Married to the mafia boss Series

Arabella

I wake up from a nightmare. Or should I say a nightmare based off of reality?

I dreamed of meeting Gaetano, he was just as cruel and vicious as Luca. He was just as repulsive as Leonardo and the marriage was just as fake as it was with Vinny. I rub at my chest, my heart hurting and eyes stinging, fighting back tears like I do almost every day. I want to cry out at how unfair things are. I want to scream at this situation, but I’m not new. This is my third time going through these feelings.

The hate for a new husband I don’t know. The constant obsessing over what is expected of me. The thought of having sex even if I don’t consent to it. The knowledge of how I’m going to be owned by a stranger.

Carmelo’s eyes are boring into me from across the room. He is alert and awake sitting straight in his chair with his hands gripping the arm chairs.

“Good morning,” I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. “Did you stay up all night?”

Carmelo nods his head and for the first time, I can see just how tired he looks.

“You should get your rest. Don’t worry, Lazzaro has someone to introduce me to. It’s just business, I’ll be safe with him.”

Carmelo gives me a wary look but I shake my head and persist that he goes into his room and get some much needed shut-eye. Although I would love to have Carmelo by my side at this date, Lazzaro would find it unnecessary because-and I could just hear him say this-Gaetano is the consigliere and he can protect his soon-to-be-wife. Mainly, I don’t want Carmelo to know about my new arranged marriage. He’s my best friend and I should confide in him about it, but I just don’t want to make it a reality by telling him. I want to pretend this somehow will not work out and I’ll be off the hook, even though the probability of that happening is near to impossible.

The clock reads seven in the morning and I know I have a couple of hours before my meeting with Gaetano, so I decide to take a shower. The warm water soothes me and I feel refreshed and almost ready for the day-until I actually remember once again that this is to meet my future third husband face to face.

Maybe if I tell him they call me, The Cursed Widow, he’ll back off?

Doubtful.

I didn’t bring all of my dresses to Italy. I figure if I really need clothes I can just go shopping. I didn’t feel the need to pack every shirt, pair of pants, and underwear owned. I just filled every suitcase with all my favorites.

Due to the beautiful, warm Italian weather, I pull out my favorite cotton, white sundress with plum colored flowers. It’s short-sleeved and reaches my knees, the neckline is low, exposing my collarbones and the top of my cleavage. I grab my favorite pair of strappy brown sandals and zip up the heel.

I leave my brown hair in its natural waves and decide to go for a white floppy sun hat to accessorize. Looking in the mirror, I feel absolutely gorgeous and ready to take on the world.

Since my shower, this is the second time I have forgotten what I’m about to do. I should’ve made myself look as repulsive as possible. I should’ve skipped the peach scented conditioner and body wash and opted for jeans and a crappy T-shirt.

I sigh and sit at the vanity, evaluating every decision I’ve made since I woke up. How can I feel so good and so alive when I know my life is about to be over?

The smile that formed on my face early this morning I can attribute to Carmelo, and since then he’s all I thought of. I thought I’d be homesick but truth is I was more afraid of being friend-sick. Having Carmelo here, he just knows how to squander every worry to plague my mind.

I head downstairs into the dining room to find that there is no one sitting down for breakfast. I peek my head into the kitchen to see maids and cooks and they all stare blankly at me.

“May we help you, Signorina Moretti?” One of the maids hastily asks.

“Oh. Uh, I was just looking for something to eat.”

“What would like, Signorina?”

“Do you have any croissants and maybe a cappuccino to start my day?” I give them a polite smile as they nod and rush to serve me.

I have always been the type of girl to thoroughly enjoy a hearty American breakfast. Eggs, sausage, pancakes, the whole deal, but in Italy all they have is something very small to start their day. It makes sense now why the dining room was so empty. Most Italians have exactly what I asked for. It was always my father’s favorite breakfast-he was never too keen on eggs, bacon, sausage, or even pancakes or waffles.

I grab my plate and cup and decide to sit in the dining room by myself anyways. Sometimes it’s nice to be by yourself and allow yourself to think-unfortunately for me I’m prone to thinking too hard. Rumination has been a gift and curse. I try not to imagine Gaetano throughout my lovely, small, not-at-all-filling, breakfast. Once again I am obsessing over who exactly this stranger is going to look like or how he will behave.

“Bella!” My name is called from the doorway behind me. I turn to see Lazzaro looking impatient. “There you are! I expected you to be in your room. You weren’t there. There’s no time to finish, Gaetano is anxious to meet you.”

My eyebrows furrowed together. “Can’t he wait just a few more minutes while I finish? I’m starving.”

“No,” he says curtly. He grabs my by the elbow, pulling me out of my seat like a misbehaved child. “I do not like to keep my men waiting.”

