Mafia Boss's Secret Wife

Chapter 9: There’s fire

It’s a little late as I walk out of the hospital room, half already asleep, completely drained of any sort of energy and ounce of sanity. My mother’s treatment is seemingly going well, but just as we were talking, she went through a - painful episode and once more, heavy words push on my shoulders.

I wanted to let go… I wanted to, but if she’s gone, then who else is around?

“Ioanna, was it?” The low voice takes me by surprise, and when I look up from my phone I see none other but Thomas leaning against my old, rusty car.

My heart skips a beat and if I were not this tired, I’d have tossed something right at his head. A groan escapes me as I slip my phone into my bag and fish my keys out.

“Shut up, will you?” I huff and cross my arms on my chest, keeping a decent distance between us.

There is a lit cigar between his lips and he looks seemingly perfect just like usual. His hair seems to be styled in this unruly style almost all the time. Did he put in the effort of looking like this all the time? He was wearing a turtleneck, his sleeves rolled up all the way to his elbows, exposing numerous tattoos. In the light of the streetlight, the shimmer of the silvery rings catches my eyes and I can’t help but stare at his hands. Those greedy hands, with long fingers and blue undertone veins that moved along the flexing of his fingers, making my throat go dry the more I looked and followed his subtle movements.

“Who knew your family is one of balkan emigrants-“ he speaks after he takes a long breath from his cigar and lets out a cloud of smoke.

“Can you sound more condescending?!” I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to come back to reality. This was not someone to admire. This was a man to avoid and tell mean fairy tales about.

That theatrical smile of his is gone and I am honestly relieved that I didn’t have to trick myself into thinking he was a decent person.

“Your mother is obviously from somewhere around.” He speaks, eyes trailing around us, as if trying to make sure no one else was around. “How about your father? Is he some drunk man who left your mother behind when she got sick?” His words are empty, his voice is flat, and yet, why do I feel them like burning coals seering through my heart?

“Careful, you might start to care if I tell you my life story.” I mock him with a forced smile on my lips, blinking rapidly as I tried to steady myself.

“Try me, doll.”

Doll? DOLL!? Something inside of me stirs and I feel the urge to bite his head off… if only it were possible.

I swallow the lump in my throat and close the distance between us. Disinterested, Thomas’s eyes switch to look at me. Unbothered and unphased he brings the cigar to his lips again and drinks in the thick smoke while my eyes narrow on him.

“You have no right to barge in my life like this.” I warn him in a low voice. “If you come here again, I’ll file for a restraining order against you.” I threaten him, gripping the keys so hard that it turns painful.

An amused sliver of a smirk curls on his lips as he looks down at me, just as unbothered. I pluck the cigar from between his lips, toss it to the ground and stomp on it, before opening the door of my car and pushing him away with it.

“I told you I don’t want you in my life. How much clearer can I say that?!” I hiss as I try to get inside the car.

But I am not given the chance to get away. Thomas grabs my arm and pulls me towards him. The door of the car slams loud and I am pressed harshly against it. My breath is knocked right out of my lungs as a short yelp escapes me. He presses my arm against my lowers back, trapping it there while he presses himself against me.

I can feel the gun in his pocket pressing against my ass, while his chest brushes against my back, pushing my chest harsher against the cold door. A cold shiver slithers up my spine, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up and my skin turn into goosebumps.

Against the cold metal, the chilly breeze of the early autumn night, his body is much hotter, much warmer, and yet, I can’t help but feel like my heart is about to freeze entirely.

“My patience is running thin.” His voice is hushed, words falling right against my ear, his breath brushing against my cheek. “I am not here to bargain with you. /No/ is not an option I have the kindness to give you.” Even if his voice is flat, I can feel the harshness of them. Of him. “So listen closely, because I am not going to repeat myself.”

He pauses, waiting to see if I had anything smart or cocky to say, but I swallow my words along with any thought of fighting him.

“You have a week to come to me willingly.” His lips brush against my earlobe, sending a wave of shivers and nausea all over me. “You’re to be my wife, you’re to be wed to me. Terms and conditions will be something you’ll be informed of at that time.” He gives my arm a tighter squeeze and I hold back a grunt.

