The Mafia Killer’s Wife by Rosa Milano

Twenty-Two

Amanda

Iwake up with my head throbbing. My first thought is that I'm turning into my mother. That's what happens, isn't it? You become your parents sooner or later. Does she wake up each morning with a hangover? Or does she not even notice? Are mornings and headaches just a standard feature of her life? Is that why she's onto her first glass before I'm normally awake?

I sit up, not wanting any questions in my head until it at least stops throbbing. Then I notice I'm naked. I look down. There's a pair of silk pajamas on the floor next to the bed, but I'm not wearing a stitch. Did he strip me last night?

I can't remember.

A wave of dizziness washes over me and I close my eyes, waiting for it to pass. I'm glad there's a glass of water beside me. I get a sip of it down me a minute later, my head feeling like it's constricted inside, my brain dried out, shrunk and tugging at my skull, causing lancing pain behind my eyes.

What did happen last night? I have a vague memory of getting here in dark, drinking his whiskey. Then what? Nothing. I think we talked but I don't know what about. I'm hoping I didn't say anything too dumb. For all I know, I confessed my undying devotion to him, admitted to wanting him to fuck me.

I don't. I really don't.

Except when I let my guard down.

I shouldn't want anything to do with a member of the Gianni famiglia. They are our enemies. That's the way it is. So why did I dream of him last night?

The vision comes back to me. I'm tied on my front to the bed. He's behind me with his cock in one hand and a butt plug in the other one, telling me he's going to fuck me. I'm fighting my bonds, but not really. I don't want to get away. I just like pretending I do. He's climbing on top of me and...

I stumble through to the bathroom and turn the shower on. Cold. The icy water pierces my skull, but it sure works at shutting off my thoughts about that dream. I don't want him to fuck me. I can't want that. I need to get out of here.

All my plans have crumbled, so I need a new one. What was supposed to happen was Benito would turn up at the penthouse with the cops. Ethan would be arrested, and I'd be free. What kind of freedom was I going back to though? My father controlling my life, telling me I'm marrying Benito even though he's agreed to let me go? I'm powerless in the face of his control of me. I hate that feeling but what's the alternative?

Stay with Ethan, a voice says in the back of my mind. Let him take care of you.

I ignore the voice. I don't like the road it's taking me down. I've spent years building up the protective layers of my mind. I'm not about to let him come crashing through them all. I need to keep him far from me. I need to keep control of myself. I must not fall for my worst enemy. I must remember who he is, what he is. A killer. A coldhearted murderer.

Once I'm done in the shower I wrap a towel around myself. I find a hair dryer and several brushes in one of the drawers, so I make use of them. Once that's done, I lift my suitcase onto the bed and unzip it, pulling out a simple outfit. I go for jeans and a Community tee-shirt I got off Etsy. Troy and Abed in the morning logo. Let him scratch his head over what it means. Hell, maybe I'll show him an episode or two, see what he thinks.

I try the door and the window, but they're both locked. Of course. The extractor in the bathroom deals with the steam, but I'm left with nothing to do but wait to be let out.

There's a medicine cabinet in the bathroom and I'm grateful for the painkillers inside. I take a couple and then sit on the end of the bed, taking several deep breaths.

I jump up when the door unlocks. I'm expecting to see him on the other side, but it's a woman not much older than me. Far more pretty. Blonde locks perfectly straight where mine frizz like I've got my hands in an electrical socket. Immaculate make up while I've not even started on mine. She's in a black maid's dress with a white cap on her head. "Good morning," she says. "I'm to take you down to breakfast."

My heart feels strange and I try to work out why. I could kick myself when I realize it's because I'm disappointed. Sad it isn't Ethan coming to collect me. Why do I even want to see him?

"Where is Ethan?" I ask as I follow her out of the bedroom.

"Out walking Fitz."

Fitz. I forgot completely about his dog. What would have happened to that little woofer when Ethan was arrested? I hadn't given it a moment's thought. So much for me thinking I could work with animals.

We head downstairs. The house looks even bigger in the daylight. "How big is this place?" I ask.

"Ten bedrooms," she replies. "Used to be a hotel at the turn of the century."

"Not anymore though, I'm guessing."

"Ethan's father bought it back in the seventies. Used it as a hunting lodge for a while."

It's strange to think of Ethan having a father. To me he's an object, come into reality spontaneously. I can't picture him as a baby, being doted on by a set of parents. "Did you know them?" I ask. "His parents, I mean."

