Chapter 19 – Penelope
H is low voice broke the stillness of the breakfast room. “You made me look bad, Penelope.”
I jumped in my seat, the cappuccino splashing out of the quaint cup that was more teacup than coffee mug. Moving too fast, I winced and grabbed for my neck. Most of my muscles were sore, and my back was stiff as an iron bar. My neck wouldn’t survive many more nights on the floor, but I would be damned if I crawled into the bed with the don.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, turning slower this time to glare at the looming figure leaning against the doorframe.
Alessandro studied me behind the cold mask of indifference. His walls were tight this morning; there was no seeing the beast that lurked behind the curtain. “Isn’t it obvious? Having breakfast with my beautiful wife.”
He advanced, pausing beside my chair to bend down over me. Too busy glaring at him, I didn’t move away. And the bastard stole a kiss.
I fisted my hands, refusing to reach for him.
The hunger behind the caress was contained, but it was there. He lingered for a moment, unfazed by my lack of participation.
When he broke the kiss, he smiled serenely down at me, looking every bit the feral wolf playing with its prey. “I’m not in the habit of sitting down for the morning meal, but having you here makes it worth it, Penelope.”
“It’s Penny—or Pen. No one calls me Penelope.” Why?! Why was that the hill I chose to die on?
A rich hum vibrated in his chest. “No, I prefer your full name. It’s regal, befitting a queen.” He sat smoothly in his chair beside me, and a maid appeared with another tray. “Which brings me back to my original statement: You made me look bad yesterday.”
I flagged down the maid and kindly repeated my original order. “I would like a cup of coffee. Not espresso, not…this. Good old-fashioned Folgers, or whatever you have. In a Mr. Coffee maker. A big mug, please.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she looked rapidly between Alessandro and me. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. We don’t have that kind here. If the cappuccino isn’t to your liking, we can make a macchiato or an Americano?”
English. English! We drank cowboy brew back home. So black it would put hair on your back, and my dad swore he could stick a pencil in it. Remembering him joking about it with my mom sent a wave of emotion through me. I wanted to sob in frustration. It had been the same in Detroit. No one in my uncle’s house knew how to make a good old cup of joe.
I’m homesick.
“It’s fine,” I breathed, reaching out to pat her hand. “I’ll be fine with this. If you don’t have normal coffee, I’ll learn to love this.”
“Ma’am—”
“I said it’s fine.” I shooed her away. Later, I would explore the kitchen. It was hard to believe that in a house this grand, with this many employees, there wasn’t a coffee pot or maybe a percolator like we used on the campfire. One way or another, I was going to have my fix.
“You don’t enjoy the European style of morning beverages?” Alessandro drawled.
I took a deep breath. This man was overbearing and insufferable. If only I could have my cup of coffee, I could deal with his nonsense.
“And how, pray tell, did I fail to uphold your image?” I snapped. “I did exactly as you requested. I took the driver—which was unnecessary. And I was followed through the store by a second guard. Again, he was completely unnecessary! But because my husband required it, I did it. So please, explain to me exactly how I messed up? Or is this how our marriage is going to work? I’m criticized for every little thing? Hmm? Are you a nitpicker, Mr. Mancini?”
A second passed.
And then the great, stony ice beast bent over. Riotous laughter boomed from his chest. It rolled through the room, filling it like the staccato of thunder. He laughed and laughed until he gasped for breath.
I threw my napkin on the table, shot to my feet, and moved toward the door—only to have him catch my wrist and tug me back. I fell onto his lap.
“Turn me loose,” I snarled, writhing and bucking.
“Calm down,” he gasped before another burst of laughter cut off his words.
I tried to pummel him with my fists, but he only succeeded in capturing those as well.
“Penelope, calm the hell down,” he rasped. “I’m sorry, you just looked so cute sitting there and biting my head off.”
“Glad I could be your court jester, my liege.” I jerked hard to the left. “Now, let me go!”
Still breathing hard, he cupped my cheek while still holding me captive. “Penelope.” His touch brushed back, pushing the wisps of hair back into the long braid. “How did I end up so lucky?” he murmured in Italian. “Such a beautiful wasp to be my queen? No one stands up to me. But my brave little wife does. Oh, how I enjoy having you around.” The soothing tones rumbled through me as his fingers drew down over my shoulder and along the length of my arm.
