Page 11 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

A chance to get each other out of their systems. They could divorce, even if the church would frown on it. Matteo was not a religious man, despite his upbringing, and Marie wasn’t religious either. If, when, they grew tired of each other, they could divorce and get on with their lives.

Simple enough, he told himself. He took a cigar out of a box he kept in a drawer of his desk and went out to the pool. The first place he’d made her come. The night replayed in his mind, the way she’d clung to him, the incredible sounds she’d made, the wonder in her eyes as he got her off. It made him hard just to think about it, and he hoped she wouldn’t make him wait the entire month he’d offered her.

He wanted to fly her off to Vegas or anywhere else that would allow them to be married that day so that he would know she was his, and only his, right then. But she needed to come around to this. He’d seen the hard way she’d held herself away from him and saw it for what it was - a play to look strong.

She didn’t have that shell yet, not the one that so many people he knew had. That amazed him because she’d grown up with a mother that was terrible to her, abusive to the point that Marie probably should have been taken away from her long before her mother even became ill. That she had no defense other than to shrink into herself was amazing.

He’d seen the start of that shell today, that was for sure. The fair thing for Marie would be if she didn’t have to actually grow that shell to protect herself, but he knew that she’d need it to be his wife. She’d have to learn to defend herself from others, to stand apart and away from them. Especially with his aunt.

Celeste would have an absolute fit when she found out what he’d done, but for once in his life, he’d decided to defy the woman that took him from his mother. He’d decided to defy the woman that would give him her empire, even if it cost him that empire because he didn’t just want Marie and her sweet innocence, he craved her.

It would not do to let her know that, but she would probably guess it from his little act of defiance. He was certain she had some nice Italian girl, a good, Catholic, Italian girl in mind for him when the time came, but this time, he wanted something, someone, of his own. Only his.

Marie would need time to become accustomed to his needs, to become used to the idea that she’d been blackmailed into being his bride, but with time she’d come around. If that shell she was growing didn’t become too hard. If he could protect her from most of his aunt’s wrath, and the spitefulness of the women in his world, as well as the worry that came with his life-choices, then he’d get to have the woman he’d come to adore.

He didn’t want Marie to turn into the kind of wife that most of his friends had, tough as nails, brash, and ready to fight at a moment’s notice. He wanted the inquisitive, intelligent woman that wanted to know more about the world, the delicate creature that stepped out with wonder every time he was with her. He wanted to protect her, and that was scary at first.

He’d kept her at arm’s length for a very long time, not because of his aunt’s order, but because he’d known instinctively that Marie was dangerous for him. She was the kind of woman you fall in love with, and he wasn’t sure he was capable of that. If he deserved that. In fact, if it had been left up to him, he’d have gone home the moment he met her. He didn’t want to destroy what she was or taint it.

The voice of his aunt played in the back of his mind the entire time telling him he had to do what she asked, and he’d done it. Now, he’d paid the price: he’d hurt her and she’d withdrawn from him. She’d come around, he hoped.

If not, he’d find a way to bring the wonder back to her eyes. That was the one thing that had hurt him the most when she’d stepped out of her car earlier. The wonder was gone. In its place was a dead stare, one that bore witness to a soul in torment. She felt like a commodity to be traded, and he couldn’t blame her for that. To protect her from his aunt, though, he had to do this.

He’d suspected his aunt was insane for a very long time, even if he’d never admit it to anyone, not even his mother. He barely admitted it to himself. This obsession with Ruby Hebert proved it. Now, her obsession had switched over to Marie and he couldn’t stand the idea of the young woman being hurt more than she already had been.

This wouldn’t get him through the day, he decided and left the office to change into a pair of slacks and a black shirt. Paired with soft, black leather loafers, he looked the part of a man with wealth and good taste, the image his aunt had taught him to always present to the world. He was a man with power, that could give and take life with a mere word, though he didn’t want to bring Marie into that part of his world. He hoped she’d never ask him about the more violent side of his life. He didn’t know how honestly he’d be able to answer her.

