Married to the Mafia Boss

Frankie

I feel like I’m back where I belong: behind a desk attending to the family business. I see many areas that the club can improve in, and I know the people we need to get on board and on our payroll. It shouldn’t be too hard, and I make the necessary meetings and calls.

Amelia doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that I’m not home much. She acts as though it doesn’t matter. I know she goes into town every day for lunch even though I’ve told her to keep a low profile, and she comes to the club in the evenings.

While I’m happy to have her where I can see her, I also see the many men who flock to her each night to buy her drinks in the hopes of getting lucky. It’s this kind of situation that’s going to get us killed.

There’s one in particular that she seems to hang around every night and have intense conversations with. It makes me nervous. He’s too familiar with her, and I don’t know what she’s telling him. If she’s giving away information about us, that can be used to target us.

I send one of the bouncers out to call her in, and when she comes in, I stand. “Amelia, who’s the guy you’re talking to?”

“Oh, I actually know him from way back when,” she admits, and I growl, “He recognizes you, Amelia. That’s dangerous for us.”

Before she can say anything, I continue, “We’re supposed to be lying low, not having men follow you around like puppy dogs. Now someone actually recognizes you. We need to move on from here.”

“Frankie, it’s nothing serious. We’re not in danger. You need to stop trying to micro-manage every damn situation in my life.”

“You’ve never been to Pennsylvania before, so how does he know you?”

“Through some mutual friends, if you really need to know. I think it’s best you back off from telling me who I can and can’t talk to. I’m tired of being lorded over like a little servant.”

I growl, “Because you act like a petulant child with no regard for your own life or others. Stay away from other men or stay home, Amelia, I mean it.”Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

She places her hands on her hips. “I don’t need to be bossed around, Frankie. I spent years trying to get out from under my father’s thumb because he controlled my every move. All I’ve ever wanted is to make my own choices, good or bad, and have freedom. I was sold like a slave to you, and now you’re worse than he is.”

There’s so much I want to say, including telling her not to compare me to her father, but she’s already turning for the door, so I keep quiet.

I watch her on the cameras as she goes back to the bar and orders another drink. Her friend comes to join her again, and they get stuck in animated conversation again. I know I should trust her not to put us in danger, but she’s so naive. She doesn’t understand this world as I do. She’s always been sheltered from the risks, first by her father and then by me.

They look like they’re having a serious conversation. I use the controls to zoom in on his face and take a still photo of him.

I take out a burner cell, and I call Alessandro.

“What is it?”

“I think we have a potential problem,” I say, walking to my desk and sitting down. “I’m going to send you a photo of a guy. I need to check out his background and if he’s tied to Jose in any way.”

“You sure you’re not just being paranoid? I know you’re on edge,” Alessandro says. “What’s he doing that’s so suspicious?”

“He’s been talking to Amelia,” I say.

“So, it’s jealously then,” my brother chuckles, but I remain stoic.

“She says it’s a friend she knows, and she’s never been in this area, so he’s probably from New York,” I explain.

My brother falls silent. “Destroy this phone after you send the picture.”

“I’ll call back in three days. I need the information by then so I can plot my next move. I might skip the next destination and go straight on; in case he’s trying to figure out our plan.”

“Noted. Keep an eye on Amelia and have one of the guys keep an eye on the friend, who he talks to, and where he stays. We need to find out as much as possible,” Alessandro says. “I have to go. I have a meeting now. Send the photo. I’ll expect your call in three days.”

He hangs up, and I take the phone apart. I cut up the sim card and drop the phone parts in a pitcher of water.

I press a buzzer on my intercom. “Romeo, come here.”

A large, intimidating bouncer walks in and stands in front of my desk. “What do you need help with boss?”

“See that guy talking to my wife?” I point at the camera, and he nods.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on them all night,” he says.

“When he leaves, I want you to tail him, find out as much information as you can about where he’s staying, if he has anyone with him, and what his plans are. Everything you can find out,” I instruct him. “I need to know if we’re in danger.”

“You got it,” Romeo says, walking out again.

I get up and go back to the cameras. I watch Amelia laughing with the guy until, eventually, he stands up and leaves. When he doesn’t come back, I simply watch Amelia.

She’s been oblivious to the fact that I haven’t paid any attention to her. It’s clear she doesn’t return my feelings. I turn away and go back to my desk, opening the ledgers on the table.

I don’t know if staying another three days is a good idea, but if this guy is connected to Jose, I don’t want him to know we’re onto him. If he is, we’ll slip away quietly, and Amelia will be under house arrest for the remainder of this road trip.

My fists clench as the thought crosses my mind about whether this is more than a friend, maybe an ex-lover.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t feel that way about you. You can’t control her. You can’t keep her caged up forever.

But I do need to protect her, not only because her father asked me to but because I know it will kill me if something happens to her.

I finish up balancing the books, making everything ready for the accountant to sort out. Then I pack up for the night, grabbing my car keys, and walking out of the office. I make my way to the bar where Amelia is talking to two guys, flirting to high heaven.

I tap her on the shoulder and nod my head toward the door. “Come on. It’s time to go home.”

“Hey buddy, move off. We were here first,” the blond twenty-something-year-old tells me.

My eyes flash dangerous, and I incline my head. “My wife is going home with me. Right now,” I say dangerously. “And if you ever step into this club again, it’s the last steps you’ll ever take”

I signal for the bouncers who come over and grab the two wide-eyed guys. Amelia is staring at me in horror. Once the bouncers have left with her two friends, she grabs her car keys, glares at me, and storms through the partying crowd.

I follow with a sigh. Sometimes I feel more like her parent than her husband.