Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman
Chapter Twenty-One
MACI
TWO WEEKS LATER
Ishould be used to the shocking news as it hits me, as it seems to hit me regularly these days. Gavino allowed me a week of recovery after my complete meltdown in the casino. Then he told me it was time for me to get to work.
Though that demand came through Pippa who came to visit me once a day. She helped me get out of bed, bathe, and eat. Without her, I’m not sure I would have even survived. Then, she told me about the beginning of her marriage, how her husband was sent to prison. The years she spent without him and told me that I could do it.
Now I’m standing in front of Salvatore’s door, a stack of files in my hand and I’m trembling. I really should just be filing things away. I should not be reading them, but I saw Tiziano’s name and I couldn’t help it. I had to read the document.
Pippa also told me how working for Arlo saved her life. It gave her a purpose and that working for Salvatore would do the same for me, which is probably how Gavino and Arlo came up with the plan in the first place.
Lifting my hand, I knock on the door. If you can call the light tapping a knock. I really don’t want him to tell me to come inside. Salvatore is handsome, but he’s terrifying. He’s serious and gruff, he hardly talks to me and when he does, it’s to bark orders at me.
He’s angry all of the time and I don’t understand why, but I don’t ask either. It’s useless, though at the same time, I’m not sure that I want to know. These men seem to have terrifying stories, but I can’t let this information just lie around and not ask, not demand to know what the actual fuck is going on.
“Come in,” he calls out.
Damn.
As much as I want to know, I really had hoped that he was going to not hear me. Squaring my shoulders, I open the door and slip inside of the office, closing it behind me. Standing with my back to the closed door, I clutch the files in my hand and watch him.
Licking my lips, I wonder if I can do this. My heart races and then I remember Tiziano. The way he looked at me in Italy, the way he touched me. I realize that I can do this, because his life is hanging in the balance.
“Maci,” Salvatore says without even looking up. When I don’t speak right away, he lets out a sigh and lifts his gaze to meet mine. “May I help you?”
“Why is there a document that appears to be a murder for hire on Tiziano?” I demand, my voice trembling and wavering.
His eyes widen and he leans back in his seat. “Because as much as I used to respect Tussio Bianchi in the past, he’s a fucking fool.”
I blink, unsure that I’ve heard him correctly. When I don’t respond, he chuckles and I stare at him in shock. I have never seen the man crack a smile, not ever. Seeing it now, I’m not quite sure how to react.
“Is my husband going to be killed?” I ask.
“Sit,” Salvatore demands.
I hurry over to the chair across from his desk and I sink down in the seat. “Tussio Bianchi called a hit on his own kid, not because he wants Tiziano dead, but because he doesn’t want him coming back here and aligning with Gavino. I don’t even think it has anything to do with the famiglia as much as it’s plain and simple pride,” he begins.
“So the hit is to keep him out of the country. I drew it up, with zero intent to distribute the document to our hit men.”
“You have hit men?” I ask on a breath.
He smirks. “I don’t, but the famiglia, yes. You’ve met Renzo and Siobahn?”
Shaking my head, I tell him that I don’t remember, that I’ve met so many people since coming here, they’re all a blur. And they are, a complete and total blur. Between the party we had before the wedding, then the actual wedding, I don’t remember anyone.
“You’ll meet them again, I’m sure. Renzo works for Gavino, his hit man,” he says. “Gavino made sure to tell him what was going on and he’s got his ear to the ground to see if Bianchi has distributed orders to any other affiliated famiglias. Though to be fair, his is truly the only one in New York not under Gavino’s control.”
He’s powerful. I knew that Gavino was powerful, I could tell, but I guess I didn’t realize just how powerful he was.
“What happens now?” I ask.
“Honestly, right now we’re just keeping an eye on it all, we have bigger fish to fry.”
“With the federal investigation and the leak,” I offer.
He nods his head. “Yes.”
“I feel like I need to do something, like I need to tell Tiziano what is going on. I feel helpless,” I whisper.
Salvatore watches me for a long moment. I try to swallow my tears, but they are on the brink of falling. I’ve been doing so good this week, saving my crying for after work when I’m alone and in bed, but right now I’m about to ruin my winning streak, because I’m on the brink.
“Don’t feel helpless. We have to get this shit done by priority. Tiziano will come home, and he will be fine.”
“But when, after our marriage is already annulled?”
He shrugs. “That’s little. You can get married again. Don’t worry about that. One step, one day at a time, Maci.”
