The Mafia King’s Bride

Chapter 11

Elena’s P.O.V

“Ring! Ring! Ring!”

I turn in my sleep, as a buzzing sound wakes me up. My eyes squint automatically, not used to the bright light coming out of the window.

I pick up my phone, without looking at the caller ID, and hear Valentina’s voice on the other end.

“What happened to calling me when you got there? Hmm, Lena.” she says, her tone accusing.

“I’m sorry, immediately I got here, I just got so tired I had to sleep.” I say, not saying any more.

“You have to keep me updated Elena, I got so worried about you.” her voice sounding remorseful.

“I know, I know,” I say, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “Nothing much happened. The ride to the house was silent, then when we got home, he went straight to the kitchen, poured himself a bottle of whiskey and told me, i was going to sleep in a separate room, he didn’t even have the decency to show me the room, I had to look for it myself.” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

“God, what a douchebag.” she says, her voice making a retching sound.

I laugh, “I know, but I’ll be okay, I have a meeting with the board at the office, so i have to start getting ready.” I say, stretching as I climb out the bed.

I walk to the bathroom. I take a look at myself in the mirror, and I instantly shake my head. My hair is all over the place, in different directions. I forgot to take off my makeup last night, so I have smudged makeup on my face, and my breath stinks. ‘Great, We’re off to a good start’ I say to myself as I roll my eyes. I wash my face and decide to get coffee before anything else.

As soon as I open the door, I hear a woman’s voice coming from the kitchen. I walk towards it and find her back facing me, cleaning the counter. She looks older—maybe in her late fifties or early sixties.

After a few seconds of just standing there and watching her, she finally turns around—and screams when she notices me.

“I’m so sorry,” I start quickly, worried I might have given her a heart attack. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” I finish apologetically.

“Jesus Child, you almost gave me a heart attack—damn near made me s**t myself.” she says chuckling, with one hand pressed to her chest.

“I’m really sorry. I just heard a voice from the bedroom—”

“Don’t apologize child, It’s your house now too, isn’t it?” she says, walking toward me.

Before I can react, she pulls me into a hug. I’m so startled by the gesture that I freeze for a second before awkwardly patting her back.

“You’re so beautiful,” she says, pulling away slightly, her hands coming up to cradle my face.

“Oh—um—thank you.” I say,a little flustered.

“Oh, forgive my manners, I forgot to introduce myself,” she says, stepping back. “My name is Martha, you are Ms. Elena?”

“Oh, just Elena is fine. Really.” I say.

“Right, Ms. Elena.” she says.

I don’t bother correcting her again, it doesn’t seem like she’ll stop.

“You must be hungry. I made breakfast. Mr. Sebastian said you like your coffee with a lot of cream and sugar.”

“Um…yes I do, thank you.”

How does he know that? I ask myself, but push the thought away and brush off the part of my mind that wants to know why.

She hurries back to the counter, pouring me a cup of coffee, and I take a seat on one of the bar stools. She hands me the cup, and I take a sip, instantly loving the sugary creamy taste as it fills my mouth.

“Wow,“ I say, nodding my head at her, with a small smile on my face. “This is really good. Thank you.”

“No problem, child. I’m glad you like it.” she says, as she wipes the counter.

“Does he usually leave this early?” I ask casually, trying to make conversation, and maybe a part of me is curious about my husband.

Martha pauses for a second before answering. “Mr. Sebastian?” she asks, glancing at me.

I nod.

“Yes,” she answers slowly, “He leaves early most days. Work keeps him very busy.”

I hum softly, staring into my cup. “He doesn’t seem like the type to rest much.” I say.

Martha lets out a chuckle. “That’s because he doesn’t,” she says, “That boy has carried the weight of too much for too long.” she says as she pauses for a second, before continuing.

I look up at her, curiosity taking over me as I ask, “What do you mean?”

“He’s not a bad man, Ms. Elena,” she says, dropping the napkin on the counter, her voice softer now. “People see the power, the money…the fear, but they don’t see what it took to get here. What he had to give up.”

I don’t ask anything, afraid she’ll stop talking.

“He’s been through a lot of things most people won’t survive,” she continues. “He’s lost people. Made decisions he shouldn’t have had to make so young.”

Martha looks at me for a long moment, then she smiles. “Some things aren’t always what they seem, child.”

I’m afraid to ask anything, for fear of knowing the truth. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.

“I have to go clean the rest of the house. You just call if you need anything, and I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you, Martha” I say, as she turns walking away, leaving me all alone with my thoughts.

———

I sit there for a while after Martha leaves, thinking about what she said. He’s lost things? What exactly has he had to lose? In this arrangement, I thought I was the only one who lost things.

All this is just so confusing.

But regardless of who lost what, it didn’t change what this is.

What we are.

An arrangement.

And that is all this can ever be, I won’t let it get farther than that. Because despite everything, I still don’t believe my father’s death was a coincidence, just because he’s old.

And no matter what happens, I’ll make sure I know the truth.

I push the thoughts away, looking up at the wall clock.

8:22 a.m

And head back to my room to get dressed.

———

When I step outside a car is already waiting, but it’s not Giovanni.

A different man stands beside it.

I pause, my thoughts wandering.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Good morning ma’am,” he says politely. “I’m your driver.”

“No you aren’t” I say. “Where’s Giovanni? My driver has been driving me?”

“I’ve been assigned to you moving forward.”

“Assigned to me?” I scoff. “Assigned by who?” I ask agitated.

He hesitates, his hands going behind him.

“Who assigned you?” I ask again, firmer this time.

“Mr. Russo’s associate,” he finally says. “He handles all of Mr. Russo’s security concerns.”

