The bed should be soft and warm, but it isn't.
I roll out of bed and walk out of the bedroom. Reaching Anthony's office, my fist lifted, and I knocked on the door. "Come in," his deep metallic voice dripped in the silence.
Twisting the knob, I open the door and reveal a working Anthony. That's all he had been doing, work. "What is it?" he asks, not once lifting his eyes from the papers. I never expected the mafia leader to be doing so much paperwork.
I stand outside the office, running my fingers down the sleeves of my shirt. "Are you not coming to bed?"
Finally, he raises his head. "You're not asleep?"
"It's...cold tonight," I mumble, as his eyes scan my shorts. It's a terrible lie, considering how warm it is inside the mansion that I'm able to wear shorts and walk around barefoot.
He didn't reveal any emotions towards my statement, instead set the pen down. Anthony stands up and walks toward me as I bounce my weight from one foot to another. "Come on, I'll take you to bed." His soothing voice entered my ear as he held my hand and led me back into the bedroom.
Once we enter the bedroom, he releases my hand and begins walking towards the door. I hold onto his shirt. "You're not sleeping?"
He turned around, and a heavy breath left his chest. "I got work to do," his voice was neither endearing nor cold rather it felt empty.
I held onto him tighter. "Can't you finish it tomorrow?" I know the selfishness of my words, but I can't help but plead.
Unexpectedly, he placed a hand on my head and ran it down my hair. My cheeks puff in a pouting kind of sense, but I didn't reject his touches. "I'll be in the bathroom for a little while," he said, and I released him.
When he enters the bathroom, I smile and rush under the sheets. The sink water turns off and the door opens. I could feel his arm draped over me, more comforting than any blanket I had ever lay under. His musky scent intoxicates me.
I had been hugged before, but never like this since my parents passed. I let my body sag; my muscles become loose. Anthony always manages to give me the respect of an equal but cradles me like a cherished child. Twisting and turning around the sheets, I face him in the darkness. I feel him brush my hair back with his fingers and kiss me gently. I ran my hand over his back, the soft hairs on his head tickled the tips of my fingers. "I'm sorry," those words manage to slip in the silence.
His eyes remained unchanged. "I don't want you to apologize for something that's not your fault."
In his eyes, I saw my reflection. It's me who has changed. Not on the outside, but on the inside. Anthony had always been the same since the beginning, but somehow I changed. Moreover, as I look at myself, in his electric eyes glistening with love for me, I feel like this wasn't real - it must be a dream.
"I...I didn't mean to react the way I did a few days ago. I...I...I -" I'm at a loss for words, unable to find any excuse in my actions. We already established what Anthony does in his life, and yet somehow I still cannot see it in myself to accept it.
His skin touched mine. "You'll always be afraid of me...I understand that much," his voice is low and wonderous, so sincere and understanding.
I love you, I want to scream, but I can't find it in myself to say it.
Can I truly love someone without accepting all of him?
I cry.
I don't know how Anthony managed to do it, but he can always bring out the tears in me.
It looks like someone put jalapenos in my eyes because that's how red and bruised it is from all the crying last night.
"You should go to the party," Anthony suddenly said while having breakfast with everyone.
I take a few blinks, trying to understand what she said. I've been tuning out everything since I entered the dining room. I turn towards Lily who tilts her head towards Francesco. I look at him to receive a grim smile and shrug. "Party?" I said slowly, trying to make sure I heard right.
"I heard you got invited to a party at school; you should go," Anthony said, while everyone continued staring at their food.
Even Anthony's mother wasn't saying a single word like she heard wrong.
"What?" Lily questioned.
"You both should go with Francesco. You're still young, enjoy life." He dabs the napkin on his lip before excusing himself.
I sat there, still trying to comprehend the one-sided conversational exchange.
The weekend rolls around with Lily and me sitting on the bed, staring at the invitations. "Do you want to go?" she suddenly asks me.
I continue staring at it. After some moments, I grab the envelope, elope away from the comfortable bed, and stroll towards Anthony's office to find it empty. I walk towards our bedroom to see it unoccupied. A person passes by, "Where is Anthony?" I feel like I ask that question too many times despite being his wife. I know I can always call him, but calling Anthony seems to be so difficult for me.
"Mr.Marazano is out."
"Do you know where or to meet whom?"
