The Mafia Boss's Pretend Wife

Chapter six

Chapter six

Vivienne Hart POV

°°°

My hair has loosened, and it's now falling down my shoulders. I'm constantly sweating, which has left my hair messy and sticky. I'm not sure if I look like a mess that's been carried to the dumpster because I feel like I'm all over the place.

My body can feel his gaze, I'm not sure if I'm just terrified of being in a private jet which screams all the homecoming of my nightmares or the fact that the terrifying monster is watching closely, he's noticing my move, every movement of mine that I can't tell what's happening.

I'm too bad at situations like this. I might be weak, a nutcase who can't speak or can't walk without bumping into something or crying out as the dark shadows terrify her. But something in me has kept me fighting in front of his gaze.

The first time I was on a flight, I was hoping to have a life that's better than the orphanage which had tended to me for years. I wanted to make something out of the unknown life, which has always been such a cruel reality for me.

Now flying again to the unknown destination has left me irked.

The fear of flying feels secondary in front of him.

Maybe it's the fear of death. The fact that he can sign off my death warrant has left me shaken to the core that I'm shaking in front of him but never trying to shy away from him.

The flight attendant walks again, with a tray of drinks. He doesn't even lift his gaze because he's looking at me.

“Care for a drink, Mr. Vitale?” The hostess asks him, putting on a smile on her face.

The smile on her face makes me wonder if she's actually not terrified to be in the presence of the devil, or if she's just used to his presence.

“Are you thirsty, Little one?” He questions me instead, crossing his legs, tapping his fingers against his thigh.

And I swallow hard as I quickly shake my head like it's a no.

I'm dying from within, that's what I am.

Unlike his tall terrifying self, he looks dark, dangerous but kind of handsome while sitting. The gentleness of his suit, the way his hair is styled perfectly, definitely he's no ordinary man.

But I wonder how dangerous he is, or he can be.

Either way, this looks and feels like a sealed fate.

“Let me make this clear, little one. From here onwards, when I ask questions, I'd like you to answer me.

I don't care how many times you stammer to get a word right or how wrong you tell it, but I want you to answer me.

Am I clear?” He questions, stressing out each word in the most Stoic and authoritative voice.

The sternness in his expression makes me feel the cold chills in my stomach, I'm shaking. I've been shaking since the second my eyes landed on him.

“Yes.” I whisper the word, fisting my palm around the edge of my hoodie.

He pulls his torso slightly as he leans back, pleased to hear my answer.

“Good girl.” He states as he puts his hand out in front of the hostess who serves him his drink.

Without a further word, she leaves, not once turning back.

And just like, I'm alone with the devil.

The stranger devil who now wants me to play his wife.

And I already feel sorry for whoever she is.

****************

I'm not sure where we are or where we are going. As soon as we landed, Luciano grabbed the back of elbow as he dragged me out. He didn't question, he didn't say a word.

Maybe I needed to be dragged out considering how my weak knees didn't budge to move, which made me think if I could have tried to run from all this mess.

A part of me wonders if Linda will guess something is wrong and come find me.

Perhaps the people I work with can make it a point that I'm missing, and I just didn't disappear out of the blue. But a part of me knows all of this is most unlikely.

Linda might care, but not enough to go all the way out to look for me. Or Larry Marshall, can check on my absence, considering I never planned to leave. Either the way, my chances are slim.

“Welcome, boss.”

The stranger who's bald with a tattoo on his forehead is waiting in front of the black Rolls-Royce to greet Luciano.

I look at Luciano, turning my neck slowly to notice his clenched jaw.

The darkness in his eyes is still evident, and I'm not sure if only I see it because no one is shaking like I am.

“Everything is ready.” The man informs.

The grip Luciano has on me tightens as he turns his gaze towards me. My lips tremble noticing he has got his hands on me, I'm in his control, at his mercy.

The harsh truth makes me feel the rivers that run through my bones.

Luciano's dark gray eyes scans me for a second before he turns back to the stranger who looks scary with his inked skin, ripped trousers and a shirt that's barely fitting him. He looks like he's going to rip out his clothes and lounge at me.

