Chapter 13: Convenient Mafia Wife: Chapter 13

New York City, New York Mancini Mafia GUILIA I can hear my son’s excited voice coming from the living room as the elevator doors open onto Severu’s level of the penthouse.

‘Look, Miss Connie!’ Neri puts his Deadpool figure in the center of the train track and holds it there.

When the train engine comes around, it hits the figure and derails, falling on its side, its wheels still spinning.

My son dances around in glee. ‘Didja see? Didja see?’

‘Yes, he won again,’ the blonde woman replies with an indulgent smile.

A fully trained bodyguard, Connie Dane has been Neri’s nanny since birth. My son adores her.

And the feeling is mutual.

‘Look, Neri, your mamma and nonna are back.’ Connie rises gracefully from her spot on the floor near the train track.

She dusts off the seat of her slacks, though I doubt very much there is a speck of dirt on Severu’s floor.

My son jumps up and runs over to throw himself against my legs in an exuberant hug. ‘I missed you Mamma.’

‘I missed you too, ometto.’ My little man. I bend to lift Neri up to hug him back just as tight. ‘You were still napping when I left, or I would have taken you with me.’

‘I don’t need a nap,’ Neri says forcefully.

It’s a familiar argument and one my little man is not going to win anytime soon. Overtired, Neri can rival any made man’s temper.

‘Your zios Severu and Miceli took naps until they turned five,’ my mother says.

‘They did?’ Neri asks suspiciously.

His nonna smiles and kisses both his cheeks before saying, ‘Yes. And Miceli was like you. He tried to get out of his naps, but Severu never did.’

That has my son’s active brain whirling, I can tell. My oldest brother is only second to his father in Neri’s hierarchy of heroes. He adores Miceli too, but Neri is in awe of Severu.

I mouth, ‘Thank you,’ silently to my mother over Neri’s shoulder.

She gives her familiar Mona Lisa smile and nods. ‘I need to get ready. I am meeting some capos’ wives for tea.’

Aria De Luca’s social calendar is daunting. I enjoy the whirlwind of activity with her when I am in New York but can’t attend everything. I’d never see my son otherwise.

Besides, I’m not sure anyone could keep up with my mother and her social engagements.

Neri squirms in my arms and I let him down.

Throwing a greeting to Lara over his shoulder, he rushes back to the center of the large living room. His toys are spread out on a thick art deco carpet and the coffee table that is usually there has been moved under the window.

My bodyguard returns the greeting and takes up a position near the entrance of the room.

Things have been cool between us since the appointment with Dr. Hewitt. Lara apologized for not telling me what the appointment was for, as did my assistant, who I left in Vegas for this trip.

I would have left Lara too, but Raff would not hear of it.

I’m sure neither will make the same mistake again, but I’m not one of those people whose temper burns hot and bright and then dissipates. It takes me time to get over genuine anger.

Miceli says I can hold a grudge better than he can hold a gun. Considering how deadly my brother is, the implication isn’t lost on me.

I kick off my heels and settle on the floor near where Neri is playing. My narrow skirt forces me to sit with my knees bent and my legs off to one side. Not nearly as comfortable as Connie is in her dark pantsuit designed for ease of movement while looking professional.

But I’m used to it. This way, I can get up and back into my heels in seconds if anyone outside the family arrives.

Neri enacts a fight sequence between his superhero figurine and the remaining train cars. ‘Deadpool is the bestest!’

The antihero superhero is Neri’s favorite of all of them and he never goes anywhere without the action figure. Considering all of the men he most looks up are themselves more Deadpool than Captain America, it makes sense he’s so enamored with the mask wearing superhero.

Neri zooms across the living room and stops in front of my bodyguard. ‘Look, Lara. He’s the bestest and the strongest. Just like Papà.’

Lara nods. ‘I see that, piccolo.’

My son shoves one of the other action figures out toward me. ‘You be him, Mamma.’

Soon, my figure is in a mortal battle with Neri’s. My son’s wins, of course and he crows in victory.

Looking like the perfectly put together mother to the don that she is, Mamma comes into the living room, her heels tapping with each rapid step. ‘Connie, I believe the chef has some chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven she wants Neri’s opinion on.’

