Conquered by the Mafia Boss

With a small push off the tombstone, I turn away from Elena and walk down the hill. Her footsteps trudge behind me and then her arm curls around mine. It’s as if the landscape brightens. I don’t feel as fucking bad when she’s around.

Christ, I’ve really changed.

Gradually, though, I’m shutting down. The closer and closer we get, my insides twist and bunch together. My skin freezes-I haven’t been to visit her in years.

Then finally I get there.

It’s a small, modest tombstone because her family didn’t have any money. I scraped together what I had and paid for her funeral and burial. Elena stands stock-still in front of the stone, her lips moving silently.

MARIA ELIZABETH DESBIENS

(1985 – 2002)

“She was my girlfriend. And she was the reason I joined.”

Elena’s mouth widens, and I don’t blame her. I’ve such a shitty reputation for sticking my dick into anything that moves, it’s hard to believe that I had a girlfriend. That I was once in love. That we were going to-fuck. It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters.

“She was killed. I went to the boss at the time and asked him for vengeance. He would only give it to me if I joined their ranks. So I did.”

And I’ve regretted it ever since.

I think she can see it in my eyes. Fuck it, I don’t care about holding back. I don’t want to do this anymore. The killing, the violence, the pain I inflict every day numbed me to every feeling, good and bad. Following my father’s footsteps was never something that I wanted. I joined because I was young and stupid, and it’s a mistake I have to live with for the rest of my life.

Maybe if I turned off everything, I’d be fine.

But I can’t become yet another one of the dead-eyed assholes I work with. I just don’t have it in me. Part of me is ashamed to admit that.

“So you never wanted this life?”

“Don’t tell nobody.”

She smiles weakly, her eyes shining with pity. I don’t need that-I don’t want it. It’s my fault. The decision to join was mine. I’m just having a hard time living with it. Pussy and booze just doesn’t cut it anymore.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 33. I like to drink Irish whiskey. I love French onion soup and I can’t stand Tim Hortons. My favorite color is blue. Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I love skiing in the winter.”

“What about-”

I grasp her shoulders and that seems to silence her. “None of that shit tells you who I am, Elena. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter. You’ll find out who I am.”

I release a long breath, feeling the tension exhale out of my lungs. “So what about you? I told you my big secret.”

Elena shrugs, looking at the ground. “I’m 27. I don’t have anyone and I don’t really know what to do with my life. I hate raw tomatoes-”

“What?”

“I hate tomatoes.”

My jaw drops. “You’re Italian.”

“I know.” She narrows her eyes at me.

“You hate tomatoes? Seriously? That’s like saying, ‘I hate onions.’ What the hell kind of-”

“You don’t think I’ve gotten shit from my parents my whole life because of that? I hate the texture, but I don’t mind when they’re cooked in stuff. Anyway, my favorite color is pink and I have two siblings that I don’t get along with. When Dad was boss, it was like having a big family. That’s all gone now.”

I’m still reeling over the shock of a full-blooded Italian hating tomatoes.

“Who cares?” I rasp finally. “They whacked your dad. You don’t want anything to do with them anyway.”

“I know, but they were all I had.”

Her eyes are like two dark pools, and some of her sadness reaches inside me when she meets my gaze. Really, we’re not that different. Both of our families were destroyed by the mob, and yet we’re still indebted to them.

“What would you have done if you weren’t in the life?”

My lips pull into a bitter smile. “I have no fucking clue.”

I never gave it a thought, because this is all I know. Even if Johnny allowed me to leave, what would I do? I have no skills.

Her face breaks into a watery smile. “I don’t know what I want to do either.”

“I guess we’re both hopeless.”

We descend the hill in silence, my head full of troubling thoughts. I don’t know anything, I just know that my chest tightens when she smiles at me, and my desire for her is out of control. The wedding doesn’t really bother me as much as it should anymore. I like the idea of her becoming mine.

“Elena, this wedding is happening,” I tell her as we reach my car. “Capiche? I’m not stopping it for anything.”

Her eyes burn with questions I’m not sure I can answer. She opens her mouth, protesting-

“Look, it doesn’t mean we’re in love or any of that shit. It just means we understand each other. You need my help, and I need your smoking-hot body.”

Her cheeks flush as I wrap my arm around her waist. She wears a thin cotton dress underneath her coat, and I told her not to wear panties. It must be cold. Hell, it’s the middle of January.

My hand curls around her bare thigh, pushing the dress higher and higher up her legs until she hisses through her teeth.

“Tony, we’re in a parking lot.”

Since when do I give a fuck?

“No one can see what I’m doing to you.”

My body blocks her from view, but a thrill leaps inside me at the thought of someone catching a glimpse.

“Why is it that you always want to share me?”