Arranged - Pt. 6 (Blindsided)
mafia!Chris Evans x Female Reader
Series Summary: Living in this life, you've never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you're dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you're pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He's the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.
Warnings: language, alcohol, arranged marriage (chris's family signs contract with readers family that promises their first born daughter to their first born son), parental abuse mentioned, age gap. Reader is 25, Chris is 35. Guns, violence, blood. this series has smut (18+ only). Lot's of angst in this part.
W/C: 8.3k
This is a work of fiction.
Italian and Italian translation in italics. (The translations were run by someone who fluently speaks Italian, if there are any corrections to be made, please let me know!)
Lydia's hands cupped your shoulders, pushing you back to do a once over, "Well, don't you just look perky and freshly fucked!"
"Jesus, Lydia!" You pulled away from her, smacking her arm before taking a seat across from her.
She wasn't exactly wrong.
It'd been a couple of weeks since the night you told Chris you loved him and you guys had just about christened every surface in the house. The bathroom vanity, both dining room tables, the kitchen counter, the pool, his desk in the study.... A bookshelf... You couldn't keep your hands off of each other and neither of you were bothered by that. He'd fucked you over the hood of his car just 20 minutes ago before the two of you parted ways. The man was insatiable. Although it definitely wasn't one sided. Being with Chris was like having all the comfort of coming home after a long day, mixed with the adrenaline rush of jumping out of a plane coasting at 20,000 feet in the air. You couldn't get enough either.
Your eyes scanned the tables around you, hoping they were oblivious to the comment she'd just made, "Why are you like this?"
A grin spread across her face as she swept her long black hair over her shoulder, "You love me."
"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes, smiling at your best friend. You studied her face for a second, her normally bright, vibrant, green eyes seemed tired, dull. If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have noticed the dark circles under eyes, strategically covered with concealer. You chewed on your lip for a second, your smile faltering, "Lyds... you doing okay?"
She waved you off, taking a sip of the mimosa in front of her, "I'm fine."
"I've known you for like 22 years, what's going on?"
Her hands rubbed against her thighs as she shrugged, "It's just– everything with Seb. I don't know. It sucks."
It'd been a little over 2 months since Seb was targeted by the Irish Mob, resulting in a shattered orbital socket, broken nose, 4 broken fingers, a small tear in his rotator cuff, and a sprain in his ACL. Not to mention the internal injuries he'd sustained. Seb was on the mend now, granted he had a slight limp and bore a few extra scars, but Lydia had confided a couple weeks ago that he was also dealing with some pretty nasty PTSD nightmares. Not to mention they still hadn't really made any headway. They knew it was the Irish, but they didn't know how they knew where Sebastian was and how they got to him.
Her green eyes filled with tears, "He's just... not the same. And I don't expect him to be, I just don't know how to help."
You reached across the table, pulling her hands out of her lap and squeezing her hand gently, "He's a tough guy, Lyds. And he's got a pretty tough gal at his side. You guys can get through anything," you paused, not wanting to say anything untoward, "Do you... do you want me to talk to Chris? See if he has any resources for Seb to get some help? I can't imagine this is the first time someone in the family has dealt with something like this."
Both you and Lydia knew that Sebastian wouldn't ask for help. Stupid cavemen. But maybe if you brought it up to Chris and Chris approached him, it would be different.
She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug, "I don't know, Y/N, honestly," she scratched her eyebrow with her thumb, "Part of me thinks it might help, but then the other part of me thinks that it'll just make things worse."
"I know what you mean... I don't know, Lyd, I just wanna help. I hate seeing you like this. Both of you."
You had only seen Seb once or twice since he was jumped and it crushed you. You'd cried to Chris after the first time, guilt washing over you. Chris did everything he could to convince you it wasn't your fault, but that was also one of the first times Chris stayed with you all day instead of tending to business and you couldn't help but think that if Chris was with everyone, it wouldn't have happened.
She let out a humorless laugh, "And I wasn't even the one on the brink of death." She rolled her shoulders, as if shaking off the conversation, patting her eyes with the cloth napkin, "Anywho, let's talk about anything else, please, like the fact that your shirt is missing a button and you're missing an earring," she teased, wiggling her eyebrows at you.
You gasped, looking down at your blouse and sure enough, one of the buttons securing the fabric over your breasts was missing. Your hands flew to your ears, scowling when both earrings were in place.
Her eyebrows wiggled again, "Care to share the class?"
"I do not," you shook your head, your mind flashing back to the garage where you laid sprawled out over the hood of Chris's Bentley. He'd ripped open your shirt, but you hadn't even thought about the fact that he might have torn a button.
Lydia threw herself back against the chair, whining, "Oh, come on! Let me live through you. I'm not getting any, I wanna know all about your sexcapades with Chris."
You had no intention of sharing any intimate moments of your life with Chris with anyone, especially with Lydia, but you also had a soft spot in your heart for her. So you conceded, knowing that even for just a moment, this would take her mind off of Sebastian. You cleared your throat, eyeing the tables around you again, "Fine. We– uh... before I left..." your voice lowered, "wehadsexonthehoodofhiscar," whispered, your words slurring together.
