Page 9 of Devious
He spits his food out. The clear liquid drips down his wrinkled chin. I use a napkin to wipe him. “This is nasty, sweet pea. You’re trying to send me to an early grave. Put some salt in it.” He pouts like a five-year-old.
“You know you’re not allowed to eat salt. You have hypertension.” I dip the spoon in the soup and bring it to his mouth again.
“Where is my daughter-in-law? She hasn’t visited me in a long time. Nor has my son.” He frowns.
I don’t have the heart to tell him she passed away a year ago from overdosing on her medication. My mama suffered from bipolar and depression. She killed herself to get away from this lifestyle. Papa wouldn’t take care of her. He left her in the hands of strangers while he ran around with the next young woman he could find.
I continue to feed him.
“She’s busy right now, and so is Papa. You know how it is in the mafia. When the job calls, you have to stop what you’re doing to attend to it.” I feel bad for lying, but I don’t want him to spend the next few minutes in mourning. Growing up, he stood up for me when Papa used to verbally attack me. He has been my number one cheerleader at all my ballerina and art shows. He acts more like my papa than my real papa. Imagining myself away from him is unbearable, and my eyes water with tears.
My cheeks flush. “I’m going away soon.”
“Where are you going?”
The thought of leaving him makes my stomach turn as tears sting my eyes. “To Frankfurt, Germany. I’m going to live there for a while.”
“Will you be back?”
He’s not going to remember what I said in the next hour or so, but it feels better to share my plans with someone else. I remove the empty bowl and get up to set it on the kitchen table. When I return to the living room, I sit on the sofa next to him. My gaze lingers on the wedding picture of him and grandmother, the one sitting on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. Grandmother died from a heart attack seven years ago.
“I don’t know. Maybe one day. Who knows? I’m trying to get there first, but you will be the first person I call when I land.”
His brow furrows, and his lips turn down in anguish. “Lex is not going to let you leave, Cosetta. You’re in the mafia—the women are not allowed to live away from their husbands. And what about Rose Bug? She needs her mama.”
Hollowness settles in my body. This is so hard.Sohard. I wipe the tears escaping my eyes.
I play along. “He has to live with it, and I’ll take her with me.”
“Be safe. And as long as Draco approves of it, then you should be fine.” His breathing is rigid. He thinks Draco is still alive and the don.
“You want to watchTheGolden Girls? For old times’ sake?” I suggest.
“Of course.”
I pick up the remote and change the channel.
Roselyn
The following week, I’ve been on my best behavior. I did everything Devious said, being the well-behaved woman, he wants me to be. It’s disgusting I have to bow to him. He made me feel like I was a trophy wife when we had to meet with the other dons for dinner every night. I had to wear elegant dresses that cost an arm and a leg. Apparently, since I’m marrying a don, I have to become acquainted with the other dons’ wives. They were too shallow and materialistic for me.
My gaze drifts to Devious as he rolls over onto his back. His muscles are hard and cut but scarred with different marks. Each scar is pale and pink. Some stretch across his back, and some are as small as a paper clip.Who put those scars on his back?I heard some men beat their boys to make them tough for the mafia. His tousled, dark hair makes his olive skin seem brighter. He doesn’t look like the ruthless don before me, but a normal man. He twists around and his eyes pop open, and then he lifts up and yawns, glancing my way.
“Get dressed,” he orders, tossing the soft blanket from his body. The way he says this makes me wish he was already dead.
There is no way in hell I’m going to spend the rest of my life with his controlling, dominant ass. He’s fucking bossy, and it pisses me off.
“We have our engagement party.” He rolls out of bed, then waltzes to the bathroom.
I imagine the water gliding down his firm muscles. Is he touching himself? The sound of the shower awakens every cell in my body, and my core tingles and my nipples pebble. I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking him. He’s forcing me to marry him, and he’s a monster. I shouldn’t be thinking about him gagging me, tying me up to the headboard. Shaking my head, I rise from the edge of the bed.
My phone dings with a message, and I pick it up from the nightstand. A message from Tommy.
Tommy: The packet is ready. I talked to my friend, and he said you can crash at his sister’s place when you get to Frankfurt.
Me: I wired you the money. I’ll text you when I’m ready to pick up the package. I’ll send you my location. Thanks for helping me find a place to stay. Wear a dress suit.
Tommy: Okay and anytime, beautiful.
