Page 50 of Vows of a Mobster

“No, he kept a woman once for seven weeks,” Marissa muttered.

Someone seriously needed to hit all three of us upside the head. To be discussing this like it is normal, planning how long I’d have to sleep with the boss of one of the most feared mafia organizations.

“Okay, max two months,” I mumbled. “How does it usually work? Does he have a schedule? I need a schedule.”

Their faces told me there was no schedule. “What?” I panted, anxiety slowly creeping into me. “At his beck and call?” They didn’t have to confirm it; it was all over their faces. And to think just earlier today, I thought I wouldn’t mind being on his speed dial. I should be careful what I wish for. “I can’t do beck and call. Can’t he… can’t we negotiate?”

Yeah, that was a dumb question. Let’s ask the head of the mob family if we can negotiate when I should be available.

“We are so fucked,” I muttered.

“Daphne and I can stay here permanently,” Marissa murmured. “Till he is done with-”

She cut herself off.Till he is done with me.

“And then what?” I asked. “I can’t be his secretary when he is done with me. I need that insurance.” Desperation was shaking me to the core.

“I’m doomed either way,” I whimpered. “If he gets tired of me sooner, I can help Emma through her treatments, but I’ll be jobless and without insurance. If I tried to keep him interested in me longer, I won’t be here for Emma at all.”

“Maybe we should tell him she is sick?” Daphne suggested.

I looked at Marisa. She knew him the best. “What do you think, Mar?” I asked her, swallowing hard.

“If we tell him, he’ll get the connection,” she rasped back. “Remember, the only reason Giovanni got off so easily was because he said there was a sick child involved. Mateo is too smart not to make connections. He doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

The sound of the boiling and burning stove had us all turning.

“Shit, I burned our dinner,” I muttered.

Marissa pulled out her phone. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll order delivery.”

I suddenly lost my appetite. “Did you bring alcohol?” I asked her.

She nodded. “It’s still in the Jeep.”

I went to fetch it. How was it possible for everything to turn so sour in one afternoon?

When I was back, we poured wine in our glasses and gulped it down. I wasn’t sure there was enough alcohol to survive this.

“I better feed Emma.”

I fixed a quick dinner plate with leftover spinach from last night, chicken and light rice.

“Emma, come and eat dinner,” I called her.

I watched dark circles under my daughter’s eyes. They were getting more and more frequent. I was surprised she made it all afternoon playing. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I caught Marissa’s eyes on me and tried to smile reassuringly at her. But I knew it was a shaky smile at best.

“Mommy, I’m sleepy,” Emma spoke through her yawn. She barely had five bites. Her appetite has decreased too but her doctor said not to worry about it. As long as she ate something.

“That’s ok, sweetie. Here, have some apple juice with your medicine.” I grabbed her medicine and she knew the drill.

“Auntie Marissa, will you take me to bed?” Emma had stifled another yawn. It was barely six in the evening.

“Sure,” Marissa’s voice shook, and I swore my eyes burned. Emma came to me for her hug and I squeezed her. I was so scared. Even before finding out Mateo was the boss, worry about Emma’s future shook me. Now, I was petrified.

Emma wiggled out of my arms, and I realized I held on to her too long. She went to Marissa and I noted her eyes glistening with tears.

Marissa and Emma climbed the stairs to her bedroom.