Married to the mafia boss Series

We make love all through the night. We try dozens of different positions and tried dozens of new and exciting things. Some of the times are slow and the other times are fast and hard. We keep pushing until orgasm after orgasm leaves us limp and exhausted. We take a shower in the middle of the night to rinse away the sweat, and still we can’t take our hands off each other.

It’s just two hours before my grandfather’s funeral Carmelo and I haven’t had an ounce of sleep. We lay in bed naked, I am curled at his side as I trace circles on his chest. “Maybe what they say is right,” I break our silence.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

Carmelo lifts his head off the pillow to look down at me. “What?”

“About me being The Cursed Widow. Maybe something horrible will happen to Gaetano and I’ll be free.”

“So then I can marry you and be the fourth man to make you a widow?” He teases and I actually laugh.

God it feels so good to laugh.

“I’m going to miss you,” I crawl up his body and straddle his hips. “I don’t want to say goodbye. I know we have to be up soon to get ready for Nonno’s funeral though.”

Carmelo tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I know. I don’t want to say goodbye either.”

We kiss and I raise my hips and impale myself on his erection. He moves his body so he’s up against the headboard and I wrap my arms around his neck. My chest is pressed flush against his, and his hands are on my hips. He’s holding me close and moving me on his body in the most exquisite way.

I hug him and rest my head next to his as I whisper in his ear, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispers back.

A knock on the door startles us both. “Arabella?” The door jiggles. “Why the hell is the door locked?”

“Just a minute! I was getting ready for the funeral. I’m not decent!” I shout as I scramble off of Carmelo and tell him to hide in the bathroom behind the shower curtain.

I put on my robe and open the door, “What’s wrong?”

Lazzaro is standing there with his arms crossed. “I just wanted to make sure you are up and getting ready. The funeral begins at eight, we’re all meeting in the garden out back. I’ll see you then.” He squints his eyes and looks me over. His eyes also look past me to scan my bedroom. “Why are you all sweaty and out of breath?”

“It’s hot out and because here I was getting undressed and you were knocking on my door like a lunatic. Now, let me get ready in peace,” I shush him away.

I close the door and lock it. I take a few breaths to calm myself down. The adrenaline of almost getting caught has my body buzzing. I hear the shower running and immediately my lips curl into a smile. I rush into the bathroom disrobing myself.

I pull the shower curtain back to see Carmelo washing his body with a bar of soap. He’s all sudsy and I’m mesmerized by his muscular, masculine body glistening under the water and underneath the soap. I stand under the spray of the water with him and we both wash each other. We silently say our goodbyes and make best use of the time we have remaining.

We both dry off but it’s me who watches Carmelo get back into the clothes he wore last night. He kisses me softly on the lips before walking toward the door and leaving my life. The silence of the room hurts my ears and I start to weep. What have I done?

There’s no time to panic because I only have forty-five minutes left to get ready for Nonno’s funeral. I decide against looking well-put together. Besides whatever makeup or hair style I would have decided on doing, would be fixed by the team Gaetano hired for our wedding.

I keep my face clean of any makeup, I would just cry it off anyways. I leave my hair in a simple single braid starting at the top of my head and french-braiding it down to the nape of my neck. In my closet, I pull out the same dress I wore for Vinny and Uncle Lorenzo’s funeral. I’m lucky it still fits me.

The woman I see in the mirror doesn’t feel like my reflection. I can’t recognize who I am. I used to smile through misfortune and now I’m having trouble seeing past a horrible future to find anything good. Where did the old optimistic Arabella go? I can’t find anything good about this situation. This marriage is based off politics, wanting to carry on a bloodline, and lies.

I look tired. I know I didn’t sleep at all last night, but I look a different kind of tired. As if I aged five years overnight. What’s next, gray hair? I have always had an olive skin complexion, but my face is now pale and my eyes look a dreary brown color. Everything about my appearance looks desolate. I certainly seem to fit the role of widow.

A lost widow roaming around trying to find her happiness.

Majority of the guests are already at the garden when I arrive. Carmelo is in the mix blending in well. He is wearing a black suit with a black tie. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his slender pants. He’s got dark sunglasses on, but somehow I know he’s looking at me. I try not to hold his gaze for too long as I make my way over to Lazzaro. He is standing with Gaetano, and a man holding-what looks to be-an urn full of my Nonno’s ashes.