Luciano nods at the stranger, who opens the door for him. But Luciano guides me instead.

Placing his hand on my small back helps me get inside, making sure I don't trip and fall. Once I'm seated, he shuts the door as he walks over to the other side.

If I hadn't seen him kill in front of my eyes, I would have taken him for a gentleman with his Armani suit who opens the door for women and tends to their care. But neither is true.

He is no gentleman nor does he care for me.

I'm only alive because he wants me to pretend to be his wife. If not, he would have buried me without leaving any trace behind.

As Luciano settles down next to me, the stranger gets into the passenger seat.He and the driver take a small glance at me like they can't understand why their boss is even having me around.

“What do you want to eat?” Luciano questions me as the car starts to move.

Luciano pulls out a cigarette and turns his shoulders towards my direction

Like his intense eyes weren't enough, now he has his full body aiming at me. His arms stretched, his body leaning slightly towards me.

The rich smell of leather, the scent of him, makes me feel dizzy.

And I shake my head as I bury my eyes down. I look at the way my hands are sweaty, I'm tapping my feet out of nervousness. This is so much better than wanting to fiddle with the devil, who knows no boundaries.

“What did I say about answers, Vivienne?” He questions, his voice coming out thick, that it feels like I just angered him, and he's now schooling me.

“I'm f… Fine.” I ramble my words, hating the way my voice cracks like I'm struggling to even frame a sentence without showing how poor I am at this.

“Pay clear attention to my questions, Vivienne.

I didn't ask you whether you were fine or not.

I asked you what you want to eat? And I'm still waiting for an answer.” He clarifies.

The harshness in his voice is so unfamiliar to me that I find no escape from the scrutiny.

“Anything.” I murmur again, still burying my eyes focusing on the crack around my nails, the brittle nails which are not painted.

I'm not sure if I can fit in the role of his wife

I can't even utter a sentence right or walk straight, I'll fail miserably, and maybe he will get rid of me.

He will replace me as quickly as he got me and trash my body aside, knowing I'm of no use. My own thoughts make me feel small, weak, scared.

“Out of all the ways I can hurt you, I don't plan to choose this simple way.

Are you allergic to anything?” He questions, holding a sarcastic tone, heating my one word answer.

“No.” I whisper.

All of my life, eating is something that has only been a necessity for my survival. I'm not the kind of person who fancy different food or have a particular taste. I'm always happy to have any food on my plate. Furthermore, I'm happy when I know I have something to eat.

“I'm going to make this easy for now. But next time, you will not give me a choice.

Do you hear me?” He asks amidst ordering me.

And I make the worst mistake by lifting my eyes to find him staring at me.

The cigarette that's burning in between his lips have created a smoke in the thin air around his face that makes him look even crueler.

And I fight the urge to look away again or stay still, so he will release me from his gaze.

“You look too confused, Vivienne.

So I'm going to simplify my words. I'm not the right man for you to give me choices.

Don't make me choose for you. It will never be nice.

And I assume you don't like things when they aren't nice. Am I right?”

He asks, his voice coming out gruffly as he moves closer.

I suck in a breath, not sure what he is thinking. His face is hard to read, his eyes are not expressive. They hold the tainted darkness.

He lifts his hand as he brings his thumb and traces my jaw before lifting my face slightly.

The brush of his finger ignites something dark and primal inside me that I bite the inner corner of my mouth to stop from breathing heavily.

But I fail.

My chest raises heavy and falls down, knowing he's still touching me.

He notices the way my skin is turning red because his eyes are fixed on me.

And while he's still looking at me, he takes out the name of the stranger in the passenger seat, who turns to his boss immediately as Luciano speaks out.

“Rian, inform everyone to set up lunch for me and my wife.”

The mystery in his tone is unwary, something about him makes me feel scared, but at the same time my skin is still burning under his touch.

This feels like a masquerade game where everyone is left in the middle of the room with their eyes blindfolded. And there's no way they are going to win.

And I feel blind in this game. Winning isn't a question for me.

But survival is.