Married to the Mafia Boss

Frankie

What I like most about the business I’m in is the routine. I get so annoyed when things crop up unexpectedly, even though I know it’s part of the job. Things happen, but those things still fall under my routine. Those problems are routine. Paying off some cops, paying off politicians, getting plans through, starting a new business, or buying new land. This is what life is about, and I’m good at what I do.

I can’t help but wonder if I’ve ever been a fun person as I sit with my bodyguards in my office. I wonder if that’s what Amelia is searching for, adventure and fun. If it is, she’s looking for it in all the wrong places.

My phone is resting on the desk, and I glance at it as it buzzes, lifting it to my ear.

“What do you need, Alessandro?” I say by way of greeting.

My brother doesn’t beat around the bush, “We have a meeting shortly. I want you there. Dad will be there as well as Dominic. We’re meeting with a family friend about a problem he has that I think you can take care of.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Amelia,” Alessandro says casually, and I don’t falter as I reply. “Where and when?”

“Let’s meet at the bistro on Fifth that dad likes so much. I’ll arrange a private area for us to talk.”

I don’t doubt he’ll clear the entire bistro for this. “I’m leaving shortly.”

I hang up and go to stand in front of the mirror in the corner of my office. I smooth my hair back and pick up my suit jacket from the back of my chair.

“We’re going to the bistro on Fifth,” I say to Joel. The six-foot-six bodyguard nods. “Yes, sir.”

He leaves to get the car ready, and I turn to the young men sitting opposite my desk. “I’m trusting you to take care of business while I’m at this meeting. If anything goes wrong, just leave town because you don’t want to know the alternative.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorus, getting up to go out.

I walk out of the office and down the steel stairs. We’re in the factory that we use to ship a lot of our drugs through. Various people work the lines, sorting the drugs out of the false bases we use. Different family soldiers walk amongst them, keeping an eye on them, so no one gets clever and steals a stash. We’ll keep this factory for a week or two before we relocate. We can’t have the DEA busting down our door.

I walk through the small side door and to the Mercedes-Benz A-Class that sits idling in front of it. A cursory look around the area tells me it’s safe as I climb into the back with Joel.

The car pulls out into traffic, and I allow my mind to wander. I don’t know what game Alessandro is playing, but he is one of the few people who knows about my previous relationship with Amelia. I doubt he knows how much I cared for her, though.

I hope he never finds out.

A man is weak when he is emotionally charged, and that woman emotionally charges me off the scale.

It doesn’t take us long to reach the bistro, and I leave Joel outside to monitor the street while I go in.

Alessandro is already there with Romero, my father, who was the previous head of the family. Dominic stands near Alessandro. He never was one for sitting. Then to my surprise, I see that Gustavo is also seated at the table.

I should have known.

If anyone were going to try and protect Amelia, it would be her father. The man would take down all of New York for her and then some.

I nod my greetings. “Gentlemen,” I say lowly. “Mr. Fernando, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

“And you, Frankie,” Gustavo says, pouring me a glass of red wine.

“You were telling us about what you want, Gustavo,” Alessandro says, sitting back. “Can you repeat it for Frankie, so he’s up to speed?”

“I want my daughter married into the family, to Frankie. No offense Dominic but I want her safe, and you’re….”

“I’m what…?”

“You’re known to be a dangerous man with many enemies,” Gustavo says evenly.

I stare at Gustavo. Marry Amelia? Me? I don’t want to be the one to break that news to her. She hates how her father controls her, and this will set her off like a rocket. Though I wouldn’t mind, I mean, it would strengthen our family ties, and I’m positive I could keep her in line, mostly.

“What are you offering for this?”

“Access to my businesses, and I’ll give a sizable dowry,” Gustavo says. “A donation to the family through a non-profit organization. Something that will keep the tax man out of the transaction.”

I run a hand over my chin. “She’s a wild card and difficult to control. It’ll be a lot of work for me. Work I don’t exactly have time for.”

Alessandro shoots me a look, and I nod. “It’s Alessandro’s decision, though. If this is what he wants, I’ll comply.”

