The Don and His Russian Bride

Chapter 5

Folded clean clothes sat at the corner of my bed when I came out of the connected bathroom, brushing through my damp hair. I exchanged my fluffy white towel for the plain white tee and blue jeans. They fit as perfectly as my wedding dress had, making me wonder again who gave Luciano my measurements.

Once I finished getting dressed, I slowly peeked my head out into the hallway. My mind raced with thoughts of what to say to Luciano if I ran into him. I released a sigh of relief. He was nowhere to be seen.

Practically starving, I ventured into the hallway to begin my search for the kitchen. Though I had arrived last night, Luciano had taken me straight to the bedroom. This left me with no idea where all the rooms of the house were. It would be a blessing if I could even find my way to the front door.

As if the size of the mansion didn’t make it hard enough to navigate, all of the hallways looked the same. Every wall had the same decorations of still life portraits and paintings of landscapes. There wasn’t a single family photo to tell me about the man I married. It reminded me of the bare walls at my old house with my father. We weren’t the family photo type. My mother died when she gave birth to me, and the only photo I owned of her was pocket sized. In the picture, her hands rested on her swollen belly and she faced the camera with a carefree smile.

Once I made it to the bottom of the stairs, I caught the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Unashamed, I lifted my nose to air, believing I could follow the scent to the kitchen like a bloodhound.

After a few wrong turns, I stepped into a room with black granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. White cabinets styled the kitchen, giving it a crisp feeling of cleanliness. Over by the fridge, a curvy lady bent over to grab the orange juice.

“Excuse me.”

The plastic bottle of orange juice slipped from her hands, landing on the ground with a thud. The woman straightened to meet my gaze. She wore a black chef’s jacket and her dark caramel colored hair wound tightly in a neat bun.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you walk in.” She bent down again to pick the bottle up from the floor. Examining it for a moment, she found there was a sizable dent in the side.

“It’s ok. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I’m Rina, by the way.”

"It's nice to meet you, Katerina. My name is Carlotta. I'm the head chef for Don Luciano. He has told me to prepare whatever you’d like from now on. Do you want breakfast?"

“Please, don’t use my full name. I prefer being called Rina,” I told her.

"My apologies. What would you like to eat this morning, Rina?"

"Could I have French toast with a side of bacon and eggs?" I asked.

"Of course. You can have a seat in the dining room while you wait." She gestured her arm to a large doorway.

The dining room was even darker than the kitchen that was full of black and white hues. With curtains covering the French doors to outside, the only lighting came from an exquisite chandelier at the center of the room. Under it stood an oval table long enough to seat twenty people and made of rich, dark mahogany.

To further the grandeur of the room, a china cabinet as tall as the ceiling rested against the wall. Not only did the cabinet hold the most elaborate china and the finest glassware I had ever seen, it was a beautiful work of art in itself. If one were to look at it closely, they could see the intricate carvings etched into the wooden frame. I couldn’t imagine Luciano being so passionate about dishes that he needed such a prominent display for them. Perhaps the pieces inside were family heirlooms; unless, it was only another way to showcase his affluence.

By the time I finished admiring the room, Carlotta walked in with my steaming plate of breakfast. I sat at the far end of the table and dug in, letting Carlotta know I would get her if I needed anything else.

Halfway through my plate, two men walked into the dining room and took rigid stances near the doorway. They had very similar features as both were bulky and had their hair buzzed closely to their scalps. The most blatant difference was how the one on the left stood several centimeters shorter.

"Can I help you two?"

The shorter man spoke up first. “Don Martelli informed us you will be going to the centro commerciale today.”

“So he made you my babysitters. How did you get so lucky?” Sarcasm dripped from the question like a nosebleed.

“We’re associates, not babysitters,” he said as if being at the bottom of the pyramid in the mafia was something to be proud of. “We have direct orders to accompany you out of security measures.”

“If anyone were to find out who you are to Don Martelli,” the taller one explained, “the consequences would be deadly. That is why we cannot take any chances. You are far too important to leave without any sort of protection.”

I snorted. Luciano didn’t care about me as much as they seemed to believe. Honestly, how important could I be? I hadn’t even been married to Luciano for a full twenty-four hours. If anything, the associates were only sent to keep me from running off. Luciano knew I would look for an escape from him at every opportunity.

With one last bite, I stood from the table. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The two of them led me outside to where a black suv van was parked. If a large dark vehicle with tinted windows didn’t scream “mafia”, I wasn’t sure what else would. Regardless of the car we were taking, I intended to fill the entire back of it with purchases funded by Don Martelli’s credit card.

The drive along the island reminded me of how much I missed Volgograd, Russia. Here, in Sicily, I felt out of place next to the Tyrrhenian Sea. I wondered if I would ever prefer the huge expanses of water over the life bringing Volga River at home. Maybe one day, the island wouldn’t make me feel trapped.

If there was anything I missed most of all, it would be the wide streets between tall apartment buildings. The sound of car engines and honking made the perfect white noise. While the stone pathways and tightly packed buildings were considered beautiful to most people, I found the silence eerie and the scenery bizarre and foreign.