“What the hell are you saying to me?” I demanded, but the words lacked the punch I would have loved to give them. “I don’t like when you speak at me, and I can’t understand.”
Later, I would have to have a long think about if and when I ever wanted to reveal I spoke his native tongue. It would be all too easy to be caught, but feigning ignorance would also give me a chance to eavesdrop. So I wouldn’t make the decision either way just yet.
“I said, I need you to spend more money, wife,” the don lied. Reaching up, he traced my cheek with the back of his knuckles.
I blanched. That was not the thing I expected him to be controlling about.
He must have guessed the thoughts behind my surprise. His mouth quirked up. “I am a very wealthy man, Penelope. It makes me look bad if you don’t spend the money. Like I’m not providing for you.”
“But I bought everything I need,” I protested before thinking the response through.
He shrugged. “What did you buy yesterday from the…superstore?”
Holding up my fingers to tick off the items, I rattled the list off. “The mascara brand I like. Deodorant and flipflops. A cell charger, a notebook, and a dress for whatever godforsaken event you’re dragging me to.”
The mob boss gave me a pained look. “A dress? From Walmart?”
I shrugged. “It’s pretty and it will go with the shoes from the bridesmaid dress.”
The big, bad don scrubbed a hand over his face. “Beautiful, fiery, and frugal,” he muttered in Italian, voice full of disbelief. In English, he added, “That’s not going to work, darling.”
I bristled and tugged away. He held me tight.
“The kinds of places I’m taking you, they can scent a designer label, and they won’t look kindly on you for being economical. Plus—” he grabbed my heel and crooked my knee “—you aren’t wearing those shoes again.”
His touch as he stroked the bandages was impossibly gentle.
This side of him, the caring, concerned husband, I didn’t like it. I needed to hate him, to remember how much I wanted out of this nightmarish situation. Promising me untold wealth was something I could feel insulted about and resist. But the gentler side, the side that was bothered by the blisters cutting my feet open, it would get to me.
Hell, I had to look away! My chest was pattering too rapidly. The way he stared at me battled through my defenses.
I’m his trophy. He’s only doing this to bolster his image.
Those truths grounded me.
“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “You need me to buy something expensive? Just to prove you have money to spend? I can do that.”
“I know you can, vespina.” He chucked my chin and set me down.
Careful not to seem like I was running from his touch, I walked slowly to my seat, folded back into the chair, and picked at the omelet. “Do you have a preference where I go? Which store says your ego and cheque book are bigger than any other mobster?”
“Not really.” He stabbed at his own plate of scrambled eggs. It was hard to tell if that was a twitch of humor playing on his lips or not.
“Oh, come now, you look down your nose at the places I shop at.” I gave him the sweetest, saccharine smile. “You must have specific instructions where a wife befitting your status should shop?”
He cut a side look toward me. “You don’t know where to go, do you?”
I shoved a forkful of food in my mouth to keep from answering.
Which only made the bastard chuckle. “The driver will take you to the stores.”
“I can go by myself,” I grumbled.
“Not an option.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t your soldiers have better things to do than babysit me?”
His tone warned me to drop the issue. “No, they don’t.”
I made short work of my food, done with the rapid back and forth. My husband was insufferable. I was done with his nonsense. After shoveling the breakfast into my mouth, I took my plate and sprinted to the kitchen…where the poor maid nearly had a heart attack because I cleared my own dishes. When I started washing them in the sink, she nearly fainted. But I was too damn mad to stop.
What she didn’t know was that we were cut from a similar cloth. One that I needed the familiarity of right this second. The hot water and soap grounded me. Calmed me down. Let me breathe.
Alessandro thought he could order me around? That he could sleep in the same bed as me? Invade my breakfast? Fine! Two could play at that game.
It was time to get even.
Nico pulled the car in front of an expensive-looking store. The whole street glittered. The shop windows were large, the displays decadent. Some of the names were recognizable. Others I’d never heard of, but if they were neighboring buildings, I assumed they were just as swanky.
My guard, Giulio, opened the door, and I swallowed hard before stepping out of the vehicle.
He repeated the bargain we’d made yesterday. “I’ll stay back, as you requested, signora.”
It wasn’t that I minded having the muscle shadow my footsteps, but before we had a little chat, he’d practically been breathing down my neck. That wasn’t going to work. Ever. My dad didn’t raise a girl who needed to be protected, but rather one that others needed protection from as I’d proved on several occasions.