“So just wait, maybe for years?” I ask frowning.
His nostrils flare and I can tell that he’s getting annoyed with me. I’m trying to care, I’m trying to be patient, but two weeks without Tiziano and I’m not sure if I want to do many more. I liked the idea of him—of us. I loved what we were planning and how our life was supposed to look.
“Yes, Maci. Maybe you wait for years, though I doubt Gavino wants to fuck around with the feds for years.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just… I’ve never been through anything like this before.”
His features immediately soften and he lets out a sigh. “It will be okay and I’m not telling you that just to say it. I mean it. All will be okay.”
Nodding my head, I leave him alone in his office and I get back to work. I repeat his words over and over the rest of the day. It will be okay. And as many times as I say them, I wait for them to comfort me, but they don’t. Because as sure as he is, I am just as unsure that all will be okay.
TIZIANO
I half expectthe men I work with to fuck me over. They don’t. In fact, as the weeks pass, we become friends. Other than Gavino, I don’t think I’ve really ever had a friend.
Most of the men back in New York either worked for me or were associates of some kind. Gavino was the only man I would call friend, and even then, our communications and dealings revolved around work.
Elio doesn’t go straight home and I’m on alert as he drives us into a parking area of an extremely nice hotel after work one Friday night.
“What’s this?” I ask.
Aldo snorts. “You’ll like it,” he states.
I don’t say anything as we all climb out of the car, but I can’t help but wonder what is coming for me next. I’ve only been here two weeks and although I am still on edge, I’ve become far too comfortable with my new coworkers and companions.
We walk in silence inside of the hotel and to a door toward the back right-hand corner. The doorway is small, just enough for one person, so we make a straight line and head inside one by one. I’m in the middle, which makes me feel a tad more comfortable, at least I’m not in the front.
The doorway feeds us into a hallway. Turning to the right, we head straight forward and I can hear the music before we arrive at another closed door. There is a man standing guard and Elio starts speaking to him. He laughs and jerks his chin before opening the door for us.
“Good friends,” Calvino explains. “He’s Made as well.”
The music grows louder and I know exactly what kind of establishment we’re visiting. I’m not sure how I feel about it either. I should not be looking at other women while my wife is alone in the US and I’m here in Italy with no idea of when I’ll be returning.
“You need to lighten up, have some fun,” Duran announces as he claps his hand around my shoulder and shakes me gently. “You’ve had a rough two weeks.” His lips curve up into a grin and I can’t help but smile as well.
The room is bathed in dark jewel tones, soft lights, and deep bass music as soon as we walk inside. There are naked women on stage dancing, along with topless ones walking around serving drinks.
“We have a seat in front,” Elio announces.
He guides us over to a table that is a little to the side, but right in front of the stage. We all take a seat, but I choose the one farthest away from the women. I love women, always have. I’ve never shied away from them, but it feels wrong now that I’m married. And maybe that’s because I won’t be going home to my wife after this.
The women in front of me are no doubt equally talented as they are beautiful. I watch their bodies as they move to the beat of the music, dancing in such an alluring way that would get any man’s blood pumping.
A woman walks over to us, her eyes for Elio only as she asks what we want to drink. We all order, but she doesn’t even spare us a glance before she turns and walks away. Turning to Elio, I notice that he is watching her bare ass as she makes her way toward the bar.
“A friend of yours?” I ask with a smirk.
He grins, shaking his head. “Occasionally.”
She must be his Mia. The rest of the night we drink, enjoy the women, and talk. It’s a nice night, no drama, no issues, and I discover that this is what they do to blow off steam at the end of every single workweek.
When the club closes, we don’t leave immediately. Apparently, this isn’t just guarded by a famiglia member, this is a famiglia-owned hotel and club, therefore we don’t have to leave with the rest of the patrons at the end of the night.
Standing from my seat, I stretch and watch as the lights turn up and the waitresses make their way to the bar to count out their tills. I look over to Elio who tosses the car keys to Duran with instructions to take us home, that he’ll be there later.
I know exactly what and who he’ll be doing while we head home. Good for him. Leaving with Duran, Calvino, and Aldo we slowly make our way toward the car in the hotel parking lot. I reach for the handle of the back door when I hear a shout from the front of the car, then a loud pop sound.
Ducking down, I feel completely fucking helpless without my gun. The men around me bark out orders and return fire while I duck down like a goddamn helpless coward. I don’t know what is going on and I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
