Chapter 21 – Penelope
A s a rule of thumb, I hated running. It didn’t matter that I was good at it, that I’d been top of the cross-country team in high school. The jolting rhythm of a jog, the way my lungs heaved for air, the strain on the small joints and tendons, were bad enough when I was in shape and used to the physical strain. But it had been well over a year since I last put on my athletic shoes and ran up and down County Road 40.
I didn’t need to worry. Mancini came home this morning and joined me for breakfast as if he hadn’t been out all night cleaning up his territory. Annoyed at the turbulent feelings, I knew I needed something more than a bath to calm down. I waited as long as possible, but exercise was the only solution to temper the feelings in my chest.
Tying the blue laces, I began to bounce up and down, warming the muscles. I would stretch at the end of the driveway and pound my emotions into the asphalt. The dopamine rush of a workout was just the thing to clear my head. That was why I’d purchased the fancy shoes and stretchy clothes the other day. I knew I would need an excuse to leave the mansion, if only for a little while.
The afternoon sunlight trickled through the high windows of the vaulted ceiling to paint the stairs in a kaleidoscope of shadows and bright hues. I pushed outside without meeting a soul. Shaking off the haunted feeling of the silent, stoic mansion, I let out a burst of speed as I sprinted to the front gate.
The iron bars didn’t budge.
Breathing hard, I frowned at the behemoth. There wasn’t a latch or knob. It was as though the stately display was to keep us in, more than keep anyone out.
“Screw that,” I panted.
Grabbing the vertical bars, I shimmied up the gate, carefully avoided the ornate spikes, and vaulted to the pavement. A broad grin spread across my face as I selected a high beat playlist, stretched my legs, and then began to jog.
The running app would create a map, so there was no fear of being lost. The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky, bathing the quiet street in golden light. There were no shadows on this side of the street. The eerie vibes from sitting around alone wore off the farther I ran. The warmth pressed against my skin, coaxing out a light sheen of sweat as my feet pounded against the pavement. My breath came deep and even at first, filling my lungs with air tinged with the scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint sweetness of blooming flowers.
The neighborhood was still, save for the occasional rustling of trees in the soft breeze and the distant hum of a lawnmower. These houses were set back on the properties just like the don’s, but I doubted they were mausoleums. Most rich people were normal, with noisy families and bustling homes—or so I imagined. At least out here, I wasn’t alone. Birds chattered in the branches overhead, their songs blending with the rhythmic slap of my sneakers against the ground. I was tempted to turn the earbud off so I could enjoy their company, but the music helped keep my pace even.
As I pushed forward, the burn in my legs deepened, but I welcomed it. Each step, each breath, each bead of sweat rolling down my temple felt like proof of something—strength, endurance, determination. The air was thick with the feeling of life. My pulse thrummed in my ears, my heartbeat matching the pounding of my feet.
Out here, I didn’t feel like a prisoner.
Not that Mancini mistreated me. Other than breakfast, I rarely saw him. But I felt like a captive nonetheless.
I need something to do with my time.
That became obvious the day after my shopping trip. Reading books and drinking coffee always seemed like a dream scenario. And it was…at first. What I soon came to realize was that I was used to activity. While being a maid was a job, I missed the demands of work.
If I could find a balance, find something that gave me purpose, something I loved….
Being married to a wealthy, powerful man opened a door a girl like me never thought was possible.
Granted, my uncle strung my fantasy along, telling me there was a way to make something of myself. But I didn’t want to lose that.
The more I ran, the more I felt it—the rush, the clarity, the sheer aliveness of movement. I felt like I was running toward some great revelation. My worries slipped away, lost in the rhythm of my body propelling forward. The endorphins coursed through me, lighting up my veins with a quiet euphoria. This was why I ran—not just for the exercise, not just for the sweat, but for this feeling. The feeling of being unshackled, of freedom, of pushing forward and knowing, for this moment, nothing else mattered.
The roar of an engine broke the serene neighborhood.
The matte black bike tore down the street, but instead of passing me, it hopped over the grass and onto the sidewalk. My heart shot to my throat, and I stumbled to move aside.
The crotch rocket stopped short, not intending to hit me.
I darted around it, ready to flee for my life.
“Signora! Stop,” a muffled voice shouted.
Yeah, fuck that! I tore away, ready to climb another gate and pray the neighbors were home and would shelter me from the danger.
“Penelope! I said stop,” the voice menaced. The man slapped his visor up, and the death eater pinned me with a glare as I stopped hard.
Slapping my hand on my chest, I let out short, staggered gasps. “Dante! What the hell? You scared the shit out of me.”
“You can’t be out here,” he growled.
I gave him a skeptical look. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Get on my bike and let me take you back to the house.”
Who the hell did he think he was, ordering me around like that? I tipped my chin up. “That’s not happening.”
I dug my heels in, ready to take off and sprint away. I was under no illusion that I could outrun a motorbike, but I wasn’t going to comply with his demands.
Dante cursed violently in Italian, increasing my vocabulary with the colorful expletives.
Pulling up my phone, I tapped on the running app. “You’re slowing down my average,” I grumbled.
“You can’t be out here,” the mobster snapped.
