The Mafia Boss And His Contract Wife

MARIELLA

Pain, guilt, regret, shock, hatred, fear and anger are emotions much stronger than love, happiness, relief, gratitude and respect—that was the only lesson I had ever learned from my papa, Danilo Romano, the Underboss of Minneapolis.

The first time I had experienced one of those overwhelming emotions was when Papa had announced the news about the Capo of Cosa Nostra Adonis Vitale having a secret wife and a daughter.

At first, it was just shock. Since the age of thirteen, I had been told that he would be my husband and that we would marry him once I turned eighteen, which I had three months ago. Second, came anger. Adonis Vitale had a wife and a daughter of eight years yet his uncle David had been giving false promises to my papa for years now, hopes that I would be the wife to keep the Capo happy and that my children would be the future of Cosa Nostra.

The Vitales tore papa’s spirit and pride apart, and now even his daughter’s marriage was in line. Papa had not promised me to anyone, whereas girls born in the mob world were betrothed at an early age, just at David’s word and for the sake of their relationship and Papa’s power.

At last, there was pain… with a hint of regret. The regrets were for my feelings for Adonis Vitale. That was the source of my pain.

Marrying a man fourteen years older than me devastated me at first. Adonis Vitale was praised for his cruelty and mercilessness. Yet, I had tried to focus on the good, like his love for art and Italian culture and also his aversion toward the old traditions. I had prepared myself to be the wife he would want, just like I had been raised to do. Above all, I loved him, even if it had been from the distance. Even though he had never noticed me.

But things did not stop there.

Adonis Vitale had chosen a match for me. As a capo, he could, but as a man who could’ve been my husband, he shouldn't have. He had zero regrets and no remorse for what he had done to me. Instead, he had just declared that the man would be a good fit for me and Papa, like an obedient servant of his, had agreed.

Fast forward to a few weeks later and here I was, standing in front of the mirror and trying to hold my composure. The dark green satin dress with a halter neckline and a high slit on the leg was to make me look older, and the stilettos were to make me taller because I was the hype of the evening.

It was my engagement party, yet I didn’t know the man who would put the ring on my finger. Surely I knew his name and how Papa had once described him as ‘a piece of incompetent shit’ in front of the family. Yet, no one had been happier about my marriage to that same man than Papa.

“Are you ready?” My younger sister, Arabella, entered the room, her brown hair braided at the back and her frock clinging between her sticklike legs. Arabella and I differed by only two years, yet she and I looked nothing alike, except for our doe eyes and pouty lips. I had blonde hair, like my mama. “Mama will be up any minute with the same question.”

I took a long gulp and then exhaled, my muscles too tight to move from the vanity. I looked at my sister’s reflection in the round mirror. She was lucky that she would get to choose whoever she wanted to be with and not be bartered away for the benefit of the family. It was always the eldest child’s burden to bear.

“Where’s Papa?”

“He’s downstairs tending to the guests. There are fewer people compared to our cousin’s engagement party back in Florida.”

“He didn’t have the time to invite many people, since it all happened so fast,” Mama said, walking into my room with a pair of silver earrings in her hand. “I believe these will look good.”

I took the earrings from her and said, “Thank you. The stones on these match with the one on my necklace as well.”

She nodded. “I know. Now, hurry. Be ready.” Arabella grinned from the side and Mama quickly asked, “What’s that face?”

“What?” She shrugged. “That’s my everyday smile.”

“No, that’s your I-told-you smile. I’ve raised you and paid attention enough to know how you look when there’s something mischievous going on in that little head of yours.” Mama took a deep breath and said to her, “Listen. Try not to grab too much attention with your silly jokes or snorting laugh or else it’ll be you on the marriage pedestal and not your sister. She’s the quieter one.”

“I’m sure you’ll be delighted to get rid of me,” Arabella said, rolling her eyes and standing next to me. “Now you can go downstairs before Papa starts telling people stories about how he saved his men from pirates.” I laughed and put on the earrings before shifting away from my vanity table. As soon as Mama left the room, she added, “I’ll be in my best behaviour.”

“Will you?”

“I can’t promise,” she whispered. “Besides, who’ll help you if you decide you can’t tolerate your fiancé and want to get rid of him?”

“Getting rid of him isn’t an option, Ara.” I cautioned, “Papa’s reputation’s in line.”

“It’s not about reputation. You’ll be married, and in two years, he’ll send me away to an unknown household as well,” she gritted. “He just wants to get rid of us and be free of the burdens of caring for his daughters.”

“Papa is not like that, and you know it.”

Our papa differed from other fathers I had heard of from my friends. He was a powerful man, and that oozed off of him, but he had never considered showing that off inside the four walls. He loved us all, even though he rarely ever said it out loud.

“Then why is he forcing you to get married?” she asked.

“He didn’t force me,” I admitted. “I agreed to it because I know of the consequences of not being married in time. Better to marry a stranger than be single forever, only to bring shame and rumours to the family. That is how our world is. You know how the consigliere’s sister is suffering, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah. How could I not? Papa keeps talking about Rosaline Guerra like she’s the fresh meat of the day,” she scoffed. “But we’re talking about Papa here. He should’ve consoled you, told you that caring about his reputation isn’t your duty. But he remained quiet and behaved like it was your decision.”

“Well, it is my duty to care for him. He’s my father.”

“And it’s his duty to care for you as well. What if this man that you’re marrying doesn’t treat you nicely? Or beats you up? Or abuses you against your wishes?” Her questions rendered me speechless.

I had thought about these. But how was I supposed to tell my sister that I would choose to be quiet? “We won’t know until we see him, Ara,” I said calmly, even though my thoughts were tumultuous.

“A man’s appearance shouldn’t be the judge of him,” she warned.

I huffed. There was no arguing with her. “Is he here?” I asked, instead.

“Your fiancé? No. I heard David Vitale saying he’ll be late,” Arabella answered in a whisper.

I shook my head and groaned. “Not him. Is Adonis Vitale here?”

She straightened and frowned. “I’ve seen you fawn over Adonis Vitale almost all my life when he didn’t even know you existed.”

My face scrunched with discomfort, but the person my sister was, she didn’t care. She would rub the truth on my face, even if it hurt.