Page 9 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

She could crank the air conditioner up until the damned thing froze now, either way, she wouldn’t have to worry about the power bill. She would have to worry about getting out of bed though, and now that the pill was kicking in, that wasn’t something she wanted to do.

Her eyelids became heavy, and she stretched out a leg to relieve the weight on her hips. A final sniffle and her eyes closed completely. She was done with this day, with her own thoughts, and fell into a dreamless sleep with a sigh she didn’t even know she sighed. Tomorrow would come soon enough, decisions would have to be made, but for now, she was only going to sleep.

5

The smell of bacon and eggs lingered in the air, a reminder of the breakfast she’d made herself, as Marie left the house. She didn’t look back or glance around to search out memories, she closed the door and walked to the car.

Matteo might be at home, she wasn’t sure, but if he wasn’t, she would wait for him. The logical thing to do would be to call him, but she was afraid that she’d change her mind or that he’d say something that would make her walk away. This was the only real “out” she’d been offered. She had to take it.

The obvious answer was to run far away, to get away from all of them. Leave the bill collectors and Matteo and his vengeful aunt behind, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to live on the run, always looking over her shoulder, afraid to answer the phone or open mail, always working to stay one step ahead.

Which meant the best thing - the only thing - she could do was take his offer. If she wanted to be cynical about it, she knew that she could stay married to him long enough for the debt to be cleared, divorce him with a nice alimony payment in tow, and get on with her life. Or, maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little bit honest with her. Maybe some of the adoration she’d seen in his eyes was real.

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she pressed her foot down harder on the gas pedal. She couldn’t afford to look at it that way, though, or to hope. That path would lead her only to folly, to the same kind of heartache that left a trail of disillusioned ex-wives with twisted lips and hateful eyes scattered along the edges. Nope, best not to even think the word “love”.

Even if the whole idea of marriage nowadays was to seal the deal and offer the world proof that you were in love. Well, that and to make sure Uncle Sam didn’t take more taxes from you than he should. No, cynicism might be sneered at by so many, but after her life, it was practical to be cynical. It was safe.

And all that Marie wanted in the world, all that she craved as her world crumbled around her, was safety. She wanted to be able to buy a new dress without worrying if she’d be able to eat the next week. She wanted to not be afraid of assassination, and she had to guess that was a very real possibility if she ran away. You didn’t mess with Mafia people, not unless you wanted to get burned.

Even her mother hadn’t left that world behind unscathed. Sure, Ruby had left her debt to her daughter, but she’d paid the price when Nick died. She’d lost everything, and for what? Stupidity and a daughter she never wanted.

One of John Lennon’s songs came on through her phone, and she had to quickly shuffle it away. His pain at how much his mother hadn’t wanted him, how his father had abandoned him, stung far too close to home. She’d put it on the phone because she did like it, but it was a song she only listened to when she felt at her strongest.

The tires of her car crunched along the driveway as she came to a stop in front of Matteo’s house. “House”, she scoffed to herself silently, mansion more like. She looked up at the white façade, the promise of luxury and opulence conveyed by the exterior - a promise that was kept inside. She’d wandered the halls, the rooms, and found only luxurious extravagance. Now, she was on the verge of being able to live in a house like that.

She had barely even switched off the car engine when Matteo swept out of the front door, but he paused on the top step. He stood there, taking in the car in his driveway. She looked back at him through the open window and felt her pulse race in her throat. He looked so handsome, so… expectant. It made her heart race a little harder and she could all but hear the blood as it rushed by her ears.

With unsteady fingers, she pushed the door open and got out of the car to stand by it. The driveway wasn’t exactly the place she’d expected to have this conversation, but it was private. That lurking hulk of an employee that he had wouldn’t be able to hear them, and she could get back in her car and drive away if it got too sketchy.

She put her hand up, her fingers splayed, to greet him. Slowly, he came down the steps, and she admired him behind her cheap sunglasses. Dark blue jeans sculpted his muscles perfectly, and the white knit top he had on hugged him just right. His body was gorgeous, took her breath away, but it was his face, his mouth, and his silvery-gray eyes, that held her captive.

“Hi,” he said simply as he came to stand in front of her, his hands in his pockets as he took her in. He looked like a teenager that was groveling out an apology and all she wanted to do was take him in her arms.

He’d lied to her, allowed her to depend on him, to fall in love with him. She couldn’t give in to her body’s response to him, no matter how strong the urge was. She pushed her sunglasses back up her sweat-slickened nose and looked down at herself.

She had on a pair of cheap jeans, a thin black long-sleeved shirt, and her ever-present flip flops. She didn’t look like a million bucks, but she didn’t care. She wanted to get this over with. She stiffened her neck, pretending to be unscathed so that she could speak without a quiver in her voice, “Hi.”

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the car, trepidation hammering at her nerves. What did she say?

“I’m sorry, Marie,” he said softly, so softly she almost missed it.

“Don’t be,” her head turned away from him as she told a lie she didn’t want to speak. “It’s not like I thought any of this was real.”

“But… it was.” He sighed. “Most of it. Some of it.”

“Whatever.” Her arms came up over her breasts, to ward him off or to protect her heart from him, she wasn’t sure which. “Look, you know what position I’m in, so if you want a wife you’ve bought, then I can only agree, right? I just need a little time to get used to the idea.”

“How much time?” he asked quickly, perhaps afraid she’d change her mind if he delayed in answering. He hadn’t looked at her either. He’d just stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes on that monstrosity of a house. The sunlight that glared from it made him squint and she wondered where his sunglasses were.

“A month?” She paused, licked suddenly dry lips, and took a breath. “I don’t plan to ever do this again, so I’d like to find a decent dress. My debts, my mother’s debts, will be cleared after this, right?”

“They will, I’ll pay them myself. Even my aunt will be paid off.” He sounded tired now as if his own plot burdened him in some way. Guilt, remorse, was that what she heard, she wondered.

“I don’t have to meet her, do I?” Another barely spoken question, but one she had to know the answer to.

“Who?” His eyebrows came down in confusion, but he still didn’t look at her. She didn’t look at him either, but she could see the frown from the side of her eyes.

“Your aunt, the woman that’s caused this?” She waved her hands in the air and turned to face him at last. “If she’d have just left well enough alone, I’d be destitute, but at least I wouldn’t be sprawled on the barrel you have me over.”