She leaned forward, "Huh?"
Sighing, you scrunched your face, "We had sex on the hood of his car," you repeated, looking at the shocked expression on Lydia's face.
"THE HOOD OF HIS CAR?!" She exclaimed, her head falling back as she laughed.
"Shhhhh! Lydia, Jesus! Keep it down," you reached across the table, smacking her arm. As embarrassed as you were, seeing the smile on her face as she momentarily forgot what Seb was going through made it worth it. You shrugged, "We were both leaving... we kissed goodbye... he said he liked my ass in these jeans and.... Yeah," your voice trailed off, not needing to fill in the rest. Lydia always had quite the imagination.
She laughed again, "Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?"
You groaned, "I don't know, he just– does something to me. Like brings something out in me, I can't control myself when I'm around him."
Her amused grin was replaced by one that held sentiment, "I'm so happy for you, Y/N. Like on another level. You were so worried about Chris and... it truly sounds like you found your other half. Not a lot of people in this life get that and... I'm happy that you're happy, hon."
"Thank you," you smiled, swallowing the lump in your throat, "I– I told him I loved him," you held your breath, anxious for her response. You hadn't told Lydia that you were falling in love while it was happening or when you'd told Chris, only that you guys had been intimate. Now, given it was a couple of weeks after the fact, you weren't sure what her response was going to be.
She shook her head in surprise, eyes widening as she processed what you'd just said, "You told him you loved him? You love him?!" She all but shrieked.
Once again, you were shushing Lydia in Mr. Ricci's crowded restaurant with the biggest smile on your face, "I do, I really do. It's not that big of a deal, Lyd!"
She scoffed, "Not that big of a deal my ass, Y/N! You're–" her voice lowered to barely a whisper, "–in love with the most dangerous man in the three families. That's a pretty fucking big deal, I'd say!
"He doesn't feel dangerous, at least not to me. I mean, I've seen what he's capable of, to an extent, but he feels bad if we're laying in bed and he tickles me too hard."
Her mouth dropped open, "Wow. Chris fucking Evans... tickling someone."
You giggled, "You know, he told me he loves me, too." you rolled your eyes at her shocked silence, "Pick your jaw up off of the ground, gonna be hard to enjoy Mick's frittata like that."
"God, look at you. The pussy that turned Chris Evans soft."
"Why do you have to be so crass!" you shook your head, not able to stop the next bit coming from your mouth, "And to be fair, I think my pussy has done anything but turn him soft."
"Who are you?!" She threw her head back laughing and you smiled, happy to take her mind off of everything, even at your own expense.
A few hours later, Vinnie dropped you back off at home, Chris's car still missing from the driveway. You shot him a quick text, letting him know you were home before climbing the stairs to your bedroom.
Chris: Be home in 20, Romano and Stan are with me. Got some club stuff to handle before this evening. How was lunch?
You: good, remind me to talk to you about Seb when you get home.
Chris: good or bad?
You: nothing crazy.
You: neither good or bad. I mean, kind of bad. But not what you're thinking.
You: nothing involving organized crime or beating people up in our study.
Chris: cute *eye roll emoji*
Chris: Delete that.
You: Already on it *eye roll emoji*
Chris knew that you cared deeply for Sebastian, he was like a brother to him and with most of Chris's family living in Italy now, they leaned on each other now more than ever. He would hear you out and probably even talk to Sebastian just to appease you. But it didn't matter, you'd take it. Even if he was just doing it for you.
Chuckling at your joke, you tucked your phone in your pocket as you walked into your bedroom when you heard Gina calling out after you, "Mrs. Evans! Do you have a second?"
Spinning on your heels, you came face to face with Gina as she power walked down the hall, flashing her a smile, "anything for you, what's up?" You nudged her on the arm, "and please, call me Y/N."
She smiled, "Y/N, yes! Well... Mr. Evans normally pays me for the week on Fridays and I was wondering if you've seen him?"
Oh. Right. Why did it never dawn on you that she was paid to be here? Not just to hang around and offer cleaning and life advice whenever Chris was busy.
"He's out, he should be back in about 20 minutes. Does that work?"
She glanced at her watch, "Um, well I have to get my son from school."
You patted her arm, "of course! Let me call him," pulling out your phone, you dialed Chris who picked up almost immediately.
"Hey, everything okay?"
You smiled, "Yeah, Gina was wondering about her pay? She's gotta pick up her son and can't stick around. What can I do?"
"Shit, tell her I'm sorry. There's a safe in my nightstand, code is 1215. Pull out three grand."
Holding up a finger to Gina, you walked into your bedroom and kneeled down to where the safe was, "three grand?"
"Too much?"
"Not enough," you countered, laughing.
You heard him snort out a laugh, "Give her five, then."
"I thought you were supposed to be some kind of badass, you big softie."
