Chapter 25
I suppress the urge to overturn the solid wood monstrosity that can seat sixteen people, the one I went through a great deal of effort to import from Spain, all so I can entertain various members of la Famiglia once a year. An activity I detest, but which is a necessary evil.
Whose fucking idea was this?
As if beneath twin spotlights, bathed in the soft glow of the elaborate crystal chandeliers above, two places have been set at opposite sides of the table. For an intimate dinner between my wife and me? Someone is going to die tonight for coming up with this stupid arrangement.
I spent an entire day at the Ruffo Enterprises headquarters, going over contracts for the acquisition of another company with my legal team.
A mind-numbing experience. Then, I got summoned to the Spada Estate to personally explain to the don why a certain shipment of cocaine is being delayed.
I left in the middle of his tirade when my migraine hit a nuclear level, in urgent need of my exclusive pain-relieving drug.
Dinner with Iris seemed like a safe, reasonable solution.
I didn’t anticipate us being separated by more than fifteen feet of Spanish walnut wood.
“Is something wrong with your food?”
My wife shakes her head and continues to push sauteed shrimp around her plate. After her eyes flared when I obviously surprised her at the dining room table, she hasn’t looked at me once. Was she hoping I wouldn’t be home for dinner?
“If you don’t like it, I’ll have it tossed, and the staff can get something else ordered in for you.”
That earns me my second look of the night. One laden with condemnation.
“There’s enough food here to feed twenty people. You can’t seriously be considering simply throwing it all away.”
“Why not? It won’t be any good tomorrow.”
“And you don’t see anything wrong with chucking food into the garbage when there are people out there who are starving?”
“Not particularly. Their circumstances are not my fault.”
“Of course not.” She turns back to her unappealing dinner.
I wait for her to say more, to argue over my callous response, berate me for being heartless—anything, as long as she keeps talking—but she just returns her blank and silent stare to her plate.
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine. Thank you for arranging the nurse for her daily home visit, and for setting me up with the driver and car to take me over to see her. I’m sorry if that caused you any inconvenience.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Your mother’s medical care was part of our deal.
And as my wife, you get a personal chauffeur.
Something I arranged even before we were married, but you refused to use.
Regardless, Theo is always at your disposal now and can take you wherever you want to go.
Just make sure to let him know your destination in advance, so he can coordinate the trip with the security chief on duty. ”
“Are you afraid I might make a run for it?”
“Precisely.” I nod, even though I have no concerns about that at all.
I’ve learned a thing or two about my wife during our time together.
Keeping her promises is paramount to her.
There’s no way she’d ever bolt. What does keep me up at night is the thought that the rhymey bastard might get to her somehow.
I haven’t told Iris about the threats because I don’t want to scare her.
My little flower should never worry about the ugly parts of this world.
The very suggestion that she might ever be afraid for her life is driving me ballistic.
A heavy sigh leaves Iris’s lips, and my eyes immediately snap to her mouth.
“Could I ask you to come with me to see her one of these days?”
My gaze flies to meet hers. A ridiculous hope unfurls that she might actually want to spend some time with me.
“She’s been asking about you. And, I don’t want her to worry or become suspicious about us. I’m not sure she ever truly bought my explanation for why we got married so fast. And it’s not like I can tell her the real reason.”
My teeth grind. Of course, appeasing her mother is the only reason Iris would want to spend time with me.
Why would I think she’d feel different? Can’t blame her, really.
Not when I showed her exactly who I am. My wife has seen more of the true me than any other human being.
And I saw the repulsion in her when she did.
The disdain for the animal in me. Which is why I pulled away from her.
Hating me is better for my flower. It absolves her of my sins.
She’ll never want me as me. She’d rather have him.
“I’ll try to make time,” I say.
There’s no getting out of this. I knew sooner or later I would need to deal with it. Having to navigate my spouse’s parent. Forced to endure a front-row view of their version of love for their one and only child. What would Serafina Fabbri’s be?
I met Iris’s mother once, two weeks before the wedding. A cordial five-minute visit before I excused myself and departed for an unexpected but urgent business meeting. Assuring Mrs. Fabbri that there would be another time for us to get to know each other. I guess that time has come.
“Thanks.”
“We’ll also need to arrange for a reception to host la Famiglia elite who are eager to celebrate our wedding. It’s expected. After what happened at the cathedral, everyone understands it may take a little time. So, how does next Sunday sound to you?”
“Sure. What do you need me to do?”
