Married to the Mafia Boss

Frankie

If it sounds too good to be true, it’s too good to be true.

That’s my general rule for business because nothing good happens in this line of work. I’m listening to Amelia tell me about Andres, but all I can feel is the anger bubbling inside me. She betrayed us. She’s given us a way to Jose’s own family.

“I cannot believe you. I can’t believe you are talking to Jose’s nephew while we are on the run from him for our lives.” I raise my voice, but she doesn’t back down, she’s squared her shoulders, and I can see this is the hill she’s going to die on.

Amelia glares at me. “It’s a solution to a problem your entire family hasn’t been able to solve.”

“We can’t trust him,” I roar. “Jose has probably sent him to scout us out, and the rest of his men are probably on their way here now. You should have come to me the moment you got into contact with a Catalan.”

“I knew you wouldn’t listen,” she says. “You just don’t want me doing anything of use. You are so damn possessive that I couldn’t possibly get involved and come up with a solution for us. You just want to lock me away forever and have no one ever touch me again.”

She takes a step closer to my desk. “I am handing you a solution on a golden platter, and you won’t even consider it,” she shouts at me. “You don’t even want to think about it. Tell me, Frankie, is it because it’s a solution you didn’t come up with?”

I stare at her for a moment, and then I slam my fist into the table. “I have done nothing but try to protect you. Everything I’ve done was to make sure you were safe. You don’t know this world, Amelia. You don’t know what people are capable of. I never wanted this life for you. Our families have known each other for ages, but you’ve never known this side of the family. It’s dangerous, it’s lethal, and many people die every day because of it. It’s the reason I left you.” I throw my hands in the air. “I left you to protect you from this.”

Amelia throws her own hands up and points out the window. “Well, isn’t that ironic because now I’m married to you and on the run to hide from people who want to kill me?”

“It was your ex-boyfriend who hit you,” I yell.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

“You didn’t have to put him in hospital, Frankie. That’s always your solution. You don’t care about me, but anyone who hurts me, you practically end their life. You put us in this situation, not me. If you had just thrown Dave out, we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be stuck in this stupid marriage, and we both wouldn’t be on the run.”

I glare at her, but she turns and storms off without another word.

I sit down at my desk, seething, and summon one of the bouncers. “Follow her and make sure she goes straight home, no detours to speak to anyone.”

He leaves, and I sigh, sitting back. I rest my chin on my hand, my elbow on the arm of my chair, and I look out the window. Yes, I didn’t have to put Dave in the hospital, but in this business, you’re taught a lesson when you go too far. She isn’t grateful for that. I mean, I don’t blame her because of the shit this has landed us in, but to conspire with the enemy we’re running from behind my back, that’s inexcusable.

I replay the conversation in my head and wish I could call Alessandro and ask him what to do. Do we take a chance and hear out the Catalan? It isn’t unheard of for younger family members to topple older ones, especially with leaders like Jose. I mean, he won’t let anyone but family near him. Is this our only chance to get to him?

No, I can’t consider this a possibility. I put my head in my hands and try and think of the most logical solution, but there isn’t one. My brain is telling me to pack us up and move on to the next destination, but my gut is telling me that I should at least hear Andres out. Maybe he can help.

I glance at my watch and wonder if Alessandro has gotten anything on him.

I take out a burner cell and send him a text.

Friend is a nephew. Family suffering. Possibility for a snake to strike.

I know my brother will understand my message, though it may not be obvious to others. I have two days before I can call him for an update, and the work I have to do isn’t going to be enough to keep me busy, not when my mind is constantly worried that Amelia is going to go back to Andres and give him potentially life-threatening information about us.

I pack up what I need and get into my car, driving back to the cabin. I see her car parked there, and I climb out. I walk inside to find her watching television on the sofa.

She looks at me angrily. “What are you doing back so early?”

“Why?” I snap. “Are you expecting Andres? I wouldn’t be surprised if you told him where we were staying.”

“You sound like a jealous ex, is that the problem here?” she shouts. “And no, I didn’t tell him because I’m not a four-year child with no brain, Frankie. Stop acting like I am.”

I throw my briefcase onto the table and sit down, getting ready to work.

“I’m staying right here to make sure you don’t go anywhere until I reach a decision,” I say.

“So, you’re thinking about it?” She sounds a little excited but weary.

“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m mostly considering whether or not to kill him,” I say. Then I tune her out and focus on the paperwork. After a few moments, she shut the television off and goes to her room, slamming the door. So much for not being a child, I think.

I work throughout the afternoon, and only when my stomach grumbles do I realize I haven’t eaten anything. My stomach doesn’t feel great. It feels as though it’s tied in a knot, but I do need to eat.

I rummage through the fridge and bring out the ingredients for a chicken pasta salad. I try not to think about Amelia and Andres while I’m cooking. I try to focus on the food, but intrusive thoughts push through. Were they lovers as well? Are they in love now? Have they had sex? Does she want to leave me for him?

It makes the knot in my stomach tighten, and I take a deep breath to calm myself down. Once the salad is done, I whistle loudly. “Amelia, dinners ready.”

I wait, and then I hear her door open. I dish up two bowls of the salad and bring it to the table, having moved my paperwork out the way.

Amelia sits down and pulls the bowl toward her. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

I don’t respond, I sit, and I start to eat. It’s an awkward silence that I don’t like, and it gnaws at me.

“I want to get some information,” I finally say to her. “Then I will consider your proposal, but if you want me to seriously consider listening to this guy, you cannot see him for the next two days.”

Amelia looks up at me. “That’s fine. Just see him because I believe what he’s saying,” she says. “And I think this is how we’re going to get our lives back.”