Married to the mafia boss Series

Angelo

I didn’t want to tell Anastasia what my men suggested.

Everyone was outraged that even after the photos of Anastasia pretending to be tied-bloody and broken-to my bed, Vasiliev still didn’t want to cooperate. They all suggested heinous things that made me want to slit their throats.

Video tape her while you go at it.

Video tape her while we all take turns.

Cut off a body part and send it to him.

I could never allow any of that to happen. But I have to make a decision and fast. My men are wary of my decisions and are pushing me to do right by all the men we’ve lost in the recent Bratva’s attacks. They tell me we look weak right now and if the Mafia looks weak it’s only because their leader is weak.

I have to step up my game, I know. Still, I refuse to do any of the things they’ve suggested. At least not really do anything they suggested. The entire time at the office I try to figure out some way I can fake torture on Anastasia and have it look legit enough for Vasiliev to completely lose his shit. For him to finally give into our demands. For me to finally earn my respect as Don.

The look on her face while I ignored her and kept her in the dark. I know she’s worried, I could tell. She seemed upset when I entered my office. She was crying, worried that I was going to send her back to her father. My stomach felt hollowed out and I never wanted to protect someone more than I have now. I’ve felt this overwhelming need to protect Liliana all my life, and then Viola when she was born, but with Anastasia it’s different. More intense. It is an all consuming feeling that I must protect her and do right by her. That I can’t disappoint or let her down. That I can never let her be sad or feel empty or lost.

When I think of her I feel like I’m in pain but in the best possible way. Like if that pain went away I would become numb and that scares the shit out of me. Before Anastasia I’ve felt careless with my own life, unafraid of the enviable and not the least bit scared of my enemies. I figured I’m already living a life I don’t want, let whatever happens happen. If I die, so be it. Now something has changed. A shift in me, I want to live. I feel careful of my every move, scared even. I want to live for Anastasia and experience life. Life seems so much better with her in it.

She ignores me in the car ride home. I’d give anything to have her sign to me. I don’t need to ask her what’s wrong. Everything is wrong. Our situation is fucked up and with each and every passing day we get closer and it gets that much harder to face reality.

I put my hand on her knee. She doesn’t react as she continues to stare out the window. I let out a heavy sigh trying to think of ways to fix things. I give my driver instructions on where to head to next.

When the car reaches our destination I notice Anastasia sits up straighter and peers out the window in bewilderment and fascination. I walk around to her side opening the car door and holding out my hand for her grab. Begrudgingly, she takes it but her eyes are focused on our location.

An outdoor ice rink that has already set up for Christmas. Normally I hate Christmas decorations in November, it’s too damn early, but looking around at the large decorated tree, I don’t mind. Anastasia is still in awe as her neck cranes up to take the sight in.

She turns to me, a small smile in appreciation that fades quickly. “I don’t know how to ice skate.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Neither do I.”

My mother used to bring the three of us here all the time when we were children. Liliana loved it, she was the best ice skater out of the three of us. She even asked our father to take figure skating lessons which he promptly said no to. I liked being out of the house, being out meant no fighting, and being out without my father meant no putting on a tough act, no pretending, and no abuse.

This ice rink was a part of my childhood freedom. It’s where I used to go to clear my head and find an escape as I got older. But it still holds deaf childhood memories of my little sister twirling around and Luca sitting on a bench and pouting because he’d have rather been anywhere else.

I loved watching other families skate. Mother and father happily holding hands as their children skate by their sides shouting for attention. The parents watch and give them praise for badly attempted spins and jumps. The joy and happiness in each family, the connection and love, something I longed so badly for. I watched them with a taste of bitterness on my tongue and a strong need for what they had and what I was lacking in.

I’ve never seen my father hold my mother’s hand because he wanted to. I’ve never seen them kiss except at parties. I’ve never watched them whisper loving things in each other’s ears. As a kid love was hard to define. It was hard to watch that in other families and wonder why they seemed so complete when my family felt so empty. For a period of time, it made me wonder if it was because of me. If there was anything I could do to change things.