Alessandro nods. “I’ll have the contract drawn up. You can tell your daughter she’ll be married soon.”

Gustavo stands, and I hold a hand up. “Perhaps I can tell her. She knows me. She doesn’t like you controlling her life, Gustavo. Perhaps hearing it from me will help a little.”

Gustavo nods, and I’m sure I see a flash of relief on his face. “Grazie, Frankie.”

He leaves, and I stand. “I have arrangements to make if I’m going to bring this up with her. Do you need me for anything else?”

“Is it that simple?” Romero asks me, my father’s eyes looking up at me. “You have no protest about this arrangement.”

“It is my order,” Alessandro says. “This is what’s best for the family.”

I button my suit jacket. “The family comes first. Don’t worry, Father, I will treat her as well as you treat Mama.”

Romero nods and turns back to his food. “You better, or I will step in, head of the family or not.”

I nod and leave, giving Dominic a curt nod.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I dial Amelia’s number once I’m in the car, and I’m surprised when she answers. “Frankie?”

“Amelia,” I say, business-like, “I’m glad to hear you’re out of the hospital.”

“Thank you. My father said it was you who brought me,” she says. “I appreciate your help.”

“Make it up to me. Let me come pick you up for a light early dinner,” I say. “Just tell me where you are.”

“I’ll meet you at Vinni’s,” she sighs. She knows I want something. “Let’s make it quick, though. I wanted to go out with some friends tonight.”

“Of course, this won’t take long,” I say. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

I hang up and turn to Joel. “Vinni’s, pronto. I want to be there before her.”

“Yes, sir.” He taps the driver. ‘Vinni’s on Justice Avenue.”

I sit back, trying to work out the best way to break this news to Amelia. As we arrive, I decide that it doesn’t really matter whichever way I do it. She’s going to be one pissed-off woman. That’s one of my favorite things about her, her fiery spirit. It can be such a turn-on.

I get us a booth at the back and tip the hostess generously to keep the tables around us free. I order wine for both of us, an expensive bottle.

“Frankie,” Amelia says as she arrives at the table.

I stand up and kiss both her cheeks before I help her into her seat. “You’re looking well for someone who got clocked by a gun.”

“Thank you,” she seems awkward. There’s a lingering aroma of perfume in the air, her perfume. I recognize it as one I introduced to her. Thierry Mugler’s ‘Angel’ perfume, the scent always suited her. She fidgets, and I feel a bit put out, noticing how she picks at her nails. I feel hyperfocused on her, and for a moment, I forget why we are meeting in the first place. My heart is thumping hard in my chest.

“Amelia,” I say but then sit back as the waitress brings the wine, “What can I get you to eat?”

“Two specials,” I say quickly, “and a garlic bread,” I add, remembering it was her favorite here.

Amelia nods in agreement. “Still making choices for me, I see.”

“You’re really not going to like the next one that has been made for you then,” I say, trying to keep my emotions to myself.

“What are you talking about?” she narrows her eyes. Yes, she’s getting pissed quickly. “What decision?”

“It’s been decided, by your father and my brother, that you and I are to get married.”

She stares at me for a moment, and I see something flash in her eyes, but then it’s gone and replaced with rage. “What?” she hisses. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Calm down. There’s no reason to overreact,” I say, but I know it’s futile.

She slams her hands on the table.

“No one gets to decide that for me.”

“It’s done. You know, once the families make a decision, that is final,” I say, sipping my wine. Her one finger is bleeding from her picking at it so badly. I notice the sweet pink eye shadow she’s lightly applied, but then I look back into her amber eyes to see the rage that’s bubbling there.

“It’s for your own protection,” I say. “You got yourself into this by mixing with the wrong people. Getting hurt. Your dad wants to protect you now, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

“And if I say no,” she spits.

“Have you ever said no to Don Alessandro? Have you ever heard anyone say no to him?” I ask curiously, trying to play it cool.

“I won’t do it,” she stands, downing her wine. “Go to hell.”

She storms off, and I feel something stirring in my soul.