"Before my time. Albie used to work for them though."

"Albie?"

"Ethan's butler."

"He has a butler? How many staff has he got?"

"Just the two of us. Butler's just the posh word for a dogsbody really. Albie cleans and maintains the place. I do the cooking and the bedrooms, sweep the fires out when needed." We've reached the first floor by now. "This way," she continues.

"I don't know your name," I say to the back of her head. "I'm Amanda."

"I know," she replies. "Amanda Davis." She turns and sticks a hand out toward me. "Iris Jones."

I shake and she gives me the first smile I've seen since getting here. "In here," she says, pushing open the door next to her. Inside is a long dark wood table with places laid for two. A vase of flowers has been placed in the middle. Peonies, the smell light but not overpowering. "They're Ethan's favorites," she says. "His mother grew them here."

There it is again. The idea of him having parents. I find it hard to accept. "Does it matter where I sit?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "I'd go here. You can see out the window to the lake. This time of year the ducks are going crazy."

I look outside and I realize I got it wrong last night. I thought we were in the middle of some forest somewhere, but we're not. Sure, I can see trees on the distant mountains but closer there's a lawn and it's immaculate. Rose bushes are dotted about. A few oak trees, pine, cedar. There's a lake covered in ducks, all swimming about happily. Beyond that is a tall stone wall that looks like it might surround the entire property. That's the only sign this isn't an ordinary house. The wall is topped with razor wire and cameras on poles.

"What would you like for breakfast?" Iris asks.

I turn back to face her. "What are my options?"

"Anything you like, really. The kitchen's well stocked."

"How about bacon and eggs?"

"Same as Ethan." She smiles. "That'll make my life easier. Take a seat and I'll bring you some coffee and juice."

I sit down, turning my chair so I can look out the window. I could get used to this. There are a few goats over to my left, chewing on the few long stalks of grass. The sun's up and it looks like it's going to be a warm day.

I'm still looking at the view when the door opens. This time it isn't Iris. It's Ethan. He nods my way. The atmosphere in the room immediately darkens. There's a newspaper folded on the table by his seat. He sits down and vanishes behind it, saying nothing to me.

"Good morning," I try.

He lowers the newspaper and glances my way before returning to it. Fine, I think to myself. Be like that.

Iris comes back in a couple of minutes later. She's brought two plates piled high with bacon and eggs. Behind her a man in his sixties is carrying a tray. I'm guessing that's Albie. On it are two coffees and two orange juices. He passes me one mug and one glass, nodding as he heads over to Ethan. He leans down and whispers in his ear. Ethan replies too quietly for me to hear.

A moment later the newspaper is folded and placed on the table. Iris and Albie withdraw. We're left alone. Ethan is staring at me. I pick up my knife and fork and start to cut the bacon.

"I have to go away tonight," he says. "Business in the city. You'll stay here and study the books I give you."

"What are you? My tutor?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"And what if I don't want to study the books you give me?"

"You get spanked." He picks up his juice and drains the glass in one before starting to eat.

I stare at him, not sure I heard him right. "How can you say that so casually?"

"I don't play with words, Mandy. Life is simpler if you are direct with people. Now eat. It's good stuff."

I try a different tactic. "Iris was saying your mother used to grow those roses."

He grunts but says nothing.

"What was she like? Your mother?"

He looks up at me, chewing slowly. "That's none of your concern," he says at last.

"So you want to marry me but you don't want to tell me anything about your family? Have I got that right?"

"Pretty much. Are you eating or not?"

I push the plate away. "I guess not."

He sighs, pressing a button on the wall beside him. Iris enters a moment later while he's wiping his mouth on a napkin. "She is done," Ethan says. "Take hers away."

Iris dips her knees before collecting my things. I hold onto my coffee. She looks from me to Ethan. He shakes his head at her and she leaves a moment later, not taking it with her.

"Still trying to defy me," he says, getting to his feet and removing the coffee from my hand. "Come on, let's take a walk."

He holds a hand out toward me. I let him lift me to my feet. I don't like how right my hand feels inside his. "You got ketchup on you," he says, picking up my napkin and wiping the edge of my mouth. His face is close enough to mine that I feel myself leaning toward him, like he's got a magnet in his lips, drawing me in.

"That's better," he says. "Let's go outside. I want to show you something."