He wasn’t proud of all of the things he’d done in his life, but he’d had to prove himself to his aunt and to the people that served him. He’d had to be brutal on more than one occasion, and he’d do it again if he had to. That was the life that had been handed to him by Celeste.

He went out to the car, the car that Ruby hadn’t even been able to see because she was bedridden, and looked at it. It had been updated, sure, but it was still the same car that Marie’s parents had been in the day her father died. His uncle, by marriage, had died in this car and for a moment, he wondered if it was haunted.

He pushed that thought away with a shiver of disquiet. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. Instead, he started the car and drove out to the highway. A truck passed him by, and he gave the two-finger flick that seemed to be required from most drivers down in this part of the world.

Back home people avoided eye contact and giving a flick of the hand like that might be seen as a threat. You just didn’t do it. But down here, he’d caught on to the habit of returning the flicks that were a simple courtesy. It was a statement that could mean “I see you”, or “have a nice day”, he didn’t know but it was… nice.

He realized he felt different down here. Oh, he was still the same man his aunt sent to terrify a woman into paying an old debt, but he was also a tiny bit different now. He liked how relaxed people seemed, like they weren’t always on guard for threats, as if they didn’t worry about pickpockets and those that meant to do them harm.

He’d found a few things annoying, but even that annoyance was tempered by the charm of watching two women stand in the middle of an aisle discussing their children’s after-school activities. He’d learned that he might have to answer questions that would never cross the mind of people up north to ask. Like how he was. A lot of people asked him how he was doing today, and it was far more pleasant than he’d thought it would be.

He knew he’d miss that once he got back to New York, and that made him wonder how Marie would deal with it. Although, if he had his way, he’d keep her far too busy to worry about being homesick. She’d get used to living up there if he decided that’s where they would stay. And if his aunt did finally hand over the family business to him, he would keep them up there.

He drove to a derelict parking lot and stopped the car. It was a strip club, but you wouldn’t know that from the outside. The building was painted black, there were no windows, and the sign out front was off. He knew what it was, though, his source had arranged a meeting there.

The club was not the kind of place he’d have chosen to hold a meeting but the man that he was about to meet was eager to impress. A strip club was far from anything that would impress Matteo, but the man didn’t seem to know that. He walked into the club, saw a woman on the stage, barely covered in a tiny bikini, her body upside down on a pole.

She was an attractive blond, but she didn’t have the appeal of Marie, not even close. He ordered a drink from the bartender and found a seat. He thought about Marie, about the things he wanted to teach her now that they were lovers. He wanted to introduce her to things he knew she’d never dreamed of, but most of all, he wanted to own her, body and soul.

He wouldn’t be rough with her, that wasn’t what he was after, and he’d never physically harm her, but he wanted… more. He knew she’d give it too, once she’d had time. He felt his pulse race and his skin heat up as he thought about her, and cleared his throat. Now wasn’t the time to think about that, he reminded himself.

Later, when he was alone, he could think about all the ways he’d please her. And the many ways she could please him.

“Mr. Mazza?” He heard a man ask, and looked around to find an overweight man dressed in a cheap suit behind him.

Randall Metrejean was the king of illegal gambling in the state, which was something in a state where most forms of gambling were legal, if tightly controlled. It wasn’t those illegal gambling dens that Matteo was necessarily interested in, though. He wanted in on the legal stuff as well.

“That’s me, Randall.” He’d only spoken to the man on the phone, but he had a file on him with a picture to identify him by. The man had more money than the state had in its coffers, but he wore cheap suits, drove a car that was falling apart, and lived in a double-wide on the outskirts of New Orleans, all to keep the heat off himself.

The law knew about him, there was no doubt of that, but he also had the law on his side. In his pocket, to be exact. Matteo needed those connections to get started down here. He had already had several gambling machines sent down here to use in the casino he wanted to open, disguised as an ice cream parlor. It was Randall that would help Matteo to get the permits he’d need to open a legal casino.