Page 8 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

And where would she go? She had no family that would take her in. There were no friends that would allow her to crash on their couch. None that she thought were close enough to ask that favor of.

She’d have to see what was left from the sale… but then she thought about what Matteo had said. She would have to use whatever she had left from the sale to pay off his aunt. It would never cover what her mother owed the vengeful bitch in New York. Fuck!

Marie tossed the towel full of ice at the kitchen sink with an angry shout, her mind in a panicked whirl. What could she do? What could she possibly do?

She could take whatever money was left and run far away, maybe. Run away to Vegas or somewhere in the California mountains, as long as it was far away. Would Matteo’s aunt have him hunt her down?

Matteo had never said he was a part of the Mafia. He’d certainly never explained his work life but she wasn’t stupid. The kind of money her mother had borrowed didn’t come from a hotel mogul or a billionaire prince exiled to America. No, that money had come from the Mafia or a drug lord of some kind. Even a drug lord with that kind of money to throw around would have to be in some kind of gang or the Mafia.

Distracted, not really paying attention, Marie prepared herself a cup of coffee in the old French press she’d found at a yard sale years ago. The kettle was on the stove, but she forgot all about it until the pressure of the boiling water drove out the steam and the kettle began to whistle. She reached over, without thought, and burned her hand when she grabbed up the metal handle.

The way she pulled her hand back flung the kettle across the kitchen floor and hot boiling water poured out everywhere. “Fuck!”

She grabbed the towel that covered blocks of ice from the sink for her burned hand, picked up a potholder with the other, and grabbed up the kettle from the floor. With a resigned sigh, she put the kettle back onto the stove, turned off the radio, and went to bed.

She made do with a bottle of water from the fridge and turned on the television.

Her mind still raced, thoughts coming and going like bats hunting in the darkness, flitting from place to place. She could marry him, take him for whatever he was worth, and get on with her life. That was a plan. One she might be able to live with. If she could talk some of the softness out of her soul.

She knew she was weak, too soft for her own good. It wasn’t all her mother’s doing, Marie was naturally biddable. She wanted to keep the peace, wanted to sail through life without anyone else telling her she was worthless. Marie had never seen that as a bad thing, but now she saw that she had to harden herself up, just a little, if she wanted to get through this life unscathed.

Besides, even now, knowing that he’d betrayed her, that he’d used her, she wanted to feel his heat beside her. She wanted to be in his arms again to feel his kiss, his touch. She curled up into herself, a pillow tucked into her abdomen and wondered what the fuck was wrong with her.

Was she some kind of masochist, wanting to be punished for things she hadn’t done? Was that what her mother had taught her, to take abuse and thrive despite, maybe because, of it? No, she wasn’t that kind of person, she knew that. She just had… very bad luck. Luck that came about because of her mother’s behavior.

All those years ago, Ruby had set in motion so many things, her own downfall included. Marie was still paying the price for those decisions, and she probably would for a long time. Should she just give in to Matteo’s offer then?

Her eyes stared into the room, lit only by the television. It felt like a prison cell and always had. She could admit that to herself now. She’d always felt trapped and he’d offered her a way out. Alright, he’d lied to her about it, well, he hadn’t really lied.

He’d left things out. He’d pretended he hadn’t known her though, and that was a lie, wasn’t it? Did it matter though, really?

Matteo could give her a life she’d never dreamed of, the kind of life her mother had coveted beyond reason. For once in her life, she could live without worry. If she gave in to Matteo’s request, if she ignored the things he’d done to win her over, if he actually wanted to have some kind of relationship with her, then maybe she should consider his proposal?

He had been kind to her after all. He’d arranged to make sure she had free nights and had been there with her during the final stages of her mother’s illness. He hadn’t shied away, he’d supported her. That may have all been an act, a way to enlist her trust, but he’d done it. She’d seen the compassion on his face so many times, seen the way he’d tried to help her.

And then there was the way he kissed her. Surely a man couldn’t fake that much desire? Sure, her mother would say that a man didn’t care what he fucked as long as it laid still, but he kissed her with heat, with desire, a passion that wasn’t like anything her mother had ever described. He held her to him. Touched her to bring her pleasure, not just himself.

He’d given her so much pleasure, in so many ways. Surely all of that hadn’t been faked. Some of it must be real? Could she use that?

She hated herself for that thought. Could she use his feelings against him, that was something her mother would think, she knew.

Marie rolled the other way and wanted nothing more than to go back to his house and climb into bed with him. Damn, maybe she was a glutton for punishment. But was it really that delirious to hope for some happiness in life? To hope that maybe the world had something wonderful to offer to her?

Memories flashed in her mind, that night they’d spent together, wrapped up in each other. She could still remember the way he’d groaned her name and it made something… twinge inside of her. Deep inside, in that secret place that only Matteo had ever touched.

She had to admit it, even knowing that he’d betrayed her, with a pain in her heart that she couldn’t ignore - she still wanted the man. She wanted to be near him, to smell him, and to hear the soft way he breathed when he was asleep. Was it so stupid to love him?

He was undoubtedly trouble, and even with all of that Mafia money, there could be legal consequences to a relationship with him. Could she stand that, if he was taken off to prison one day, or killed by a rival? No, she doubted the Mafia was anything like that nowadays. They’d modernized, surely.

But would they?

She reached over to her nightstand, dug around inside of the drawer, and found the bottle of pills there. She didn’t want to take another one of the stupid things, but she needed to sleep. She needed to forget all of this. She was wandering off into impossibly ridiculous realms and it was time to let it go.

She’d wake up in the morning, make a decision, and then take the consequences as they came. She popped a single sleeping pill into her mouth, uncapped her bottle of water, and swallowed it down with a long drink. She put the bottle down, turned off the television, and accepted the darkness for what it offered.

In the darkness, there was no truth, no thought, just blackness that drew her into its waiting arms. She snorted and wondered if her sudden poetic bent was down to the pills or her emotional state. The rustle of the covers as she pulled them further up her neck was somehow as reassuring as the darkness. It was a familiar sound that meant she was wrapped in pure cotton sheets and a comforter that kept her warm.

It was a unique feeling at this time of year. The air conditioner kept her room cool, cool enough to need the comforter, something she’d never experienced in her life during the hot Louisiana nights. Not until after her mother’s death, that is. Not until she’d spent the night at Matteo’s home.