Realizing immediately that my mother wants to talk to me without my son present, Connie jumps up and says, ‘What about it, Neri? Are you up for taste testing some cookies?’

‘Yes!’ Neri starts running toward the kitchen.

‘No running,’ my mother mildly rebukes.

While I say, ‘Keep it to a walk, ometto.’

Neri slows down. Barely. And is soon out of sight.

‘What is it?’ I ask my mother in a quiet voice. Just because I can’t see my son, doesn’t mean our voices can’t carry.

‘Carlotta and her sister were attacked on their way back to Long Island.’

I jump to my feet. ‘Are they okay?’

‘What happened?’ Lara asks, coming to stand less than a foot away.

‘They are fine physically.’ Mamma shakes her head. ‘Their attackers shot out a tire on their car and forced them off of the road. Both bodyguards were wounded, but they managed to take out three of the four assailants.’

‘What about the last one?’

‘Catalina shot him.’ My mother’s tone is laced with shock.

I’m not surprised though. Catalina has a depth to her that is lacking in her younger sister. Whether it is the six years difference in their ages, or simply a matter of temperament, I don’t know.

‘But they are both alright?’ I ask.

Mamma nods. ‘Nevertheless, we should send a care basket to them.’

‘Good idea. I’ll arrange it while you are at your tea.’

‘Severu insisted I cancel my engagements for this afternoon and evening. He doesn’t want either of us leaving until he’s determined the motive behind the attack.’

‘I have my appointment with the OB tomorrow,’ I say. ‘I cannot miss it, but I’ll take extra security with me.’

‘I’ll arrange details with Matteo,’ Lara says, mentioning Severu’s head of security. ‘We have a team of four with us and will need four additional men from the don.’

I don’t argue over the size of detail she wants to take. It wouldn’t do any good if I did, but in this instance, I agree that more is better.

I don’t want any of my guards ending up wounded, or worse, because we aren’t ready for an attack.

RAFFAELE I read the text from Lara with disbelief. My brother-in-law’s fiancée and her sister’s car was forced off the road. Both women are fine, but Severu has yet to determine who is behind the attack and what their motivation is.

A quick look through my notifications confirms that my wife has not called or texted in the hour since Lara sent her message. In a meeting with one of my capos, I did not see the text until now because Lara didn’t use urgency protocols sending it.

I will discuss that oversight with her later.

There is also a voicemail from Miceli and I listen to it. He gives a few more details than Lara’s text and tells me that Severu has the house on lockdown.

However, there is no text from my wife. I know better than to expect a missed call from her.

The first couple of years we were married, Giulia used to call me whenever she had a question, or wanted to tell me something. When she went to New York, she would call me each night.

I didn’t always answer. When her message didn’t require any response on my part, I didn’t return the call either. I thought I was being efficient.

One day, she called me repeatedly but left no message. I finally picked up on her fifth attempt to reach me. Having just finished interrogating a man who had been skimming at one of our casinos, I wasn’t in a great mood.

She didn’t ask what was wrong, like she usually would do. Not that I could tell her ninety percent of the time, but the question soothed me all the same.

This time, she asked why I had not picked up before.

Like a fool, I told her I had more important things to do than answer personal phone calls throughout the day.

She apologized for bothering me and said it wouldn’t happen again.

It took me until later that evening to wonder why she had called me to begin with, much less so many times. But I didn’t get a chance to ask her because it was three weeks before I saw my wife anywhere but in our bed at night.

And when we are in bed, talking is not what I want to be doing.

Four Years Before I am disappointed to see Giulia dressed to go out when I come to the breakfast table. The last three weeks have been hell.

It all started with that miscreant, Paolo. He was the manager of one of our small, out of town, casinos and he stole over three-hundred-thousand dollars before our redundancy accounting caught him.

My father was so infuriated, he demanded an immediate in-person audit of all of our businesses, not just the casinos. I was busy from morning to late into the night, but it’s finally done.

We found three more casino employees that had to be dealt with and cremated afterward. Two dealers and one croupier were on the take.

‘Do you have plans this morning?’ I ask my wife.

‘I’m meeting with the director for the shelter benefitting from the upcoming casino night.’

It was Giulia’s idea to make it a 1920s themed evening with famous mobster impersonators hired to mingle among the guests. She’s laundering more money for us than ever before with these charity events and manages to make a large donation to the benefitting charity too.

