Page 56 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER FORTY

AHANA

N ot deciding was deciding. I knew I had to put on my big girl shoes and either not keep my promise to Vitale or let Pāpā know what had happened since I left India all those months ago.

I didn’t want to lie to my husband. Every day that passed by left the sourness of acid coating the edges of my stomach wall.

So that only left one option open to me.

A gaping hole of imminent heartache either way.

So against all odds, even my sorry expectations of myself, I’d picked the phone up and called Pāpā this morning.

Only to have his calls diverted to his secretary, who’d told me that he had foreign delegates visiting him.

She’d asked me if it was urgent. ‘Yes’, was what I should have said.

But I chickened out. Took the excuse she gave me when I knew if I’d said yes, she’d have put the call through to him.

One day wasn’t going to make a difference.

Until I realised after hanging up that it was a Friday.

I’d have to wait two more days to have Pāpā alone in the office again.

Frustration crawled at my inability to speak up.

Hatred brewed at my own cowardice. To distract myself from banging my head against the wall, I threw myself at my work.

My husband, though, kept to his word. Several maids from the main house had arrived before he left for work.

Part of me had thought he wouldn’t go through with it.

He had been balls deep inside me when he’d said that, and if I had to do all the shit I screamed out to get off…

I guessed he wasn’t like that. Something about it added an extra weight to his scale.

As if it wasn’t tipping enough already because, well, I thought I loved the man.

It should have made me break out into a song and dance in a garden like in a Bollywood movie.

But the thing about ignoring the inevitable was the weight of it that took you down.

It clung to your conscience like a deadbeat.

The sinking feeling in my heart remained, no matter what I did.

I didn’t even care about how Maa or society would react.

But what this would do to Pāpā and the consequences for Amara…

The dread in my heart throbbed insistently.

Refused to budge even when I got the call that I was getting the contract to do the marketing for a well-known restaurant chain all over Europe.

I got it!

It was an autopilot gesture. I had texted him without giving it much thought. His answer was instant, and it seeped into my heart like warm honey.

Of course you did.

You could act surprised!

Why? Told you. You’re the queen of your kingdom. We’re celebrating tonight.

Huh… I know how you celebrate, and I’m not in the mood.

Yeah right. Send me a picture to prove it.

Please…

Then you’re in the mood.

I want to go clubbing with Lia.

Rash? Yes. But a new adventure could distract me. I was sick of the imagined gossip echoing in my heartbeat. Sick of the nightmares, detailing the scandal of my family. I found Lia’s number and typed.

Want to go clubbing tonight?

Ugh? Aren’t you married to my brother?

Your point?

He’s allowing this?

He’s about to.

Yeah right. I love how you think you’ll get away with it.

I ignored his incoming message.

Of course I will.

Another message from him that I swiped away.

Right. Even I wouldn’t try this shit with him. He went all caveman when you were just visiting us.

A third ping.

That was different. He thought… I don’t know what he thought. But that’s resolved.

Fourth.

Have you even gone clubbing before?

An incoming call. I swiped it away.

No. That’s why I want to. Have you?

No. Daria has and it didn’t end well.

Hold on. Vitale’s calling.

I bet he is.

I wasn’t even surprised by his message. Secretly, I’d wanted to see the obsession he had with me.

What the fuck do you want to go clubbing for?

And it’s a no.

Ahana, it’s a fucking no.

Over my dead body.

MISSED CALL.

Answer the damn call.

What if I go without Lia?

No.

If I take your goons?

No.

Fine. You can come with me.

No.

You’d think that’s the only word you know. Can I not go clubbing?

Yes.

Ughhhhhh. Why not?

No one’s fucking seeing you rock your hips but me.

You’re no fun.

I’m plenty fun. We can have our own party. It starts with your pussy.

Entertaining. But I wanted to go out. Get out and forget. Just for one night. To get me through two days of agony before I tried again.

How about a dinner?

I’ll eat anything on your pussy.

No! I mean I’ll go out for a dinner with the girls. Daria’s still in town and…

That’s supposed to make feel me better?

Please. I don’t ever want to feel imprisoned.

Get used to it.

It just brings back memories.

…

The dots appeared and disappeared. A second later, the phone rang in my hand. His voice was tight and controlled but edged with a warmth that seeped into my soul.

“I don’t want to make you unhappy, mia ammaliatrice.”

“Then, don’t,” I whispered.

