The Mafia King’s Doll

Tori

After convincing Angelo I was really okay, he finally agreed that I was allowed to leave the house before the one week was up.

I’m sitting in the Cathedral on a Saturday, which is out of the norm for

me.

Tiny sits beside me, playing a racing game on his phone while my eyes

are locked on the confession booth.

I didn’t lie to Angelo about being okay, but I still need to talk to Father Parisi.

As time crawls by, I glance around the Cathedral while thinking about how much my life has changed.

It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since I married Angelo.

Besides the incident in Sicily, everything has been perfect.

I lower my head as a smile curves my lips.

Angelo might be a devil when it comes to other people, but with me, he’s an angel. I’ve never felt so loved before.

I hear movement, and lifting my head, I see a parishioner leave the confession booth.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to Tiny as I get up.

“Wait,” he murmurs as he puts his phone away and climbs to his feet. He walks with me to the booth and checks inside before nodding at me. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Thanks, Tiny.” When I step into the booth, I give him a quick smile before shutting the door.

I take a seat on the bench, and making the sign of the cross, I murmur, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession.” Taking a deep breath, I whisper, “I doubted my husband and ran from him.”

God, it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I’ll never doubt Angelo again.

I hear Father Parisi move. “You ran from your husband?”

“Yes, but he found me, and I’ve asked his forgiveness.” He clears his throat. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No.” I shake my head, and lowering my head, I admit, “His uncle died because of me, and I was scared, but Angelo wasn’t angry with me.”

“His uncle?” Father Parisi gasps. “Maurizio Rizzo?”

“Yes.” I shift on the bench. “He fell to his death because I stumbled into him.”

The horrific incident flashes through my mind, and I tighten my hands into fists on my lap.

“I’m going to assume there’s more to that story,” Father Parisi whispers as if he’s scared someone will hear.

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it.” My eyes flit to the partitioning between us. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course.” He lets out a heavy breath, then asks, “Do you have any more sins to confess?”

“I didn’t feel bad when I learned that my stepbrother was killed.”

“What?” Father Parisi gasps, and this time, he opens the small window between us and stares at me in shock. “What happened? Are you okay?”

I nod before saying, “I’m fine.” “How did he die?”

I shake my head. “I can’t tell you.”

Father Parisi stares at me momentarily, then shuts the window again. “I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

I make the sign of the cross again and whisper, “Amen.”Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

When I step out of the confession booth, Father Parisi’s door opens, and he grabs both my hands. Giving me a worried look, he whispers, “Do you need help?”

I shake my head, and with a smile spreading over my face, I say, “I just needed absolution.” I squeeze his hands. “I’m not in any danger, and Angelo is good to me.” I take a deep breath before admitting, “I love him.”

I feel Tiny behind me, and Father Parisi quickly lets go of me. He takes a step backward but still looks worried as his eyes meet mine.

“I’m safe and happy, Father,” I say to put him at ease. “It’s all I ever wanted.”

Tiny places his hand on my shoulder as Father Parisi nods at me. “I’ll see you both tomorrow?”

My smile widens. “Yes.”

When he walks away from us, I turn to look at Tiny, whose eyes instantly lock on my face.

With a frown, he asks, “Did it go okay?” I nod. “It went as well as I expected.”

With Tiny close to my side, we walk out of the Cathedral, and when I’m sitting in the back seat of the SUV, I let out a sigh.

I know going to confession won’t magically erase the guilt I feel for the part I played in Maurizio’s death, but it makes me feel a little better.

Tiny starts the engine, and pulling away from the curb, he says, “If you ever need to talk about what happened, I’m here.”

I glance out of the window. “Thanks, Tiny.” I let out a sigh. “I think it’s just going to take some time for the memories to fade.”

“Time heals all,” he murmurs.

My thoughts drift for a moment, then frowning, I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. “What’s your real name?”

He lets out a chuckle before saying, “Sebastiano.”

“I feel bad that I only thought to ask now. Sorry, Tiny.”

“It’s okay.” He grins from ear to ear, then adds, “Just never call me Sebastiano.”

“I won’t. You’ll always be Tiny to me.”

When we get home, and I head into the mansion, Angelo is leaning against the back of the couch, his eyes on me.

“Were you waiting for me?” I ask as I walk closer to him. “Yes. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

My eyebrow lifts as I stop in front of him. He grips hold of my hips and tugs me closer.

“When did you last have contact with your aunt?”

A frown forms on my forehead. “A few months ago, before my phone was broken. Why?”

“I think it’s time I meet them,” he replies. “Would you like to invite them over for dinner?”

My eyes widen, and a smile spreads over my face. “I’d like that very much.” My shoulders sag as I admit, “But I don’t have their phone number

anymore. It was on my old phone.” “I’ll get it for you,” he promises. “That will mean a lot to me.”

As I start to wrap my arms around his neck, he shakes his head. “You need to change into the dress I left on the bed.”

“Why?”

Angelo presses a quick kiss to my mouth, then murmurs, “It’s a surprise.”

“How much time do I have to get ready?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a hot smirk. “As long as you need, mia piccola cerviatta. There’s no rush.”

Feeling excited, I leave him in the living room and hurry up the stairs. When I walk into the bedroom, I see the pale blue gown Angelo chose for me to wear. It’s one of my favorites that I got on my shopping spree at Oscar de la Renta.

Because Angelo said I could take my time, I walk into the bathroom to open the faucets and pour some bath salts into the tub.

As I watch the water fill the tub, I think about the stressful week we’ve had. First, Tiny had to be rushed to the hospital, then the nightmare in Sicily. Giorgio dying.

It’s crazy. I don’t understand why people can’t just live together in harmony.

I wasn’t lying when I confessed that I didn’t feel bad when Angelo told me he killed Giorgio.

I feel relieved because I won’t have to worry about him trying to hurt me again. When my inheritance pays out, he won’t be there to take it from me, and the house Papà worked so hard for now belongs to me.

I feel some good came out of the crazy week, though.

I’ve realized Angelo, Tiny, Rita, and Big Ricky are my family, and they mean the world to me.

I place my hand over my abdomen as I glance down. There’s just one thing missing.

Letting out a deep breath, I close the faucets and strip out of my clothes.

Stepping into the balmy water, a smile spreads over my face.

Just as I close my eyes, I feel Angelo’s presence. His movements are still silent as always, but I can feel a shift in the air.

I turn my head, and opening my eyes again, I see him crouching beside the tub. His fingers dip into the water.

“How did it go at confession?” My smile widens. “Good.”

He stares at me for a while, then says, “Big Ricky and I will join you for Mass tomorrow.”

Surprised, my eyebrow pops up. “Really?” I sit up in the tub and grab the loofah. “I thought church wasn’t your thing?” I squirt some body wash on and start to wash my legs.

Angelo takes the loofah from me and orders, “Lie back.”

I relax in the tub and watch as he continues to wash my leg.

He lets out a sigh, then says, “We’re going with you to show everyone you’re mine.” His eyes flick to my face before he continues to wash my other leg. “We’re going to make a few public appearances together to make a statement.”

“Okay.” I glance in the direction of the bedroom. “Is that why I have to wear the gown?”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s for me.” Getting up, he leans over the tub and presses a possessive kiss to my mouth before demanding, “Don’t braid your hair. I want your curls wild and free.”

A happy smile spreads over my face. “Okay.”

I watch as he walks out of the bathroom and let out a contented sigh.

Who would’ve thought Angelo Rizzo would be the best thing to ever happen to me?