Page 26 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
"Have you lost your fucking mind?" The words escape through clenched teeth. "Marriage isn't a solution. It's a prison sentence."
"Such a drama queen." Roman rolls his eyes. "You've been alone too long."
"I prefer it that way.” I rise from my desk to get a drink when a vision of Gabriella standing by my side, as my wife, flashes in my mind. I need to burn that image away. “We've had this conversation before."
“And we’ll have it again. I know your thoughts on the matter, but you’re not your father."
The mention of my father brings unwanted memories.
His thunderous voice, my mother's hollow eyes.
The sickening crack of bone against wall.
Her silent tears at the dinner table while he charmed guests with stories of their perfect life.
"I won't do it," I say firmly. "Not to her. Not to anyone." I sip the amber liquid though I really want to down it and pour another.
"This isn't just about your childhood demons, Marco." Roman leans forward. "It's strategy. The Monti alliance strengthened. Her investigation stopped. Antonio's condition remains protected. His business secured."
"No." I return to my desk.
“It’s the fastest and easiest way to neutralize her. As a wife?—"
“A wife would expect things I can't give." I cut him off. "Emotional availability. Vulnerability. A family."
"So give her what you can. Power. Protection. Position." He shrugs. "Many marriages in our world function on less."
"I'm not built for domesticity, Roman. I can't be what a woman like Gabriella deserves."
He tilts his head. “This isn’t about what she deserves. This is about protecting the family, ours and Antonio’s.”
I scoff. “You think I’ll be able to control her any more than Antonio can?”
He studies me for a long moment, and it makes me uncomfortable. Like he can see the truth. “That would be the point.”
I shake my head. “I know you’re happy with your new wife and family, but leave me the fuck out of your delusions of happily ever after.”
He lets out a sigh of resignation. "As you wish."
I reach for the stack of reports on my desk. "Now, what's the status on the Brighton warehouse? Vitale's people were supposed to deliver the equipment two days ago."
Roman allows the subject change. "Delayed. Customs issues at the port. Dominic's handling it personally."
I focus on the paperwork, on shipments and territories and profit margins.
Numbers don't lie.
Numbers are safe.
Numbers don't make me feel things I've spent a lifetime avoiding.
"The casino renovations are behind schedule," I say, flipping through documents. "We need to push the contractors."
Work. Business. Power.
These are things I understand. These are things I can control.
Not the memory of her body against mine.
