Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sound of rustling paper. I pried open my eyes. Pistachio-colored walls discombobulated me a bit until I remembered where I was and how I got here. I jumped out of the bed and padded to the windows. Barred windows. A tree reached that second level of the house, and a squirrel perched on a branch, holding a nut, stared at me.

“Are you making a ruckus or what?” I mumbled. “What time is it?”

The squirrel seemed to get out of his frozen state and scampered away. Fine. I was not Snow White who had a talent for charming woodland animals. I turned around and eyed the closed door. Sandro said it wasn’t locked from the outside, but I didn’t feel like confronting him at the moment.

I looked around the room for something that could tell me the time. Nothing.

My brain needed more sleep, but my stomach was now making it known that it was hungry.

I spied the silver cuff peeking out from under the pillow. At one point in the night, my memories slipped straight into a dream. I pushed it under the pillow, and climbed on top of the covers and stared at the ceiling.

Where did my dream cut off before the squirrel woke me up?

Oh, my mother. When Sandro asked her what I might want for my birthday, she told him about the silver cuff at the Brooklyn shop Mom patronized. I inherited her love for costume jewelry. Mom never frowned at my friendship with Sandro, unlike the men in the family. Maybe because when I found Sandro hiding behind a staircase, bleeding from his mouth and nose because his father hit him, I went to Mom and she patched him up.

Sandro had begrudgingly accepted help, but he called me an interfering little shit.

I scoffed. Well, this little shit grew up and you’re married to me, asshole. I glanced at the door again, wracking my brain on whether he informed me I was supposed to stay put until he came and got me.

My stomach gurgled again.

A hangry De Lucci waited for no one.

After a long hot shower where I swore I’d scalded every inch of skin, I cleared the fogged-up mirror and checked my reflection again. The bags under my eyes were still there, but my eyes weren’t red anymore. I put on sweats and slip-on shoes.

I gripped the door handle and tested it. The lock on my side disengaged, and it opened. Huh, Sandro wasn’t lying. He wasn’t too worried about me climbing out the window because of the bars.

My first step out of the room made a loud creaking noise. Fucker. Obviously, he’d hear me if I left this way. I stared at the door opposite my room and listened. I didn’t hear any movement. What the hell time was it?

Was this some kind of test? Some kind of sensory deprivation? The rest of the floor wasn’t as creaky, and I wondered if the floorboard outside my room was the only one deliberately set that way. I continued down the hallway toward the stairs. Stairs that led straight to the foyer and outside. To freedom. But really, I remembered the long-ass driveway from last night and I was sure we weren’t in Manhattan. I had no money. No phone.

And… I sniffed the air. Bacon. My stomach grumbled some more, but my feet were following the lead of my nose and skipped down the steps. I cast one last longing look at the entrance and then followed the direction of the aroma into the kitchen.

A woman stood with her back to me and was clearly responsible for the delicious smell. She had dark hair cut in a bob and was wearing a peach-colored shell dress. Strings of an apron were tied behind her neck and its ruffled edges appeared at her sides. The first thought that came to my mind was thank God she has an apron because that wasn’t a dress meant for cooking in.

A heap of grocery bags was strewn over the counters and floor. How long were we staying here?

“Good morning.”

She whipped around, spatula raised. “Oh, you’re awake.” She was at the ceremony yesterday—I refused to call it a wedding. She appeared older than me. But it was really hard to tell with her flawless skin. Her smile, at least, looked genuine. Still, I considered her part of the family who condoned this forced marriage and held me and Renz hostage.

I gave her a tight smile, letting her know what I thought about the situation hadn’t changed.

Her eyes lowered briefly. “Let me get this bacon out of the pan before we have a grease fire.”

“Where’s Sandro?”

While she expertly transferred the sizzling bacon to a paper-lined plate, she said, “He’s in the study with Tommy.” She lowered everything on the counter beside the stove and approached me. “Where are my manners? I’m Divina, Tommy’s wife.”

She stopped a foot from me. Her smile froze at my refusal to act like what was happening here was normal. She turned away. “Well, as I was saying, Sandro is with Tommy.” She smiled again as if recovering from my earlier rudeness. “I see the clothes fit you?”

“You picked them out?”

“Yes, I did. And the groceries. Sandro gave me a list, but I added my own.”

I slid my butt onto the barstool. This was interesting. “And you do everything the family tells you?”

Divina pushed the platter of bacon toward me but kept her eyes on the plate. “Yes.”

“Don’t you have kids to mind?”

I didn’t miss the sadness that flashed through her face. “Maybe next year.”

“Do you want kids?” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” I picked up a slice of bacon and started munching.

“Actually it is,” she said.

Wait? What? I furrowed my brows at her. “Explain.”

“Sandro is now the don, and you’re his wife.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t give us the right to tell you when to start a family of your own.”

She laughed a bit nervously. “No. No. Not at all. Tommy needs my support to settle in the next don and his wife. It was never the right time to have kids.” She huffed heavily. “There was so much turmoil in the organization to find a stable leader.”

“You lost two in the last two years.”

“But Tommy feels now that Gian is not going to be boss.” She gave me a hopeful look. “I’ll have a little bambino of my own soon.”

Ah, hell no. “Divina …” I didn’t know what to tell her. I had no plans to stay married to Sandro. I didn’t know how to get out of it yet. But he represented everything my father was against. “You know the circumstances about how Sandro and I got married.”

“I know. He was your childhood friend.”

Jeez. That was how she was looking at it? The disconnect was disconcerting. It was like I was trapped in a dark comedy. “They threatened my brother’s life.”

“Yes, but Sandro saved you from marrying Gian.”

