do?”

“Are you good with makeup?”

After a trip to the store and hundreds of dollars spent later, we return back to his penthouse with palettes of makeup, fake blood, lingerie, rope, white sheets and a realistic blonde wig-identical to my natural tone and length. Before heading into his bedroom he knocks on Liliana and Antonio’s door. I assume they answer when he opens the door, but peeking inside, no one is there. The room is empty and clean.

He pulls out and checks his phone. I watch his expression closely. His jaw ticks and he tenses slightly. Whoever it was that texted him pissed him off. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and drags me to the bedroom.

“Get ready in the bathroom. I’ll get the bed ready.”

I start with putting on the wig before moving onto my makeup. Makeup has always been a hidden talent of mine. My own form of expression. In ballet we either didn’t wear anything-aside from blush-or something subtle. Very few roles required a good smokey eye.

I give myself one black eye accompanied by fake cuts, a bruised cheek, and a split lip. When my face is done I strip into the lingerie Angelo picked out. I use the purple, black, and red to create rope burns on my wrists and ankles. I put some darker red on my hands and try to make an imprint of hand marks on my thighs. I use a blending sponge to dab fake blood into my wig, the bra and underwear lingerie, along with putting some on the cuts I created.

When I walk out Angelo pales. “That is scary good.”

“Thank you.”

He walks toward me with some scissors cutting into the expensive silk material of the white lingerie, making it look torn. I glance over at the bed, the ropes are tied to the headboard and footboard waiting for me. The white sheets have more fake blood on it included what looks to be a copious amount of dried blood right where my butt would be.

Angelo helps me into position. “I’m going to tie your hands, you won’t be able to talk but if you are feeling uncomfortable and would like to stop tug your left hand three times.”

I nod in understanding. My hands and legs are restrained and I have never felt more vulnerable in my life. When he pulls out his phone to take photos, I start feeling shy. My own father is going to see me like this.

I know it will destroy him and I’m going along with it. I’m working with his enemy. I’m deceiving him.

You’re doing this so he doesn’t actually torture you, I have to remind myself.

I look away from the camera and shut my eyes. I want this to be over. I feel a hand go to my knee, when I open my eyes Angelo is hovering over me.

“Are you okay? Need to stop?”

I shake my head.

After he takes enough photos, he reaches over to untie the ropes. His body is so close to me and I can smell his cologne, fresh bergamot and peppered suede. I can feel his breath on my neck as my hands become free. I resist the urge to pull him on top of me. I bite my lip watching him undo my ankles.

The way he is avoiding my stare I can tell something is wrong.

“You can get dressed. Thank you,” he signs quickly before exiting with his phone.

My father is going to see these photos, see me so exposed and think the worst. My father is going to have one of two reactions. He’ll either do whatever he can to get me back-including accepting Angelo’s demands. Or he is going to rip apart Mafia territory until he finds me himself and he’ll kill anyone who stands in his way. Especially Angelo.

No matter what, after he sends those photos to my father, whether he gives into the demands or not, Angelo is a dead man.

I take a quick shower to get rid of all the makeup and blood and put on something more comfortable. I wrap one of Angelo’s blankets around my body and I stand in front of the large window in his room.

The city is beautiful. The buildings tall and I think of everyone inside them. Some conducting business in offices and others at home living their lives. Taking care of their children, loving their partner, or alone watching a good movie.

But I think of them all happy and wonder if one day I’ll ever be happy again. A life after ballet, a life under my fathers strict watch, and a life of looking over my shoulder is not a life I want.

Life could have been so different had I not hurt my knee. I could have had a successful life away from Boston. My dreams are still in Russia at the ballet company. My heart is still holding onto hope that I’ll one day return, but my career is over. Retired at twenty and forced to find something else to do.

I don’t have another passion. I don’t want another job and I certainly don’t want to find another ‘passion.’

Angelo has his laptop on his lap in the living room. I usually don’t have full range of the house but lately he’s been lenient. I think of his words once more, trust me. I do trust him, but could he really trust me?”Let’s run away,” I sit down next to him.

He raises his eyebrows surprised at my statement. I’m surprised myself.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, forget it,” I start to sit up feeling the stupidity of my statement. Regret instantly making my stomach coil.