“Start using the credit card I gave you.”
Iris shifts on her chair nervously. Did she really believe I wouldn’t notice?
I had Mario hand her the Amex Black Card when he dropped her off at the hospital for her mother’s surgery, right after we signed the marriage contract.
I know he relayed my instructions for her to use it for whatever she needed. She hasn’t spent a cent.
“I don’t feel comfortable spending your money beyond the things we agreed on. You’re covering Mom’s care and meds, plus her rent and other expenses. That’s all I need. Anything more simply feels wrong.”
Fury spikes inside me like a goddamn fever.
I’ve seen the state of her clothes. The woman has two pairs of shoes, both of which crossed the line to inadequate ages ago.
The rest of her things aren’t that much better.
She wore that threadbare monstrosity of a coat the entire New England winter, in freezing rain and during record snowfall.
Each time I saw her in that thing, I wanted to drag her into a proper store and buy her some decent clothes.
Pants. Sweaters. Jackets. And boots. Warm outfits so she wouldn’t freeze her ass off in cold weather.
And pretty, well-made things for the spring and summer.
Isn’t my money good enough for her? Is she refusing purely out of spite?
Whatever it is, I can’t let it stand. If she won’t use my money to buy herself nice things, I’m going to make her.
She deserves those things. She deserves all the nice things.
“Being my wife comes with certain expectations, including looking the part. That was part of our deal. So take the card, and have Theo drive you to the most exclusive boutique in town. Buy yourself a brand new wardrobe. Is that clear?”
“Crystal, Mr. Ruffo.” Her gaze is downright frosty as she slowly rises from her chair. “I bid you a good night.”
My phone starts ringing as I enter my room. I pull it out of the back pocket of my jeans and answer without bothering to check the caller ID. It’s probably Mom, she already left me a couple of messages.
“Are you alright?” Ms. Zara’s voice sounds a little frantic on the other side.
“Ms. Zara! Hi! Um…yes. Everything is fine.”
“Hmm. Are you lying to me, Iris?”
“No. Of course not.”
There’s a pause before she responds, long enough that I check to make sure the call didn’t drop. She’s mulling over her words. She does that whenever she has something important to say.
“I don’t want to butt into your private life, Iris, but you are very special to me.
So I’m going to repeat what I said to you a month ago when you told me you were marrying Adriano.
If I find out he’s making you do something you don’t want, I’ll be there in a jiffy to get you out. Even if you protest.”
I sit on the edge of my bed, a sigh escaping me. Ms. Zara is the only person to whom I told the truth. Okay, only half of it. I told her that Ruffo offered to pay for Mom’s transplant and medical care if I agreed to marry him.
“He’s not making me sleep with him, Ms. Zara. His reasons for wanting this marriage are…of a different nature.”
“And you still won’t tell me what they are?”
“I can’t. I gave him my word.”
“Jesus Christ, Iris,” she sighs. “I really wish you had come to me instead of making this deal with Adriano. We could have figured something out.”
“The timing wasn’t right.” I know she would’ve tried to help. If Ruffo didn’t arrange for that blip with Don Spada’s accounts. Something that got resolved right after Mom was moved out of the ICU. Right after Ruffo let me know what would happen if I don’t hold up my end of our deal.
“Do you like him?”
The phone nearly slips from my hand.
Many folks have been dismissive of Ms. Zara, not paying her any mind. In their ignorance, they’ve all failed to realize exactly how clever she is. How good her people-reading skills are.
“I’ve seen how you look at him,” she goes on. “How you fidget or tune in when his name comes up in a conversation. You feel…something.”
“I… I don’t know. I thought I did. For the longest time, I had this terrible crush on him. But then I discovered he isn’t exactly who I thought he was and...” I shake my head even though she can’t see me.
The things he’s done… I should be terrified of my husband. I should probably hate him. But I don’t. God, why can’t he pretend with me as he does with everyone else? Then I wouldn’t feel so bad when my heart leaps every time he’s near.
“I’m not entirely sure what I feel for him,” I say finally.
“Life can be very strange sometimes, take you in many directions. Two unlikely people can end up together for the most unusual reasons.” She pauses, and I know something critical is coming.
“But, if I’m wrong”—her voice drops to a whisper—“and you decide you don’t like him and want out, let me know. ”
“Why?”
“So I can get my husband to take care of yours.”
“Take care as in…talk to him?”
“No, girl. I’ll have Massimo shoot him in the head.”
I choke as I inhale. “That…won’t be necessary.”