Married to the mafia boss Series

Carmelo

I didn’t get to say goodbye.

I had known that if Arabella and I were caught it would mean trouble. Men of my rank aren’t supposed to associate with women of her status. I’m not supposed to touch women of the mafia virgin or not. You don’t touch what isn’t yours. Especially not a Moretti.

Antonio was lenient. He helped calmed Francesco down when he wanted to chop my balls off. Antonio’s argument was that I didn’t do any damage because I didn’t take her virginity, it was consensual, and also, I’m one of the best soldiers and enforcers.

He assigned me. I thought I’d be able to be her bodyguard through her remaining days in Chicago and see her off to the airport, but Rocco told me I had to go. Rocco becoming my replacement.

I’ve been a bodyguard since I was assigned to protect Liliana but before that I was an enforcer and now I’m back to that job. I’m good at what I do. I don’t ask questions when the Don gives me a name. They’re either rats, enemies, or men who owe us a debt. I’m not a good man, I never said I was. I like to harm those against the mafia. I like my job, hurting or even killing fuckers who mess with us and my brothers.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

My job for right now is simple, find the bastards that broke into Rocco’s penthouse the other day and tried to kill Arabella. I’m supposed to bring them to Antonio and if I can’t, then I get to kill them on the spot. Marco’s men have a list to kill the Moretti’s and as long as my boss, Liliana and Arabella are in that list, I’m going to search for them until I’m able to wrap my hands around their throats.

Yet, something is still bothering me even as I’m trying to do my work. The thought of Arabella leaving wouldn’t bother me if I knew it was just a vacation. I had overheard her father talking with what sounded like a permanent situation. I’ve grown to care for her a lot. I see my mother inside of her. I see a strong woman who has endured so much and is so close to cracking under pressure. I don’t want something to happen to Arabella that sends her over the edge.

When I saw my mother dead with blood coating her clothes as well as the floor, it traumatized me. It traumatized me as well as my brother. He left Chicago after that because he couldn’t deal with the memory of our beloved mother. He had one last thing to do before he went. Kill our father.

And I helped him.

I swore to protect Arabella when I was assigned her bodyguard. Just because I’m on a different mission doesn’t mean my oath is void. After what happened to Leonardo I want to protect her with every fiber of my being. I want to make sure it never happens to her again. She hardly cried and she was so resilient in watching her father torture her tormentor.

Since the moment I’ve met her she’s always been happy, never let on that anything was wrong with her. I knew her at those ages that fucker molested her, you would never think something unspeakable was going on with her. No one even questioned the bracelets she still refuses to take off. Arabella does a great job at putting on a show, but she can’t do it forever and when she cracks, it’ll be disastrous.

From the cuts on her wrists I know she can’t deal with too much. One day she won’t be able to put that mask on and pretend. One day reality is going to hit and she won’t know what to do and just like my mother she’ll…

I worry. I worry as her best friend. I worry as a man who has watched her grow from when we were kids. I worry as someone who has seen his mother waste away because of what her husband had done to her. I worry because I care and I worry because once Arabella gets on that plane and disappears, she is out of my hands.

And once she is out of my hands… well I don’t trust other people enough to keep her as safe as I could.

Vinny felt the same way. I grew up with Arabella’s first husband. He was a good friend of mine and great man. We went on a few missions together and trained under Lorenzo. His status was higher than mine and when I heard he got to marry Antonio’s cousin, I admit, I was jealous. Jealous because I knew I would never have a wife. Arranged marriages were always hit or miss but marrying a woman like Arabella you could never miss.

Vinny used to talk about her like she was the reason the sun rose in the morning. Arabella has mentioned before that what they had was friendship, but they couldn’t fake the sparkle in their eyes as they looked at each other. They were in love. The stories Vinny told at work were ones that made us all want a lady to go home to. He made her seem perfect and the closer I’ve gotten with her the more I believe it.

For a long time I thought of her as flawless, but due to recent events I’ve learned so much. I’ve learned she bears scars of trauma and hardship, and with all that happened to her she’s still one of the strongest damn woman I’ve ever known. She puts other people’s feelings above her own, she’s considerate and kind. She will fight for all her friends happiness but her flaw is that she will not fight for herself.

Women in our life can’t fight. I’ve seen it one too many times, the men in the mafia are so dominant and abusive. It has led to many suicides. They’re afraid to stand up and sometimes I think they have a reason to be afraid. I’ve heard of men killing their disobedient ladies because they’ve wanted to take on more non-traditional roles than the mafia has in store for women. Mainly, women are killed when they refuse arranged marriage.

It’s not ideal to be women in our world-not that they have a choice. We don’t follow outside rules, we follow tradition and oath. Just because women now basically have equal rights doesn’t mean they have equal rights or say in the mafia. I put my oath before everything but seeing women like my mother and Arabella being forced by the dominance of our men, who think they have the rights to do whatever they want… it sickens me.

I go to my apartment for the first time since Arabella had snuck away from Leonardo. Our empty boxes of Chinese takeout are still in my room and the sheets still smell like her vanilla perfume. I sit at the edge of my bed and take a deep breath. The silence in the room is deafening so I turn on the television.

I haven’t lived alone in a while. I’ve grown accustomed to always having people under the same room I’m sleeping. At Antonio’s penthouse I had Liliana, Antonio, Arabella and for a brief time Viola. Then, when Arabella moved out and I became her bodyguard, my nights were spent in Rocco’s apartment with her just a few doors down.

