Page 1 of A Wife’s Duty

“I ’ll fuck her when I’m ready, not when a bunch of dirty fucks want to see the blood. I’ll find out for myself if she is a virgin ... or not.”

Those were the parting words Lucia Valdez’s husband gave to her father and the Italian mafia nearly three weeks ago. They were the same words that still rung in her head. Even after three weeks, it was like repeat, or a broken record. They just wouldn’t stop, and it was starting to drive her crazy.

Three weeks she had been married, and during that time, she’d not been allowed to talk to her family once. She also hadn’t been locked away like rumor had suggested. It was so odd.

Her husband was the only man in the world that seemed to be able to instill fear into one of the strongest factions in a long time. The Italian mafia were not known for being subtle or scared easily.

Bone Grinder, or perhaps it was Boone—she wasn’t quite sure what her husband’s name was. Only that he was the scariest man, and her own father had agreed to sell her in order to make peace.

The details were a little hazy. Everything about her husband was hazy.

From what she knew, Boone or Bone, was making the streets run red with the blood of their soldiers.

He was taking turf by turf, and he didn’t scare easily.

At least, that was what the rumor mill created.

Although, there was nothing concrete on what Boone or Bone did.

Even at the wedding, while everyone in the Italian mafia had been present, Bone or Boone— ugh, it was so frustrating.

She was only going to refer to him as Bone, it was easier.

Bone had arrived with very few people, mainly men that worked for him.

He had no family. No one close to him, other than his men.

In three weeks, she’d not met a mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, niece, grandfather, grandmother, nor a best friend, or even a friend. She met his soldiers, no one else.

Anyway, their marriage was supposed to be a peace treaty. There would be no more bloodshed.

Lucia didn’t know if Bone even realized that he got ... her. He didn’t get her sister, who was considered the most beautiful woman in the entire mafia. Men were falling all over themselves in a bid to win her sister, Isabella, who was the blonde, beautiful goddess. No one wanted Lucia.

She knew her father hated her on sight. It got so bad that she either ate in the kitchen, or ate earlier, as he didn’t want to see her.

Her mother and sister were beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed sirens. She was a brown-haired, green-eyed ... slob. Actually, there were a lot more words she’d been called—ugly, fat, useless, waste of space—and she had gotten so used to those names, they didn’t even sting anymore.

So, selling her to Bone hadn’t been much of a problem.

Her family wanted to get rid of her, and no one in the family wanted to marry her.

She was the second daughter, the ugly daughter, the unwanted daughter.

All she had to do was wait until Bone realized this, and she imagined she would be as dead as all those other men and women he’d killed.

That was the rumor. Bone didn’t give a shit if you were male or female.

If you were his enemy, you ended up dead without question.

Her days were numbered.

At least, she got to taste the smallest sense of freedom.

She was still in a cage, though a much nicer cage than her home back with her family.

She didn’t have to hide every time her father walked down the hall.

He would get so angry when he looked at her, that sometimes he’d simply strike her for punishment of being ugly.

This is why she got so good at hiding. She didn’t like to be hit, and she feared her father.

Right now, she was currently living at one of Bone’s apartments.

He had many different places to live. She didn’t know if that was intentional or not, or this was just how he decided to live his life.

In three weeks, they had been to four different locations.

Wherever they went, Bone commanded respect, yet he hadn’t done a single thing to earn it, as far as she could see.

Everyone she saw didn’t appear to fear him. She had wondered if the only reason he commanded respect was because he had at least earned it, but so far, she didn’t see that.

No fear. Unlike the men back home. Fear was a great motivator, and that was how her mafia family lived. They didn’t fear the outside, they feared those within. You broke trust, you died. You did anything to cause trouble, and you were dealt with.

Families had been killed on the rumors of others.

During her time, going to parties, she’d seen many women covered in bruises, looking absolutely awful, from their husbands beating them—at least she assumed it was them. She had also heard her own father beating her mother on many occasions.