"Ah hush, I'll see you soon," he laughed again, "I love you."
"I love you, too, bub," you hung up, sliding the phone into your back pocket before counting out five grand. When you pulled out the last stack of cash, a packet of paper poked out, your name in bold letters next to Chris's. You furrowed your brows, reaching for the packet when Gina shuffled her feet behind you. Remembering what you were doing, you left the safe open and walked the cash over to her, "Here, G. I'm sorry for the delay. I'll make sure you're paid in the morning from now on, promise."
She stared at the cash in your hand, then shook her head, "That's way too much, Mrs. Evans."
"Y/N," you cocked an eyebrow, teasing her, "And congrats, you got a raise. I told Chris you didn't make enough," you winked, pushing the cash towards her.
She threw her arms around you, "Y/N, thank you! You have no idea how much this means," you squeezed her gently and pulled away, her expression bringing a smile to your face.
You waved her off, "Don't mention it, you do a lot for us. It's the least we can do."
She tucked a strand of her salt and pepper hair behind her ear, "You're changing him, you know that?"
"What do you mean?"
Her hand reached out, gently resting against your forearm, "In all of the years that I have known Mr. Evans, I have never seen him this happy. His blue eyes have always been captivating, no one can dispute that. But now, they are full of life and you did that."
"Wow– Uh–" you took a second, clearing your throat, "–thank you, Gina. That... means more than you know."
She would never know what that meant to you. Ever. Someone that was impartial and had known Chris beforehand could see the difference your marriage was making in his stone cold exterior and the emotion that swelled in your heart, warmed your entire body.
Gina squeezed your arm slightly, "I just thought you should know."
You hugged her briefly before pulling away, "I appreciate it, now get out of here! Go grab Sean." She thanked you again before heading down the stairs, your mind immediately being pulled back to the packet of paper you saw in the safe.
Walking back into your bedroom, you knelt on the floor in front of his nightstand, pinching the paper between your fingers and sliding it out from underneath the stacks of cash. You studied the front cover, a few key words sticking out.
Marriage.
Obligation.
Payment.
You flipped through the papers, realizing that it was your marriage contract... except.. That couldn't be right. You dragged your index finger across the paper, tracing the inked words as you tried to make sense of what was in front of you.
"This doesn't... what?," you mumbled to yourself, flipping another page. You re-read the same paragraph 7 times before the bile crept into your throat.
Chris signed your contract. 10 years ago. When you were 15 and he was 25. Not his father... This wasn't from birth. This was from 10 years ago! Chris wasn't FORCED into this, he CHOSE you.
"$100,000?!" You whispered. Your father really had sold you to the highest bidder. It was right here in front of you. Your hand in marriage, in exchange for $100,000 on the wedding night, the year you turned 25. Signed off by daddy dearest and the man you'd come to love. Love.
You swallowed against the dryness in your throat, Chris was lying to you. All this time, you constantly reminded him you were in this together, figuring it out together, but he chose you. He signed the contract. And he let you believe it was all his fathers doing.
The tears in your eyes were making it harder and harder to read, the pain in your chest from the betrayal you felt making it hard to catch your breath.
You'd given everything to this man. Every part of you. Emotionally and physically and he's been lying to you the whole time.
All the promises he made to "navigate" the arranged marriage you were forced into felt like a knife in your heart because it was his arrangement. His contract. His payment to your father.
You fell back from your kneeled position on the floor, your back hitting the side of the bed as you cried. Your hands clutched at your chest, silent sobs shaking through your body. A part of you didn't feel like there was a need to feel this betrayed, you knew about the contract. You knew you were Chris's. That wasn't anything new.
But the fact that you'd been lied to by your mother and Chris, two of the people you trusted the most, broke you down. When your mother told you about your contract in high school, she told you that Chris's father and yours made the agreement before they were married. Before any children were born, with the promise that the firstborns would be wed. And now... you were finding out that it was Chris all along.
You pulled out your phone, dialing your mothers number, knowing you had about 5 minutes until Chris was home.
She answered after the second ring, "Tesoro, I was just going to call you! I was-" (honey)
"Mamma," you whispered, your voice cracking, "you lied to me. You both did."
"I– what are you talking about?"
You sniffled, wiping at your nose, "Mamma, Chris signed my contract. 10 years ago."
"Y/N..."
"So you knew?"
She sighed, "It's just the life, dolce ragazza."
"So the two people I love and trust the most have been lying to me this entire time?" your lips quivered as another sob threatened to escape.
"You love him?"
Your hand slammed against the hardwood, "Now is not the time, mamma! You lied to me!" you yelled into the phone, "Chris lied to me," you sobbed out, burying your face into your hands, the phone dropping to the floor. You pulled your knees to your chest as you cried.
A few minutes later, you heard the garage door open as your phone vibrated against the floor. Wiping at your eyes, you opened the text from Chris.
Chris: Be in the study for a few.
