The Mafia Killer’s Wife by Rosa Milano

Twenty

Ethan

She's getting wasted, and I don't like to see it. I think about stepping in, taking the alcohol off her. The hangover in the morning will be a better lesson than that. If I take the booze out of her hand, she'll pout and whine, and then I'll end up spanking her.

I don't mind that. What I do mind is that I know for a fact that if I spank her, I'll end up fucking her. I'm not fucking her for the first time when she's wasted. I'm not taking advantage of her. I have standards, unlike Benito.

That's the difference between me and him. He used to prowl the nightspots, looking for the girl who was most out of it. Wouldn't even collect her himself, would send one of his guys to do it. Just like his father back in the day. They'd be star-struck by the Mancini name, think they got it made. They soon learned.

I don't know a single Gianni that would do that. Not one. We might be the last of a dying breed but we have respect. Without respect, a man is nothing. That's what Don Gianni always says.

But he never had a drunk Amanda stumbling about the place.

I know what I want to do to her but it's not happening until she's sober. Then we'll sit down and have a proper talk. For now, I'm going to see what she's willing to let slip with her guard down.

She's on the sofa, stretched out on her back, glass held loosely on her lap. She looks like she might fall asleep any moment. "There are staff here," I tell her. "I'll introduce them to you in the morning."

"Whatever." Her eyes are closed. Another glass and she'll either get petulant or fall asleep. Hard to tell which at this point but if I was a gambling man, I'd put my money on petulant. She might have to finish the night with a spanking anyway, especially if she spills that booze she's lazily lifting to her mouth.

She drains the glass, sitting herself upright to stare at me. "You said you wanted to talk," she says. "What about?"

"The drinking."

"What? Going to tell me to cut back? Going to make me stop?"

"I'm just wondering what you're trying to forget."

She was getting herself all puffed up ready for a fight. My words are like a pinprick. She visibly deflates. "I'm not trying to forget anything," she says too quickly, the anger evident in her voice.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

"You think I'm lying?"

"I know you're lying but I'm not going to force you to talk before you're ready."

"Talk? All we've done is talk. Might have expected that from a Gianni."

She's trying to push me, but it won't work. "What do you know of the Gianni famiglia?"

"I know you're all cheating, lying scum who keep honest hard-working people down."

"Honest hard-working people like your father?"

"Don't talk about my father. He's a good person! Better than you."

"Now you're lying to yourself. You know he's not a good person. What is it? No, let me guess." I think for a moment, and then it hits me. "Conservator, right?"

"No," she snaps too loudly.

"It's that, isn't it? He's like Britney Spears' father, isn't he? Got legal control over you. That's why you've not had a job before. That's why he can choose who you marry. Shit, I bet he's got you on the pill just to be on the safe side."

"I'm happy on the pill." She pours herself another drink. "What's it to you, anyway?"

I think to myself. If he's conservator, I'll need to get him to relinquish legal control of her. Need one of our judges to take a look at the paperwork. Shouldn't be too difficult. "How did he get it?"

"Get what?"

"You must have done something big. They don't just hand out that paperwork like candy. What did you do?"

"Nothing." Her face is pale and she's looking past me at the fire. I'm guessing it was something big but I don't push it.

I toss another log onto the fire before finishing my coffee. I pick up a book from the shelf beside me and start to read. I know she'll talk when she's ready. I can tell it's coming. I just need to give her the time and the room to open up. If she does, I might just be able to help her learn to trust me.

"You ever see Community?" she asks.

"Nope. Is that a movie?"

"TV show."

"What's it about?"

"A group of students at college."

"Not heard of it."

"Well, it's a community college and all the people in it are there because they fucked up somewhere else."

"Right." I'm not sure where's she's going with this so I keep the book open on my lap, giving her time to get her words together.

"There's this girl called Annie and she went crazy in high school. She put herself under so much pressure to do well that she ended up losing it, took a load of pills and got put in the nuthouse."

"What's your point?"

She points at her chest.

"That happened to you?"

She nods slowly. "While I was locked up, my father took control of every part of my life. Legally I can't go to the bathroom without his permission. If I want kids, he's got to give the okay. If I want to get a job, he has to approve. I can't do anything unless he agrees to it."

I lean over and take her hand in mine, squeezing it lightly. "Not for much longer," I tell her.

She looks from her hand to mine and then her eyes move slowly up my arm to meet my gaze. I think she's about to say one thing, but then she yanks her arm free. "So you take over when we're married and you tell me what to do instead? Is that the plan?"