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.

“It was all you in your own head with you and Adonis and your two perfect kids. But face it! It was never meant to happen.” Before I could speak, she added, “He has a perfect wife. A wife who’s not an eighteen-year-old.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Word in the air. She’s something around twenty-five or six and is the eldest Rossi heir.”

“Rossi? You mean the Outfit?”

Arabella nodded. “She’s a Mafioso princess, a capo’s sister.”

That explained why she had been the recent talk in the Cosa Nostra. Outfit and Cosa Nostra’s alliance was a huge deal in the entirety of America, and the bond was being held by Adonis Vitale’s wife.

Arabella spoke, “It’s been a month since their wedding and everyone’s still talking about what a good pair Adonis Vitale and his wife make.”

My insides curled. I shouldn’t have been sad at my engagement party, but there was no denying the pain I felt. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“I’m trying to make you realise that there’s no chance of anything happening between you and him.” She went on, “He’s a married man now. Has been for the past eight years.”

“Why do you think he kept her hidden?” I’d been wondering about this for weeks. At least if Papa had known about this woman, he would’ve told me and I wouldn’t have held onto false expectations.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Arabella said. “You were in love with him. He wasn’t. He loves his wife and his daughter if he knows what love even is. You were never in the hundred-meter radius of his life, so it’s you who needs to move on from him. And not him that needs to regret leaving you.”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“But it is the truth. It’s better if it hurts you now than in front of those guests down there.”

I closed my eyes and licked, the taste of my strawberry lip gloss coating my tongue. I didn’t want to go through.

I had once imagined how it would feel like to stand in a room filled with people and a man, specifically Adonis Vitale, claiming me as his. But the person standing on the dais with me today wouldn’t be him. Adonis would be amongst the audiences, cheering, while another man bound me to him forever.

And that man would be Eros Castellanos.

***

EROS

Nothing had ever pissed me enough to make me lose my mind, except for Elias Morello and his schemes, which were a completely different chapter. What I meant was that I had never been this pissed at my brother. But today was a special occasion.

It was my engagement party, and I was running late. I was screwed . . . on the spot of my car by this hot brunette sucking on my dick at this very moment.

I looked down to meet Ira’s eyes, her lips perfectly wrapped around my cock like some blowjob expert.

On usual days, I would’ve enjoyed every head she was willing to give me, but right now, all I did was watch her and my wristwatch every five seconds, wondering when I would finish. My orgasm was a far cry.

Pulling her lips away, licking the tip a few times, she looped her fingers around me and said, “I think the thoughts of your new child bride are messing with your head today.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I don’t know what makes me sadder—the fact that you’re getting married or that I’m not invited to it,” she said grimly.

I lifted her chin up and, drawing my face close to hers, I whispered, “You know I can’t invite you. My brother will kill me, and above all, it’s better if you stayed away from our world. I like it better this way.”

I had met Ira two years ago when she was just twenty, still thriving for a career. I had taken her as my assistant for a short while before I discovered that she herself was the daughter of an influential businessman in the south. She had left me and joined her father’s company, but she and I kept seeing each other.

“I really want to see who this girl is.” She pulled herself up on my lap, my hard cock rubbing the wet fabric of her panties. She ground against me, saying, “Even if it’ll just be for once, I’m jealous that she’ll have something that has been mine for the longest time.”

I slumped back, releasing a heavy breath while she slid the crotch of her panties and settled herself on me, my erection fully inside her, her pussy warm and soaking. She rode me, clutching onto the shoulder of my tuxedo tightly.

“It’s a tradition, so there’s no way of going around it.”

She moaned. “I know.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” I said, against her lips and kissed her, her tongue laving mine desperately.

She had been jealous about my marriage, but she knew it was important. When Domenico, Adonis’s Consigliere, had suggested it, I remembered laughing like a moron, almost rolling off of my chair. But then he stated the facts and reasons behind that decision.

My childish choice many years ago about being a part of the mob world had cost me many things. But above all, it had cost me my sanity. Yet still, it demanded more. Other underbosses demanded that I either be a part of it according to their customs or not at all. And after coming this far with my brother, I couldn’t just step off of my position as the underboss of Manhattan and lose everything I had.

These Mafia customs demanded my marriage, a tattoo on my skin—branding me as a part of the Cosa Nostra forever—and a murder, all of which I had avoided long ago, because my brother, Adonis Vitale, was the capo, the boss of all bosses.

There was no escape anymore. No avoiding my fate.

Marrying Mariella Romano was for only one reason. Power. Her father was one of the most powerful underbosses, and that would have me a solid spot and allies that would come in handy. Because there was more than one person waiting to pluck me out of here, like a weed. But I wouldn’t go anywhere.

I smirked as I said, “Just a year or two, until I kill my enemies and then Mariella will be gone, and you and I would finally be together.”