The Mafia King’s Doll

Angelo

The tension coming off Vittoria makes the air tremble.

It’s too fucking hot outside for her to be walking around in what can only be described as winter clothes.

I have a million things to tend to before the poker game tonight, but knowing Vittoria would visit Father Parisi this morning, I ordered Big Ricky to drive past the cathedral.

Having her schedule puts me in a position to watch her.

But it wasn’t my intention to drive all over town like a fucking chauffeur.

She’s my future wife, and I might as well get used to taking care of her.

Once we’re married, she’ll have a driver and guard to take her wherever she needs to go.

Unable to focus on the contract in my hand, I give up and glance at the trembling beauty beside me. I notice the flower that’s being crushed in her tight grip and mutter, “You’re killing it.”

Vittoria’s eyes fly to my face as she gasps, “I’m what?” I gesture at her hands. “You’re killing the flower.”

Her gaze flits to her lap, then she mutters. “Shoot.” She eases her grip on the wilting carnation, then adds, “Technically, it’s already dying.”

With my eyes locked on her exquisite face, I ask, “Why are you out and about on such a hot day?”

Her gaze darts to me again. “I had errands to run.” She fidgets with the carnation, and I don’t think she’s aware of what she’s doing as she starts to pull the petals off.

“And the errands couldn’t wait?” Now, I’m just asking questions to hear the soft tone of her voice.

“Ah…” Her fingers move faster, the petals falling one by one onto her lap. “I always meet with Father Parisi on Tuesdays to give him a cooked meal and to discuss the baked goods for after Mass.”

Of course, she provides meals for the holy man.

She pauses, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she continues to ramble, “I stopped by Rosa’s store to tell her what kind of flower arrangement to prepare for Sunday, and now I’m going to the store to get the ingredients for the cannolis we’ll serve after Mass.” Finally, she stops talking so she can suck in a desperate breath.

I find the way she rambles fascinating and even…cute.

In the meantime, the carnation has been obliterated, and when she notices, she lets out a panicked sound. “I’m so sorry!”

Clearly terrified that I’ll punish her for messing in my car, she frantically gathers the petals.

Big Ricky finds a parking spot outside the grocery store, and it has me saying. “We’re going in with her.”

“What?” Vittoria whisper-shrieks, her wide eyes staring at me with shock.

“It’s not open for discussion,” I mutter as I get out of the SUV. Truth be told, I’m enjoying our little interaction way too much.

I wait for Vittoria to climb out, and when I place my hand on her lower back, she almost jumps out of her skin with fright.

I ignore her reaction, figuring she’ll get used to me once we’re married.

Big Ricky hovers somewhere behind us as we walk into the store, and I grab a cart.

Vittoria gives me a confused look, but she doesn’t have the courage to ask why I’m joining her on her shopping trip.

Every pair of eyes in the store locks on me, and I feel the wave of fear ripple through the aisles. As we head toward the baking section, people scatter to get away from us, and it has Vittoria nervously glancing up at me.

“What do you need?” I ask so she’ll focus on why we’re here.

She digs a scrap of paper out of her handbag, and rushing from one ingredient to the next, she quickly gathers what she needs.

When we reach the cashier, the woman keeps her eyes lowered as she scans everything.

The fear all these people feel for me is thick in the air. It’s something I’ve worked my ass off to attain.

It’s power.

When Vittoria pulls a few dollars out of her handbag, I mutter, “I’ll pay.”

“It’s for the Parish,” she says, her eyes filled with uncertainty. I don’t repeat myself. Ever.

Ignoring her comment, I hand my black limitless card to the cashier to pay for the meager ingredients that don’t even fill a shopping bag.

I’ll have to arrange a card for Vittoria.

While the payment is being processed, I make a mental note not to forget.

The cashier’s trembling like a leaf in a shitstorm as she hands the card back to me. I tuck it back into my wallet while Big Ricky grabs the shopping bag.

When we leave the store, Vittoria scurries to stay beside me while whispering, “Thank you. I’ll let Father Parisi know you paid for everything.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I order.

“But I didn’t use the money he gave me,” she argues. “He’ll ask why.”

For a moment, I’m impressed that she’s got enough courage to argue with me.

“Then don’t tell him why, and keep the money for yourself,” I mutter. She stops dead in her tracks and stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“I’m not lying to Father Parisi, and I’m certainly not keeping the Parish’s money.”

When she motions the sign of the cross, I let out an unexpected chuckle. “Why?”

“It’s lying and stealing,” she gasps, looking absolutely shocked.

The corners of my mouth curve up as I close the distance between us. When I lift my hand to her face, she startles, and her complexion grows pale.

Ignoring her strong reaction, I brush my fingers over her cheek while I keep her terrified eyes imprisoned by mine. I lean down, and when she holds her breath, a chuckle rumbles from my chest.

“It’s not stealing when I’ve paid for everything. I’m ordering you to keep the money, which is technically mine.”

Instead of using words, a squeak escapes her as her head bobs up and down.

Lifting my head an inch, my eyes capture hers again. “Relax, Vittoria. I don’t plan on killing you.”

The air wooshes over her lips, and figuring I’ve fucked enough with her for one day, I pull away and gesture at the SUV. “Get in.”

Like the little deer she is, she dashes to the vehicle and hurries to get inside.

When I slide in next to her, she practically squashes herself against the other door.

I’m fucked up for taking so much pleasure in her fear, but the thought doesn’t stop my mouth from curving into a smirk.

Christ, I’m high from the exhilaration of hunting my little deer.