Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Massimo

I sigh with frustration as I step through the door to the house and take off my jacket. It’s not even midday, and my head is already all over the fucking place. The guys and I have been on the streets trying to get answers and coming up with shit. It’s becoming quite clear now that we’re not going to find anything until trouble comes to find us.

Even before Jacob confirmed I had something to worry about, I was already riled up about Vlad. Then Jacob got himself killed.

It’s harsh to think of it that way, but what else am I supposed to think?

Even after I told him to get gone and keep his head out of shit, he must have gone back to The Crow to snoop. Then Vlad caught up with him.

I walk into the hall and see Candace in the living room polishing the furniture. Sometimes it grieves me that she can’t move on to become who she was supposed to be.

After her parents were killed, she wasn’t the same. Her family has always worked for mine in some way, but she was never supposed to end up in my house polishing anything. When she went to college, she lived here, though she didn’t have to. I thought that by giving her a ridiculous amount of money, she’d leave. But it’s not about money when it comes to her. It’s the fear from that night. She would have died too. That type of fear leaves you with all kinds of shit and anxiety. That’s what happened to her. She only feels safe with me. Her family was always loyal to us, even after we lost everything. So, this is my way of helping her.

I walk in, and she gives me that look of disdain she’s been sporting since the wedding.

I lean my head to the side and shake it. She ignores me and looks back to the vase she was about to dust.

“Can you stop doing that, please?” I ask.

“Stop doing what, Sir?”

“Acting like you’re my servant. We’ve known each other for too long to be like this.”

“These days, one might be scared to talk, could die.” She still doesn’t look at me.

I walk closer to her, and she sets the dust cloth down.

“Candace… say whatever’s on your mind.”

“It’s best I don’t, Massimo. I would prefer, as per usual, to keep my comments to myself, like I always have. Emelia is back from seeing her friend’s family, and I don’t think it went well. Your efforts are best placed with tending to your wife, not me.”

My shoulders slump. I hoped that Emelia would find some solace seeing Jacob’s family, but then what did I expect to happen? They just lost their son, and I’m sure they heard what happened at the wedding. They’re probably casting blame my way.

I still want to talk to Candace though. She’s clearly upset with me.

“What’s going on, Candace? Talk to me,” I insist.

“You’ve changed.”

“I had to.”

She shakes her head. “We all have to change, but that doesn’t mean going to extra lengths to be cruel. Did you have to go to the strip club on your wedding night? Couldn’t you have just gone for a walk or something?”

“I didn’t do anything there,” I justify, but I know what she means.

“Massimo, seeing those naked women might be so commonplace to you that they look like part of the furniture. They’re there the second you walk in,” she chides. I stifle a groan, recalling the time I had to get her to bring me the keys for a safe.

I had a business meeting I couldn’t leave. She came, saw the place, saw the women, and didn’t speak to me for a week after. She knows that even if I didn’t do shit, I saw enough.

“What do you want me to do? Move the stage?” I smirk. I already dealt with the matter of the strip club.

“Massimo, that’s not funny. Your wife was just as horrified to find out you have a strip club as she was to hear you spent the night there. I couldn’t have been more disgusted.”

“Well, maybe you’ll be less disgusted when you hear I gave the club to Dominic.” I raise my brows. Yesterday, I tossed him the keys and handed him the envelope with the title deed. He’s there more than me anyway.

Candace looks visibly surprised at my answer. “You did what?”

“You heard me.”

She looks proud of me now and taps my shoulder. “Thank you.”All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

“What for? I’m the one who just lost a quarter of my income.”

“For being the boy again,” she answers. I know what she means. She means me before Ma died. I give her a nod. “Emelia’s sitting on the terrace.”

“I’ll go see her.”

Pulling in a breath, I leave her and make my way outside. When I step through the door, a gust of wind lifts my hair and it smells like rain is near.

Emelia is sitting on the little wall with her knees hugged to her chest. I move to her, and she looks at me. The sun glistens off her wedding band, a reminder that she’s my wife. A reminder of the feelings I have for her that scare me.

I sit next to her, brushing my shoulder against hers, and she offers me a little smile. It’s more for pleasantries. But it says she’s at least willing to talk to me.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey. Candace said your visit to Jacob’s family didn’t go so well. What happened?”

She gazes out to the sea, looking lost. Her lips tremble and her skin goes pale.

“They didn’t want me there. His mother… she didn’t want me in the house. It was his father who came out and asked me to leave. I got the feeling he wouldn’t have minded me being there, but it was her. I heard her. She was shouting and crying for her son. She said it was my fault he’s dead.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say.

She looks back at me. “I might not have pulled the trigger, but he was doing whatever he was doing because of me. I know I can’t blame myself. I know there was nothing I could do, but I feel so bad. Now his mother is blaming me. She thinks you killed him. I told them you didn’t.”

“You believe me.”

She nods slowly. “You’ve never lied to me.”

“No. I haven’t, and I won’t start now.”

“The funeral is next week. They won’t want me there.”

“You want to go? Can you handle it?” I ask.

“I should be there. I can’t handle it, but I should be there.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you, but they’d hate me even more if I brought you.”

“That doesn’t matter. People’s opinion doesn’t matter in times like this. What matters is who you’re there for. You’re going for Jacob, not his family. And I will take you there personally to make sure you get to say goodbye to him.”

“You would do that?” Her gaze desperately clings to mine.

“Yes,” I answer with conviction.

I’m surprised when she moves to me and slips her arms around my neck, holding on to me like she’s trying to garner strength. I circle my arms around her and pull her closer so I can cocoon her in my arms as she rests her head on my chest.

“Thank you. Thank you, Massimo,” she whispers, grabbing my shirt. I cover her hand with mine and see my ring too.

Mine and hers.

When I wrote our wedding vows, I took out all traces of the word love. At the time, I was thinking of my hatred for her father. I wasn’t thinking about her.

I should have been.

I hold her now and find myself at that part again when I know the moment I accept what I feel for her, it will make or break me.

It’s the first time in my life where I actually don’t know what to do.

She’s my enemy’s daughter.

Loving her is wrong. But she feels like the only good thing in my life.