With your judgment clouded by blind rage, you snatched the contract from the ground and stood, making your way downstairs. Chris had told you that when the door was shut to his study, you shouldn't come in, but you didn't care. You stomped towards the room, throwing the door open and catching the three men by surprise.
Chris sat at his desk, leaned back in his chair with his right ankle resting on his left knee, his hand scrubbing his beard. Sebastian stood off to the side, his arms crossed as he leaned against a bookshelf, Romano standing next to him. All three heads snapped towards you.
"Y/N–"
You slammed the contract down onto Chris's desk, your index finger jabbing at the bold letters on the front, "What the fuck is this?!" you yelled, locking eyes with Chris, mascara dripping down your cheeks.
Chris sat up straight, clearing his throat and jerking his chin towards the door. Sebastian and Romano filed out of the room.
"Y/N–"
You cut him off again, "You lied to me, Chris! You lied to me!"
He palmed his forehead, taking a deep breath, "I didn't lie to you."
"Seriously?" you scoffed, "Omission of the truth, is still fucking lying! This whole fucking time I thought we were in this together. I thought that we were forced into this. But no, Chris. You fucking chose me! You paid for me!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Y/N, it's not like that, I–"
"I gave everything to you, Chris. Everything!" Your index finger jammed into his chest, "You're a liar. And you've just lost the trust of the only person who will ever truly love you for you and not because they're afraid to get shot. Fuck. You." you turned to walk away, but his hand reached out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to a stop. He stood, towering over you. The hurt he felt inside was clearly readable on his usually stern expression.
"Cara, I need you to listen to me, please."
You yanked your arm from his grip, "Don't call me that," you snapped, "It means nothing. This marriage means nothing. Everything we've worked towards, means absolutely nothing. It's all built on a fucking lie."
He shook his head, his jaw ticking. You could tell he was trying to control his temper, no one ever raised a voice at him like this and you could tell he wasn't used to it, "That's not true, Y/N. You have to know that."
Your voice cracked, "I don't know that, Chris. I don't know anything anymore," shaking your head, you held back the sob that was bubbling in your throat, "But you got what you wanted. A wife. Someone to spread their legs and pass on the family name. And my father got what he wanted. Money and to get rid of me. I guess that's all that matters in this life," you paused, your heart aching as you stared at the man you loved, "I was a fool to think that this–" you paused, gesturing between the two of you, "–was anything more than a business exchange."
Chris stood before you, defeated. His arms hung at his sides, shoulders slumped. For a moment, pride swelled in your chest, knowing you'd been the one to break Chris Evans but it was gone just as fast as it came. "I was going to tell you."
You laughed, not an ounce of humor to be found, "Classic response."
"I was, amore mio, I was. I just– I didn't know how."
"Well, too little, too late," you turned to leave again, but this time, Chris stepped to stand in front of you, his large arms caging you against the wall. You felt his breath against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. You took a couple of shaky breaths, "Let me go."
"No."
"No?"
He shook his head, "We need to talk about this."
You were entirely too hurt to have this conversation with him. The betrayal you felt right now was nothing you've ever felt before, it was crippling. More tears cascaded down your cheeks, "Let me go."
"No," he replied simply.
You could feel the venom of the words you wanted to say stinging against your throat. You tried to choke them down, but you couldn't stop, "And you swore you were nothing like him. I guess that was just one more thing you lied about," you spat.
He pushed off of the wall, stepping back like you'd punched him in the gut. In a way, it felt like you did. You wanted to puke. His large hand drug down his face before falling audibly to his side, "Where do you plan on going?"
"I don't think it matters," you snapped, trying to compose yourself.
He sighed, "Go wherever you want, but I made a promise to you, Y/N. I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you. I'm not breaking that promise. So where do you plan on going?"
"Anywhere but here."
He dipped his chin and you tried desperately to ignore the hurt in his eyes, "Please keep Vinnie close. He's yours for as long as you need."
You rolled your eyes as you stomped out of the study, heading up to the bedroom. You heard heavy footsteps racing after you. You turned on your heels, ready to give Chris a piece of your mind when you saw Sebastian quickly approaching.
"Y/N.. You need to hear him out."
"I don't need to do shit, Sebastian. Stay out of it."
He took another step, "Y/N, you've known me for a long time. You're like a sister to me. Just.. hear him out. There's more than meets the eye."
Without saying another word, you turned and walked into the master bedroom, slamming the door and locking it behind you. You stumbled in a daze through the bathroom, grabbing the first duffle bag you saw and throwing in some overnight things as well as your toiletries. You wouldn't stay gone long, you couldn't impose on anyone like that, but you couldn't be here. At least not tonight.
Once your bag was packed, you grabbed your phone from the floor and called Vinnie, letting him know to come pick you up and then dialed Lydia.
"Miss me already?"
You sniffled, "I do. Can I come over?"
"You okay?"
"No," you answered, your voice cracking.
"Oh, honey... come on over. I'll leave the door unlocked."
You sighed with relief, "Okay, I'll see you soon."
