Married to the Mafia Boss

Amelia

I won’t do it.

I can’t believe Frankie has confessed his love to me as though it’s that easy. It isn’t that easy, and it sure as hell isn’t fair. I fell for him once, and he decimated my heart. That won’t be happening again any time soon. I won’t let him get to me.

The moment the words came out of his mouth, I want to hit him. Those were the words I wanted ages ago when we were together the first time. It was what I wanted. True commitment and love, and he told me then it could never be, and now I won’t ever let it happen, no matter how much I feel for him.

He’s taken the closure I got and ripped a gaping hole into it. I’m questioning everything now, everything that I’ve decided and wanted.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

And I choose never to be broken again-by any man.

I sleep for what feels like ages, and when I wake up, my phone has numerous missed calls and text messages from my father. I text him that I’m fine, and he replies almost instantly, saying he’s coming to see me.

As I sit on my bed, I fume. This marriage wasn’t supposed to be binding. It’s an arranged marriage. We agreed to keep it casual, with no obligations. Now he’s declaring his love for me as though that changes everything.

It doesn’t change the past, and it doesn’t change how he broke me. It doesn’t change the months I grieved for us, our relationship, and what we could have been.

I had a funeral for my feelings for him, and now I’ve moved on.

There’s a knock at my door, and Joel’s voice floats through it, “Mrs. Sorvino, your father is here to see you. He’s in the garden.”

I open the door. “Thank you, Joel. Can you show me where he is?”

“Of course.” He offers me a smile and leads me downstairs, around the banister, and to the back. There’s a deck outside. Vines provide shade and grow up the walls and over them. My father strides toward me when he sees me. “Mia!”

He cups my face in his hands and kisses both my cheeks. “Thank God you’re okay. I heard what the Catalan crew tried to do to you.”

“I’m okay, Papa,” I say. I’m being honest because I will be okay. I’m stronger than anyone thinks I am and smarter, and I can hold my own, even against Frankie.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No, they shot at me, but they missed. Come, let’s sit,” I say, tugging his hand toward the furniture in the corner.

A waiter brings two glasses of red wine and sets them down. My father takes a large sip of his and stares at me. “I’m worried about you, Mia. This Dave really was no good. He’s not going to stop coming after you. What did you do to him?”

I sip my wine slowly. “All I did was break up with him when he got aggressive with me. He treated me like I was his possession. Everyone treats me like a possession, as though I can be exchanged, bought, sold, or given away at a whim.”

I look at him pointedly, and he meets my gaze. “Sometimes, you need some direction, and guidance to somewhere safe, Mia. You have made a lot of poor decisions in the past.”

“So, you’re saying this is my fault?” I raise an eyebrow. “That it’s not Frankie’s for putting Dave in the hospital?”

“If you hadn’t been with a drug dealer in the first place, none of this would have happened,” my father says, sipping his wine again. “But please, Mia, I don’t want to fight. I’ve been stressing about you since Alessandro let me know what’s happening.”

First Frankie and now my father-only when my life is in danger do all the men around me declare their love for me. Something I’ve craved and groveled for, now they’re worried they’ll lose me.

It didn’t matter months ago, and it didn’t matter years ago. It didn’t matter that my mother abused me or that my father barely spoke to me growing up.

No, I must forgive everything they have done and move on. I can maybe forgive my father, especially now as I look into his worried eyes. He clearly does care for me. I know Frankie does, too, but Frankie broke me the hardest, and I just don’t know if there’s any coming back from that.

I reach out and take my father’s hand into mine. “Papa, I promise I’m fine. I took care of myself the way you taught me to. You would have been proud of me.”

“I am proud of you, Mia,” he says, stroking my hand. “I’ve always been proud of you. I’m sorry, I’m not a more emotional father or more involved. I have a family to run. I don’t have time for things like that. But I do care for you, my child.”

I tear up and look away, wiping my eyes quickly. I pick up my wine and sip it. “Do you know what’s going to happen now?”

“They are busy discussing the best course of action,” my father says, sitting back with his wine. “I’ve made it clear that you are under no circumstance to be harmed at all, or there will be problems between our families. Alessandro took my meaning.”

Of course, my father would throw the weight of our family against the Sorvinos. I give him a small smile. “He can’t have liked that too much.”

“He has enough enemies without making another,” my father says thoughtfully. “He will make sure you’re safe. That’s all I want.”

I sigh and trace the rim of my glass with my index finger. “I feel like I’m a caged bird, Papa, and that I will never be free to fly.”

My father gives me a sad smile. “Mia, you are so beautiful and so special. I’m sorry that you were born into a family like ours, but it does nothing good to dream. It will just make you more miserable. The best thing you can do is accept your situation and make the best of it.”

“Is that all there will ever be?” I ask miserably.

“There’ll be moments of joy. You’ll see, you’ll find them, my darling. But you are going to make many sacrifices to get them, like I have,” my father explains, finishing his wine. He sets his glass down and watches me. “Maybe having children…”

“No children,” I say shortly. “I am not bringing children into our families, not so they can live a prison sentence like me. If it’s a boy, he joins the business; if it’s a girl, she’s married off as a bartering chip. How is that fair? How will that bring me joy?”

My father keeps quiet before he finally says, “There can be good things about the family, Mia, especially if you learn to love them.”

“You can’t learn to love things, Papa. You either love them, or you don’t,” I say with a note of finality.

“That’s not true,” my father says. “You’ve learned to love me with time and patience.”

I falter slightly, then quietly say, “You can’t love someone who breaks you, Papa.”

“How have you been broken, Mia? Speak to me.”

I don’t want him to know how Frankie hurt me before, but he continues, “Frankie made a foolish mistake letting you go once. It doesn’t look like he’s going to do that again. Maybe you can learn to trust him again.”

“He told you about us?” I ask.

“I always knew,” he says. “It wasn’t like you hid it very well.”

I look at my hands. “There is no redemption for Francesco.”