The drive to Palermo took over half an hour because Luciano’s mansion resided further out in the countryside. Based on my knowledge from experiences with my father, I assumed Luciano chose a spot secluded from the general population in order to carry out his work behind the scenes. While his men completed most of the dirty jobs in the city, Luciano made big decisions from afar. If his identity were found out, the whole system would crumble.

It was at the first shop I realized my bodyguards deserved a little more credit. They didn’t roll their eyes every time I picked up a new dress or grabbed several sizes to try on. When we walked into the lingerie store, I truly grew respect for them. Even in the last place they wanted to be, they took their job seriously.

One of them stayed at my side or just outside of the dressing rooms while the other surveyed the shop and kept an eye on the main entrance at all times. Both remained unphased at being surrounded by undergarments and receiving confused glances from the women in the store. With every precaution they took, I became closer to thinking I could actually be in danger.

I walked up to the checkout counter, ready to add another long list of purchases onto Luciano's credit card. Part of me was infuriated to be doing exactly what he wanted. I didn’t want him convinced that spending his money could make up for forcing me into a loveless marriage. Regardless, I needed clothes and the idea of emptying his bank account made me feel a little better.

As the cashier was bagging my items, I noticed her adding several items that were not mine. The extra lingerie included the strappiest and laciest pieces from the store.

"Excuse me. There happens to be a small mistake. I’m not planning to buy those things." I pointed at the undesired undergarments I was referring to.

"There is no mistake, Signora Martelli. Your husband requested these items be purchased in addition to whatever else you wanted."

My teeth gritted together as I handed her the credit card. The lady wouldn’t listen to me if I told her I didn’t want the scraps of fabric. She would follow Luciano’s orders. His word was law.

I snatched the credit card back from her and moved onto the next shop. The last item on my agenda was shoes. While a few pairs were plenty enough, I bought more shoes than the three of us could manage to carry. Shopping turned out to be more cathartic than I had ever realized.

As I predicted, the trunk and backseat were completely filled with shopping bags. When we arrived back at the mansion, several ladies came to move my new items into my closet. While they worked, I went around the house to explore.

The living room was the first unfamiliar room I entered. It was by far the largest room of the mansion, furnished with a large L-shaped couch and sofa chairs on top of a huge ornamental rug. The view through the floor to ceiling window at the back of the room showed the magnificent hilltops that ran off into the sea. At the other end of the room, a large flat screen TV adhered to the wall over the electric fireplace.

While wandering the halls, I stumbled upon an open door to what appeared to be the billiard room. The main giveaway was the billiard table in the center of the room. Abstract paintings and a bookshelf holding classic novels decorated the walls made of dark oakwood. Two chandeliers hung from the ceiling. While they were gorgeous in their own right, they couldn’t compare to the one from the dining room.

Every inch of the mansion insinuated a sophisticated and wealthy businessman owned it. Don Martelli certainly fit that description. However, I doubted he spent a great deal of time in each room. The core amount of his day took place in his office, which rested behind double mahogany doors I didn’t even dare to touch.

Wife or not, inviting myself into his office would be a death sentence. My father only allowed me into his office when he needed to speak with me. Otherwise, the room was sacred. Luciano couldn’t be much different. I wondered if his most prized possessions and secrets stood just behind the doors.

After seeing most of the house, I ventured outside through the french doors, where a large oval shaped pool occupied the backyard. If I closed my eyes, I could focus solely on the sounds of the waterfall flowing into the pool. I planned to spend most of my time there from then on.

Near the far end of the yard, stood a lone shed. I crossed the grass to gain a closer look. The shed was so big, it was more like an out of place warehouse.

I twisted the doorknob only to find the door wouldn’t budge. What is this place that it needs to be locked? I stepped back, knowing my pockets were empty of anything useful to pick the lock. I promised myself it wouldn’t be long before I found out the purpose of the building.

On my way back to my room, I crashed into Luciano in one of the hallways. My hopes to avoid him all day laid shattered on the ground.

"What do you think?" He asked.

"About what?"

"The mansion, of course. Haven't you taken the liberty to tour it by yourself this afternoon?"

My hand itched to slap the smug look off his face. He wanted me to know he had eyes on me at all times.

"It's a nice place."

“It’s yours now too. Although, with that being said, there are two spots that are off limits to you. One is my office, and the other is the building at the edge of the property. Don’t go to either unless I say otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”

"Crystal." I held back a sneer. He was a fool if he thought I would actually listen to him order me around like a child who couldn’t be trusted with valuables.

"Also, I’m having a poker game here tonight. My most trusted capos will be coming over. You are to be nowhere near the billiard room for the rest of the night. I would prefer it if you stay in your room once you finish your dinner."

I nodded in agreement. The last place I needed to be was in a room with several arrogant assholes who thought they were hot s**t because they carried guns.

A smirk crept onto Luciano’s face. He began to walk past me, but just as I thought he was going to leave me alone, he leaned in closer to my ear. "By the way, I look forward to seeing what you bought today."

My fist clenched as I remembered the skimpy lingerie he selected for me. I bit my tongue. Lashing out at him wouldn’t do any good. This marriage was a game to him, and anytime I gave in to my irritation, he came closer to winning.

Luciano moved ahead without further incident. A couple of deep breaths enabled me to sift through the rage-filled haze. Once the murderous thoughts cleared, a plan formed in my head. It seemed I would be making an appearance at poker night after all.