“I’m in a cozy neighborhood and going for a run,” I explained carefully as though he were dense. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Did you ask your husband?” he sneered.
My lips pressed tight. We both knew the answer to that.
“Didn’t think so.” Dante shifted. “Hop on or I’ll drag you over my lap.”
One brow shot to my forehead. “I doubt your boss will like that.”
“Listen, lady, I was the closest soldier to the manor. So it was my job to collect you. Boss won’t care so long as you’re brought back safely.”
I was done with this. With a burst of speed, I took off. A fire ignited in my veins, and my legs ate up the distance. When the bike roared to life, I began to use evasive maneuvers to avoid easily being caught.
It worked for the next few feet.
Dante dashed by, plucking me off the ground. I struggled, but his grip was firm. He tugged me against his chest, leaned to the side, and took off in the direction of the mansion.
I debated launching from his arms.
At the gate of Mancini’s house, I jerked hard. The roll and tuck came naturally, just as if it were a horse. Standing up, I brushed the dirt and grass from my body. The wide-eyed expression on Dante’s face was priceless.
“Touch me again, and I’ll castrate you,” I hissed.
The soldier opened his mouth, but a dark voice thundered from the road. Mancini stepped from the town car, face a dangerous mask of wrath.
I shivered, unable to hide the natural reaction.
“Sir, I was collecting her, just as you ordered.” Dante’s voice held a respectful tone, despite the anger in his words.
Mancini glared daggers at his second. “She could have been hurt.”
“She launched from the bike!” Dante protested. “I wasn’t holding her tight, because I know how damn possessive you are. You told us not to touch her, and I didn’t want to be shot.”
“You’re lucky you’re my favorite,” Mancini growled.
Dante narrowed his eyes but kept silent.
Since their conversation had been in Italian, I chose my next words carefully. “Care to explain why you sent your dog after me?”
That black gaze turned on me. “You ran.”
I gestured to my attire. “It’s called exercise, Mancini.”
His voice hardened. “You’re not allowed out of the house without a guard.”
That was the last straw. “So I am your prisoner!”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “It’s for your protection.”
I held up a hand. “No, don’t play with words, lupo. I’m your prized little wife, and you can’t stand the thought of me running away. Glad we finally have that straightened the fuck out.”
Turning on my heel, I marched through the open gate.
Heavy footfall marched behind me. I knew the don was right there, following, but I still tensed when his fingers gripped my wrist. All the struggling in the world didn’t stop him as he drug me behind a copse of oak trees.
Mancini pushed me against a trunk and caged me with his body. “You don’t get it!”
“Oh, I get it!” I yelled back in his face.
His chest rose and fell as he tried and failed to reign in his emotions. “I have enemies, Penelope. People who will hurt you—badly, very badly—just to strike me.”
“So the solution is to keep me behind iron gates, got it.” I pushed against his hold, spewing venom back in his face.
“Cristo, woman!” Mancini swiped a hand over his face before pummeling his fist in the trunk above my head. Flecks of bark sprinkled down on me. “Why are you fighting me? I’m doing this for you!”
“No, you’re doing it for you.” I tugged away.
It was useless.
“Let. Me. Go.” It was his only warning. When he didn’t comply, I struck. My knee landed with a satisfying thunk into his groin.
The mob boss doubled over with a grunt of pain.
Instead of fleeing in the burst of victory, I gripped his shoulders and tried once more to make my position crystal clear. “I will never stop fighting you on this. I need my freedoms. No bars, no shackles. I won’t fight the marriage, but I will fight you on this, Mancini. It was just exercise. I’m not running away.”
The beast snarled through clenched teeth, “Take the guards, and we won’t have an issue.”
Was that really such a terrible request? I paused. What if Dante had been a threat? I wouldn’t have been able to outrun him. Maybe having Nico and Giulio wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
But I wasn’t caving to this man easily.
“We need ground rules,” I demanded.
Those black eyes glared at me. After a moment filled with his heavy, pained breathing, the don nodded.
“I won’t be cooped up here,” I began.
“You’re not.”
I snorted. “I was just abducted by your henchman while I was destressing.”
“And he’ll be punished for touching you,” Mancini snapped.
I reared back. “Don’t you dare!”
But a deadly mask of cruelty was there in the boss’s face. “He broke my rules and touched what’s mine.”
“On your orders!” This was unbelievable.
It shouldn’t have been. The don was a psycho. A twisted, warped monster.
Mancini straightened, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared down at me. “Not only did he break the rules, but he didn’t protect you.”
“When I jumped from his bike?” I let out a bark of disbelief. “You know what, fine. He’s your man, do what you want with him. But Mancini?”
A black brow quirked. “Yes?”
“That just proves you’re incapable of basic humanity,” I spewed. “So next time I fight your tyrannical authority, remember that is why.”
I slipped away, taking off for the house at a run. Tears blurred the mansion, but I didn’t let them fall. Swiping my hands against my eyes, I tore into the house. When I realized I hadn’t been followed, I grabbed a change of clothes and took off for one of the guest bathrooms. It was the only other unoccupied room that had a huge soaking tub.
I hid there, trying to drown my emotions until my skin was raw and red from the hot water. But I didn’t need to hide. The don never came looking for me.