I am pissed.
So fucking angry at the man standing in front of me.
I suck in a deep breath before smiling at the man beside him. "Hi Drew," I said, placing out a hand. Drew nods in return, ignoring my open palm. With discomfort, I close it and withdraw the hand. "I didn't know we were going to have company." I fake laugh wanting to punch Anthony across the face.
"He won't be staying with us," Anthony clarifies. "He will be resting on the floor below us."
I didn't ask that. "He can stay here with us. I don't mind," I said, remembering how the penthouse has like a hundred rooms. All right, a hundred rooms are exaggerating, but there are a lot of rooms here - plus a freaking pool!
"I mind," Anthony said.
Drew cleared his throat, "I will be downstairs where I rightfully belong until the party," he babbled and made his escape.
Anthony shrugs off his coat and then hangs it on the wall. "You're angry," he said, making his way back towards me.
I twirl my body and walk towards the couch. "I can never be angry at you, my great lord," I said, before refocusing my attention back towards the TV. I don't understand why I call him a freaking lord, but I already did so I cannot take it back.
Anthony sighed, grabbed the remote, and turned it off. He places it down on one of the many tables inside the room and settles himself beside me. "Don't be angry," his tone is somehow edgy.
"How can I ever be angry at the great mafia leader?" I said before standing up. "Unless I have a death wish."
He grabs my wrist and pulls me into his lap. "Mio Cuore."Don't you sweet talk to me! I bit my lower lip and looked away. Anthony grasps my chin. "I'm speaking to you."
I stay quiet, feeling my thighs automatically tighten underneath his burning gaze. Quickly, I avert my eyes, feeling the burning sensation beneath my stomach knowing it is not the time to feel that way.
"It was just one cigar," he said. He knows exactly why I was upset. The moment he walks into the building, I can smell the smoke and alcohol radiating off of him. Even better, fucking perfume!
I continue to stay quiet, knowing if I open my mouth, I may say something I'll regret later.
"I had to do it, for formalities," he states.
I swallow, removing my face from his grasp. "I don't care if you do or not. I'm not the boss of you." Rather you're the boss of me.
"You do care."
"Why should I care?"
"Because I promise you I'll stop."
"No," my voice cracked. "You never promise me. It was just a verbal exchange between us like the contract, so you can break it anytime without consequences," the tears began dripping down my eyes.
It's not the fact that Anthony smokes that bothers me. While he was out the whole day, I sat in the penthouse. It's quiet. For the first time in a long time, there wasn't any screaming or anything I had to do. I could reason without any interruption. While he was out, I sat there, reading the contract over and over.
The contract Anthony said doesn't matter anymore.
For me, it matters.
It's an insurance policy. If Anthony ever decides to kick us out, he promises to give us a fortune. Anthony says it doesn't matter because he will never do that.
However, when he walked through the door with the scent of cigars, perfumes, and alcohol. I realize it's all just words - a verbal exchange.
The contract does matter.
I can't believe Anthony's words.
"Mio Cuore, this contract doesn't matter anymore because I intend to keep you and our family by my side."
"Our family?"
"Yes, our family."
Words are just words.
"I love you."
"Love has no time constraint. Time doesn't measure how you feel about someone. When you know you love someone, you know."
I almost fell for a sweet man's word.
Like my mother.
The man who was unfaithful to my mother used to be a sweet man too. He promised her the world only to enter the sheets with another woman.
Anthony can do the same thing.
While he sat there, in a complete daze, I walked toward our bedroom and slammed the door shut. My body slides down the door, and I wrap my arms around my legs. "Now he thinks I'm crazy," I mumble on my knees as the tears drip down. I probably annoy him with my sudden twisting thoughts. I'm not surprised if he throws me out in the street right now.
A knock, "Mio cuore?"
I ignore it.
The door clicks open, and I mentally curse him for having the key to every room. He slides it open causing me to move away from the door. Anthony crouches down and lifts me which is weird looking because I'm in a fetal position. He sat me down on his lap. "This is quite refreshing," he said.
I look at him wondering what he meant.
"You are behaving spoiled."
My watery eyes widen. "I'm not!" My voice completely cracks.
He ran his thumb across my wet cheek while I took a sniff. "I don't enjoy saying this, but I will smoke again in the future - just not as much previously."
"Then why did you tell me you will quit?"
"I want you to be happy."
"I am not happy right now."
A hearty chuckle left his throat. "I can see that." He wipes more of the tears away from my eyes with his sleeve. "I won't make any excuses. I want to be your ideal man, so I agree with anything that makes you happy."
"You're not exactly my ideal man."
My ideal man is someone like my father, not the biological one of course but the man who is an actual father to me. He is sweet, kind, and gentle. He knows how to make me laugh when I'm on my moody week and understand when I need space.
