GIULIA'S POV
I watch the steam leave the mug in my hand as I pour in a decent amount of almond milk into the dark liquid. I absolutely hate black coffee, and I'm so thankful that they've finally added almond milk to the grocery list, thanks to yours truly.
I'm exhausted. I have a hair appointment this morning, but I couldn't sleep for the life of me until I finally snuck into Bianca's room, and kicked Romero out of the bed.
Nicolas didn't come home last night. While that's not absurd considering his profession. Do you even call the mob a profession? It totally threw me off that he didn't call, or text, or even reply to mine.
I really thought I was getting somewhere with him, not sure where, but somewhere. I sigh softly as I take a seat at a barstool, the squeak of the stool causing the whispering from the pantry to stop.
I frown a bit, not realizing that whatever the house staff was whispering about was possibly about me, but as soon as I see them peak their head around the corner and into the kitchen, I frown.
That's so odd. They're usually super nice to me, so the odd looks they're giving me right now, particularly how they're suddenly nervous makes me feel uncomfortable.
"Is something wrong?" I call out softly, earning a wary look from Lusina. She's a bit younger than the others, but particularly nice to me. I think I remind her of her daughters, whom are just a bit younger than me from what I remember. "You can tell me."
"I don't think that is a good idea, Miss Pagiano," she says in a thick Italian accent, eyeing the other members of the staff, but they quickly hurry away, clearly not wanting to be put on the spot either. I frown further, shaking my head as I don't seem to understand what's wrong.
"It's okay. Please tell me," I reassure her genuinely. I would never get mad or anything, even if they had done something, but I can't have them looking at me like that all day. Not after the terrible night I had worrying about Nicolas, and then falling asleep in the early hours for just a bit. "Go on."
I gesture her to come forward when she hesitates, but she does in fact come next to me. She glances around her, looking to see if anyone else is here. Not that it would matter, but I'm sure she knows Nicolas has the entire perimeter and inside of the house on camera, so it wouldn't matter regardless.
"Whatever it is, it's okay. Nothing will happen to you," I reassure her again, placing my hand on hers on the countertop. She nods slowly, pulling out her cell phone and scrolling for a few moments before she places the phone down in front of me.
"Mobsters love gossip too," Lusina whispers softly. "I am sorry, I didn't want you to see but you should know what everyone else does."
I stare down at the phone, before realizing this is a gossip site. I've seen it before. They've taken pictures of me since I've arrived in Boston, and the few times I've been outside with Nicolas.
Lifting the phone up, my heart slams into my chest when I see the headlines this morning. Well, the words don't bother me. In fact, I can't even read the words because my vision is focused on the images below them.
There's so many pictures. Not just one or two that might be incriminating, but tons. I swallow hard, trying so hard not to tear up because I don't want to look weak, but I genuinely feel sick.
There's girls. A lot of pretty, nearly naked women in these pictures with Nicolas, Vincenzo, and a few other guys I don't recognize. Some sitting in their laps. Some dancing with them. There's even a photograph of a woman with her lips on Nicolas. His hands on them.
This is where we was last night?
I shouldn't feel the way that I do, but I do. I thought that something was happening between us, and he's with other women? I know mobsters don't care about being faithful, but what's the bullshit that Nicolas is putting me through for? It doesn't make sense.
Lusina looks down at me in a sympathetic way, and I know how bad this is for her. How hard it must be to show me this when her job is on the line. She has three daughters that she sends money to in Italy, and she can't risk her job.
I take a shaky breath, looking up at her, begging for some more information. She's worked here years. Is this Nicolas all the time? I knew about Carmella, but I didn't realize that he was going out, partying and spending time with women like this.
You don't know him. You don't know him at all.
"Is this normal?" I ask gently, my voice wavering even though I'm trying to keep my shit together. I can't cry and break down over him again. Not over this especially. "He didn't come home...last night.."
I state the obvious, just to see her reaction. She would know, right? At least, she would know better than me.
"Mr. Marchetti does not bring guests home...except for..." she pauses, searching my face to see if I really need her to finish that sentence.
I don't.
He hasn't brought anyone home apart from Carmella. That much is obvious from her words. But does that mean he's hooking up with these women too? Just not here?
I feel so sick suddenly. I push her phone away, shaking my head, trying to get the image out of my head. I've done things with that man. I almost gave him everything, and that's what he does?
He didn't even try to hide it.
Suddenly the front door slams shut, and Lusina grabs her phone with wide eyes, rushing out of the kitchen before anyone can see she was here.
Not even a moment later, Nicolas walks into the kitchen. His hair is messier than usual, his clothes wrinkled, and he looks slightly hungover. I wouldn't have really been able to tell if it weren't for the fact that I've seen what plenty of monsters look like when they don't return home to their wives for one reason, and one reason only.
Nicolas looks at me blankly before going straight to the coffee pot, pouring himself a mug full of the coffee that I had made. I watch him, feeling the mix of emotions brewing in my chest.
He's not even going to acknowledge me?
Yesterday, he woke me up with some kisses and a cuddle, and today he won't even look at me?
"What?" he snaps, pulling me out of my trance. I blink a few times, watching as he turns to look at me from the other side of the island.
"Where were you last night? I tried calling you," I say softly, trying to remain calm. Lashing out won't do anything, and maybe, just maybe, all of that is wrong.