Tucking your phone into your pocket, you opened the door and made your way downstairs. The sound of breaking glass and yelling made you jump. Sebastian and Romano stood outside of the study, their arms crossed as they leaned against the wall. The shouting came from Chris's study. You winced when more glass shattered.
"Y/N–"
"Sebastian, don't," you held up your hand signaling for him to stop getting closer, "Just... tell him I'm going somewhere safe."
He dipped his chin, his jaw clenching shut.
It only took another minute for Vinnie to show up and you were out the door. Once you climbed in, you locked eyes with Vinnie in the rearview mirror, "Please don't tell him where I'm going."
He nodded, but you knew the second he dropped you off, he would tell Chris. After all, it was Chris that paid him. You were just the wife. You rattled off her address, then slid up the partition, allowing yourself to break down again before you got to Lydia's.
You ignored the phone calls from your mother and Chris, eventually just turning your phone off all together, still trying to process every emotion that you were feeling right now. You were so unbelievably hurt by Chris lying to you, yet so in love with him that you wanted him to comfort you. Not Lydia. You wanted to lay in his arms, feel his breath against you, his hands tracing circles on your back.
Burying your face into your hands, you cried. The first man you'd ever loved and he shattered your heart completely.
You hadn't even noticed that Vinnie pulled up to the Ricci's until his knuckles rapped against the back window, giving you a second to yourself. The partition might keep him from seeing you, but it wasn't sound proof. Taking a second to rid your cheeks of any runny mascara, you composed yourself and grabbed your bag while Vinnie opened the door.
Lydia kept her promise, the front door unlocked when you approached. You pushed it open, immediately heading up to her room where she was waiting with shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. You smiled, quite pitifully, with running mascara and quivering lips and wrapped her in a hug.
"God, what happened?" She asked, wrapping her arms around you before pulling back and pouring a couple of shots.
You took a deep breath and retold this afternoon, crying some more, taking some more shots. Sebastian was blowing up her phone– for Chris since you'd turned yours off– and it was starting to drive both of you crazy. Maybe Vinnie had kept his word and not said anything to him?
After several hours and several shots, Lydia shot up in her bed, momentarily swaying from the head rush, "We need to go out."
You snorted, taking a sip of the Screwdriver you'd switched to, "No. I do not look or feel like going on right now. At all."
She turned to face you, "Come on, it'll be the best– hiccup– revenge!"
Shaking your head, you downed the rest of your drink, "What are you talking about?"
"Chris owns the fucking clubs on the strip, Y/N! As soon as you step inside of one, his little goons are gonna go running. You'll be all dolled up, looking totally fuckable and he won't be able to fuck you. The perfect revenge."
"Yeah, no. Not happening."
She whined, "Come on! It'll be fun," she insisted, pulling on your arm. She shook your body gently, "Please! Please!"
If it weren't for the vodka swimming through your veins, you probably would've said no and it would've been a firm answer. But, that would've been 5 shots and 5 mixed drinks earlier and despite how much you wanted to say no, drunk Y/N was always easily swayed by drunk Lydia Ricci.
You groaned, all logic thrown out the window when you pictured Chris being all jealous and protective. Seeing you at the club would most definitely piss him off, that vein in his neck would bulge, he'd probably be wearing a shirt 2 sizes too small so the fabric would strain against his muscles. GOD YES. Goodbye feminism, hello caveman-alpha-husband. You were still pissed, but the thought of him throwing you over his shoulder and dragging you out of that bar (which is the only way you planned on leaving) stirred something deep within you.
"Fine."
Lydia shrieked, standing up and clasping her hands together, "Okay, go wash your face, spruce up your hair. I'll take care of your outfit and get make up ready to go! This is gonna be so fun!"
"I'm gonna get in trouble," You rolled your eyes, your words slurring together just a tad. Enough to tell anyone you were feeling it, but not enough that you didn't want to go out.
30 minutes later, you were dressed in a tiny, black number with a slit that allowed your left thigh to poke through. Lydia let you borrow a pair of heels, 6 inch Louboutins that would drive Chris crazy. You wanted to hate what you were doing, this was silly. He was your husband. But still, Lydia was pretty persuasive and just like that, you were out the door.
You pulled up to the club, a line formed down the street to get in. Luckily (or rather unluckily considering he was immediately going to rat to Chris), Russo was playing the part of dutiful club bouncer tonight. What a freakin' coincidence. You walked up to the door with Lydia, flashing a grin at him.
He reached out, grabbing your bicep, "Mrs. Evans, I think you should go home. Chris won't be happy you're here."
You yanked your arm out of his grasp, "I'll do whatever I please. I'm sure the minute I step through that door, my husband will be made aware of my location. He can come find me if he's that upset that I'm here."
Pushing ahead, Lydia grinned behind you, "Man, this power of being a don's wife is really going to your head."
You laughed, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bar to grab a drink, "One drink and then we have to get on that dance floor," you watched as the crowd of sweaty club goers swayed to the music, hips grinding, hands in the air, as strobe lights flickered around the packed dance floor. The entire room smelled like sweat and vodka and you loved it.