When my aunt ran the events, most of the time the charity was just a shell organization for the Mancini mafia. Giulia agreed to take over the events only if she could donate 75% of the legitimate proceeds to actual charities.

Since legitimate business is always a better cover for mob business, even my father agreed.

‘Do you have time for lunch later?’ I ask her.

I’ve missed my wife, which is not something I ever expected to feel when we got married two years ago.

We’re not in love. We married to cement ties between the Mancini mafia with one of the Five Families in New York. They have port access on the east coast that we need, and we control necessary shipping routes through Nevada.

She looks surprised by the question, but her expression tells me her answer before she shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t.’

I don’t ask about dinner. We’re scheduled to eat with a group of our top lieutenants and their wives to celebrate the promotion of our newest capo. He’s replacing the man who should have been aware of the crooked casino employees.

The former capo isn’t dead, but he probably wishes he was.

Giulia shuffles her silverware around her plate and then looks up. ‘I have something to tell you.’

‘What?’ I ask, but my attention is on the way her fitted dress shows off her delectable breasts.

Is this shelter director a man, or a woman?

‘I’m pregnant.’

She says it so calmly, that it takes a few seconds for her words to register. I jump up and grab her from her chair, kissing her until she’s breathless and smiling.

‘When are you due?’

‘In the fall. I’ll be pregnant over the summer.’ She pretends to pout, but the twinkle in her beautiful brown eyes belies the complaint.

‘My father is going to be over the moon. You should call your mother. It will give her something good to think about.’

Don Enzo, my wife’s father, died of a heart attack a year ago. Giulia spent more time than usual in New York, comforting her mother.

I can still feel the hollowness of his loss. When I spent four years training under Don Enzo in New York, we connected in a way I don’t with my own father. Losing him was a blow to all of us.

This baby will bring healing and hope to both of our families.

‘I already told her,’ Giulia says.

Waiting for my father to answer his phone, I nod. My wife’s words surprise me, though. Do women tell their mothers before their husbands that they are pregnant?

My father is thrilled by the news. ‘We’ll announce it at the dinner tonight and have a drink to celebrate.’

I agree and hang up.

Giulia is looking at me intently. ‘What did your father say?’

‘He wants to announce it at the dinner tonight.’

She frowns. ‘So soon?’

‘Why not?’

‘I wanted to hold onto it for a little while longer. To keep it just our news before it became all about the next Mancini mafia heir.’

‘But that is what he, or she, will be.’ My father has backwards views on women, especially wives, or maybe it’s just my mother.

But if I’d had a sister, she would have been trained to help run the business.

Giulia lays her hand on my arm. ‘Yes, but our baby will be our child before he, or she, belongs to the family.’

It’s a sweet sentiment, but not a true one. ‘You know the mafia comes first.’

‘Here, more than anywhere else, I think.’ Her lovely features are cast in sadness.

Is she thinking about her father again?

It’s only later, after my wife leaves for her meeting, that I wonder if this was what she wanted to tell me that day she blew up my phone but refused to leave any messages.

Present Day ‘Call Giulia,’ I tell my phone.

She picks up on the second ring.

‘Why the hell didn’t you text me?’ I harshly demand.

Silence greets me. And then, ‘Hello, to you too, Raff.’

My teeth grind. ‘Don’t, Giulia.’

‘Don’t what? Be polite?’

‘You should have texted me as soon as you heard about what happened.’ Hell, she should have called me, but we both know that isn’t going to happen.

‘Why?’

Did she really just ask me that? ‘Two women connected to your family were attacked. Why the hell do you think?’

‘Didn’t Lara text you? I thought she would.’

Thought as in, Giulia wasn’t sure? ‘Did she tell you she would?’

‘No, but I assumed.’

Which means my wife did not know for certain that anyone would contact me and tell me what was happening in New York. And she apparently didn’t think it was important enough for me to know to ensure that I did.

Fury explodes inside me, but I force myself to keep my voice calm. ‘Is this about the appointment with Dr. Hewitt?’

‘How would the Jilani women being attacked have anything to do with a dead doctor?’

She’s pretending ignorance, but I’m not fooled.

