Married to the Mafia Boss

Frankie

There is always something to take care of at one of the numerous businesses that the family owns. We know how to run a tight ship. I know how to run a tight ship, but sometimes things happen that will need my attention.

Like stolen money.

I don’t like it when money goes missing from my clubs, and La Club is one of my favorite places to launder money because it runs so smoothly, so when the intake and the output are grossly mismanaged, I get a little bit agitated.

Agitation doesn’t begin to explain how I feel when I’m tapped on the shoulder to move out the way by none other than Amelia. Her brown curls cascade down either side of her face and her back, and she looks beautiful with simple makeup. When her amber eyes locked with mine, the first thing that comes to my mind is the memory of the kisses we shared, the intimate nights we had together, and the breakup that ruined me. My emotions do a tumble, and I almost lose my calm demeanor. I look her up and down, taking in her scantily dressed, toned, and tanned body, and then I walk toward my office without a word.

I don’t think I can speak to her without keeping the emotion out of my voice, so I decide not to acknowledge her. It’s for the best. I sit down at the large oak table, and James, my accountant, brings a tablet to me to look at. I scan the figures. “Do we know who it is?”

“We think it’s one of the bar staff,” James explains. He delves into the details of what’s missing as I try to read the information on the tablet, but my mind keeps swinging back to Amelia and the look in her eyes when I walked away from her. It’s the same look as the first time I walked away from her, but that was for her own good. I just couldn’t tell her that.

My agitation rises as I realize I haven’t heard a word James has said. My concentration is all over the place. I hold a hand up. “Get me a drink, whiskey on the rocks, and not the cheap watered-down shit we serve those business graduates.”

“Yes, sir,” James leaves to arrange the drink, and I sit back, rubbing my chin. I need to focus on the task at hand because if someone is robbing me, they will be catching the hiding of their lives. If it doesn’t end their life. An example must be made, after all.

It irritates me so much how seeing Amelia can bring my world down again. I really thought I’d moved on. I certainly don’t think of her while she’s out of sight. I don’t even know why she would come to La Club, maybe just to irritate me. Perhaps she intended to set me off. Who knows what that little minx thinks sometimes?

I turn my attention back to the tablet when I hear shouting outside the office. I ignore it at first. The bouncers throw out loads of drunk patrons all the time. It’s not my job to get involved, but suddenly a voice sounds familiar. I’m sure it’s Amelia.

There’s a hard knock and screams, and I get up quickly, my hand going to the gun holstered inside my jacket. My men follow me out to see a guy waving a gun, and a bleeding disorientated Amelia in his clutches. I calmly walk behind him and hit him in the back of the head with my gun, bringing him down. The club empties quickly, so my men grab him and drag him out back while I catch Amelia.

I lean over her. “Amelia? Can you hear me? Amelia?”

It’s no good. She’s passed out. Slight panic builds up within me as I turn to James. “Keep the asshole in the back. I’ll sort him out once I’ve arranged for her to go to the hospital.”

I gather her in my arms and carry her outside to my car. I wave over a bouncer. “Shut down the club for the night and let the boys know I’ll be right back.”

With that, I climb into the driver’s side and start my car. Joining traffic, I throw my hazard lights on and zoom through the cars to the nearby hospital. Once there, I gather Amelia carefully in my arms. I didn’t even acknowledge her, and yet she was hurt under my watch. A small sense of guilt creeps into me.

The nurses rush to me when they see me carrying her, and bring a gurney. “She was attacked, hit in the head with a gun. I have to go. Is there someone I can give her father’s contact details to?”

A nurse walks up to me with a clipboard, and I quickly give Amelia’s details, at least what I know, and then I give her father’s contact details. He’ll have to deal with her when she wakes up. I need to get back to La Club.

The drive back does nothing for my temper. I drive quickly, parking outside my building. I go into the club and make sure the bouncers have shut down everything. It’ll cost us, but I have more important things to deal with tonight. She might not be in my life anymore, but I don’t take kindly to men who hurt women at the best of times., let alone someone I cared deeply about.

I walk into the back section of the club where my men have zip tied the idiot to a chair. He’s come to and is shouting profanities at them. He won’t be heard, though. This room is soundproof from the outside world.

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells at me. “Are you the jackass that hit me? Because you’re going to regret that asshole.”

I raise an eyebrow. It’s unlikely that people don’t know who I am. The media has undoubtedly mentioned me enough for people to know my name. I look into this guy’s eyes and see his pupils are dilated.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Why did you attack Amelia?” I ask, dragging a chair over to sit in front of him.

“What the fuck do you care? She’s my girlfriend, not yours.” Ah, now that makes sense, I think. He’s a loser boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, and clearly thinks he owns her.

“My name doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m from the kind of family you don’t fuck with,” I say calmly. “So you’re going to start being polite, or you’re going to have your ass handed to you on a silver platter.”

“People like you don’t scare me, Francesco,” he spits, glaring at me.

“So you do know who I am,” I point out. “And yet you still disrespect me. You disrespect me by coming into my club and attacking someone under my protection, and then you speak to me like I’m some piece of shit at the bottom of your shoe. What’s your name?”

“His name is Dave,” my one bodyguard Leroy says, handing me Dave’s ID card. “In his thirties, he lives in Brooklyn. No known connection to any families that we can find, and he’s high as a kite.”

“Fuck off,” Dave screams, trying to thrash around. “If you don’t let me go, you’re going to regret it.”

“The only one who will regret anything is you, Dave. Teach him a lesson, boys, then drop him outside the hospital. I won’t go as far as killing you tonight, Dave. But cross me again, and you won’t find yourself so lucky.”