I Died, And The Mafia Boss Went Crazy

Chapter 3

I got back to the mansion. The pain had spread to my back. I curled up on the rug beside the bed and dry-swallowed two sleeping pills.

The pills dragged me under. I dreamed of winter when I was 19.

Back then, Victor was broke. He'd worked the docks for 7 days in a blizzard, hauling grain sacks. He came back with an antique music box. $400.

He handed it to me. His hands were cracked and bleeding, covered in frostbite.

In the dream, I cried. I screamed at him, told him not to destroy his hands just to buy me things.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It pulled me halfway out of sleep.

I answered without opening my eyes.

"Elena." Victor's voice.

The sleeping pills had turned my brain to sludge. I confused the voice on the phone with the boy in the snow.

"Victor," I mumbled. "I want an apple pie from the corner bakery."

I hung up and fell back asleep.

*****

I woke after midnight. My stomach was hollow.

I went to the kitchen for water. Victor was standing by the marble island, still wearing the same shirt from the casino. The bloodstains on the cuffs were still there.

A white paper box sat on the counter. A fresh apple pie.

He remembered the bakery I used to love.

I stopped.

"You've lost weight," he said. He took a step toward me.

I stepped back. I picked up the box. I didn't open it. I dropped it straight into the trash.

The box hit the bottom with a dull thud.

Victor froze. He stared at the trash, then looked up at me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked.

"I said I wanted pie and you bought it," I said. "Why didn't you just give me the $800,000 this afternoon?"

He crossed the kitchen in 3 strides and grabbed my arm. He shoved me against the refrigerator.

"Are you messing with me, Elena?" His voice was low. "You called me. I drove across half the city to get you this."

"Yeah. I'm messing with you," I said.

His grip tightened. The cold metal of the refrigerator door pressed into my spine.

"Would it kill you to bend, just once?!" he shouted.

I didn't answer. Because I really was dying.

His phone rang in his pocket. He didn't let go. He pulled it out and hit speaker.

"Victor —" Sofia's voice came through, choked with tears. "I'm at a bar on Fifth. Some guy keeps grabbing my arm. I'm scared."

Victor kept his eyes on me. He didn't speak to her.

"Tell me to stay," he said to me. "One word, and I won't go."

I looked at his face. I reached up and pushed his hand off my arm.

"You don't deserve it," I said.

Victor stood there for a second. Then he picked up the phone and took it off speaker.

"Wait for me," he said into it. "I'm coming to get you."

He walked out of the kitchen. The door slammed behind him.