I nearly roll my eyes as I let my older brother drag me along toward the front door and outside where a town car is parked in the roundabout.

“Where exactly are we meeting him?” I ask curiously.

“He lives in one of the guest houses near. It’s close but I’d rather not walk the distance in this heat.”

The driver opens the back door for Lazzaro and I and we pile in. Laz looks me up and down and twists his lips. “I’m not sure the dress was the right option, but there’s no time to change.”

I look down at my dress and frown. “I like it. It’s one of my nicer and more comfortable-”

“It should expose more skin,” he cuts me off and then looks straight ahead seemingly ignoring and ended our conversation before I get another say in.

Lazzaro was right. The car ride isn’t long. The guest house is right off the property and hardly looks like a guest house by its look. The building is wide and two stories tall. By American standards it would be considered a mansion.

La Cosa Nostra keeps their consigliere and underbosses close in case of an attack or they need to call a quick meeting to get things done or planned. The villa itself is a community for the mafiosi. Other low-ranking soldiers live outside in the city and usually take care of hands on activity like enforcing, running the cartel, handling the strip clubs and casinos and whatever else they’re up to.

Lazzaro helps me out of the car offering his hand to me. I take it and brush down my dress when I stand on the cement. The walkway up to the house feels intimidating. My hands begin to shake and I try to cool myself down with a few breathing exercising that never work. Lazzaro strides ahead of me with his much longer legs, walking up the three steps leading to the front door. He knocks a few times and keeps his hands behind his back standing tall-looking like a true Don.

I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind living here. It’s just as nice as the main house. The house is of gray cobblestone and the door made of deep brown cherry wood. The windows on the second floor are long and thin and the ones on the first floor look like bay windows with a bench area inside. Along the house are flowers, they are same pomelia also growing at the main house.

The door opens and I hear the man’s deep baritone voice welcome Lazzaro. I stare down at the cement. I don’t think I’m ready to see him yet. I need more time. I need more time before this happens-before I find myself married for the third time.

“You must be Arabella,” his Italian accent is strong and would have any girl melting in the palm of his hands. Including me.

I gulp and move from staring at his polished, brown shoes up to his tailored, navy pants, all the way to his slim hips and muscled biceps straining against the light green button up that is rolled at the sleeves. Then, his face. His unfair, gorgeous, jaw-dropping face. His skin has been kissed by the sun, his stubble only a day old and his eyes are a light brown that immediately pull your attention. His hair is black and thick and match the arm hair sprouting on his forearms. It curls at the end of his ears and is wavy from top to bottom.

Gaetano has been sculpted by God himself.

“I am Arabella,” I lick my dry lips.

“Come,” he opens his door wider. “I am anxious to get acquainted.”

“I will be back at the house should you need anything. Gaetano will bring you back tonight,” Lazzaro says as a quick goodbye and takes my only ride back to the main house.

I stand awkwardly on his doorstep as he continues to smile and hold the door open. I make a quick, oh, sound remembering that he asked me to go in. I nod my head and walk passed him and into the impressive foyer.

The wood flooring is covered by, what looks like, a very expensive rug. The ceiling is high and goes straight up to the second floor. A crystal chandelier hands above us illuminating the room. The whole entire house is more exquisite than anywhere I have ever lived before.

“You very much live up to your name, Bella,” he compliments causing me to blush. The sound of my name on his tongue causes me to shiver.

“Thank you,” I reply timid and flustered.

“Would you like to sit down?” He walks out of the foyer and I instinctively follow.

Gaetano leads us into the living room. It’s full of bright colored throw pillows and the curtains are drawn back, exposing the backyard which has a pool and a patio deck, followed by a field of green grass and trees. My jaw hangs open in complete and utter awe.

“Please. Sit,” he takes a seat and crosses his leg over his thigh on the dark grey couch in front of the window.

I sit on the cushion next to him and get a whiff of his cologne that makes me feel tingly and ready to give my body over to him in most primitive way. Finding myself anxious and nervous once again, I feel the material of the couch below me, rubbing my hands up along the cushion. The material at first glance, I thought to be microfiber, but it’s way too soft and rich feeling to be that. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.

“Tell me about yourself,” he smiles. Even his teeth are perfectly aligned and white. Each of his cheeks are indented with dimples that make him ever more hotter than I found him two seconds ago.

“Well,” I fidget, “I’m twenty-two years old. I like to read-mainly research in psychology. I’m pretty easy-going and adventurous. I like traveling to different places, but always find coming home to be the best feeling. I enjoy music and poking into people’s business. I’m friendly and trust people way too easily,” I chuckle nervously, “I, uh, like ballet and margaritas.”