A couple of shots later, you were making your way to the dance floor, Lydia in tow, convinced the evening you had with Chris was a memory of the past. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the talk you'd had with Lydia. You weren't sure, but she'd done her best to try and make you see Chris's perspective, too.
All children in the 3 families had to be married. All children were involved in a contract. It's just the life. And as much as you hated that fucking excuse, you knew it was true. But you knew it wasn't the contract that bothered you. It was the fact that not only your mother, but Chris, too had lied about the terms. You fell head over heels in love with this man and the contract, combined with the lying, was just a reminder that you were nothing but a business transaction.
You felt your chest tighten, downing the rest of your drink to ward off the emotion bubbling in your throat. You were here to have fun. Not wallow over Chris.
Lydia leaned in closer, "You good?"
"Yes! Dance with me!" you yelled back, grabbing her arms and swaying with her.
You threw your head back, hands in the air, sweat beading down your neck as your body moved. You felt the beat of the music, the warmth of the bodies next to you, throwing yourself further into the drunken abyss. Lydia moved beside you, her movements matching yours. You needed this so bad. You felt like a ball of stress, each movement loosening the tension you carried.
Lydia twirled towards you, stopping abruptly and looking over your head, sobering up almost immediately. She gulped, eyes widened at you before she mouthed, good luck.
Turning, you came face to face (well... face to chest...) with a very angry Chris. His jaw was clenched tight and just like you predicted, the vein in his neck was bulging. His arms crossed, biceps flexed against the black button up he wore. Not being able to read the room in your drunken stupor, you looked him up and down, admiring the massive man in front of you. He completed the look with a pair of grey slacks and a black pair of shoes, his brunette hair pushed back out of his face, but lacking the normal style that it normally did. You watched him grind his molars before he spoke up, "What are you doing?"
You could tell he was trying to keep his voice calm, but it wasn't working. Sebastian stood a few feet back in the same, pissed off stance as Chris, motioning for Lydia to follow him. Yup. You were screwed.
"Well, I was enjoying a night out with a friend before you ruined it," you replied, watching Lydia walk out the front door, Seb's hand on the small of her back.
He rolled his shoulders, still trying to keep his composure, "You promised to always answer your phone."
"You promised to never hurt me."
You watched his adam's apple bob as he lost patience, "Let's go."
Again... not reading the room, you groaned and rolled your eyes, "God, you're such a caveman. We were having fun, Chris! Just go, I'll be home when I'm ready."
"I'm ready now."
"And I'm not. I deserve to have fun."
He sighed, "Y/N, come on," he extended his hand out to you.
It took everything in you not to slap it away, "No, thank you."
His eyebrow cocked, "I'm sorry, I must've missed the part where this was up for negotiation. You're leaving. Now."
Such a caveman.
Like a disobedient toddler, you crossed your arms over your chest, smirking when Chris's eyes fell to the cleavage on display.
His eyes met yours again, "You have two options. You willingly walk out of the door, or I throw you over my shoulder and we leave that way."
You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little turned on right now. You swayed on your feet for a second, "I'm not leaving. I'm having fun."
"Alright," he responded, bending over and picking you up. He threw you over his shoulder like it was nothing, the club goers splitting like the red sea as he led you out.
"Dammit, Chris!" you slapped his back in a poor attempt to get him to set you back down, "Let me go!"
He continued to walk towards the door, ignoring your commands.
Fine. You wanna play dirty?
"I'm not wearing any panties, Chris! La tua figa is on display for everyone to see," (your pussy) you yelled. Probably too loud, but it got the point across.
He grunted, reaching out the other hand that wasn't gripping you to his shoulder to his trusty sidekick, Romano, "Jacket. Now."
You rolled your eyes when Eddie slid it off, offering it to Chris, who promptly used it to cover your backside.
Chris carried you outside, Vinnie opening the backseat to the town car he chauffeured you around in. He set you down handing the jacket back to Eddie and crossed his arms, his stoic posture letting you know there was no way to escape this.
Rolling your eyes, you turned to climb into the car when Chris reached up, gripping your chin gently but with enough force to make you pay attention, "Cara, roll your eyes at me one more time and I swear to God, I will bend you over the car and fuck you so hard, you won't be able to stop them from rolling. Capito?"
You gulped, your heart pounding against your chest, "That doesn't seem like a punishment."
"Obviously you don't know me as well as I thought you did."
You felt the twinge in your chest, knowing the double meaning behind his words.
"Get in the car," he demanded, releasing you before stepping around the trunk of the car to climb in on the other side. He immediately threw up the partition. He rambled angrily in Italian, only stopping when he saw the confused look on your face. He sighed, "What are you thinking? Turning your phone off, going to a club with no protection? Are you fucking crazy? Don't you realize who you married, Y/N? This was stupid and careless."
You shrugged, "I was having fun," your words still slurred, you leaned your head against the cool glass window, the lights of the city blurring past you.
