Page 31 of The Mafia’s Bride (The Women of the Mafia #1)
“Fantastic. Try it on.” I shove it into her chest before she can object, turning this conversation and our shared trauma into something productive.
I might not be able to mentally handle my problems, but I can certainly handle my sister’s horrible fashion sense.
I follow her to the back, slapping her hand when she tries to grab a drab looking pair of pants and a skirt that goes to her ankle.
“One more thing,” she says, the studious saint turning into a devil before my eyes. “Loving Lex can be a really great thing. Great for you, for him. From what I understand, love is a hard thing to come by.”
“And if it’s not love?”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “It is. You forget I know you, Sloaney. Always have. You can have happiness, and you don’t have to find it at the bottom of a bottle or in those little pills you find at clubs. ”
Point for her.
“I don’t need a man to be happy,” I remind her. “No one does.”
“No, but love can make you happy. You deserve love, Sloaney.”
The curtain snaps shut, leaving me to my thoughts.
Know-it-all big sisters are the worst.
I part ways with Collins in front of the parking garage where she left her pearly white Benz in. A birthday present from Pops, she’s had a new one every year until his recent death.
Pops didn’t give me the same choice, forcing me to use his driver as a show of his status. Because the daughter who got the most attention was the greatest way to flaunt his wealth. At least I did something right for him.
I pull out my phone, waiting for Lex’s driver to swing by to get me.
He offered to wait at the main street, down the alleyway, where people walked by, oblivious to their surroundings. I decided to let Collins drive me into the city and opted to call him when I was ready to go home.
I skim social media before checking messages and the local news. Somehow, I don’t have a new message from Danica, or even a direct message online.
It’s like she vanished.
God, I hope Lex didn’t kill her.
I wasn’t lying when I told Lex I’d never forgive him. Danica was a shit friend, an okay hookup, but I still didn’t want her dead. Not even if my husband and sister both made good points that she wasn’t the best for me.
I call for the driver.
My thoughts drift from Danica’s whereabouts to the man responsible for her radio silence as I wait.
Seeing Lex with his family dug up a want so visceral in my heart that it’s been hard to fight against. Knowing this family—his family, my family—was there, ready to accept me is indescribable.
I’m not even accepted by my own. Seeing how everyone laughed together, the gentle jokes, made me want it too much to ignore.
Not to mention my feelings for Lex himself.
Is it wrong to like your husband? Is it wrong to want him to own me so entirely that I’m completely one half of his being and he of mine?
No one has ever said I command them. Lex made it a point to tell me that his body, his loyalty, would always be to me.
I can’t think of another person to be so dedicated.
It can’t be that wrong to want him. Or to like him. We’re married .
Did I want to stay married, even with these conflicting emotions, or did I truly still want my freedom?
I wanted my freedom, not because I had a plan to escape, but to find someone who would accept me. Someone who would place no constraints on me, except those I could offer in return. Lex has done that.
Now, I want to own Lex as completely as he does me. I want to be his equal and his partner.
That is freedom.
Pinching my brow, I curse softly. Fuck. Collins is right. I’m falling in love with my husband.
Dropping my phone into my bag, it takes me all of three seconds to feel the cool steel of a gun barrel into the side of my head and hear the click of a safety turning off.
My whole-body freezes, mind blanking. Panic wells inside my throat and the urge to scream is choked down by rancid fear.
“Give me your phone and purse.” The voice whispers into my ear. I smell hot cigarette smoke and old coffee. I try to look at him, but he digs the tip further into my head. Yelping against the pain, I stop.
“Don’t look. Don’t move. Hand it over.”
I do as he says, hands shaking. My shopping bags are by my feet, and he grabs them too as an afterthought.
“And your necklace.”
“What? No.” I shake my head, hitting the gun. He jerks and I still, completely forgetting how easy it is for him to pull the trigger. A trigger that leads to a bullet. A very real bullet that could end my life, right here, on a side street in the middle of rush hour.
I just keep thinking how no one will find my body. How my siblings will never know. How Lex will kill every single person when he finds out someone took me from him. Because he will, I have no doubt of that.
“Hand it over,” he insists, voice muffled behind a mask. That gun clicks and I reach for the cross.
Tears well in my eyes and I can’t stop them from falling. I remove my cross, handing it to him, the final piece of my mother, gone.
“Now. Face down. On the ground.”
Sniffling, I drop to my knees quietly, palms out to catch my fall. “Do you know who I am? Who my husband is?” My voice shakes but I keep pushing. “He’ll never let you get away with this.”
He knocks the gun into my skull, shoving me into the cement. It smells like urine and exhaust and bile rises hard up my throat.
“That’s what I’m hoping for, sweetheart. Such gorgeous red hair,” he coos and I gag. “Keep that pretty face down or I’ll be forced to shoot that pretty little head. Understand?”
A sob escapes my lips, and I close my eyes tight. I’m not going to even attempt to look. I’m at a severe disadvantage and survival instinct is telling me to stay put.
I just spent the whole day avoiding my emotions for my husband, and he’s the last thought I have when facing death.
Ironic.
Footsteps echo around, growing distant, but I stay on the ground. When I open my eyes, I see Lex’s driver running toward me. But I don’t focus on him.
Just on the blurry outlines of my massive diamond that sits on my finger, bandage under it irritating the skin, reflecting the dying sunlight overhead.
Why didn’t he take my ring?