Chapter 18
Elena
In addition to texts and calls from my family members, my engagement has also drawn the attention of the other mafia wives. Mrs. Portia Rizzo sent me an invitation to lunch with the ladies the following day.
After spending far too long on figuring out how to hide this hickey, I dress in my best T-shirt, jeans, and jacket. My pink-framed glasses complete the look.
Once again, Maximo’s off doing whatever it is he does, and I’m left to my own devices.
Ballsy of him, considering how I destroyed a bunch of his stuff just two days ago—which barely put a hiccup in his routine since all he had to do was make a phone call and a bunch of new suits were delivered that night.
But also not surprising since he’s as arrogant as can be and probably thinks I’ll never cross him again for fear of his threats.
The thought of him spanking me sends heat radiating to forbidden places. That’s enough for me to heed his threat, at least for now. Things have already gone too far, and gotten out of control. I shouldn’t want him to touch me like that.
Then I recall how he egged me on, told me to do my worst, as if he might actually look forward to punishing me. Gosh, why does he sound like the villain-turned-love interest from my book? Obviously, I’m delusional. Maximo’s a villain—end of story. There’s no happily ever after for us.
If only my lips would stop tingling every time I think about him.
I’ve avoided him as much as possible because his mere presence hyper-sensitizes my skin.
He’s fighting this war with an unfair advantage.
Now that I have my game-plan in place, it’s only a matter of time before he surrenders.
I need to be patient. And I need to make sure I’m never alone with him in a compromising position.
Maximo’s driver, Vincent, takes me to the restaurant.
My bodyguard for the day, Niccolò, sits in the passenger seat.
Besides their first names, I know nothing about them, they’re silent muscle, protection, and that’s it.
Knowing Maximo, he’s probably forbidden them from speaking to me unless absolutely necessary.
We pull up in front of the restaurant and the soldier opens my door. He’s right on my heels as we enter the place.
As soon as I see the dazzling interior, my heart sinks. I gaze down at myself in jeans and T-shirt while everyone else in this place is wearing their Sunday best. I stick out like a sore thumb, so out of place that I inwardly cringe.
When Mrs. Rizzo invited me out for lunch, I expected a casual affair, instead I’m met with ladies who lunch in Manhattan.
Shit. I should have seen that coming. I’ve been gone from this world for too long.
“Elena, I’m so glad you could make it.” Mrs. Rizzo waves me over to her table where six other women are already seated. “Come sit next to me.”
I do as I’m told, offering a polite smile to those around us. As I really take them in, I want to groan. They’re all wearing designer dresses, their hair and makeup impeccable. I can’t believe this place let me in with my jeans and poorly concealed hickey. What must they think of me?
While not a single one of them mentions my appearance, I see the judgement in their eyes. Mrs. Rizzo is the only one who hides it well.
I don’t belong among them. That much is clear.
Which actually… that’s exactly what I’m trying to achieve, isn’t it?
I’m not used to being the outcast, but that’s how I want Maximo to see me so he’ll end this stupid engagement.
Maybe this is the perfect opportunity to get that ball rolling.
Inspiration smacks me in the face. This is going to be a great lunch.
Mrs. Rizzo introduces the other women. I recognize Francesca, Enzo’s cousin, and the woman who believes she’ll end up married to Maximo. Her smile’s so fake it could be painted on.
Carmela Valente is a don’s wife, just like Mrs. Rizzo. The other four are capos’ wives and close friends of our hostess. As soon as that formality is out of the way, they carry on with their conversation as if I’m not even here.
Through lunch I purposefully do things that I’d previously never be caught dead doing: Slouching in my seat, spilling a glass of red wine across the table—that will stain their Chanel—and worst of all, Mama forgive me, chewing with my mouth open.
By the end, their polite facades have cracked wide open. Only Carmela’s sweet enough to say goodbye to me on her way out. The others hurry away as if I have the plague.
Relieved that those two hours of hell are finally over, I’m almost to the exit when Mrs. Rizzo catches up with me. With a gentle hand on my arm, she draws me to a halt.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, my dear, but you obviously don’t belong among us, even though you were born into this life.” She pulls me into a nook near the exit. “I’ve seen that look before. You want out, don’t you?”
Am I really that easy to read? That transparent? I guess it doesn’t matter as long as it gets me what I want.
“What do you mean?” I hedge. If I tell her the truth, she’ll no doubt go straight to Maximo. Not that it’s a secret from him.
She lowers her voice. “I can make you disappear, to get you out… for a price.”
Ah, so she’s not looking to gain favor with Maximo. Interesting. Curious as to what she does want, I play into her game.
“What’s the price? How do you think I can pay it?”
“Because you’re the closest person to Maximo Pontrelli. You’re living in his apartment, engaged to him, you could even be sharing his bed. Men like to talk in bed.”
I flush. “I wouldn’t know.” Not really, at least. We’ve certainly never been in bed together. Seducing him is a terrible idea. Though, would I pay that price in order to be forever free of him?
“Not yet. But he will eventually take you to his bed. The question is whether you plan to use it to your advantage or not.”
Now I’m intrigued. “How so?”
“My price is reasonable. All I want is information on Maximo. He’s new and I don’t trust him. I want to trust him, but I need proof that he’s trustworthy. You can get me the information I need to quiet my doubts.”
I stare at her, slightly shocked. Does she realize what she’s asking me to do? To spy on a don.
“You want me to spy on him and report to you?” I clarify, just to say the words aloud.
She grins, all cool aloofness and grace.
“Those are your words, not mine. But take this phone, it’s a burner and my number’s in it.
If you find what I want, then I can give you a new life far away from here.
I know people. They will hide you so well that even Maximo won’t be able to find you.
” She offers me the burner. “He’s not the kind of man to ever let you go. You know that, right?”
Slowly, I nod. After a moment’s hesitation, I take the phone from her and slip it into my bag as misplaced guilt consumes me. This is betrayal on a level that I’m not sure I’m capable of acting on.
Do I hate Maximo? Of course. Can I spy on him, betray his trust like this, and deliver his secrets to a woman who may be friend or foe? I’m… not sure. This is completely different from destruction of property, this could be potentially dangerous. Lives could be at stake.
She takes my hesitation in stride. “Think about it. Use that phone to call me once you’ve decided.”
I stare after her as she leaves the restaurant.
This is not a moral dilemma I saw coming.
Yet, unlike ruining clothing and cars, this is a real deal-breaker.
If I betray Maximo, and he finds out about it, he’ll drop me in an instant.
No don can have a wife who spies on him, who sells his secrets, who he can’t trust.
Mrs. Rizzo may have just handed me the ultimate out. Either that, or she’s signed my death warrant.