Chapter 7: Convenient Mafia Wife: Chapter 7

Las Vegas, Nevada Mancini Mafia GIULIA I’m dozing in my husband’s now (and finally) naked lap when his phone rings. I’m not surprised when he answers it, but his tone makes me sit up in shock when I realize the person on the other end is his dad.

‘None of your fucking business.’

His dad barks something.

‘Leave it,’ Raff slams back.

His body tenses under me at whatever his dad says next.

‘This is a family matter. As don you do not interfere between a husband and his wife.’

Oooh, no way does Patrizio like hearing that.

I go to lift off of my husband, but his hand clamps down on my hip and holds me in place. ‘Interfere between Giulia and me again, in any way, and you’d better start training Fabrizio to take over as underboss.’

My lungs seize and I can’t draw in a single breath of air. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

‘I don’t have to leave the Cosa Nostra to leave you.’

Jerking upward, I stare in shock at my husband’s harsh features. No matter how angry Patrizio is, it has got nothing on Raff’s fury right now. He’s a volcano ready to blow.

‘He was going to fucking drug her and touch her!’ Raff’s shout makes my ears ring.

But my heart soars. He is really pissed on my behalf. He screwed up not talking to me about the appointment but he would never have made it if he thought the doctor would not treat me with deference and respect.

Dr. Hewitt’s hubris and belief he could get away with sedating me is all on my father-in-law. I’m sure of it.

‘When we have children is between me and Giulia. Stay the fuck out of it.’

Patrizio says something.

‘No, I will not insist she has the IUD removed.’

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Why doesn’t he just tell his dad that I have an appointment to remove the birth control device?

Or is Raff leveraging this situation on purpose for more independence from his father, the don? My husband can afford to lay down the law with Patrizio when he already knows I’m getting my IUD taken out in a couple of weeks. He’ll get what he wants while maintaining a position of strength with his father.

He and Fabrizio have such a different relationship with their father than my brothers had with my dad.

‘Get someone else to do it,’ Raff says forcefully. ‘I’m taking the day off to spend with my wife.’

If I have a heart attack from shock right now, who will finish raising Neri? Because that is the first time in six years Raff has put spending time with me ahead of business.

Raff hangs up and tosses his phone on the low table near the sofa. ‘Put your dress back on.’

‘I thought you weren’t leaving.’ I knew it was too good to be true.

Not that I can blame my husband. He cannot refuse a direct order from his don without serious consequences. Even I’m careful how I subvert my father-in-law’s directives. Mostly, I avoid direct communication when at all possible with my don.

‘We are leaving. I’m not near done with you, but my ass is sticking to this leather. I’ll arrange for a suite for us.’

We’re going to a suite? To make love some more?

We don’t just spend the rest of the afternoon exhausting each other’s bodies, but the evening and the entire night. Raff answers his phone a couple of times, but he never leaves to take care of business.

We don’t do a lot of talking, but I’m not complaining when my vocal chords get a work out screaming from multiple orgasms.

~ ~ ~

A week after the doctor appointment debacle and subsequent sexfest with Raff, I am packing for my upcoming trip to New York with Neri. We both need warmer clothes than we wear in Las Vegas.

My phone dings and I check the text. It’s from Raff.

He sent me a link that leads to an article about the tragic death of a well-known local fertility specialist. Apparently, Dr. Hewitt died of an unexpected heart attack.

Chills run up the back of my legs. I should have expected this. I’m not sure why I didn’t.

Raff isn’t just protective, he is over the top possessive too.

Ever since I stormed into his office and we spent the rest of the day and night together naked, Raff has been even more insatiable than usual. He claims my body over and over again, both physically and verbally. It’s hot and sometimes a little overwhelming, but still, yeah…really hot.

He’s always a little extra attentive in the bedroom before and after one of my trips to NY, but this past week he’s been downright insatiable.

I didn’t connect it to what happened with Dr. Hewitt though. Or realize Raff’s response would be so permanent.

After how he told his dad off like I never in a million years thought he would, I should have known Dr. Hewitt’s days were numbered.

I’m not sure how I feel about his death. I can’t help thinking I’m not the only female patient Dr. Hewitt treated like a walking womb, but did he deserve to die for it?

Clearly my husband thinks he did.

In Raff’s world, justice is dispensed by the mafia, not the authorities and usually with some level of violence.

I call my husband.

He picks up on the first ring.

‘Was it you?’

‘What do you think?’

I think Raff has a very medieval outlook sometimes. ‘I purposefully didn’t hit a vital organ when I shot Dolf,’ I say.

Our phones are encrypted, but even so, I probably shouldn’t be talking about shooting people.

‘You have very good aim,’ my husband acknowledges.

‘That’s not the point.’

‘No?’

‘He and Lynne don’t deserve to die.’

‘Are you sure about that? Because I am not.’

I knew it. ‘Please, Raff, don’t do anything rash.’

‘I am not a reckless man.’

‘Not usually.’

‘Not ever.’

‘You took an entire day off from work and told your don to find someone else to do whatever it was he wanted you to do.’

‘I had more important things to do.’