I never realized how much I hate being alone. A deep rooted fear of mine is to die alone. Even worse dying without anybody giving a shit about me. Dying before having children to pass down my knowledge and skills to. Dying without having a wife to cry over my loss of existence.

My hands rub harshly at my face as I try to think of any thoughts that are not of my fears. I’ve never been prone to panic attacks but when it comes to thoughts of being alone forever, it’s a trigger. My breathing picks up and it’s hard to calm myself and my own mind down.

The watch on my wrist reads two in the morning. It’s been a long day of trying to track down any lead we might have on Marco’s loyalists. The main guy running the operation was Marco’s right-hand man, Samuel. I’ve never met the guy and didn’t even know Marco enough to say anything, but what I do know is how he lived under Marco.

Marco had a close-knit group of his men that he paid extra to do his dirty work. These men, along with the Bratva, were paid millions to sabotage the Outfit and to kill Lorenzo and his sons. They were all on this secret payroll of his and lived in lavish from their hefty pay cut.

Antonio confided in me earlier that he was able to freeze all the money in their bank accounts as well as their assets. They have nothing as punishment for going against the mafia. This is what they want. It’s not so much about being loyal to Marco, it’s that they want their money back. They need their money back to afford their fancy cars and ridiculous sized mansions. They also need money to feed their addictions, gambling, prostitution, possible drugs and alcohol.

Their pissed at the Moretti family and want them to pay for their loss. Samuel and his men want to kill even the most innocent of the Moretti family including Arabella and Liliana. I bet even Viola is on that list.

***

After I get out of the shower, I put on pajama pants and crawl into my full sized bed. It’s much more uncomfortable than both the guest beds at Antonio and Rocco’s. My bed is lumpy and too springy. I’m definitely in need of a new one. I’m not one to splurge or overindulge in extrinsic purchases. I like to keep what I make in my saving accounts. Hence the reason my apartment is small and my bed is too goddamn old.

I have to get up early tomorrow morning to do more research and interrogate more people who might know about Samuel’s whereabouts. Knowing this, I still can’t close my eyes and sleep. I’m wide awake with a world of worried running around inside my head.

My bed feels too empty. The apartment feels too quiet. My life feels too unpredictable. And I feel too damn stressed.

I’m worried that without my protection someone will hurt Liliana and I’m worried that Arabella will never return from Italy. Things seemed more simple when the biggest worry was how Liliana was going to have to give up her virginity. Arabella was finally starting to heal after acting catatonic for a week. Liliana brought back out the best in Arabella and the two hit it off quick. The two hit it off and they included me.

Yes, I was their bodyguard who had to be with them, but it was much more toward the end. We all hung out and I learned so much about them and we all grew to care for one another and watch each other’s backs.

I’ve always been afraid of being alone, but friendship never bothered me. I never cared about making friends, I cared-and still do care-about my work. The mafia is my life and I stay ruthless and uncaring to do my job as efficiently as possible as an enforcer. I have no problem in killing, I have no problem in doing what needs to be done to ensure the safety of the mafia that has been my family.

But ever since Liliana and Arabella have come into my life, I’ve found importance and purpose. They’ve become the most valued relationships in my life and I’d die to keep them happy and safe.

Now it feels as though I’m failing at that.

I was never mad being booted off Liliana’s service as her bodyguard. Sure, I’d miss Liliana and Viola but I certainly didn’t miss the crying every other hour of the night. I was actually kind of glad to be Arabella’s bodyguard, but it’s where everything went so wrong.

We were reckless.

Her parents found out and of course they despised me automatically. I’m just glad they didn’t kill me. I felt like a kid being punished for something I did. The punishment was more of a slap on the wrist compared to what men who touch what isn’t theirs get when the Don finds out.

I felt sick with the change of job. Although I’ve been an enforcer since I was a teenager, I got used to being a bodyguard and enjoyed the company and also took to keeping those girls safe as my main priority. It became my purpose.

Now I feel that purpose slipping from my hands and what I vowed to do-keep them safe-doesn’t seem all that reachable. Liliana is at the apartment away from me where I can’t kill whoever tries to break in. Arabella will be on a flight soon to Italy where I won’t be able to get to her quick enough should danger knock on her door.

These worries send me to endless oblivion where thought after horrible thought keeps my mind busy and at a steady rate of anxiety. My arousal level is through the roof and my body easily becomes restless as I toss and turn trying as hard as I can to fall into a deep sleep.

I will my eyes to shut as I lay on my back and begin to count. At least if I force my mind to focus on numbers it’ll cease to stop thinking about worst case scenario possibilities.

… 58… 59… 60… 61…

Not. Fucking. Working.

I throw the covers off my body and begin to pace the room. I glance over at my phone and debate on calling Arabella. Then, I realize what a foolish mistake that would be. I walk out of my room and toward the kitchen to see if there’s any type of snack I could eat.

Of course, there’s nothing.

The only food in the fridge is a carton of milk, protein shakes, bread, and various condiments. I’ll have to go grocery shopping now that I’ll be coming home to this empty apartment every night. I’ll miss Sophia’s homemade Italian meals at Antonio’s most.

I remember my mother heating up a glass of milk for me before going to bed. She always said that would help. I pour myself a glass and stick in the microwave until it’s at a perfectly warm temperature. I walk back to my room and take a sip as I lay back under the covers.

After downing half the glass, I set it on my bedside table, turn the lamp off, and resume my counting.

… 62… 63… 64… 65… 66… 67… 68…