9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Emilio
A fter thinking about it, I really hadn’t been being the best husband. Two days into our marriage and I had disappeared on Luciana, told her what to do, and been a complete asshole. I had also denied her Starbucks, which was grounds for a divorce, apparently.
We weren’t going on a honeymoon because I was too busy with work. I was pretty sure all girls wanted to have a lavish honeymoon, so I felt bad denying her of that.
I suggested we spend more time together and get to know each other better. The two of us would be together for the rest of our lives, after all.
Or until I died. Which was highly likely, given my job description.
“Are you ready to head out?” I asked her.
The two of us were going to The Underground Vault. It was one of the Mafia’s clubs that also functioned as a secret underground gambling ring. The things that people were betting on and items being wagered weren’t exactly legal in a normal casino.
“Yeah,” Luciana responded. “Does this dress look ok?”
It was more than ok. She looked stunning. Luciana’s voice cut through the silence that had settled between us, her eyes searching mine for any sign of approval. My heart fluttered as I took in her appearance, feeling a swell of pride mixed with a twinge of guilt for not appreciating her beauty sooner.
“It’s nice,” I said.
I expressed my thoughts in a watered-down manner compared to what I had actually been thinking. Many of them were inappropriate, to say the least.
“Ok,” she said. “Let’s head out.”
As I started the car and merged into traffic, the awkward silence hung heavy between us. The tension was palpable, and I could sense Luciana’s unease as she fidgeted with her seatbelt.
“So, er,” I began tentatively, clearing my throat. “Do you have any favorite hobbies?”
“I run a YouTube Channel,” she responded.
“Oh? What about? Wait no, let me guess.” I paused, taking one hand off the steering wheel and resting it against my chin. “You strike me as a lifestyle vlogger.”
“Pft. No.”
“Too bad. A Mafioso husband could have really added spice to the channel,” I said facetiously.
She snorted. “I’d probably lose viewers if I put you in the videos. It’d repulse them.”
“No, but really,” I said, ignoring her jab. “What is it?”
“Urban exploration.”
Luciana launched into a speech about exploring abandoned places and buildings. I didn’t get the appeal, but as I glanced over at her gushing about it, I couldn’t help but note how cute she looked when she was passionate about something.
As soon as we arrived at The Underground Vault, the Valet took our car. I linked arms with my wife and we entered the building together, leisurely strolling inside.
“This is nice,” Luciana commented.
And it was nice. The upper floor exuded elegance and luxury, with its sleek lounge adorned in black marble. Polished stone gleamed under the warm glow of dim lights, creating a seductive atmosphere. The air was heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and intoxicating music filled the room.
But we weren’t here for floor one. The two of us came to see the basement.
“Let’s go downstairs,” I said.
We made our way to an indiscreet side door guarded by two mafiosos. They nodded at me and opened the door for Luciana and I. The two of us made our way down the stairs until we reached the main attraction of the venue.
The gambling area.
Luciana’s eyes widened in awe at the opulence of the place. The dimly lit room buzzed with elegantly dressed patrons, completely engrossed in various games of chance and skill. The air was thick with the scent of cigars and expensive perfume, creating an atmosphere of mystery and danger.
“This is crazy,” she said.
“It’s pretty wild, right?”
A woman to our right shrieked, throwing the cards out of her hands and on to the floor. She clearly wasn’t happy about whatever her outcome was.
“Don’t get addicted to gambling,” I said. “Sometimes watching this is sick.”
“Didn’t plan on it.”
One of my men who worked the floor approached us, a concerned look on his face.
“I’m sorry Mr. Renzetti, can I get a moment of your time?” He glanced at Luciana. “In private?”
The two of us were spending time together because I had been a less than perfect new spouse. Leaving her alone again would be a dick move.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I want to explore.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
That idiot could have dealt with the problem by himself. One of our vaults was out of balance by a large sum, which initially rose my blood pressure quite a bit. It turned out there were straps of hundred-dollar bills hidden behind a stolen Van Gogh painting a man had wagered.
I was now out forty-five minutes of quality time with my wife, and she was nowhere to be found.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her golden blonde hair hanging over a seat at the backgammon table. In a player’s seat. What the fuck?
I strolled up to the table and leaned against it.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Playing,” she responded.
She was playing against a man whom I believed to be the CEO of a large company. Although he was here relatively often, I knew little about him.
“Mrs. Luciana is an excellent opponent,” the man said.
“Thank you, John!” she beamed at him.
I got irrationally upset when she smiled at him. The dude was in his seventies, so there was no way she was looking at him like that. But I also wished she would have given me that smile.
Luciana pushed her final checkers along the board and dropped them into her container.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist into the air. “I win!”
I was proud of my wife for winning, but how had she had that much money on her to play? She wouldn’t just stroll out of the house with thousands of dollars in her wallet. Hell, that much money wouldn’t even fit in her purse.
In the center of the table, a familiar glint caught my eye. I was going to murder her.
She had wagered her wedding ring.
Luciana reached in the center of the table and slipped it back on to her finger. John’s Rolex, a model I hadn’t seen before, sat in the center.
I wanted to lecture her that no matter what Rolex that was, her ring probably cost more.
“You can have it back, John. I was just playing for fun,” she said.
“I couldn’t. A bet is a bet.”
“I insist. There were only three in the world made, and I have no interest in them.”
“If you insist.”
John opened his briefcase and grabbed a piece of pen and paper. He scribbled a number down and passed it to Luciana.
“My personal assistant’s number. I have two extra tickets for the Met Gala if you’d like them.”
Her eyes nearly exploded from her head when he said “Met Gala,” so I had a feeling we would be going.
“Yes,” she blurted out.
“Fantastic. Have a good night, Mr. and Mrs. Renzetti.”
It seemed like he knew who I was. John picked up his briefcase and walked towards the exit.
“I didn’t know you were good at Backgammon,” I said.
“I’m good at a lot of things. Are you ready to leave for dinner? I’m starving!”