Since being married to Bone, she hadn’t been hit once. There had been no raised hand, or him even reaching for his belt. In all honesty, even though she had been here with Bone, he’d kind of treated her as if she were invisible.

She went wherever he went, or stayed here. There were soldiers present, within the apartment, and outside of it. They didn’t stop her from living. They didn’t force her to sit and wait.

Her mother had told her that a wife’s duty was to do her husband’s bidding. Bone hadn’t told her to do anything, yet.

So, she would wander around the apartment, wondering if she was going to die soon.

Sometimes, she would watch television, or peruse the few books she saw in each of his homes.

She would sleep in their bedroom at night.

Bone would sleep beside her, but he didn’t reach out to touch her. There was no touching.

When it came time to kiss the bride at the wedding, he’d brushed his lips against hers, but it hadn’t been a kiss. Not that she knew what a real kiss was like. She didn’t know anything.

All she knew was ... fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of waiting. The anticipation of all the bullshit to come. Not that she would say a word about it.

She had started to accept that one day soon, she was going to die, and it was going to be by her husband’s hand. If her own father couldn’t stand the sight of her, then her husband, a man that had no interest in her, was certainly capable of killing her.

Each night she laid in bed, waiting for the inevitable. Only, it never came. Sleep came instead.

She was reading a murder mystery book, although she wasn’t really paying much attention to it, when the main door opened. Within seconds Bone appeared, and he held a wrapped item of clothing with him. She stood and turned toward him.

“Wear this.” He clicked his fingers. “I want her hair and makeup done.”

At first, she hadn’t noticed the man and woman following behind him. He threw the garment he was holding across the sofa, and then without a single look, he was gone.

Now, she was left with two strangers, both of whom looked at her, assessing. This was new. She was so used to people looking at her like she was a lost cause.

“I think I’m going to do my best work, with the dress on,” the man said.

The woman looked at her, and came toward her. “Come on, what Boone wants, he gets.”

And with that, for the next hour, she was pushed into the most obscene dress she had ever seen.

She never wore jeans. At home, she was only ever allowed in skirts and dresses.

Her father simply didn’t allow her to be in anything else.

It had to be a dress, and never one like this.

The dress dipped down, heading toward her stomach, and yet seemed to stop.

Her breasts were pushed together, and her cleavage was shown, however, not her nipples.

It looked revealing and classy at the same time.

She had never been in such a beautiful dress, which was a deep red.

Next, after the dress, Mitchell got to work on her hair, while Sandra worked on her makeup. Not once did she hear that it was a lost cause, or she was useless, or ugly. There was none of that.

Within the hour, she had been transformed. Her long brown hair she often saw as dull had a lifeful sheen to it, with a curl and bounce that surprised her. She didn’t have a lot of makeup on her face, but the smoky eye colors and subtle hint of blush were simply perfect.

For the first time in her life, she could actually pass as pretty. Part of her wanted to think she was beautiful, but she knew that wasn’t the case. There was nothing beautiful about her. But she might pass for pretty .

Once they were done, Boone, not Bone, was standing out in the hallway, dressed in a suit, his usual style. Black pants, white shirt without a tie, and a jacket. He always looked so in control and put together.

She watched as he clicked on his cell phone, before looking up. He looked her up and down, nodded his head.

“Good job,” he said.

Without another word, her hand was grabbed and she was being marched out of the apartment.

She didn’t have a choice but to keep up with him.

There was no way she could tell him no. That word is not one that is meant to be said to a husband.

Her mother had told her so. What the husband wanted, he got, without having to work for it.

All the woman had to do was ... exactly as she was told.

A wife’s duty was to comply, submit, and provide children.

They were suddenly in an elevator, and Lucia couldn’t help it, she tried to wrap her arms around her body.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m ... this is ... I’m not used to this.”

“Get used to it. Do not cover yourself again,” he said. “It’s not cold out.”

That’s true. It was still the height of summer.

She took a deep breath. She was never allowed to reveal too much of her body. This was crazy and so bizarre.