Married to the mafia King

I was quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the day.

Dario was preoccupied with business. He didn’t ask me about my mood if he even noticed.

But Niccolo did.

“What’s wrong?” the consigliere asked after pulling me aside.

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

“You’re not tired of being cooped up, are you? We can’t take you out again for a while, not after what happened in Florence.”

“I’m fine. I’m just… feeling down, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he said, still looking concerned. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Later in the morning, I went to the kitchen to see Caterina. If anyone could cheer me up, it would be her.

“Hey, Grumpy,” she said playfully. “Why so blue?”

I didn’t want to tell her what Filomena had said, but I did want to ask her some things.

“When we first met, you said all Rosolini men were dogs.”

She looked at me and put her hands on her hips angrily. “Did Don Rosolini cheat on you?!”

“No!” I said in shock.

“Oh,” she said with a confused look. “…then why did you ask?”

“I just wanted to know what you meant.”

She laughed. “What do you think I meant? All the Rosolini men are dogs. Pretty self-explanatory.”

“So everything that’s going on with you and Valentino…?”

She shrugged. “It’s fun, but come on I know what it is. There aren’t any glass slippers at the end of the story.”

Her flippant manner made me feel even worse. “So… me and Dario…?”

“Oh, sweetie…” Caterina reached out and held my hands. “Enjoy it for what it is: banging a really hot, powerful man, and all that goes along with it.”

I was repulsed by her words.

“What, like being kept prisoner?” I asked bitterly.

She tilted her head to one side. “You’ve really fallen for him, haven’t you?”Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

I jerked my hands away from her. “No!”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“I’m not!”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She sighed and gave me a half-hearted smile. “Look, the story ends in one of two ways. Either we get tired and try to move on, and they let us or they don’t because, let’s face it, these are men who don’t like being told ‘no.’

“Or they get tired and move on, no matter how we feel about it. And that’s that. So… carpe diem and all that bullshit. Seize the day. Enjoy what you’ve got while you’ve got it.”

I stared at her. “What about the future?”

“What about it?”

“What about getting married?”

Cat touched my cheek sadly. “When it happens… it won’t be to a Rosolini.”

I told a servant to let Niccolo know I wasn’t feeling well, and I stayed in my room during dinner. He had the kitchen send up some food.

Thank God Filomena didn’t deliver it.

Later that evening, as I was lying in bed, I heard the door open.

The moment I’d been dreading had come.

Dario came to the bed, leaned over me, and tried to kiss me.

I turned my face away so that he kissed my cheek instead.

He roughly grabbed my chin and turned me towards him then kissed me on the lips.

I struggled to break free. “Stop!”

He let go of me. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to tonight.”

He switched on the light next to my bed and sat next to me. “Are you alright?”

I looked away from him miserably. He was so handsome that it made me want to give in… to do like Caterina had said and throw caution to the wind.

“…no,” I murmured.

He caressed my arm. “What’s wrong?”

His touch was so sensual… and I wanted him so badly…

“I’m not your whore,” I whispered.

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss my neck. “Of course you are.”

I pushed him away. “NO, I’m not!”

He stood up, furious and bewildered. “Madonn what’s gotten into you?!”

I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. “Do I mean anything to you?”

His face softened. “Of course you do. A great deal, actually.”

“Do you think of the future… with me in it?”

Dario narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

I suddenly felt embarrassed and insecure. “I don’t know… what do you think I’m asking?”

“It sounds like you’re talking about marriage.”

I looked up at him helplessly.

Suddenly, without warning, he laughed.

I stared at him in horror…

Then turned away from him with a heaviness in my heart.

“Alessandra, we’ve known each other for less than two weeks,” he said, his voice slightly angry. It got angrier as he spoke. “I’ve been the head of my family for only three. I’m in the middle of what could be a war between my family, a gangster from Turkey, and various factions of the Cosa Nostra, none of whom will actually challenge me to my face. They want to destroy me and my brothers to take everything we have, everything our father and grandfather built. Death is all around me… financial ruin is staring me in the face… and you’re asking me, after a week of fucking, whether I intend to marry you?”

After a week of fucking.

That was all the answer I needed.

“I want to go home,” I whispered.

“You can’t go home,” he snapped. “My enemies are out there.”

I looked at him, suddenly furious. “You said it yourself they want to destroy you. They want to destroy YOUR family. They don’t give a damn about me. So let me go.”

He sat down on the bed and tried to take my hand. I wouldn’t let him.

“Alessandra,” he said, trying to sound reasonable, “they nearly killed you in Florence ”

“They nearly killed Massimo and Valentino. I was just there by accident.”

Dario turned away from me. I could tell he was angry and trying to control his temper.

When he spoke again, he was at least partially composed. “Look… it’s dangerous. They will try to get at me through you ”

“And that’s all you care about, isn’t it?”

“I care about YOU, GOD DAMMIT!” he roared as he stood up from the bed.

I shrank down in fear as he angrily paced back and forth.

Then he sat back down next to me. “I care for you. I do.”

“But you don’t love me,” I whispered.

His face hardened. “What are you saying that you love me?”

I nodded, and tears spilled down my cheeks. “Even though I was a fool to do so, it seems.”

Something happened to his expression, then something I had never seen on Dario’s face before:

He looked like he was in pain.

Like inside, he was breaking.

“I can’t let you go,” he whispered.

“I’m just a whore,” I said bitterly, “good for a week of fucking. You can always get another.”

The vulnerability that had been there on his face suddenly disappeared, replaced by a cruel mask.

“So be it,” he said coldly. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what I want!” I cried out.

“THEN WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” he shouted at me.

“I want you to love me,” I sobbed. “I want you to want to marry me.”

He stared at me for what seemed like forever…

And then he said, “That’s the one thing I can’t give you.”

I broke down crying into my hands.

There was a long silence. Then…

“I’ll arrange for someone to take you back,” he said quietly.

I heard his footsteps across the floor…

I heard the door open and close…

And he was gone.

I collapsed in the bed and wept…

Maybe even harder than the day my mother had died.