Nicolas raises his eyebrow at me, as if he's surprised I asked him such an absurd question. I frown, shaking my head and going to repeat myself.
"I don't think you should be asking such questions. It's not really your place," he remarks, sipping on his coffee as he unrolls the newspaper on the counter. I gape at him, realizing how he's suddenly undermining me and my worry.
"What?" I whisper softly, unsure of what to even say to that. But I need to know. I don't understand what's happening, but I have to ask him what those pictures meant. "Were you with someone? I saw those pictures."
His head snaps up from the paper, his eyes painfully dark as they bore into my own. I swallow, realizing maybe those weren't the right words to say. It seems as if the not so nice Nicolas is here today, and he doesn't look happy with my question.
"Who the fuck do you think you are to ask questions like that, Giulia?" Nicolas' voice booms, dropping his newspaper onto the countertop as he sidesteps around it and makes his way over to my seat. "Hasn't your mother ever told you what it's like to be married in the mob? You turn a blind eye. You don't care who I fuck. You don't ask questions. You just sit there, act pretty, and be glad I don't knock someone else up."
My throat goes dry as I look at up at him, towering over him. My hands tremble against the cold countertop, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach.
I don't understand this.
I'm so confused as to how we got here.
"Did something happen? I don't understand," I shake my head, trying to understand what is happening here. It seems so unlike him to suddenly act out like this towards me. To say such crude things again. It's like the first night I was alone with him all over, except some of the things that had been said that night, I had deserved.
This? None of this is warranted.
"You want to know what happened? Okay, sure," he's practically threatening me with his voice now, and I can feel his rage. "I had sex last night. With not one, but two incredible women. They did exactly what you refused to do for me. Sucked me off, and spread their legs. Happy?"
I suck in my breath, my lower lip quivering as I hold back from breaking down again. I shake my head at him, refusing to accept this reality.
How is this the man that held me in bed and stitched up my hand? How is the man I had dinner with last night and then laid with on the couch with my feet on his lap?
"What's wrong, Giulia? Are you going to call your daddy and tell him how much you hate your big, bad fiancé?" He smirks at me as he leans down, getting in my face.
My nose flares, unable to control my anger and confusion as I bring my hand up, ready to smack him across the face for not only the way he's treating me, but for the way he's talking for me. Before my hand comes into contact with his face, his hand comes down on my wrist, holding it in place and stopping the impact from occurring.
"You should know who you're marrying, Giulia. Don't ever try to slap me again," he seethes, his eyes dark as he narrows them at me. My lip quivers again, and I clench my teeth together to keep myself from crying.
"I hate you. I fucking hate you," I mutter, yanking my arm away from him, but not successfully. "Let go of me. You're disgusting."
"You don't order me around. In fact, cancel your hair appointment and move it to tomorrow. I have a couple things I need you to attend to with me," he tugs me gently, but I jerk my arm back, twisting out of his grip. Nicolas doesn't like it, clear but the look on his face, but I've never been treated like this before.
I won't start being treated like this now. It was better when he was doing who the fuck knows what and I didn't know about it.
"I can't. My hair has to be done today for the color to settle in time for the wedding," I say as I get up, pushing my stool back to go around him and get ready.
"I don't give a shit about your hair or the wedding, Giulia. Get dressed, and be ready in thirty minutes. I have a thousand other things to do, and you're wasting my time," he threatens, and I know he's not fucking around because this is exactly how he talks when he's fleshing out orders on the phone.
I purse my lips together, rubbing my wrist with my hand, trying to hold back tears. What the fuck is happening? The shock of this hasn't hit me yet, and part of me is thinking someone will jump out and make a joke and tell me this sudden lash out is not real.
And is he serious? He's the one with smeared lipstick on his white, wrinkled dress shirt, and a clear as day hickey on his neck, and he's telling me that I'm the one who needs to get ready.
"Don't touch me, Nicolas. Ever again. Or yes, I will tell my father, and I'll tell him all the other shitty things you've done," the words spill out of my mouth just as he I hurry past him, ready to storm off.
"What will you tell him? That you were begging me to make you come or that you did when I ate your pussy out?" his words make me pause as I go to exit the kitchen, realizing how terrible that sounds.
I'm in hell.
If my father found out, I don't know who would pay the price. As much as I wish it would be him, I too would suffer the repercussions, right? Because Nicolas is right, I did beg him. I wanted him to in the moment, and as vulgar as the words sound, it's all true.
Tears start falling as I rush out of the kitchen, unable to even argue with his words. Just as I'm about to approach the staircase, I notice Vince standing in the foyer, a relaxed expression on his face. He's cocks a brow at me, his lip twitching almost as if he wants to smile at me.
He heard all of that, and didn't even say a word? I know Nicolas is in charge, but Vince seemed perfectly fine standing up for me when Nicolas wanted to fuck me in the barn, and I thought we were friends? At least, on decent terms, and now he's enjoying this torture I'm being put through?
I look away, hurrying up the steps, and to the bedroom that I share with my own personal Devil.
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A/N:
I apologize in advance for the torture I just put you through. I know you probably have whiplash, please forgive me lol. I'll probably go back and put some filler chapters later, but I need the plot to speed up suddenly so this is happening now. love you all.
follow me on Instagram! doing giveaways for the holidays there! @bookswithsonali is my username there!