Page 42 of Devious
“None of your exes were attentive?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never hung out with them. They didn’t have much interest in me because I was going to be their trophy wife and bear their children. Papa wanted me to mold into something I wasn’t.”
“Oh, yeah. Who?”
Ever since I was sixteen years old, I’ve been groomed to be a trophy wife, and I was told women are not allowed to work and be their own person and that I was only made to produce children. Papa wanted me to be that so bad, and my mother didn’t.
“Someone’s wife.”
“What would you be doing if you weren’t born into the mafia?”
I don’t know if he’s asking because he’s curious, and we really haven’t talked since the day I told him how Papa abused me.
“Be a street artist. It doesn’t pay a lot, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t be doing it for the money.”
“What did you do in Atlanta when you ran away for six months?”
Papa told him every little thing I did. I lean back in the chair and roll my eyes.
“I lived in an apartment with a group of other girls, and we partied and got high and drunk. I didn’t want to marry Umberto. Papa wanted me to. He was a sweet guy and always bought me roses, but there wasn’t a connection with him. He was weird. He wanted me to do… stuff.”
“Such as?”
My cheeks flame. “He wanted me to stick a champagne bottle up my pussy. And he told me I will have to once we’re married. Once, he wanted to record me blowing him.”
Devious frowns, and the lines on his forehead deepen. “It doesn’t surprise me about him. Did you do what he asked you to do?”
“Fuck no. I probably wouldn’t mind him recording me, but sticking shit inside of me is weird as fuck.”
“Good, because I would have gone all the way to Philly to break his arms and legs.”
“It was before I met you.”
He tilts his head to the side like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “What’s your point?”
“Sometimes, you don’t know whether to hate me or like me.” I tap my finger on the table. “You didn’t hurt Nero when you found out he ate me out.”
“I debated if I should, but he brings me the most money on the West Coast, so that is the only reason why I haven’t killed him.”
“Are you close to Umberto?”
“I know all my underbosses personally, and Umberto isn’t nice. He’s vicious but he wraps it up in a façade.”
Umberto really tried to be a good man to me, and I had to leave and run off because I wanted freedom. He didn’t take me out on dates, but he tried to make me feel comfortable.
“I don’t know. He was always nice to me and treated me like I was a person. I couldn’t handle his weird sexual habits.”
The chef brings us our meal.
“What were Penelope and Enzo like? I never got a chance to hang out with them,” I ask, needing to change the subject.
“They were good people. They were the parents I never had.” Devious smiles sadly, but then his eyes light up with happiness. “I remember when I was fifteen years old and I wasn’t supposed to be out late, and I spent the night at a girl’s house. Amelia—the girl—and Enzo lied to Draco, saying I was at his place. Enzo didn’t give two shits about what Draco thought.”
“I’m really sorry for your loss. No one deserves to lose a loved one,” I say honestly, and he nods.
He grabs my crab legs, showing me how to break the shell, then feeds me a piece of meat. The meat tastes juicy and sweet and so good. We talk about our dislikes and likes. Apparently, Radiohead and System of a Down are his favorite rock groups. Rap music is my favorite genre, and Kendrick Lamar and Drake are my favorite rappers. We both agree horror and psychological thriller are the best genres, whether it’s books or movies.
“I remember when I was a kid, Enzo would slow dance with Penelope in the living room. Let’s dance.” Devious stands from the table, holding out his hand.