But no matter how many times I wished my family could be like the ones at the ice rink, I still came home to an abusive household. Father still discouraged any emotional displays. Father was still a brutal killer who came home with blood on his shirts. Father still only wanted his wife just for sex. Father still loved Luca for the sole purpose of him taking over as Don. Father still hated Liliana for being a girl and for me not being more like Luca.

I continuously wished and wished that things were different, but at the end of the day Marco Ricci was a monster and every day after that I wished I would never turn into him.

Still holding Anastasia’s hand, I lead her closer to the rink so we can rent skates. I probably look ridiculous in a suit but she looks perfect. The smile I’ve been waiting for spreads across her face. Seeing her happy makes me happy. I realize then that I feel like one of those couples I used to watch as a kid. Full of life, love, and contentment.

She sits on the bench shaking her leg anxiously as she looks out onto the ice at everyone laughing and having a good time. I help her put on her skates and tie them up tight for her before putting on mine.

For someone who says she doesn’t know how to skate, she sure is eager. She grabs my hand and nearly yanks me on the ice. For the first time my confidence falters and I’m afraid of making a fool of myself. As soon as I set two skates on the ice I start to wobble, I mentally threaten myself not to fall. Anastasia smiles holding out her two mittened hands wanting me to help her into the ice.

She holds them tight as she gets one foot on, then the second. She wobbles and I’m not steady or balanced enough to keep her upright. We take a tumble, me taking the brunt of it. I fall on my back groaning in pain but Anastasia is on top of me laughing. I start to laugh with her.

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I try to remember all the advice Liliana gave me as a child, including how to get up. One leg at a time. I get to my knees and follow the advice. Finally I’m standing looking down at Anastasia whose butt is sitting on the ice. She’s still laughing.

Knowing I will probably make a further mess and embarrass myself, I hold out my hand anyways and help her up. My other hand grips the short wall surrounding the ice rink. Anastasia grabs me with two hands and with all my strength I pull her up. We sway but I hold her tight to me trying to be her rock.

“Let’s take this slow.”

“Slow isn’t fun, let’s race!” She lets go of me and takes a few short shaky steps before looking over her shoulder and signing. “Don’t be a chicken.”

I line up with her ready to take on any challenge.

“We see who can get to blue line the fastest. Ready?”

“Ready,” I sign back.

“On three, one… two… three!”

We both take off, a professional hockey player could have skated to the blue line in two seconds, instead, Anastasia and I take small shuffling steps, one foot in front of the other. My ankles start to roll and I put my arms out to the side trying to rebalance myself, but failing.

I fall directly on my ass and with an irritated groan I look around me giving whoever is staring one of my best death glares.

Anastasia is bent forward, hands on her knees and laughing hysterically now. She points at me and even though my cheeks heat up, I love when she’s like this. I’ll take laughing at my misfortune over the silent treatment any day.

In a split second Anastasia loses her balance from laughing too hard and she takes a hard fall, landing on her side. I crawl over to her to make sure she’s not hurt, but before I can get to her she starts crawling to the blue line just a foot away.

“I win!”

I shake my head, “I want a redo.”

I watch as she tries and tries again, continuously laughing and enjoying it. If it weren’t for her I would’ve thrown my ice skates off the second I fell and got in the car to go back home. Her resilience is admirable, but what is even more admirable is even though she is the worst one here-next to me-she isn’t embarrassed. She thinks falling is funny. I’ve never seen her act so free.

That’s when I realize, she thrives in this type of environment. Out in the open, with people, doing adventurous things. She is a prized bird that should be anything but caged. She should be free and wild because that is when she is at her most beautiful.

And I kidnapped her.

But you also freed her.

I freed her from a smaller cage only to put her in a slightly bigger cage. She can’t even truly be herself. My eyes wander to her red hair, although beautiful, it isn’t her. I wish she didn’t have to wear those sunglasses every time we go out, her blue eyes are her best feature, so bright and lively. They convey emotion and when she’s happy there’s this twinkle in them that makes me feel warm inside.

The feelings she gives me scares me to death.

“Come on, Angelo!” She holds out my hands. I’ve been clinging to the wall like a coward just watching her attempt to do spins and figure-eights. She is anything but graceful on ice, though she tries, it makes me curious to see what she’s like when she performs ballet.