The Mafia Contract Series

Angelo left me in a state of shock. For one moment, it was so good to be here. With him. He has a softer side I like-a lot and remembering those hands on my body causes a soft flutter to rip through it, wrapping it in possibilities. His kiss breathed new life into a dying corpse in waiting, and his parting compliment made me smile. The most surprising thing of all, though, is that I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to see what happens next when a man starts something that I’m guessing ends up with only one thing.

Sex.

That forbidden word that was spoken of with quiet curiosity. Tales of what happens and how barbaric it seems. Wide-eyed schoolgirls wonder about something that seems like such a forbidden nightmare. But what happened made me crave things I had never had before.

‘If you want sex, come and find me.’ His words that sounded so shocking a few hours ago now seem like a lifeline. I want to find him; I want to ask, but how can I? I would die with embarrassment.

In a daze, I step out of the tub and wrap a soft white robe around my body and wander over to the window, looking down on an orchard that appears to hold every kind of fruit there is. Imagining myself walking through the rows of delight, picking the fruit, shows me how happy this place is already making me. That surprises me more than anything because I hated my family’s home. A mafia home full of fear and no soul. This house is different. It’s palatial, modern, and tasteful. Almost new, and I wonder if it was always this way or if Angelo had it gutted when his father died.

Now I’m curious to discover more about my husband and I race to the closet and search for jeans and a sweater and tying my hair up in a messy bun, I slip on some pumps and head for the kitchen.

Mrs. Bourne will fill me in. She looks friendly enough and the promise of food is like a magnet because I don’t think I’ve eaten all day.

As I move through the silent house, I am conscious of being watched. It’s kind of eerie and I’m guessing there are cameras hidden, like at home. Nothing went on in the Rossi family mansion that my father didn’t know about, with one exception. Daphne and Eddie.

Luckily for them, they found a place to meet away from the cameras when Daphne was supposed to be at class. Mrs. Eversley, our governess, was a lush, and it didn’t take much to spike her drink and turn up the heating, causing her afternoon naps to last for a couple of hours at least. Eddie always dealt with the cameras, and I played the lookout and gave my sister special time with him, but now I’m worried for her safety. Without me around to supervise and keep a lookout, knowing my sister she will become reckless, and I can’t bear to consider the consequences of that.

My heart thumps as I cross the marble hallway and head for the third door to the right of the staircase as instructed.

As I push inside, my eyes widen in wonder when I regard a huge kitchen that stretches the whole length of the house. I have never seen a room like it. Cream cabinets and white marble counters.

Chrome fittings and every appliance under the sun, it seems. A huge glass expanse courtesy of the bifold doors that open onto a huge terrace and the light that streams in bathes the room in sunlight and warmth. Comfy white couches are placed at intervals facing the view and set in front of them are low glass tables. A breakfast bar sweeps around the huge island and tall barstools invite the observer to jump on and see the chef at work.

Mrs. Bourne looks up and smiles and I love this. I love her already because I have never felt so welcome in my entire life.

“Come in, Jasmine. I’ll make you a coffee unless you fancy something different.”

“Coffee’s fine, thank you.”

She nods and approaches a huge contraption that is soon hissing away as she makes the complicated drink with steamed milk. It doesn’t take long and pushing it toward me, she smiles with a kindness I crave. “Jump up. I may even have some cookies I made earlier.”

I reach for the coffee and say with interest, “This house seems new.”

“It is, but only the interior. When Angelo lived here with his parents, it was a different place entirely. More antiques, grander in some ways, with lots of tapestries and gold furniture. Typical of the type.”This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

“You mean mafia.” She colors up and I shrug.

“I moved from one of those. I know what it’s like.”

She looks at me with a curious expression. “It must have been hard.”

“It was.” Taking a sip of my coffee, I try to make light of it. “I learned to blend into the shadows.”

“I can tell.” She laughs as she points to my lavender hair, and I grin. “A parting act of rebellion that earned me a matching bruise to my face.”

She looks concerned. “I may have something for that.”

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse. I’ll live another week at least.”

Then I say casually, “So, Angelo lived here with his parents. I heard he has a sister. Does she visit much?”

Mrs. Bourne’s face darkens, and she looks uneasy, which immediately puts me on edge. “No. The last time she came was on the day of her father’s funeral. The house was different then and Angelo was just coming to terms with the fact he was now the Don and heading up a mafia family that was in disarray because of the assassination of their leader. Nobody found out who it was, so they suspected everybody. It was a lot to take on.”

My thoughts turn to my husband, and I wonder how that felt. To lose a monster, only to become one.

“What about his sister? Why didn’t she come back? Don’t they get on?”

Mrs. Bourne looks so upset I regret my question and she blinks away her tears, which causes me to say in alarm, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” “It’s fine.” She smiles through her tears. “Winter and Angelo aren’t just brother and sister, they’re twins. They grew up looking out for one another. A tight unit that gave me hope.”

“You were here?”

I wonder how long Mrs. Bourne has worked here for, and she nods. “I was a young woman when I came to work for the Sontauros. Mrs. Sontauro was a difficult woman and neglected her children terribly.”

“Like I said, I’ve got one of those back at home.” I make. A joke to cut the serious air away and she looks sorry about that. “It must have been hard.”

“I knew no different, and I’m sure Winter and Angelo would say the same. You see, Mrs.

Bourne…” She looks up. “My situation is a lot like theirs. I had my sister Daphne, and we were a team, so if anyone knows what that’s like, it’s me. I sympathize with them, but I still don’t understand what happened to drive a wedge between them?”

“Massimo Delauren. Winter’s husband.”

My eyes are wide. “What, The Massimo Delauren, but he’s ancient.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Winter was married off to him straight from college and never returned. The first time we saw her was on the day of Don Sontauro’s funeral and she returned a different person than the one who left.”

“Why?”

Mrs. Bourne shakes her head sadly. “She looked amazing, don’t get me wrong. It appears he looks after her well, physically, that is, mentally, I’m not so sure. She looked empty, soulless, and as if she was playing a part. To outsiders, they were the perfect newlyweds. They weren’t here long but spent their time gazing at one another with adoration and declaring their love to anyone who would listen.

Winter was out of his sight for five minutes and I have never seen pain like it on Angelo’s face when she left. She was so bitter, so abrupt, nothing like the Winter we loved. That was the last time we saw her, and it tears Angelo apart. As I tried to warn you, he’s not all bad, but dealing with so much at a young age has hardened his spirit and I was kind of hoping a new bride would soften the edges a little.”

She throws me such a hopeful smile, my heart sinks. She obviously doesn’t realize this is just a business arrangement and is hopeful it will end in hearts and flowers. For a moment in that tub, I thought it might, but then he left and never looked back.

My fingers touch my freshly colored hair and I smile to myself. He likes it. Unlike my parents, he approves of my choice and that means so much, to me, anyway.

She obviously mistakes the smile on my face for love and her expression softens and she says sweetly, “He’ll be home tomorrow. There’s always business to take care of, which it’s best you never mention.”

“Thanks for the tip.” I take a good look at my surroundings, and she says pleasantly, “Why don’t I make us some lunch and then give you a tour? It’s a big house and will take a while to get familiar with.”

“I’d love that.”

She nods and sets about preparing a delicious looking salad and while I watch, I think about my situation. It’s nowhere near as frightening as I thought it would be. Maybe things might work out. I hope so, anyway, and then I think about when Angelo returns, and the heat starts building already. Will I ask him to teach me a lesson of the most disturbing kind? Will I have the guts to voice something that makes me sweat just thinking of it? After what happened in the tub, I already know my answer because now I’m more than curious and hope it happens soon.