Married to the mafia boss Series

Angelo

I fucked up.

But I don’t fix things. There is nothing to be fixed. Anastasia will be handed off to her father at 3 a. m. tonight and my men will throw a big party for the new terrority we’ve gained.

This is going to be a big victory, but it feels anything but. I feel as though I have lost. I feel like I have lost the most prized thing I have ever had in my possession. I feel like I have lost the potential for happiness. And I feel like I have lost the will and motivation to continue on.

This gut-wrenching feeling makes me want to drink into oblivion. So I do just that. In the kitchen, I grab my favorite bottle of wine. The. I opt for the harder stuff. Whiskey.

I don’t want to be sober right now. I don’t want to be sober ever. I can’t deal with my emotions and I certainly can’t deal with the way my heart and brain are both aching. My mind is trying to rationalize what I’m doing but nothing seems right. My heart argues back that maybe there is a way to escape this world and find another that ends with us together.

The Mafia doesn’t tolerate betrayal and me doing so would be the highest form. They’d hunt me down and make an example out of anyone who goes against the Mafia. Anyone who dare breaks their loyalty toward our sacred oath.

I’ll never be happy not while I’m tied to the Mafia and especially not while I’m their Don.

Anastasia has locked herself in one of the spare bedrooms. I wished she’d at least talk and reason with me, to try and understand that there really is no choice. I thought she’d known that. We had discussed it before. I thought she realized what we had, while amazing, was only ever temporary.

I gulp down another shot hoping that maybe I’ll render myself unconscious so I can stop feeling and thinking.

I hear the elevator ding from my foyer. I pull my gun from my holster and check out who the hell thinks it’s okay to enter my penthouse today. In the hallway stands my brother in law, suit and all.

His expression is a mix between stoic and pissed off. His jaw is sharp and lips pursed. The suit he wears I professional and expensive and his hair is neatly trimmed along with a smooth, clean-cut face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here so you don’t fuck things up.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“No,” he answers simply.

“You’re not welcome here.”

His nose crinkles. “Are you drunk?”

“Not enough,” I mope, heading back into the kitchen. I pour myself another drink while I drown in my own self-deprivation.

Antonio takes the glass and throws it against the wall. “What the fuck is going on with you? Your father has been fighting for the East Side since before you were born and within three years of being Don you’ve accomplished it. Your men will finally respect you and you’re going to throw it all away because of what? Some pretty Russian girl with a tight pussy?”

I throw a punch at him hitting him square in his jaw. Fuck, it feels like I broke my hand. “Don’t speak about her like that!” I say through gritted teeth.

“She is your enemy’s daughter!” He shouts.

“She is much more than that!”

Antonio curses under his breath and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I got lucky with Liliana, I will admit that, but I never wanted to marry her. We don’t have choices. We do as we’re told and we do it for the benefit of the Mafia. You need to grow up and act like a Don before your men realize your impulsivity and stupidity and kill you for it. I promised Liliana I would look after you and I don’t mind playing the bad guy if-”

“I don’t need you to look after me. If my men want to kill me because they think I’m not good enough to run Boston, then so fucking be it. I’d love to take a few of them with me.”

“Snap out of it, Angelo! What is it you want? You can’t truly want that girl.”

“What have you ever known about what I want?” I push him.

“I tolerated you hitting me once, if you put your hands on me one more time Angelo, you’ll make me fucking regret it,” he sighs. “I told Liliana I would come here to help you. I don’t want to hurt you mainly because I don’t want your sister bitching at me if she finds out I hurt you.”

I start to pace in the kitchen. I’m frustrated and aggravated and I’d love nothing more than to hit something or fight someone right now. I feel violent and on edge and even just screaming at Antonio makes me feel a tad better-until he comments back and pisses me off even more.

“Go back to Chicago.”Content rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.

“Not until that girl is out of your life.”

“I don’t want her out of my life!” I pull at the root of my hair. “Your sister doesn’t even know me anymore. Doesn’t know what I’m going through since my incident. For the first time in a long time I’m happy.”

“Do I need to say it again? You can’t have a life with her! You’ll be killed and if the Mafia somehow lets it go, the Bratva won’t and Vasiliev will hunt you down until you are killed and his daughter is back in his arms.”