"He's going to meet Gabriella," Francesco's voice in before he excused the maid in front of me. She complies and politely withdraws, without a single pint of curiosity.
I realize that many of Anthony's workers aren't noisy unless they are new. It turns out that being loud or chatty in a mafia household isn't a good idea. They get well-paid to keep their mouths shut and turn a blind eye to anything that occurs around them.
"Oh," is the only thing I can say.
"They are just talking," he reassures me. "But, I thought you should know."
"That he's seeing his almost wife," I grumble.
Francesco sigh, "Sorella maggiore he-"
I brush it off and shrug casually. "I'm not in charge of Anthony, he can meet whomever he wants. I don't care." Liar.
I began walking away, "You know what? If he wants me to go to a party so he can chit-chat with his potential wife, then let it be!" I wave a hand in the air. "I'll satisfy him and go."
Francesco grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards his chest. I take a few blinks, as his eyes gaze deeply into mine. I realize that his eyes aren't blue like Anthony's rather a deep shade of chocolate similar to his mother.
"What are you two doing?" Anthony's mother somehow decides to make her appearance.
I realize our proximity was too close for comfort, so I push back. Francesco released me and took a step away. "I want to calm my sorella maggiore down. She is upset."
She takes a step closer. "Oh, about what?"
Francesco glances at me, wanting to see if I'm willing to respond. "Fratello maggiore did something small to upset her, that's all."
She glances at me and hums lowly. I clutch my hands firmly. "Did you tell Anthony to go see Gabriella?" I couldn't contain myself.
Her eyes widen in almost a surprise-like manner before they turn back to their normalcy. "Anthony is seeing Gabriella?" her voice suggests she isn't lying.
"You really didn't have anything to do with this meeting?" Francesco ask.
She folds her arms and sighs. "I wish I could take credit, but I cannot." For the past few days, I have realized that Anthony's mother's words can be cruel, but she is anything but a liar.
I purse my lip. "I'm sorry for my tone," I said, before walking away from the scene. I ran towards the garden in the back of the mansion and hid behind the bushes. Covering my ears, I calmly sat there wanting to know what was wrong with me.
Despite the constant questioning, I know exactly what's wrong with me. I'm jealous of a woman that I never met. That's something I cannot accept. It's because it's a sign of romantic love - the struggle against jealousy, possession, and control.
Hours after hours pass, and I feel like a little girl again. Whenever something happens, I can never confront it. If there is a monster in the closet, I'll hide under my bed. If there is one under my bed, I'll hide under the sheets. If one is beside me, I'll sing to myself until it's all over - gone. Unlike my youth, this monster will never disappear. If it does, my heart will shatter.
I'm in love with a monster.
The rustling of bushes skews into my ears, and I look up from my teary eyes. His electric blues strike into mine and with this overly embarrassing situation, something extremely familiar soaks in. He laid out a hand while a brief chuckle left his throat. "Hey, are you lost?" I can smell the alcohol and cigarettes from him, somehow feeling warm.
I didn't understand why I nod.
He brushes the tears from my cheeks with his thumb. "Stop crying. I don't like it when my little wife cries."
Unknowingly, I rush towards him with my arms clung around his neck, and I cry even harder. At that moment, I'm grateful that no one is near or else I may die of embarrassment. I'm crying because I'm jealous - how pitiful.
"I-I don't want you to s-see her anymore. I don't like it," those words were childish; ones from an excruciatingly spoilt girl.
"Who don't you want me to see?"
"G-Gabriella! I don't care if there was nothing between the both of you! I don't want you to see her. I don't care if I'm acting jealous and irrational. Don't see her!" At that moment, I won't be surprised if he pushes me off and divorces my spoiled stupid ass.
However, instead, he lifted me in his arms and brought me inside the house. The tears burst and the muscles of my chin tremble like a small child. I clung my arms around his neck, fearing that he may let me go. Instead, he places me on the kitchen counter. I still cling to him. "You're bleeding, mio cuore," he said, and I looked down to see scratches on my legs and arms probably from the bushes.
I release him, and he walks toward the cabinet and then pulls out a first aid kit. I sat there, staring at him as he squeezed some alcohol into a cotton pad and dabbed it against my flesh. I hiss lowly at the stinging sensation. Afterward, he grabs several bandages and sticks them all over my body before cleaning.
"Anthony...have we met before?"