Page 94 of Devious
Having complete freedom is weird. I don’t have any guards tracking my every move, and I get to wake up and do what I want without needing permission first. Most days, I draw pictures on the street for other people and they pay me a small fee. The mafia world is so different than normal life. I’m not on the run or hiding.
In the evenings, I take a few classes, and I even made a few friends. We meet every Friday and Saturday at clubs and bars, then Monday through Friday before I go to work as a street artist, I go visit my nonno. Sometimes, I’ll catch Devious there on his way out, and we chat for a few moments before he leaves.
I sit at the bar as Mandy sips her drink, a furrow in her brow.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m fine. I’m thinking about my husband.”
I glance at her, and she’s beautiful, all dark curls and tan skin and curvy figure.
She raises her eyebrows. “You’re married? We’re only twenty years old. Wait, is it to your high school sweetheart?”
“Something like that,” I lie straight through my teeth. “He asked me for a divorce.”
One thing I hate doing is lying about where I came from. I don’t know how she would take it if she knew I was the daughter of a former crime lord and that I stabbed someone. She’s a sweet girl, nice and kind. From what she told me, her mother is a lawyer, and her father is a heart surgeon.
Mandy runs her fingers through her hair, and she taps her fingers against the wooden bar.
“That sucks. I’ve never been in a relationship. So, I don’t know how it feels to experience heartache.”
Lucky for her, sometimes I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.
I sip my drink slowly, trying to wash away this heartache.
I miss him. I miss Devious so much it hurts. Our wedding started out as him forcing me to marry him as payment for my father’s debt. I paid the debt according to him, and he was the one who broke things off with me. I understand his reasoning that he wants to make sure this is what I want…
Mandy nudges my arm.
“Look, this guy is staring at you.”
I look up and there is a man my age, licking his lips, and I shake my head at him.
I don’t want anyone else but Devious. I should go to him, but I don’t know what I want to say to him. I don’t know what to do. I down my Dr. Pepper, then I throw money onto the bartop.
“That should cover our drinks. I’ll see you tomorrow at Central Park,” I tell Mandy.
She nods. “Okay.”
I walk home with my headphones on as “White Mustang” by Lana Del Rey soothes my ears.
I live down the road and I open the door to my apartment, toss my purse onto the counter, and remove my clothes. I turn on the faucet to the tub, and I lie in the warm water staring back at the white ceiling.
No matter what I do, I can’t ease the ache that’s in my chest. I wish Devious would call me and tell me how much he loves me and how much he needs me.
Once the water turns my skin pruney, I get out of the tub, wrap a towel around my body, and I grab my phone. I go to dial Devious’s number and hold the phone up to my ear. I want to hear his voice, just this once, but then again, I don’t want to bother him. He’s the one who served me divorce papers, he’s the one who told me I needed to be free from this lifestyle. He has given me everything I want, so why do I feel so empty? Why do I feel so lost? Now that I have freedom away from him, and the mafia, I realize it’s not what I thought it would be. It’s not as good as I thought it would be. Walking around with this hole in my heart is making me feel shittier by the day.
I set the phone down, throw on a sweatshirt and pants, and sit outside on my balcony that overlooks the city. And I let the tears fall down my cheeks.
Devious
Two Months Later…
Ihaven’t heard from Roselyn since I saw her at her apartment after her father’s funeral. I miss her every fucking day. I couldn’t help myself—I needed to take her for my own personal addiction. After I fucked her, I thought she’d be mad at me, but I was shocked at how she responded. She used me to get off, and if that’s all she wants from me, then that’s what I’m going to give her.
After a long day of torturing one of my clients to collect a debt, I remove my tie, hang it on the doorknob, and sit in the lounge chair in my bedroom. One of my maids brings me a bottle of bourbon. Nicolo informs me of Roselyn’s whereabouts and checks in to let me know she’s safe. I spend most of the time worried about her, so I try to keep my mind occupied by reading the latest psychological thrillers and watching a crime show.
The pain hasn’t gone away from leaving Roselyn. I think about her daily, and I don’t want to let go. It doesn’t help that I still have some of her stuff here. I’ve been obsessed with Roselyn to the point I made a fake Instagram account to follow her, just so I can stalk her. I miss her like crazy, and this is the only way I feel connected to her.