“I need a name.” I say, my patience wearing thin.

“Name”

The name sounds familiar, but I don’t remember where I heard it. I abandon the thought of the stranger and decide to call Sebastian.

I sigh, pulling out my phone and dialing his number. He answers on the third ring.

“What’s your problem?” I snap

“What’s the matter, Elena?” He says, his voice sounding strained.

“What’s the matter?” I say, repeating what he said sarcastically. “Why would you change my driver without telling me?”

“Is this why you called me?” He asks, his nonchalant tone fueling my anger.

“Yes. I want my driver back now.” I say, a finality to my tone.

“We can talk about this when I get home.” He says.

“No we need to talk—-“

The line goes dead.

Did he just cut the call on me? Mid conversation?

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down, I get into the car and the driver follows after me.

“To the office ma’am?”

“Yes.” I say, trying to find composure.

——-

By the time I get to the office, I’m composed again. Is this how this marriage is going to be? Back and forth with him everyday? Is he going to keep pushing my buttons and making decisions that affect me without my knowledge?

It has to stop and I’m not going to stand for it.

The boardroom is already full as I walk in, all the chairs are occupied by its respective people, and they all stop talking, their eyes roaming over me with a judgmental look on their faces.

“Miss Moretti,—-“ one of them says.

“It’s Mrs. Russo.” I correct him, a sudden rush of power filling my veins as the name comes out of my mouth.

“Oh—yes—forgive my manners.” He says, shrinking at the sound of the name.

I walk towards the head of the table, and take my seat.

“I understand the concerns you all have,” I start, my tone leaving no room for discussion. “But I am not here to be questioned like I don’t belong in this position. If you have something constructive to add, I’ll listen. If not, I suggest we move forward, we’ve already wasted too much time.

———

The rest of the day is exhausting and it moves by in a blur.

Meetings. Calls. Negotiations. All doing the same thing, assuring the stakeholders and shareholders that me being appointed as CEO is not going to damage the company but rather put it on the right track.

I handle all of it. The complaints, the accusations, because it’s my job now.

By the time I finally get home, it’s late and it’s pitch black outside. The car pulls to the front of the house, and I look in it. The house is dark, all the lights off.

I enter the house, and it's quiet and empty.

He’s not back. Of course he isn’t, he’s probably not even coming back tonight.

I sit on the couch, waiting.

I’ll wait for him to come back, and I’ll confront him about this morning. I won’t let this slide, and I won’t let him win this time. I’m tired of letting everyone think they can just tell me to do something and I’ll do it, I’m tired of everyone making decisions for me, without thinking about how it will affect me.

It’s really f*****g annoying.

But the exhaustion wins, and before I know it I’m laying down on the couch, and closing my eyes

And before I know it—-I fall asleep.

———

I wake up the next morning in my bed.

My brows furrow as confusion battles with tiredness. I don’t remember coming back to this bed.

Which means—-he came back. He saw me, and he carried me to this bed, and he didn’t even wake me up.

I step out of the room, and find Martha in the kitchen, making breakfast.

“Good morning child,” she says, with a small smile

“Good morning, Martha.” I say, “Is he here?”

Her expression shifts slightly. “No. He left early.”

“Oh—ok” I say, the disappointment evident in my voice.

Again.

Martha and I talk for a bit longer. I learnt about her daughter, and her granddaughter as well, Martha said she is about to start school. The pride in her voice when she talks about them makes me smile.

It makes me think if I ever want to have children. I guess it’s not in the cards for me, because I can’t imagine ever having a child with Mr. Grumpy. Even in another life.

Then she leaves to continue cleaning, and I eat breakfast and return to my room to finish getting dressed.

My phone rings immediately. I open the door to my room, and I quickly answer it.

“Heyyy girl,”

I smile as I hear Valentina’s voice on the other end.

“Hey, How are ya?” I say, with an accent.

“Forget about me. How’s married life?” She asks

“Ugh, I genuinely don’t want to think or talk about it right now.” I say, as I plop down on my bed.

“Well, I have good news!!” She says, happily

“What are you so happy about?” I ask, wanting to know the good news.

“We’re going to the club tonight. You need some fun in your life right now. Remember when we used to sneak you out when we were like—what—16?” She says laughing.

“Oh my God, how could I forget?” I say. “I really do need some fun right now.” I say my voice getting softer in the last note.

“I know, babe. I’ll pick you up at 9. Be ready!!!”

“Yes ma’am”

I hang up the phone and hurry into the shower to get dressed and head to the office.

I can’t wait to go out tonight.

——-

That night, Valentina and I go to the club. The place is loud and alive, which is exactly what I need.

We take so many shots, I can’t even keep count. And I dance. I dance without thinking, my waist swaying to the beat, I let go.

For the first time in days, I feel like myself. It’s just me here. No Sebastian. No weight of this arrangement. It’s just me living and existing.

Men approach me, and I don’t even think, I dance with them. My hips swaying to the beat, hands roam my body but I give in to them, my body needing physical touch, not caring who they’re from.

I just exist. I laugh. I dance, and I forget.

Oh—I forget everything. I forget Sebastian. I forget this stupid marriage, and I forget Moretti Holdings.

_____

When I finally get home, it’s late. Too late. The house is quiet. But—the living room light is on. The dim light cutting through the darkness.

I take off my heels, and slowly walk, my heart pounding against my chest.

I push the door open, and then I see him.

Sebastian. He’s sitting in the lone chair, one hand resting against it and the other holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. His hair is ruffled and his tie is off, leaving him in just his dress shirt, the buttons already undone.

He’s watching me, and he looks like he’s been waiting for me. Like he’s been waiting for a while.

“Shit.” I whisper.