“Are we ready to begin?” The man asks.

“I think we’re just waiting on a few more people,” Lazzaro looks around. The man nods his head and excuses himself. He stands nearby but doesn’t linger long enough to hear Lazzaro and Gaetano continue their conversation.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Gaetano asks with a beaming look.

“I guess I have to be, right?” I chuckle nervously. His expression is quick to turn into a plain, straight-faced look. Great, I’ve pissed him off. “I just mean I haven’t really had time to prepare myself. You know, to paint my nails and all. It’s all very fast paced.”

He pulls me in for a kiss and has his hands resting just above my ass. “I know, honey, but it’ll all be over soon and then we can go on our honeymoon,” a smile tugs at one side of his mouth.

It takes everything in me not to push off his chest or look disgusted. I force myself to give him an endearing look which earns me another terrible kiss on my lips.

“Save them for tonight,” I pretend to swat playfully, but I hit him harder than I should’ve.

“Feisty,” Gaetano croons, “I like it.”

“I think the last have arrived, we’re going to get started,” Lazzaro cuts in.

I clear my throat and straighten my spine. My expression turns solemn as the funeral officially begins. Gaetano holds my hand and guides me further in the garden where the man, who I recognize now as a pastor, is in the center holding Nonno’s ashes.

Lazzaro stands next to the pastor and claps his hands together grabbing everyone’s attention. “We are gathered to celebrate the life of Milo Lorenzo Moretti. He was an active contributor in this community and we all loved him dearly. He was strong and had quite the temper on him. One thing is for sure is if he wanted something he went for it. I was Milo’s grandson. The eldest son of his youngest son. I grew up in America and only saw him when he came to visit or we went to visit him. I moved here when I was eighteen and have had to the pleasure to raise a family, learn the business and get to know my grandfather better. My grandfather thought of me as his successor. He taught me everything he knew. He made me the man I am today and for that I will be forever grateful. He will be missed.”

“Amen,” the group of us all murmur.

Lazzaro takes the jar from the pastor and begins to scatter half of the ashes around the garden. He spreads them over the multi-colored flowers and into the brown soil. He walks over and silently hands the urn over to me. I try my best not to get too choked up as I take my grandfather’s ashes and scatter them over my favorite flowers-the ones that look like stars.

When the urn is empty, we all just stare at each other lost and unsure what to do next. A monarch of sorts has died. This is a rebirth-a new era. The era my brother will take over and I will be present to see. Italy is now my present and future. Lies will soon bind me to Gaetano on the pretense that I will provide him children to continue the Cobuzzi name.

I wish my mind didn’t have to switch into wedding mode. I just need a few more minutes to myself. I need to mourn and cry and get all my anger out on the world. Time is turning too fast and I feel so dizzy and so tired that I won’t be able to take it much longer before I snap.

Still Nonno’s last words to me are ringing in my ear like a nonstop echo. He has given me conflicting advice; do I do this for the family or do I walk the path that leads to my happiness?

Will it truly be happiness? Surely there’s no such thing. If I take the path that leads to my happiness that means I get to be with Carmelo-but it also means we will live in fear. Gaetano would never let me humiliate him in such a way, he’d kill me and Carmelo. He won’t stop until we are both dead for lying and for betraying him. Being with Carmelo also means ruining everything Lazzaro has been training for since he came to Italy years ago.

No matter what I choose, I can’t win. There is no winning and there is no happily ever after.

I feel arms snake around my body from behind. His chin is planted on my shoulder and his breath is hot on my ear. “Is my bride ready?”

“We still have a few hours before the ceremony, don’t tell me you want to grab the pastor and have him do it right now?” I tease. I stuff my hatred deep down and put on the face of a doting fiancée.

“Mmmm,” he hums, “I’d like that, but I’d much rather say I do while you’re wearing that dress I paid a fortune for.” My stomach churns and I feel as though I’m going to be sick. “I meant are you ready to start getting ready? The dress has already been sent up to your room and the hair and makeup girls are ready to make you beautiful,” he kisses along my jawline.

“I’m ready,” I pull away. Anything to get away from him.

“Then I will see you tonight,” he kisses my hand and winks before disappearing into the crowd.

More time. I just need more time before I decide and there’s no turning back.