The kingpin's obsession: Lena

11

VINCENZO

“You pick something for us to watch; I’m going to have a quick bath.” Lena said as she unbuckled her sandals and tossed her hat on the bed. While I walked towards the closet to change into something more comfortable.

“Alright.”

“And don’t forget to order the snacks.” she called out from the bathroom.

“Anything in particular?”

“Popcorn?”

Because what’s Netflix without popcorn, right? I changed into a black T-shirt, and loose fitted sweat pants. When I walked back into the room, I could hear the water from the shower running meaning Lena must have started her bath. I was almost tempted to go join her, but apparently I was in charge of picking out the movie and ordering snacks.

Who would have thought a day would come when Vincenzo Maranzano, Heir to the Italian Mafia and Kingpin of the New York Brawlers would be on a honey moon in Athens, getting ready to watch Netflix and eat gelato with his wife.

The thought was all together absurd. But here I was, scrolling away with a small smile on my lips while I waited for my wife.

“Hm. What about Deadpool.” I hummed when the name came up.

I wasn’t big on superhero movies. Largely because I saw them as a waste of time and far from reality, but I guess you could say I’ve always been partial when it came to Deadpool. The only anti-hero who could swear on screen and it would be funny. And also because of the guns and violence.

It’s not cliche. It just makes sense.

Just to make the rest of this movie date interesting, I had the snacks Lena asked for brought up to our room—popcorn, gelato, and a bottle of red wine just to make this evening extra special.

The shower shut off, and a few minutes later she stepped out in a silk robe, damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Then it struck me. Even if she didn’t dress up or have any make up on, my wife was sexy as hell.

“You picked something?” she asked, climbing onto the bed, tucking her legs under her.

“Deadpool.”

Her eyes sparkled, and she laughed softly. “Of course you did.”

“What? You expected The Notebook?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Maybe I did. You’ve been acting like such a romantic lately, I thought I had a chance.”

I leaned closer, letting my voice drop. “Careful, bella. I’ll sit through a cheesy love story if it means I get to watch you cry on my chest when it’s over.”

Her lips parted, caught between amusement and that little flicker of vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. I reached for the remote, but my eyes never left her.

The absurdity of it all struck me again—Vincenzo Maranzano, heir to blood and empire, sitting cross-legged on a bed, about to watch Deadpool with his wife like some college kid.

But in the back of my mind, I still thought about Minalo’s invitation and his little lap dog Sullivan.

…

The lights from the television flickered lazily across the room, casting soft shadows on the walls. Lena sat curled against me, a bowl of gelato balanced on her lap as we argued about who was hotter, Ryan Reynolds or Theodor James.

“It’s not gay, it just mean you know how to apperciate a fine man.” she would say anytime either of them came on which was the whole freaking movie. Honestly, at some point I lost interest in the movie and just turned my attention to my wife.

The way she giggled every now and then, the way she nudged me in the ribs when a the fight scene came on. It was definitely entertaining, but really life wasn’t always like that. Take for example using one bullet to shoot down three targets at once. But getting shot in the ass? Very accurate, I should know, I’ve done that to a guy who tried to cause a scene in one of my clubs.

“You see,” she whispered, spoon halfway to her lips. “the difference between you and deadpool is that when he kills people he makes it look funny.”

“Really?” I arched a brow at her statement as I took the spoon away from her.

“Hey! You have your own spoon.” she had the cutest pout on her lips when she said that.

Today, I learnt my wife hates sharing her cutlery with people…inclduing her own husband.

“Take it from me, Principessa, there’s nothing fun about the guns and the blood.” I took a spoonful of galeto into my mouth, letting the creamy goodness melt into my mouth, all the while ignoring her glare.

“Well that’s a lie. You’re a twisted man, Vincenzo. I think the guns and blood is the best part of your job for you.” I could see a shiver ripple through her as she tried to snatch the spoon back.

She wasn’t wrong. I was a twisted man…

“Then you must be sick to have said yes to me, no?” I turned to her, a devilish grin hanging off my lips. She just rolled her eyes, ultimately giving up on recovering her spoon from me.

“We’re all sick. I just hope at least our baby won’t inherit that trait.” she placed her hand on her non-existent bump.

“Whatever you say, Principessa.” I laughed.

She rolled her eyes but leaned back into me anyway, resting her head on my shoulder. My arm instinctively wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just me and my wife enjoying a nice evening. Watching a movie and eating ice cream.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Then came a loud heavy knock at the door.

It was sharp. Urgent. And I instinctively sat up in bed.

Lena flinched at the loud sound of our room door being bang on and my body reacted before my mind caught up. Years of gun wars with rival families and brutal training from my father has sharpened my instinct to react and prepare for the worst possible case scenario.

In one fluid-like motion I rolled out of the bed and reached into the nightstand drawer. My fingers closed around the G30 I kept close, always.

Lena’s eyes widened. “Vincenzo… what’s going on?”

“Wait here.” I said firmly. I was used to this, but she, not so much. My mind went back to that night I shoot a man right in front of her. She’d gone paler than a ghost out in the December cold.