“I can’t even speak to my family.” Then something occurred to me. “Wait a second. Are you saying this is a normal thing that happens in this family?”

She gave me a smile that confirmed it, but also a smile that said I was making a big fuss over nothing. Were all the Rossi women brainwashed to do their men’s bidding? I thought about Griselda. She stood by and watched Sandro marry me. She skewered me with a stare that, if it had real venom, would’ve killed me. I said my vows but she didn’t object at all when the padre asked if anyone was against the marriage. Come to think of it, I didn’t remember the priest asking if anyone objected.

The ceremony was a complete haze.

“I just warmed this up.” She nudged a basket in front of me. “There are bagels, croissants, and muffins in there.” Thinking of croissants reminded me of Renz.

“Have the guys eaten?” I asked, falling back into polite courtesy.

“No. Actually, I was supposed to let Sandro know when you’re awake.”

“No need,” a voice spoke from the opening of the kitchen.

I turned in my seat to see Sandro and Tommy striding in. But my attention was solely on my new husband. He had such a commanding presence, impossible to miss, yet he could choose to be invisible if he wanted to be.

He prowled to my side and kissed the top of my head. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We have things to discuss.” He plopped a jewelry box in front of me.

I didn’t even need to ask him what it was. Still, when I flipped open the lid on the box, I was shocked at the size of the diamond. “We don’t have to do this.”

Irritation flashed across his face. He took the ring and jammed it on my finger, joining it to my wedding band. “Yes, we do. Get used to wearing it so you can prove to your family that I didn’t skimp on the ring.”

It was the most unromantic thing a man could do and yet I found it hot. For the first time since this ordeal started, his actions warmed my cheeks. But I was determined not to fall into Stockholm syndrome. I had standards, dammit. A big-ass ring wasn’t going to make this fucked-up situation okay.

“I can barely lift my hand.” I made a production of doing exactly that and letting it drop on the counter.

“Smart-ass,” he muttered.

“How can they see it when I can’t even see them?” I pointed out.

“Three weeks. We satisfy the Blind Don’s request and you can see them.”

“Do we always have to do what he says? I thought you were the boss.”

Sandro looked over to Tommy and Divina and that was when I noticed her face had taken on a comical expression of worry as if no one ever questioned Sandro.

“Tommy, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said in a measured tone that sounded a lot like he was praying for patience. “Seems like I have to spend some time with my new bride and acquaint her with how things work.” He gave a brief nod to Divina. “Thank you for helping with the clothes and the groceries.”

Divina looked like she had won the lottery. She smiled, and the smile differed from the one glued to her face earlier. This one seemed more genuine. It reached her eyes.

“Thanks, Divina,” I clipped.

“Anytime. Just call when you need anything,” she gushed and tucked her arm into Tommy’s.

I held my tongue on another smart-ass reply, but exchanged a look with Sandro. I didn’t have a phone, ergo I couldn’t call her.

So I simply extended the smile on my face in acknowledgment.

When the couple left, Sandro turned to me and tipped his chin at the food on the counter. “Eat.”

He walked over to the coffee machine. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

When he returned with two mugs, he set one in front of me and leaned a hip on the edge. He was staring at the top of my head and I didn’t want to look at him because he was doing that leaning thing that made him hot again. I should picture him a foot shorter with a wart on his nose and buck teeth.

I glanced up at him.

Nope. Not working.

Let’s face it. I was once obsessed with this man. I couldn’t simply stop finding him attractive. The parts I hated about him always lurked beneath the surface.

The Rossis’ attack dog.

I thought he’d retired and was on the outs with the crime family after Frankie’s death. But apparently not. You never left the family. That had always been the mafia way.

“There might be hope for us after all,” he rumbled.

I couldn’t decipher his expression. Fond or amused. The corners of his mouth were twitching and there was a gleam in his eyes that made me shiver, not with dread like in the past few days, but with an anticipation because we were alone. Was he imagining what to do with my mouth like he threatened or was he contemplating what to do with me in my captivity. “What do you mean?”

“You pick up things fast.”

“I’m not following.”

“You didn’t push your questions about Raffa, knowing it would put me in a difficult position. I’d have to tell you off in front of them. And you weren’t sarcastic about the phone thing.”

“It’s not about picking up fast,” I said. “We’re husband and wife in front of Tommy and Divina. Mom always told me not to fight in front of other people, especially arguments that would put your partner in a difficult position.”

Sandro grinned. “I always liked Ava.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know.”

He continued to stare at me like I was a specimen under the microscope while taking a sip of his coffee.

“Are you going to tell me your grand plan of getting us out of this mess, or are you just going to stare at me?”

“I see you’re getting your spunk back.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Can you sit down? I’m having a hard time craning my neck.” I tore a piece of croissant and stuffed it into my mouth. “These are good but not as good as the way Renz makes them.” I paused. “Before you tell me anything else, do you have news on Renz?”

Sandro sat on the barstool next to me and angled my way. There was a gentling in his eyes. “He’s staying in the hospital for another day or two. None of my men can get close enough to find out, but we managed to get to a nurse who knows the nurse taking care of him. Security is tight, Bianca. But word is your dad and brothers are on a warpath, and Dom is trying to calm them down.”

A rippling of goose bumps dotted my arms. “What did you expect?” It made me pissed at Sandro all over again and I had a feeling this would be a familiar refrain. Alternating between being mad about our current situation and bittersweet about our shared history. “So what do we do in the meantime? Cards on the table. Being married to a made man and being the wife of the boss is a far cry from what I want in life. It’s eating me inside how I’ve let down my dad, my family…so you better come up with a plan.”

“I won’t be boss for long.”

Wait. What?