Page 62 of Nanny to the Mafia

I frowned. He never spoke about his work. If I asked, it was a quick retort. It was in these moments that I saw darkness creep through the cracks of my illusion and saw my marriage as it really was. Fake and on borrowed time. A facade to gain something. Speaking of which…

“How is the progress on the custody case?” I asked what I should have asked far sooner, had I not been so distracted.

He stilled, his mood turning dark. “Why do you ask?” He watched me shrewdly, his tone implying I should drop the subject.

I furrowed my brows. “Isn’t it obvious? I want to know how it’s going. If you will be able to hold on to full custody.”

“Is it?” He continued eating, but the way he chewed his meat told me food wasn’t on his mind. “Or,” he took a sip of his wine and put the glass down, his hand clenched around the stem, “Is it because you are tired of our… arrangement already?” he suggested, his tone cold, his face dark.

Ugh? What happened?

The mood had shifted while I wasn’t looking. One moment he was seducing me and the next … what was he actually accusing me of?

“Don’t be ridiculous, Antonio. I am only curious. As I should be, as one of the participants in this, as you called it, arrangement. I think I have the right to know what is happening. For example,” I pushed through even though the anger bouncing off him told me I should do otherwise, “Did you find out who,” I lowered my voice, “is spying on us?”

He continued to eat. The noise of the cutlery echoed in the silent room as tension built. There was a heaviness in the air I didn’t understand. He took his time, taking a bite after another, seeming to be not bothered at all, except for the furious tick at his jaw. We shared a house and a bed, but I didn’t know this man at all. Was he really not going to answer me at all?

“I suggest,” he said, his voice unnaturally low, “that you drop this subject now.”

“But why?” I whined.

“Because I said so,” he roared, his voice loud in the otherwise empty dining room. My heart jerked, and I rushed my hand to my pounding chest.

I had never experienced this in my life. My father never yelled. He was always soft-spoken. Adam, I feared, didn’t have the ability to. But Antonio did. Fear burst in my chest, and, like poison, it spread. The pounding in my ears was heavy, and the noise was drowning me. I had never seen this side of him before, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. There was a ruthlessness to him that hinted at easy deaths in front of him. Mine.

He ran his hands through his hair, breathing deeply. He reached blindly for my hand again, wrapping his palm around mine. I hated that mine was trembling. “Mi dispiace, I scared you. We will drop this subject now. Sì? He looked at me, willing me to agree. Like all things he did to me, he wrapped me around his fingers, this time too. I nodded silently, swallowing the dryness in my throat.

Exhaustion hit me as unexpectedly as the fist of a friend.

“I think I better go to bed.” I stood up only to be nudged down.

“Stay, huh?” he implored softly. When I didn’t make a move to leave anymore, he continued his meal.

I sat down slowly. Everything that was right before felt awkward now, the silence, my proximity to him when I wanted to move. I couldn’t breathe. The need to think haunted me.

Antonio continued with his meal like any other day. Leaving me to doubt what had passed.

Am I exaggerating everything?

The sound of clip-clopping heels filtered down the marble floor and broke the stillness of a silent conversation. Antonio sighed, rubbing his eyes, looking tired for the first time.

A moment later, his mother entered the room, smartly dressed as usual in a power suit, her lips set in a firm, thin line, accentuating the lines around her mouth, her aura one of disapproval.

“Antonio.”

She glanced at us seated at the table, her disdain apparent.

Neither of us greeted her, a fact she ignored.

“You can leave now,” she dismissed me by waving her hand.

Gladly.

I rushed to rise to be pulled down again by Antonio.

“She’s my wife, Mother. She stays here. You, on the other hand, have come here uninvited. Again. I really have to set some rules with Armando.”

“Don’t be so rude, figlio mio. I am your mother. I will always be in your life. Unlike your wives,” she baited him unashamedly.

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