“No,” he grabs my wrist and pulls me back down to sit. “What do you mean by running away?”

“Away from Boston.”

His expression is kind before turning stoic and cold. His hard features tell me he’s putting on his business face again. “What the hell do you think this is?”

I blink, shocked at the harshness of his face and gestures.

“I kidnapped you and just because I refuse to harm you doesn’t mean I want to run away with you? What do you think this is? Some relationship forming? What?” He pauses. “He think I’m going to whisk you off your feet and becoming fucking Prince Charming?”

Tears well in my eyes but that still doesn’t stop him from acting like an asshole.

“Did think we could have a happily ever after?”

I slap him across the face. I’m too angry to think about the consequence of my action. I’m breathing heavy with adrenaline. A cry gets stuck in my throat and I refuse to openly sob in front of him. I can’t see through the water in my vision, I can’t see the whatever hostile bearing he’s put on.

I turn away from him, blinking and letting the water run in droplets down my cheeks. I hold my hand over my mouth. I can’t decide if I’m more upset with Angelo or myself.

How could I be such an idiot to fall for the man who kidnapped me? I tried to warn myself yet I kept telling myself it was the connection between us. That there was that spark I have read about in all the romance novels. The instantaneous bond everyone describes. You think you’ll never have it and then it does. It did.

And with the worst possible person.

He’s pushing me away and he has every right to. I should’ve pushed him away first. He told me to trust him and I blindly did so. Now I play the part of the fool. The girl who finally had a human connection with a man who understood my world. The girl who was so naive to take his hand and manipulate me.

My walls came down enjoying the company of someone who makes me feel like I’m more than my last night. More than my disability. More than what I’ve always believed I’m worth. But now it’s time to rebuild those walls with stronger material.

Trust no one, I repeat until it’s engraved in my head. How can it be so easy to trust someone I hardly know? And how can I feel as though I’ve known him my entire life?

I dab my eyes with tissue and when my vision is clear I see Angelo standing in the doorway. His cheek is red. Good, it’s what he deserves.

He doesn’t look indignant, but sorrowful.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Speaking the truth?”

“It wasn’t the truth.”

“Then what was it?”

He doesn’t answer back.

“Fuck you, Angelo.”

He rushes over to me and before I can react, he startled me by grabbing both of my cheeks and angling my lips to his. His lips are soft against mine and I have dreamed of my first kiss for many years. My stomach has butterflies and my heart is thumping so fast in my chest I feel like I might explode. I close my eyes giving into him, laying my soul bare to him. Already letting my guard down. Letting him take whatever he wants even if it’ll destroy me in the end.

I have nothing else to lose.

My entire body goes weak and I melt into him. His arms wrap around me to hold me up as his mouth skillfully opens and his tongue sweeps in. I gasp and instinctively pull away suddenly embarrassed by my lack of experience.

“Go away,” I fight my feelings.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” I turn away from him. I wait a few minutes before looking over my shoulder to see if he’s left, but he hasn’t.

“I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m not sorry.”

“You are right. There is no life for us together. I was foolish to think there was anything between us,” I sign coldly.

“Bullshit and you know it. That kiss meant something.”

“It meant you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

Angelo’s lips curl into a charming smile. “No. I know you felt it to. We’re lying to ourselves. We’re pushing each other away because we know how this is going to end but I was thinking about what you said. Maybe it doesn’t have to end.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you could leave Boston, where would you want to go?”

Was he really considered what I said earlier? That absurd comment I had made?

My mind is racing and still dizzy from the kiss of a lifetime. My lips tingling and buzzing for more. The blood pumping in my veins has me full of energy and eager for me. I can’t deny the static between us, the undeniable closeness we both desire in each other. He’s right, we’re pushing each other away because we’re scared.

But we have every right to be scared.

We’re playing roulette with our lives and one of us is going to end up dead from our treason. Angelo is sworn to the Mafia as I am forced to be loyal to the Bratva. The two cannot mix. A union between us will never be accepted. My father would rather have me dead than with an Italian. As I know Angelo’s men would kill him for betraying them.

Yet, neither of us wants to say goodbye. Neither of us can completely severe the ties.

“Hawaii,” I answer his question.

He smiles but doesn’t answer back. He leaves me to his room and a fantasy.

A make believe world where we can be in Hawaii, together.