Chris was breathing quite heavily next to you and you realized it was him trying to contain the frustration he felt so he didn't spew it at you. A courtesy you hadn't extended earlier.
You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. You felt Chris's hand raise, gently stroking at your jawline. You tensed for a second, your eyes staying shut while his fingers lingered, "Do you really love me?" Your question barely came out as a whisper.
It took him a second to respond, but when he did, it was in Italian, "Più di quanto pensi."
"Traduci," you sighed, too tired to attempt the translation on your own.
"More than you know, cara."
And for the 50th time today, you broke down, tears ruining your newly applied face of makeup. Not that it matters, Chris obviously wasn't letting you go back out tonight.
You felt your chest tightened, your hand clutching at your sternum as you cried. Chris reached over, pulling you closer and securing his arms around you. You sobbed into his chest, your hands gripping the material of his shirt. While you were still angry at Chris, the fact that he still wanted to comfort you after the harsh things you'd said to him, warmed your heart.
You really were in deep with this man.
"I'm still mad at you," you hiccupped.
He chuckled, his fingers brushing down your spine, "I know. We can deal with that tomorrow." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and holding it out to you.
Your face scrunched up, "I don't want that, that's gross."
"It's clean, Y/N."
Still, you hesitated.
You felt his chest shake as he laughed, "It's clean, I promise."
"Thank you," you whispered, taking it from his hands and dabbing your eyes and nose, "Are you taking me to Lydia's?"
"Yes."
Ugh, this man.
"Just take me home, I wanna sleep this off in my own bed."
He dipped his chin, lowering the partition to let Vinnie know, "You scared me."
"I'm only sorry for turning my phone off. I'm not apologizing for anything else. This argument will not be turned on me."
Flashbacks of the gaslighting conversations you used to have with your father flooded your brain. Anytime he did anything remotely wrong, including putting his hands on your or your mother, it was twisted to seem like your fault. "You made me do this."; "If you behaved I wouldn't hit you."; "If my coffee wasn't gross, you wouldn't have that bruise on your cheek." Pathetic.
His head shook, "That's not what's happening, Y/N. I don't expect an apology. I'm not turning the argument on you. But you scared me. That's all. I–" he swallowed the words begging to be said before turning his head to look out of the window.
"Cosa?" (what?) you asked, looking up at him.
The corners of his lips twitched at your Italian, "You're getting better."
"Don't change the subject," you warned, cocking an eyebrow at him.
He sighed, looking down at you, "I was scared that you turned off your phone, yes. I couldn't bear to think about what would've happened if you were in trouble and your phone was off. But... when you left. I was scared that you wouldn't come back. And that terrified me."
Your lips quivered at his confession, "I just needed time... to process."
"I know," he responded, looking back out of the window.
"You know... Lydia said la mia figa is turning you soft."
He chuckled, his large hand spread across the small of your back, holding you close to him, "Did she?"
"Oh yeah," you paused, hiccupping, "I quickly told her that my pussy was doing anything but turning you soft," you laughed, laying your head back against his chest.
"Jesus, Y/N."
You shrugged, "It's true."
You rode back to the house in silence, Chris's arm wrapped around you the whole time. Even mad at each other, you still sought the other out. Begging for his comfort while simultaneously wanting to rip him a new one. This is love, huh?
Somewhere along the ride, you must've fallen asleep because the next thing you know, you're rolling over in bed, a jackhammer headache splitting your brain in two. You groaned, shoving your face back into your pillow.
A few minutes later, you heard the door open, "you up?" Chris whispered.
You groaned again, "No."
He chuckled and you tracked the soft padding of his bare feet against the hardwood, knowing he was standing next to you. His hand reached down, stroking your cheek, "come on, you gotta eat something, cara."
Your stomach churned at the thought, "I'm not really in the mood to eat anything that you cook, Chris."
"Wow, I'm gonna pretend like that didn't hurt my ego a little bit," he sat down on the bed, his hand patting your calf over the blanket, "come on, you gotta eat, baby. And we gotta talk."
Your stomach churned again, for an entirely different reason this time, "I don't think I can do that right now," you turned your head to look at him.
He shrugged, "then you'll listen. But you need to get up and get something in your system. I had Gina stop by and make some breakfast."
"Gina isn't supposed to work on weekends," you mumbled into your pillow.
"Come on," he patted your leg again, pushing himself up from the bed and making his way downstairs.
You took a minute to brush your teeth and wash your face before changing into a pair of Chris's sweats and pairing them with a sports bra. It probably was time for you and Chris to discuss this issue like adults. Of course, you were a little to blame for that, but you were completely blindsided by the contract and finding out that Chris had chosen you. At the time, it seemed rational to be so upset and take off. Who could really blame you? This was your first real relationship... your first time being a wife. It was going to take time for you to figure everything out.
Realistically speaking, you knew this wouldn't be your last fight with Chris. Even the happiest of couples fought sometimes, it was inevitable. But like you talked about the first week, it was up to you guys to figure it out together. To conquer the learning curve.