He smiles, but it looks quite sad. "I know," he wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his forehead against my shoulder. "I'm not a good man, mio cuore. I can be quite selfish."
"Like?"
"Forcing you to stay by my side even when I know you'll be happier without me."
I stay quiet.
He presses me farther into his body. "I know you don't believe my words. You're not angry at the fact that I smoke. You're feeling scared. Afraid that everything I said is merely words - words to coat you to stay beside me" he hit the target.
"I want to believe you, Anthony," the tears continue falling.
"I know."
"But...I just can't."
"You don't have to believe me," he whispers sweetly. "You just have to stay by my side."
"Until you get sick of me?"
He looks at me with a pain I can't describe. "Yes, until I get sick of you."
Anthony rolled me down onto the bed, his electric blues striking mine as the tears refused to stop rolling. My body was trembling under his touches. "Although if you truly know me, mio cuore. I'm the type of man who holds onto his toys for quite a long time," he decides to play the bad guy - no, he had always been the bad guy.
If this were a movie, Anthony wouldn't get a happy ending...and as his wife...I wouldn't either.
He leans downward, lips playfully scrapping against mine. "I will play with you until you break." His hands roam down my curves, forcefully lifting my waist into the air. "If you don't want me to throw you away," he presses his waist down. "Don't break." The beating inside his chest slammed against mine. "Tell me; you won't break."
I swallow, wrapping my arms around his body. "I won't break."
If I only knew how much of a liar I am.
His mouth locks onto mine without any warning. My back arch, while his press down farther. I could taste the cigarette inside his mouth along with a potent mixture of alcohol as he began exploring my breasts. A gasp entered the room when Anthony's lips caught my chest. "Don't break mio cuore," his voice was dripping with pure seduction. "Don't you ever fucking dare break." His hand squeezes my chest firmly.
Anthony is gone. Another day is spent alone until he returns for the party in the evening. Unable to go anywhere without Anthony, I sat in the already-explored penthouse.
Once the door clicks open, I thrash my body up to see Drew entering the room with a cell phone pressed against his ear. "I understand. I'll inform her before the party."
I sat upward, "What are you doing here?"
From what I notice, Drew is quite close to Anthony considering he can enter and leave the penthouse whenever he pleases, compared to others. Although Anthony informs me that Drew is safe, I still feel quite uncomfortable around him. It may be because I only interact with him a handful of times and there may be a possibility he dislikes me.
"I'm here to educate you about the life of the upper class before you attend the party tonight," he said, taking a seat on the couch. "And maybe teach you some class."
I glance down to see myself in a complete mess. I had been making myself too comfortable at the penthouse. Of course, there is nothing to do since Anthony refuses to let me leave without him.
I smile, "I have class." He nudged a brow. I sat up straight, tucking a foot behind the other with my back straightened and my hands neatly folded on my lap.
"Not bad," he responds while scanning my rigid body. I've been drilled to have social class ever since I was a child, so my body can still remember proper body language. "If you were given a menu at the party, what do you do?"
"That won't happen at a social gathering," I respond perfectly. "All food should already be prepped according to the current taste; however, if a menu somehow makes its presence, never lift it."
"Once you sip a glass, you mus-"
"Always sip at the same place," I said before he could finish.
"If you must use the restroom?"
"Excuse yourself, but never say you must use the restroom."
"In a table setting, where does the teaspoon go?" Drew challenged me.
"To the right, between the soup spoon and table knife."
He nods, "That saves us time on party etiquette." He sniffs, before smacking his hands together and leaning forward. "Now, at the party - do not-"
"Speaking only when spoken to and not say any more than necessary." I remember the old nasty lady's words.
His brows furrow a bit, probably due to my sudden robotic tone. "Exactly," he states in a low voice. "Anthony also wants me to talk to you about five families."
"Five families?"
"Yes, there are five families that he wants you to avoid at all costs possible."
"Why? Are they dangerous?"
"In a sense, yes. To Anthony Maranzano, they are nothing since they rarely affiliated themselves with the underground business; rather it is Anthony Winston that links with them. Although the majority of our legal business is in Europe, we do have some in America. Anthony wants our interactions with Americans as limited as possible when it comes to socialization."
"Why?" I ask, remembering that social interactions can be quite valuable in business
"Because it can be quite a headache to deal with influential American families. They can be quite-" he circulates his hand, "arrogant and...difficult."
"You mean a pain in the butt?"
"Exactly, a huge thorn," he states with a sigh before walking towards a room. I sat there and waited for him until he returned with a suitcase. Drew props the suitcase open, revealing a bunch of papers. "Now, I'm going to tell you about the five families you must limit your interactions."
I tuck a strand of hair back and lean forward quite interested in what he had to say. Of course, I was taught common courtesy and such, but no one taught me about influential families. "I'm ready."