Page 82 of Runaway in the Mafia
“Well, if you’re going to go around doing that, maybe you should. I’m never going to get these stains off,” she moaned. “Take it off so I can get some brown soap on it.”
How is this my reality?
“You have more important things to do.” He stilled her hands, trying to uncuff his sleeves. “I want you to organise the wedding.”
Her gaze spun to mine. His had never left mine. Awareness rattled through me. The buzz from his words had a permanent place inside my eardrums. Insanity was splashed all over this room. As obvious as the crimson on his ghost white dress shirt. Yet I was the only one who seemed to be aware of it. My tongue was thick as I dragged words through my parchment dry mouth and uttered the obvious.
“I’m married.”
He frowned.
Ada’s gaze flew to his. “She’s still married.” But there was doubt in her voice. Like she expected it to change overnight.
“Was,” he corrected in a tone that had a finality like the hammer of a judge, thumping down.
“What?” I croaked.
“Widow now.”
I stumbled back like he’d shot me in my gut. The door to the living room caught me. My spine burned where it hit me. An icy chill reverberated through my body. I was cold and clammyinside and out. Like I’d lain in a cold cellar for days. I tried to make sense of it.He can’t mean that.
“You didn’t?” Ada asked, but she didn’t seem as mortified as I was.
“I did.”
Ada was silent. His eyes met hers finally, and something odd spilled out of him. “You always said we were the same.” The words and the way he said them carved through my chest. In a switch of a second, I heard a little boy’s voice, searching for approval from his mamma. It was so odd for him. So out of character. Probably why her face shone with tears. Her hand moved to his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I was wrong.”
There was so much meaning behind those three words. Something I couldn’t comprehend. He was quiet. Didn’t agree or disagree. Then she said something that made even less sense to me. “She’s the only one for you.” He nodded, and a little smile filtered on her lips. His shoulders relaxed underneath it.What had happened?She away the first aid kit. “I guess I’d better arrange that wedding.” Then she turned to me with a weary look in her eyes. “Ahana—”
Vitale’s hand shot up to squeeze hers. She looked at him, and he shook his head quietly.
Her tone was filled with an inner conflict. “You’re my son, but she’s—”
“I know.” His voice was gravel.
Emotion whirled within her eyes as her gaze shifted between us. “You’ll do what’s best for her?”
A dark huff of amusement left his lips. “What do you think, Mamma?”
A beat passed, and she answered firmly. “I trust you to do it.”
There was a lightness to her steps when she headed towards me. “Mamma.” She paused. “Not months, but days. I don’t need a party to make her my wife.”
“Whatever you want,figlio mio.”She gave me no explanation. But with emotion in her eyes, she brought me to her bosom and whispered in my ears, “It’ll all be alright,figlia mia.”Then, with her kiss on my forehead, she rushed past me.
The door swung shut behind her. The mood shifted in the kitchen. The air sparked with new beginnings. Changes. An alternative reality. One that I wasn’t ready to see.He couldn’t possibly have… his eyes glinted with a murderous glare. He had.
“You going to come over and kiss your fiancé?”
I clung to the wall and shook my head slowly from left to right.
He sighed. Slow. Tired. Heavy.
“Your defiance,mia ammaliatrice,is only going to get you fucked.” He pushed off the chair and stalked over to me. A pulse beat later, my feet lifted off the floor. He carried me to the table and dropped me onto it.
The balls of his knuckles landed on the table either side of me. I looked up to find him leaning forward, boxing me in. He was a contradiction of charm and dark hallows. “Now, about that kiss,” he murmured.
My hand shot out. He stilled. His gaze fell to my palm on his chest.