I punch wall. If I didn’t break anything hitting Antonio, I definitely broke my hand now. Blood drips down from my fist.

“God dammit, Angelo,” Antonio growls as he rushes to the freezer to pull out a package of frozen vegetables. “Maybe you need a break. Your men will respect you once Anastasia is back in Vasiliev’s territory and the East is yours. Maybe we can convince your men to have the Consigliere look after Boston while you stay with Liliana and I for a bit. So we can get you the help you clearly fucking need.”

I start to laugh. “Who am I going to get help from a therapist? If my men don’t trust me now they certainly won’t after they find out I’ve been to a shrink. And there is no way in hell I’m going to live with you and my sister.”

Antonio grabs me by my shirt and throws me against the wall. “You’re a ticking time bomb! If I don’t intervene you’re going to end up doing something that not even I can save you from. Your rashness and violence is going to cause a war and get you killed.”

“I think I understand, Antonio, I think you’ve told me at least fifty times that I’m going to get myself killed.”

“Then when are you going to get it through your thick skull?” He spits.

I push him away from me. I take a seat at the kitchen table wincing and groaning from the throbbing pain in my hand. Even though it hurt like hell, it felt good. I look at the chair across from me and remember Anastasia sitting there, staring at me as I tried one of her delicious homemade dishes. I meant it when I asked her to make it for me every day. I remember the excitement on her face when I told her I loved it and I certainly remember the taste of her while I had seconds under the table.

Last night was magical. It’s as though I had never really experienced sex before her. As if what I did with all those other girls was something different. Because it was. With the others it was fucking with Anastasia and the emotions involved it was making love.

I’ll never be able to take another girl to bed again because no one will be like her. No one will feel like her. No one will be able to elicit the same type of overwhelming emotion she makes me feel. No one will ever compare to the inferno that is Anastasia Vasiliev.

No one will ever make me happy like her. Smile like her. No one will ever be able to make me plan my future but her. Although it was and still is just a fantasy, I had planned so much. When she is gone she will be nothing but a good memory and in my future she’ll be nothing but a good dream.

Antonio sits across from me crossing his arms. “I’m coming with you tonight and when we’re done I’ll come with you to the East Side. I’ll spend the night and leave in the afternoon.”

I scoff. “Why not leave right after business is done.”

“Because Liliana worries about you which means I have to worry about you. From the way you’re reacting I don’t trust your actions tonight.”

“Why don’t you leave me to myself and you go do the swap?” I take the bottle of whiskey on the table and start sipping. Antonio leans across the table and yanks it out of my hands. “Because then your men will know your a coward and know that the negotiations were my doing.”

I lean forward squinting my eyes. “About those negotiations…exactly how did you convince Vasiliev?”

Antonio stares at me silently. “Not your concern right now.”

“You know what, I’m done. You treat me like a child.”

“Because you act like a child.”

“Make yourself fucking comfortable, but I’m going up to my room.” I storm out of the kitchen and stomp up the stairs with frustration. Acting exactly like a kid who is throwing a tantrum.

I’m slightly drunk, extremely aggravated, and fully self-destructive right now. I pass by the room Anastsia is in, I grab onto the doorknob and turn-of course it’s locked. I won’t bother her anymore, she never wants to see or talk to me again and I don’t blame her.

Deep down I feel like there was still something I could’ve done to prevent what’s about to go down tonight. But the rational part of me knows and continues to repeat to myself that I have no other choice. I have to give her back to who I stole her from. Right into the arms of my most hated enemy. The man who killed my best friend. The man who is now going to take away my last remaining best friend.

The bed is still a mess, the top sheet missing still with Anastasia. Which means she’s still naked. I sit on her side of the bed and lean my nose down to the pillow. It smells like strawberries and vanilla. I miss her presence. She’s not even gone yet I feel it’s like an aching hole in my chest.

I gather her clothes and put it in a bag. I also grab the master key as I unlock the spare bedroom. She laying in bed, back facing me. Her shoulders are trembling and all I hear is faint sobbing. I want to fall apart and take her in my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay, but nothing is going to be okay.

And I can’t be the one the comfort her.

I set the clothes down and lock the door behind me.