Head still pounding, you made your way downstairs, rubbing your temples at the brightness of the house. Normally, you couldn't get enough of the natural light. Today, you had enough, "Fuck the sun," you mumbled, eliciting a small laugh from Chris. You hadn't realized you said it loud enough for anyone to hear.
"I have some Advil over here," Chris smiled, pushing a glass of orange juice towards the center of the island.
You smiled gratefully, taking a seat and downing the pills with a swig of orange juice.
"Y/N, look. I know that you're not–"
"Hold on, can I speak first?"
He dipped his chin, lifting his mug to his lips with his eyebrows raised, curious as to what you have to say.
"Obviously, as you know, this is the first time I've ever been married–" he smirked, taking a sip of coffee "–and my first time in a serious relationship. And... I don't know... how to process my emotions. I'm sorry that I left. That wasn't right. As your wife– As your partner in life, I owed it to you to hear you out and I didn't. So I'm sorry that I didn't hear you out and I'm sorry that I went out last night."
He smiled, "I think you should apologize to yourself for going out last night," he chuckled, walking over to where you sat. He cupped your cheek with his large hand, still warm from the coffee mug he held in it just moments ago. Your eyes traveled from his to his bare chest, your index finger tracing the various tattoos. He cleared his throat, snapping you back to the conversation, "I think you know that this is also the first time I've been married or in a serious relationship and I'm sorry that I scared you. I'm sorry that I lied to you. I know at the time, it seemed like a convenient answer, but I was going to tell you. I promise you that, cara. On everything. I just– I wasn't sure when to do it and then time just kept passing and I fell more and more in love with you and then it never felt like the right time. I never meant to hurt you."
You closed your eyes, nuzzling your head into the hand that caressed your cheek, "I love you, Chris," turning your head slightly, you placed a kiss on his palm, "I appreciate you apologizing."
"Do you think you're ready to hear me out?"
You nodded as he pulled away, putting a plate with a couple slices of toast on it.
"I... picked you as a favor."
Your face twisted with confusion, a piece of bitten off toast hanging out of your mouth, "Sorry what?" you asked, your mouth full.
"Sebastian came to me after a... particularly rough night with your father. He knew that I was to sign a contract in the next month and he asked if I would consider choosing you. To get you out of your father's house."
You gasped, your eyes immediately filling with tears, "He what?" you asked, breathlessly. You blinked furiously, the tears blurring your vision, "What?"
Chris reached over, wiping at the tears that slipped from your eyes, "He explained the situation, told me that your most recent encounter ended with you almost being sent to hospital, and he asked me to step in in the best way I could without alarming your father. I knew that you still had 10 years left in that house, but signing that contract started as a favor to Sebastian, to help you."
A hand flew to cover your mouth, your eyes prickling again, "I– I– I don't know what to say."
Sebastian asked Chris to marry you. To help you escape from your father. Sebastian offered you an out when there was no light at the end of the tunnel. How would you ever repay him?
"Chris... you did that for me?"
He shrugged, a small, playful smile on his lips, "I mean, technically, I did it for Sebastian..." You smiled and rolled your eyes, but he continued before you could interject, "I did it for Seb. As one of my best friends, I did it as a favor. But now? I can't even express how happy that favor has made me. So yes, I signed your contract 10 years ago, it was not arranged at birth, but I wanted to help a friend."
This entire time you were so fucking pissed at Chris for choosing you, but he'd done it out of the kindness of his heart. Something you were told didn't exist.
You pulled him close to you, gripping the back of his neck and pulling his lips to you. You ignored the splintering headache and melted into him. His hand found your hip, squeezing gently when you pulled away, "Thank you, Chris... I'm so sorry I didn't give you time to explain... God, I feel like an idiot," you shook your head, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of guilt that washed over your body.
"It's okay. You're allowed to have feelings, Y/N. I already told you, you're allowed to act out and make mistakes, you're human. I'm not married to some mafia-robot-wife. I'm married to you. The way that you feel things... I would never want to change that."
For the second time today, tears flooded your eyes. You stood, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, "What happened to being the scariest don on the East coast? You mafia men are like teddy bears."
His arms secured around your waist, you felt his breath against your neck, "I am the scariest don on the East coast, cara. I don't know what happened or how it happened, but you... you're my kryptonite. I'm putty in your hands. I will walk to the ends of the earth or step on any broken mug, to make sure you are happy and satisfied in life."
You let out a shaky breath, one filled with so many emotions you were unable to express, "I love you... so much."
He pulled away, cupping your chin, "Ti amo, Y/N. Hai tutto il mio cuore." (i love you. You have my whole heart.)
"Traduci," you groaned, frustrated you still couldn't understand what he was saying.
"You have my whole heart, amore mio." (my love)
You inhaled a sharp breath, "How do you say 'always and forever'?" you asked, smiling softly.
The corners of his mouth tipped up into a smile, "sempre e per sempre."
"Well, sempre e per sempre," you promised, matching the small, yet sentimental smile on his lips.