When she’s riled, my wife can hold a grudge with every fiber of her stubborn being. It has been four years since the day I foolishly told her I had more important things to do than talk to her on the phone.

She has not called me once in all that time.

If I don’t call her when she’s in New York, then we don’t talk.

She texts me, though not often. It is not the same. I miss the calls I used to consider superfluous. I’ve told her I like to hear her voice. I’ve even said it would be nice if she called me occasionally.

She smiles and nods and does not call.

This is different though. This is her damn safety.

‘What time will you arrive tonight? I’ll have extra security meet you at the airport.’ I will be there too.

‘We aren’t flying back until Sunday night.’

‘No. You weren’t coming home until Sunday. Now, you are getting your beautiful ass on a plane with our son and flying home to Vegas.’

‘No.’

‘Giulia,’ I growl.

‘Because of this whirlwind wedding planning, I had to reschedule the appointment with my OB to tomorrow.’

‘I don’t care. You need to come home.’

‘I’m not having my IUD removed by a stranger.’

My stubborn wife. Her obstetrician is based in New York, though she made trips to Las Vegas to oversee my wife’s pregnancy with Neri. The OB flew in once a month until Giulia was eight months pregnant. Then the doctor came to stay until Neri’s birth.

We provided her a penthouse to live in and king’s ransom to focus solely on my wife’s wellbeing.

‘Your OB can come out to Vegas.’

‘No.’

‘Then wait to get it taken out until your next trip to New York.’ We would all be there for Severu’s wedding. My wife could have it done then.

‘I’m sure your father would not approve of waiting an extra three months.’

‘I don’t fucking care. You are my wife and I want you safe.’ My father may be don, but I am the ultimate authority over my wife. And she damn well knows it.

This is about the Dr. Hewitt debacle. Killing him wasn’t enough. Giulia still wants her pound of flesh. From me.

‘I’m safe here,’ she says, like that should sway me. ‘Severu will send extra guards with our security detail when I go to the doctor’s tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow? Has he learned the reason behind the attack then?’

‘No.’

‘Cancel the appointment.’

‘That’s not happening.’ She huffs out a sigh. ‘We can’t come back tonight anyway. Have you forgotten? The jet returned to Las Vegas so your father could use it last week.’

‘Use Severu’s jet.’

‘You’re being ridiculous. Both Neri and I are perfectly safe here.’

I’m done arguing. I know when my wife is being intransigent and when she’s willing to listen to reason. The only way she’s getting on a plane is against her will. And the only person who will carry my resisting wife onto an airplane is me.

I text our pilot and tell him I want to be wheels up within the hour. We use a private airstrip, so we don’t have to wait for a takeoff slot. However, the ground and flight crews have to hustle.

‘I will see you in a few hours, Giulia. Do not leave your brother’s house for any reason in the meantime.’

‘What? You can’t fly to New York on a whim, Raff.’

‘The safety of my wife and child is not a whim, amate.’

‘You can’t think I would ever put Neri’s safety in jeopardy.’ There is no mistaking the hurt in her tone.

‘No, but yourself is a different matter and somehow you don’t understand how important you are to both me and our son.’

‘I’m well aware of how important my incubation abilities are to you.’

‘You are a hell of a lot more to me than a uterus.’

She makes a pfft sound and it infuriates me even more than her not contacting me about the attack. It is time my wife realizes that she is fucking vital to me.

‘Do me a favor and be there, Giulia. That is unless you want to give me a stress related heart attack.’

‘Don’t say things like that! I already told you I’m not leaving until the OB appointment tomorrow. I just don’t know why you think you need to fly out here.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No.’

‘Think about it, wife.’ I read the text telling me that the plane will be ready to go in twenty-five minutes. ‘Ti amo.’

It’s the first time I’ve said the words, but not the first time I’ve felt them. It would take a stronger man than me not to fall in love with my stubborn, temperamental, soft-hearted wife.

I thought I didn’t need to say it, that she knew. Like I know that she loves me.

She gasps, her shock showing how wrong I am in that assumption. ‘You did not just say that.’

‘Take a nap, amate, because when I get there, I’m going to exhaust you showing it. Again.’

Does she think that men who have no feelings for their wives crave them like I crave her? I know I haven’t said the words, but damn it if I haven’t shown her with my actions.

How has my highly intelligent wife missed it?