Her Mafia Husband's Mistress

Chapter Two

This place, Adalina had always found her way there to find solace but most of it was of the solitude it offered. The irony is that there was nothing serene about living in a mafia home. Yet this place she had found when she had just married into the family was exactly what she needed to calm her mind. The building was an abandoned part of the mansion, maybe it was never abandoned, but anyone barely visited it. It was like a ruin of an ancient castle and Adalina loved to stand on the highest floor and look into the vast greenland that surrounded the castle as the chilling breeze tussled her voluminous brown hair and numb her spiraling emotion.

Her father Mikhailov was the most notorious person she had ever had to encounter and that was saying something considering she worked as an assassin for her father's business; she had met horrible people and she had never felt guilty of killing any, well except for the first one. Mikhailov was a man of no mercy even to his children. Her father had done everything she had not thought possible to break and make her, then begin all over and when he had enough, he married her to the Italian mafia Don. There were times she had wondered if he did it for his own pleasure, but her father was a man who had no time for that. Mikhailov never played, he doesn't buy where there wasn't profit nor sell where there was no gain. She had thought that if there was ever something else Mikhailov wanted to try, it would not be a lodge in the enemy's camp/lair, yet he had sent her all the way to Sicily. Mikhailov had molded her to the extent she had no sense of shame yet she was full of pride she could not swallow an iota of disrespect.

Marcello, her husband had spoon-fed her such humiliation with his own hand in front of his subordinates. Adalina was clueless, she had thought that she would probably breathe fire, but surprisingly, she was calm, no, numb was the word.

Mikailov had taught her a lot yet somehow, he forgot to teach her what to do when her husband brought home his pregnant mistress barely 3 weeks after her miscarriage to be recognized. He had to have known, after all, he seemed to have eyes everywhere.

Then, the words her father had once spoken to her echoed in her mind, she could not remember when he said it. Mikhailov said very few words, so the ones he said to her always stuck. He had said he was a leader before he was her father, he lives and dies for the family, and that she was a princess before she was his daughter. He said silence was an honor and to kill herself before she could breathe a word of their secret to the enemy. That was when she knew that she was no different from the men who served under her father. Growing up she had called him what everyone does, godfather.

Adalina squinted her eyes as the breeze slapped her face and made her eyes watery, she crossed her arms as she tried to stifle the feeling of sentiment that threatened to swallow her whole.

She knew her cousin Pedrov was around, he would never stray too far from her. She knew he was giving her privacy while making sure that her safety was not compromised. She heard his footsteps as he approached her.

He draped a thick blanket over her shoulders "We should head inside",

Adalina stood unresponsive, she did not make any effort to pull the blanket closer.

Pedrov sighed softly, he had thought Adalina would go batshit but she had not, she had railed in her temper. Godfather would have been so proud, but would he. As his nephew Pedrov had never seen the man show any expression on his face, yet his blank eyes spoke volumes. How Mikhailov was able to do so was beyond Pedrov. When Santino dropped the bomb, he vowed to himself that if Adalina retaliated, he would have fought to the death by her side.

Pedrov rested his back against a brick pole and crossed his arms " Do I kill her", his deep Russian accent bespoke promises. She only needed to ask.

Adalina pulled the blanket off her shoulders, and folded it before draping it over her right arm "We don't kill children, Pedrov",

He shrugged as she turned to look in his direction " It was worth trying", They both knew the reason Adalina hadn't choked Caralina to death despite the smug look on her face after the revelation.

Adaline was a woman with a high sense of responsibility.

The goddamned oath she had taken on the night of her coronation; now she thinks for the family and not for herself, her sacrifices will be for the family's gain and not for personal gain, and the family was now her family. She was a queen before she was a wife.

What about them, they had pointed their guns at her at the first sight of a ruckus. They are her family, was she their family. If she protected the Italians with her life, who would protect her.

For what reason had his uncle sent him to protect Adalina, probably he was the most coolheaded between them. Adalina could be smart, yet impulsive. Mikhailov had sent him to watch her back.

Pedro bit the inside of his lower lip as his thought ran miles away. He was three years older than Adalina yet they had trained, and grown together. He had watched godfather torture his daughter, what mercy would he have for his own nephews. Adalina was the best assassin produced yet in the mafia; her father had sent her on a mission at sixteen, and that was her first kill.

Pedrov watched as his cousin walked away with her shoulders and head high. Old habits die hard, even with nobody around, she could not bring herself to relax.

Adalina thought about what she would do in the next few months; the month left for Caralina to give birth. After she gave birth, what was expected of her, was she was supposed to raise the bastard child of her husband. With what heart would she raise the child that would be a constant reminder of her husband's infidelity. The child had not been born, but it was already causing misunderstanding. Her heart stilled at the reminder of the warning tone in his voice when she had approached Caralina. Understandably, he was protective of his unborn child, but that didn't stop her heart from aching.

Marcello had come to her of his own volition, he wasn't coerced. Adalina was not expecting anything from such an arranged marriage, it would be a stupid thing to do so. Her parents' marriage was based on necessity, her father Mikhailov had married his father's consigliere's daughter, Allison. It was not based on love, but there was respect, fidelity, and familiar affection that had grown over the years.

That was what Marcello had offered; loyalty, commitment, and respect, and she took it.

Barely eight months later, he ate his own words. He could do all he wanted, his position had given him all the power and rights to do so, yet she had no choice but to stay. Once she married the mafia Don, she was not Sokolov anymore even if its burning blood flowed in her veins, she was a Martini, through and through. It was this same Sokolov pride that stopped her from leaving.

She could leave, and the chances of them finding her were slim to none, but she was not the one in the wrong why would she do that. If she went home, it would be a silent agreement that a Sokolov bride was not fit to be a Donna. Her father would never stand for that.

She only had two options; stay and raise the bastard child or kill the heavily pregnant Caralina and risk being an enemy to the Italian Mafia.

Currently, there is a problem with her sharing a room with him, her head suddenly aches at the thought of sharing space with the traitor. Fortunately, their room-like suite has two bedrooms. Since he would be having his heir soon, there wouldn't be any need for her to worry about bearing him one ever again, nor would she need to avoid him, she would not be giving him the satisfaction of eliciting further responses from her. Is he worthy?

Being a daughter and a wife is draining, but being a Donna is far worse.

The ringing of a phone pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Patron", Pedrov greeted, Adalina back stiffened. He has heard about what happened.

The person on the other side said something before he turned to pass the phone to Adalina.

Adalina sighed and collected the phone from Pedrov.

Before she could greet him, Mikhailov's deep berating voice came through.

" You could not control your husband, you are not dead yet and he has a bastard child", His voice precipitated with a thick Russian accent.

Adalina was fed up with being tossed around. She was married yet she had to answer to her father, and now she was not sure of what was left of her marriage.

Without thinking, she replied.

"No Donna has ever been able to control her Don",

Pedrov raised his left brow at her boldness before his grey eyes flashed in amusement.

The line went silent for a while.

" Such disrespect the Sokolov will not stand for, kill the mistress and be done with it", Mikhailov commanded.

"And then what? Marcello then sends me back in a rubber bag" she replied tiredly.

" For his Mistress?

"For his heir", Adalina corrected.

" Who is a bastard", Mikhailov countered.

"Who is still his heir", her voice was sharp.

Without uttering another word, he hangs up.