Gaetano keeps that stupid charming smile across his face making me like him. “You sound very intriguing, Bella. I like my girls adventurous, we will have a lot of fun together.”

I clear my throat. “W-what about you?”

“I am thirty-two years old. I am a free-spirit and never felt the need to settle down. I like my freedom as well as traveling and meeting all kinds of people. I, too, am very friendly. I have three younger sisters all of whom have been married off. I like what I do and when I am passionate about something I always get what I want. If people get in my way I don’t hesitate to do what needs to be done. It is how I got my job as consigliere.”

“If you never felt the need to settle down then why are you getting married?”

“You are a clever girl, aren’t you?” He avoids the question. “You strike me as very intelligent. With those psychology journals you could probably pick my brain apart,” he leans in so close that I can smell the mint on his breath.

My eyes flutter close in anticipation of a kiss. He has me in a trance and as hard as I try I can’t break free of it. His kiss is soft. The stubble on his chin tickles and pricks at me, but it doesn’t stop me from wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in to kiss me deeper. Our mouths dance and open for one another, our tongues entwining as we both moan and hold each other.

After how-ever-many lost minutes, we pull back breathless. “I want children,” he pulls me back to reality.

“What?”

“That is why I am marrying. I want children to carry my bloodline. I need an heir to continue the Cobuzzi line considering I am the only son of my father.”

“Oh,” I swallow hard. I should tell him. I should tell him right now the truth about me.

“Lazzaro said you would be perfect for me and he was right. You are everything I’ve been looking for.”

“I am?” My voice cracks.

“Oh yes.”

Our attention goes to threshold where a man dressed like a butler is standing. He opens his mouth to talk but Gaetano snaps in Italian, “What?”NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

The butlers face goes pale as he quickly gets out, “Signore, there is someone on the phone that says it’s important.”

“Did I not tell you no one should be bothering me while I deal with something top of my priority?”

“I’m so sorry, Signore.” On his way out he bumps into a vase and the priceless artifact falls the floor with a horrible sounding crash. Pieces are scattered everywhere.

“Bastardo!” Gaetano tells before standing up and taking a gun out from behind him, that must’ve been tucked into the back of his pants and shoots the butler directly in the chest.

I’m frozen in fear. I stand completely still afraid that one wrong move will set him off and turn against me.

Gaetano puts his gun away and his scowl quickly transform into the manipulative smile. “He has been on thin ice for a while now. I get rid of people who have no use for me,” he chuckles to himself shaking his head. “You’d think they’d learned after what happened to the maid?”

“What happened to the maid?” I ask breathlessly.

“She lied to me so I killed her.”

“Oh,” is all I can say.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “It’s a shame too. She was my cousin’s wife. Should’ve known better.”

My heart thunders out of my chest. I can’t tell him. I can’t. If I tell him he might think Lazzaro lied to him. No doubt my brother promised him lots of babies. Makes sense considering he knows nothing of my infertility. If he thinks Lazzaro had lied to him, he’ll kill him. I can’t say anything. I should. But I can’t. I can’t risk my brother’s life. Can’t risk mine. The man is hot-tempered and already on edge from the butler. One peep out of me and I’m as good as dead.

“I’m so sorry he had to ruin our time together. Let’s go outside. I’ll show you the pool and the garden,” he holds his hand out for me to take.

I reach out for his stand and he helps me to my feet. I’m glad I have him to hold onto because at the moment I feel faint and the stench of the dead body in the room is now filling my nose. My eyes begin to water from how horrible it smells. My knees feel weak and for a moment I think I’m going to pass out.

Gaetano escorts me out the back door and onto the patio overlooking the inground pool. The fresh air helps my composure get back to its equilibrium, but I can’t shake the shock of how Gaetano turned in an instant. It’s like that one serial killer who was so good looking and killed all those woman.

Ted Bundy was the famous serial killers name. He was so manipulative that even the guards were so negligent with his supervision in jail, that he was able to escape and murder more poor women. Girls were drawn to him! Then he murdered and raped them!

Gaetano is the psychopath any psychologist would love to pick apart. Not me, no way. I want to get as far away from his as possible. Any rational sense in me has been eradicated by strong feelings of fear. I’m terrified to be around him. Petrified to leave. Even if he weren’t a psychopath, I can’t just walk away from this arranged marriage. Just like I couldn’t walk away from Vinny or Luca’s.

Again, his smile pulls me in and makes a sucker out of me. Couldn’t he at least smell bad or have a wart on his face or be… I don’t know, just ugly? He had everything going for him look-wise. It made it hard not to want to fall at his feet and please him. Not to mention the kiss we shared on the couch moments before was definitely top three of best kisses I’ve ever received.