Her Mafia Husband's Mistress

Chapter Seven

I muttered a string of curse words in my native language as I stripped off my clothes. The goddamned audacity of that damned man.

The knob turned as I pulled off my leather trousers.

"Adalina, open the door", I turned away from it and walked into the bathroom.

The door rattled as he turned the knob forcefully.

" Sokolov", His deep voice bellowed from behind, but he need not do that, I could hear him perfectly well.

I stripped the rest of my clothes and walked into the bathroom, increased the temperature of the water, and watched as it burned my skin. It was liberating; it felt as though it would melt all my pain and anger away. My black hair pelted across my face and I brushed it back.

What would it take for this to end?

Steam filled up the bathroom, and I watched through the opaque glass as he busted into the room.

Irrigation swelled in me and I pressed the censor to further increase the temperature. By the time I turned off the tap my skin was red and half-cooked.

I grabbed two towels; wrapped one around my body and wiped my hair with the other.

I could sense him watching me.

I shot the door of the bathroom after me and headed for the closet, by the time I was done changing he had made himself comfortable on one of the sofas.

He watched me as I walked around the place putting things in order and I wondered how long the silence would stretch; I had no problem with quietness I loved it.

The moment he opened his mouth the ringing of a phone interrupted it and his thin lips paused in displeasure.

"Hello", the person on the other side acknowledged my greeting.

" Are you still on your pills", Dr Irina Volkov asked. She does not beat around the bush, I have very little patience for anything psychological.

"Yes",

" And you are still lactating?

My heart dropped at the reminder of what I had lost; the feeling could never grow old, I could only get used to it. All my training, and all the hardship I endured to become who I am was not enough to get me to see a therapist, but the loss of a child placed me on antidepressants.

I hummed in reply.

"I'll review your drugs, keep using the ones with you", She hung up afterward.

" Who was that", His deep voice broke through my reverie.

"You haven't left", he was the last person I wanted to see at this moment. His mere presence is a contact reminder of the child I would never hold or see grow up. He reminds me that his first child will never be mine.

" No", He answered even though it was a question that didn't require one.

"The annual ball is approaching and I need you to_

" _f**k off" I cut him, my voice hard. His eyes shot up to look into mine.

"And keep her away from me or I might lose my mind and commit i*********e. And it would not be my fault", My eyes spoke promises of bloodshed should he do otherwise.

His blue eyes harden and the wrath in them at the prospect of someone hurting his child was so profound. Yet he dared me with his eyes to do exactly as I said.

I stood up from the sofa and walked in the direction of the mini-bar.

" I understand that it's a bad timing to bring in a child of my own after...." His throat choked up unable to complete his sentence. He said he understood, did he? What exactly does he understand?

"You mean your bastard", I spat bitterly.

" Alina", his deep baritone voice thickened with emotion.

"It is never a good timing to bring in your bastard child", I threw over my shoulder.

" Alina", this time his tune took a warning direction.

"You said you understood, what exactly do you understand", My brows contorted in fury, but my voice remained calm. I was a storm brewing; I was borderline washing away everything that stood in my path.

" Do you understand the death of the child you never carried. Do you understand the feelings of your child being forcefully separated from your womb, you do understand what it means to be able to comprehend that feeling. Do you understand the feeling that I would not be able to caress my stomach and feel the existence of my child", This time I had turned towards him, and with each question, I took a step in his direction.

The alcohol I so much craved that moment long forgotten.

My chest heaved just as he did with the weight of agony I would never be able to comprehend.

"Alina", His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his blue eyes reddened with the magnitude of emotion he was suppressing.

He never really came undone, not when I laid in my and my child's pool of blood knowing that the child was dead no matter how hard I fought for his survival. I wanted him to come undone the way I did; the way I wish the WC could drain me along with the wastes, the same way I could never feel pain from scorching water wishing desperately that it would wash away my loss, my sorrow.

" You never understand what it feels like for you to be nursing the loss of a child only for your husband to bring home his mistress who is pregnant with his bastard. You would never totally know what it feels like to mourn your own child", Now I was in his face. I wanted him to see the despair and agony I tried so hard to contain every day. I want him to sleep and be haunted by these looks in my eyes.

"But I do. He was my child too, I mourn him, I miss him and God help me I wish to hold him", His deep voice trembled and for that moment his resolve weakened. I swallowed thickly at the vulnerable look in his eyes, but my eyes hardened. After all, he was the one who brought home his bastard.

" Yet you brought home your bastard to replace MY child", My voice was so soft, barely heard over our breath. The words were so heavy it left behind bitterness in the room and my tongue. His eyes flickered and for a moment he dodged my eyes; guilt was something one could never truly get over. I hope he stewed in his forever.

"He is my child too, Adalina", He argued weakly.

" And you treat his mother as such", I gave him a comical look. I shook my head in feigned amusement. " You sit here before me to speak about some sort of arrangement I will never be a part of", His shoulder slumped slightly.

"I am not you, nobody especially not your mistress's child could ever replace my child", My voice firm it was full of conviction, and at the mention of his mistress's child my voice tinged with disdain.

He looked into my eyes, searching, for what exactly I chose not to care, but it was probably a loophole he could manipulate.

" Her being pregnant happened way before our child", He convinced weakly.

I scoffed softly, something I never do "And that makes it better",

A thoughtful look crossed my eyes and I looked his way. His eyes begged me not to ask the question we both knew I needed an answer to " If our child had lived_" I swallowed heavily

"_would you have brought your mistress here", The look in his eyes answered it all; he would not have, he would have kept it a secret. For how long. I laughed sardonically at my own misfortune.

" Alina, baby", He pleaded, but I was beyond being pleaded with.

"Don't, don't you ever call me that",

Everything flashed through my mind like it was my last moment; the dedication, sacrifices with no gain, unprecedented loss, and my grievances. Was any of these things worth being the Italian matriarch?

At that moment I wished I could go back to being 'Zmeya the Viper'. But, she was no longer the viper, she had lost her way and didn't know how to find it back.

He had no right whatsoever to demand anything when she had lost herself to his cause.

Marcello watched as the woman he had always admired began spiraling down the abyss, maybe she had already.

He wanted to do something, but whatever it was he did happens to be the wrong thing. He always ends up making it worse.

" I know I haven't been the best husband_" I rolled my eyes at his attempt at reconciliation.

"Don't make this about you, Don",

" You don't have to call me that", He winced.

"You wanted to be treated as such and you shall", I nodded my head in dismissal.

" Adalina", the ringing of a phone cut him short. He grabbed his jacket to check who the caller was, and by the look on his face, it was a call he could not reject.

He gritted his teeth as his hand hovered above the phone screen weighing his options.

I turned away from him not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

"What is it", He spoke aggressively in Italian. He listened for quite some time before he answered that he would be there.

With that, the conversation was over.