Sex. He never considered it a top priority before.

‘Are you packed for your trip?’ he asks when I don’t say anything more.

‘Working on it.’

‘How long will you be gone?’

He already knows the answer to that question, but I tell him anyway. ‘Two weeks.’

‘Your trips to New York are growing longer.’

‘No, they aren’t.’

‘You used to be gone for only a week.’

I roll my eyes, though he can’t see it. ‘This visit is lasting two weeks so I can get to know my brother’s intended bride and help with the wedding preparations.’

My oldest brother has decided to get married and in typical Severu fashion, has given my mother and the bride three months to plan a wedding with hundreds of guests. I’m not sure the bride even realizes she’s getting married yet.

Mamma said the dinner we are attending is the first time she’ll officially be meeting Carlotta Jilani.

‘I would prefer you kept it to a week.’

‘And I would prefer that Dolf and Lynne did not die in the near future, or ever at your hand.’

‘If I agree, will you return home next weekend?’

He’s negotiating. With the lives of two sort-of innocent people.

‘That is not fair. You know my family needs me.’

‘I am your family.’

My brow furrows. ‘Is something wrong, Raff?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I don’t like how frequently you travel to New York.’

It’s the first time he’s complained about it. Well, not really. He always says he thinks I’m going to be gone too long. He gets downright grumpy before the annual month long visit I make in August.

With the exception of the last trimester of my pregnancy with Neri, I’ve been making four trips a year to see them since we got married. And he’s never before told me I go to see my mom and brothers too often.

‘I know going without sex for two weeks is a challenge for you…’ I let my voice trail off teasingly as my heart squeezes.

I assume my husband remains celibate while I am out of town, but fidelity in a mafia marriage is not a given.

‘I don’t just miss sex, amate. I miss you.’

My heart skips a beat. He calls me cara, darling. Not amate, beloved. It’s a typical Italian endearment and doesn’t necessarily mean he has feelings that he’s never given voice to. Like love.

But it feels significant.

My knees wobble and I sit down on the bed with a thump.

‘Don’t you miss me when you are gone?’ he asks sounding almost like a petulant child.

‘You know I do.’

‘Do I?’

‘What is this about, Raff?’

‘If you missed me, you wouldn’t leave Las Vegas so often and take our son with you.’

Oh. This is about me taking Neri away.

‘He enjoys his time with his nonna and uncles.’

‘I know he does.’

‘I’m sorry you miss our son, but if I left him here, he would spend more time with the nanny than you.’ Raff is a good father and way more present in Neri’s life than I expected from his parents’ example, but he is still a mafia underboss and busy CEO.

His hours away from our home exceed his hours here by many.

‘I think it would be hard on Neri to be away from me for that long,’ I add.

‘Of course, it would. He’s a young boy. It is hard on me having you gone for a week and I am an adult.’

‘Now, you are just being dramatic. Hard on you?’ I scoff.

‘You find that difficult to believe?’ he asks, his tone almost angry. ‘Maybe because it is not hard on you.’

‘Seriously, Raff, what is this about?’

‘Do you remember who that tight pussy belongs to when you are in New York?’

‘My body belongs to me,’ I assure him. Though we both know that’s only part of the truth.

I do belong to him. I only wish I was as confident that he truly belonged to me.

‘What you are really asking is if I let another man touch me and that is insulting.’ If deep down, I am also just a little bit thrilled by his jealousy, I’m not admitting it out loud.

That’s for sure.

‘I apologize. I know you have too much honor to desecrate your wedding vows.’

‘Desecrate. That’s a serious word. Can I assume you also have too much honor to desecrate your wedding vows?’

‘I am no cheater.’ His voice is just bursting with affront.

‘Neither am I.’

‘I know. I should not have asked that.’

‘Are you admitting to a mistake? Only it’s the first time I’ve ever known you to do that.’

‘Don’t be so gleeful. I can admit when I am wrong.’

‘When have you ever?’

‘I do not recall, but if I had been wrong, I would have admitted it.’

I want to tease him and say that is a lie, but the arrogant man would just say he is never wrong. Except, he just admitted he’d made a mistake asking what he had.

Which touches me way more deeply than it should, and I find myself saying, ‘The only man I want is you, Raff.’

‘I crave you like a drowning man craves air.’

I gasp, hating that this conversation is happening over the phone and not in person. I want to touch my husband so badly right now, it physically hurts that I can’t.

And I won’t see him again for two full weeks.

Neri and I will be flying out on the Mancini jet before Raff gets home from work. I prefer to travel in the evenings with my son, eating our dinner on the plane.

My rambunctious boy is not quite so energetic then as during the day. He will fall asleep about an hour before we arrive and won’t wake on the transfer to my family’s home in the top three stories of an Art Deco building in Manhattan. Since it is three hours later in New York, letting Neri sleep through until morning helps him to adjust to the time change more quickly.

‘Text me when you arrive in New York and call me before you go to bed.’

‘Alright.’

‘Be safe.’

‘You too.’ I think my admonishment is more needed.

My husband’s life is saturated with violence. In comparison, a flight on a well-maintained private jet represents no risk at all.