“Pick another night. I don’t have time to join you.”

“But Daria’s leaving tomorrow.”

“I hate my sisters,” he groaned.

I stayed silent. Gave him the time he needed.

He sighed. “Fine. But I pick the restaurant and who’s going with you. Capisci ?”

“ Capito .”

“Fuck. Your accent deserves my cock.”

I didn’t even have a comeback for that. Luckily, he didn’t wait for it before hanging up.

Somewhere between that first message and him hanging up, the dread in my heart had eased up.

I knew how difficult it was for him to relinquish his control.

Still, he’d done it. For me. I’d tell Pāpā on Monday when he was back in the office and I had him on a call alone.

I’d be careful about giving him the details.

Maybe not spill all the details in one go.

Vitale deserved my everything. So a few hours later, in between my first alcoholic drink and the second, I slipped into the restroom of the restaurant and sent him a picture. To thank him.

VITALE

Fuck.

I stared at my wife’s naked pussy. How could I both love and hate being married? Love because, well she was my wife. Hate because of all the fucking compromises I had to do to make her happy.

Fuck it.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and strode up to the door. Antonio looked at me from where he was sitting across my desk, a question in his gaze.

“Let’s go.”

He did nothing to hide his smirk. “Thought you were giving her space?”

I yanked the door open. Suddenly, the office I kept in the city was suffocating. “I did. She got an hour on her own.”

He sauntered up to me and gave me a patronising squeeze on my shoulder. “Join the club, Vitale.”

The moment we entered the restaurant, I could locate where they were seated.

All we had to do was follow the direction of the giggles and the entertainment of the other diners.

Right in the corner and away from the windows, a circle of black suits hid the girls seated around an oval table with Martello and one of his brothers.

He’d apparently thought to add his own set of men as well.

I frowned at the bunch of idiots from fucking New York parting for Antonio and me to enter.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I grumbled at Martello. He was slouched back in the bench seat, cigarette in his hand, with his other hand under the table and a flushed Daria next to him. Why did he have to marry my fucking sister?

He shrugged. “I don’t trust your protection.”

A comeback was at the edge of my tongue, but Ahana’s hand wrapped around mine and tugged.

She was gorgeous in a yellow dress that covered her body from top to toe.

It was too fucking tight. I could see every curve and dip right through it.

I was agitated. Didn’t fucking like sharing her.

My glare burned on every other man for having seen her as I sank into the bench next to her.

I’d barely put my ass down before she pulled me by my collar and smacked her lips on mine.

Fuck—ing hell.

This was new. Not that I objected. But it was so uncharacteristic of her that I had to drag my mouth away after a full minute of making out with her.

“Hi, husband.”

Her cheeks were flushed. My sight dropped instantly to her lap. Thank fuck. No hands on her. I frowned. What wa—her eyes were diamonds. Fuck. She was drunk.

I eyed the champagne on the table. “You’re drunk,” I murmured.

“Not true.” She held up three fingers. “I only had two.”

Daria burst out laughing from the other corner. I scowled at her. “If you’d taken your eyes off your jackass husband, you would have seen this.”

“Hey, I didn’t know she’d never had alcohol before.”

I grinned and ran my knuckles softly along her cheek. “You’ve never had alcohol, baby?”

“Another first. You know my marriage to you is full of firsts.” She turned to the table and proclaimed proudly, “Yesterday I gave him a blow job.” The room silenced before the entire table exploded in laughter.

Martello brushed his knuckle to hide his grin, and my consigliere didn’t even bother.

The tables next to us watched with rapid attention.

Ahana’s eyes were wild. With her hand clapping over her mouth, she turned to me, face heated. “ Are yaar, what did I say?”

I grinned. Well, now they knew she belonged to me. “Nothing but the truth, mia ammaliatrice.” Her gaze was hazy and full of scepticism. “But maybe it’s time to get you home.”

“No. I’m celebrating. We haven’t even had anything to eat yet.”

“I know,” I muttered. “That’s the problem.” I leaned closer to her and ran my mouth along the soft shell of her ear. “What do you prefer? Damage control tomorrow for embarrassing shit you’d said in public, or only to me?”

She stumbled up on her feet before I’d leaned back. “Let’s go.”

Gladly.

I pulled her out of the restaurant to the giggles of my family.

When I buckled her in, her gaze had shifted to miserable. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For embarrassing you.”