However, I wasn’t na?ve enough to compare the criminal underworld of Chicago with the late nights at the bar. And if I was being honest, there were times I hadn’t been able to take care of myself. Like when the drunk farmers tried to touch me in a pole barn as my body was covered in cheap glitter that won me their hard-earned cash. If it hadn’t been for the bouncers….
No, I wasn’t thinking about those times.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I smiled and pushed into the first store, patting my pocket to assure myself the card was there.
“Miss, can I help you?” A salesperson hurried over. She wasn’t smiling, and my own friendly grin faltered. Her gaze swept over me, and when she stopped in front of me, a grimace scrunched her manicured face. “Are you lost, miss?”
“No, I’m here to shop.” I spread my arms.
She gave me a pained look. “Honey, this is ARKLI. I can safely assure you, even our travel size toiletries are out of your budget.”
A disbelieving laugh exhaled from my chest. “Of all the presuming things….” I shook my head. “Do you turn all your customers away like this?”
“Miss, please, let’s not make a scene,” she said quietly. “You can’t come in here without an appointment. And our clientele doesn’t wear Daisy Dukes.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “I have an obscene amount of money to spend. And you’re telling me you don’t want it?”
“If you don’t have an appointment, you’re out of luck,” she said, her voice holding a slight sneer. “I don’t care how much your John gave you.”
I fisted my hands at my side. Giulio lingered by the door, and I was tempted to call him over.
“Imogen! Do you have the clutch in the dusky rose or not?” a familiar voice called from farther in the shop.
Looking around the nasty salesperson, I watched Serena appear, looking at an ugly little bag in mint.
“Oh! Look what crawled in here,” my sister-in-law minced.
“Do you know her?” The salesperson’s voice faltered.
Serena nodded. “Unfortunately. She’s my brother’s new wife.”
“Oh, well, maybe we can make an exception.” A second salesperson, who’d heard the whole exchange came over and nudged the first’s arm. “She’s a Mancini.”
“Nooo.” Serena laughed. “She’s not a Mancini.”
“Is there a problem?” Giulio called out.
But I moved into the first salesperson’s space. I was perfectly capable of fighting my own battles. “I have a credit card that says otherwise. It doesn’t have a spending limit either. But you know what? I don’t care to spend my husband’s money in a place with such rude staff.”
“We really do have a policy about appointments, but let me see if I can fit you in my schedule,” the second clerk insisted.
While I wanted to take pity on the man, and was sure he’d be much nicer, I was done here.
“Thanks, but I’m taking my business elsewhere.” I cut a look to Serena. “Have a great day, sis .”
With that, I spun around and marched out of the shop. My flipflops slapped against the floor.
“Penelope! Wait,” Serena called out.
An equally burly looking man stepped beside Giulio, no doubt her beefy shadow.
“Your card doesn’t have a limit?” she sniped.
I shrugged. “That’s what your brother said.”
“Unbelievable!” Serena threw up her hands.
“Yeah, well, I don’t get it either.” I waved my fingers for Giulio. “Again, have a great day.”
Hurrying away, I could feel her daggers being hurled at my back. Which was sad because I wanted to like my sister-in-law. One friendly face in that huge house would be nice. The maids wouldn’t talk to me, not like a person. I understood. Hell, no one talked to me like a human when I was in their orthotic shoes just a few weeks ago. But unlike the guests at the local Holiday Inn, I was trying to be friendly. With time, I might wear them down.
I sighed.
“Where now, Giulio?” I asked, once we were a few shops away from the horrid place.
“I hear that Dior is a popular place amongst the wives of Made Men,” he said with a grin.
I followed where his finger pointed, bracing myself for another scene. But I was distracted from the strangely dressed window mannequin by a yellow cab. The streets were busy, but something prickled my neck. I focused on the cab…and gasped softly.
The driver was looking fixedly at me.
I held his gaze, and when he didn’t look away, my skin began to crawl.
Temptation to point him out to the bodyguard was strong. But I didn’t know what this mobster was capable of. He no doubt had orders, and I wasn’t in the mood to see a fight on the ritzy street.
“Alright, well, here goes nothing,” I said, tearing my gaze away from the cabdriver.
“Right behind you, signora.” Giulio held open the door.
Bolstered by his confidence, I marched into the luxury store.