“And if I don’t?” I hiss through gritted teeth.

I don’t need to turn to see him smirking, because I feel the way his lips curl up and the way his posture changes slightly.

“Your studio goes first.” He speaks clearly, his voice filled with a twisted amusement. “Then maybe your friends. With each day that runs over this week I will take something of value from you… and if you take too long, I’m sure there is a nurse willing to make a mishap and -“ he shrugs lightly.

“You wouldn’t!” I hiss in distrust.

A dark laugh bubbles in his chest, a rumble, a growl even. A madman’s amusement… and I am now certain he was not just messing with me.

“I have killed more people than you’d be willing to hear.” He whispers into my ear, with that twisted tune that made me think he was not human at all. “A handful more won’t change much for my soul, will it?”

I gulp harshly, pushing the lump forming in my throat, into my stomach which turns and twists with overwhelming anxiety.

“You’re insane…”

“I’ve been called worse, doll.” He adds, voice filled with pride, his forehead resting against my head.

Thomas takes in a deep breath, his nose almost buried into my hair, the warm air making me shiver.

“One week.” He repeats himself with the same flat voice. “Don’t bother to pack. Don’t bother telling anyone either. If you do, they’ll simply be added to the numbers.” He continues. I feel him slip something into my back pocket before he releases me, abruptly pulling away. “That’s the address.” He informs me and as I turn around, he is already walking away, back turned to me, while he lights himself a cigar, unbothered… unphased…

I lean against the car, my knees weak and my mind nothing but chaos right now. My heart picks up the pace and the initial repulsion and irritation turns into an overwhelming urge to throw up. My stomach turns and clench my hand over my rapidly rising and falling chest, trying to regulate the gasps of air and steady myself.

Thomas’s silhouette is swallowed by the darkness of the night and I am left alone in the parking lot, hyperventilating and clutching my shirt as if my life depended on it.

That night sleep was not something I could get at all. I drove home after spending endless minutes sitting on the ground, my back against the old car, sobbing and gasping for air in the empty parking lot. Nevertheless, not even for a second did I feel alone. It was as if he had eyes everywhere, as if from each and every shadow, someone was watching me. Closely. Trying to know me in such an intimate way that I felt endlessly dirty and naked.

I scrubbed my skin for what felt like hours, trying to wash him away. But the scent of cigar and the memory of that drug hazed night clung to me like the worst dirt of them all: one that stained my soul.

I managed to fall asleep by the time the sun was rising, crouched over an oversized pillow, on the couch, my back to the wall, facing the door, as if someone was to enter at any given moment, and I had to make sure they didn’t.

And by morning, everything seemed to be just one horrible nightmare. I’m not sure what part of me decided it was for the best to act as if last night was not real, but I felt a bit more lively like this, and I played along with my insanity.

Before I knew it, the week was over and Thomas has completely slipped my mind. Somehow, the week has been so eventful that I did not have time to worry about ever seeing him again. About mad threats and abuse. I did not have the time to worry about anything, but if my car will or will not break down in the middle of the street, or if the call I am getting is the bank or the hospital.

“I’m on my way!” I shout at Karina who is at the other end of the phone as I mount mine in its place while I jump into the car.

Another Monday, another working day, right? I had a class scheduled in thirty minutes and somehow, I managed to not be ready in time. I usually arrive there a whole hour before schedule, but today, everything worked against me. There was no warm water, so I had to take a cold shower, the power went down and my hair was still damp, my phone had died overnight while I fell asleep binge watching Friends (for like the 10th time).

I drive in a frenzy, but as I take the last turn, I notice the swarm of police cars, half of the firestation, countless people and what looked like the gates of Mordor have been opened, I understand Karina’s urgency. Black smoke rises rapidly and before I can get too close, a policeman stops me.

“Miss, there’s a fire nearby. You need to find another route-“

The building that my little dance studio was in was burning like dry coals. Huge flames were reaching up to the sky ad threatening to touch the buildings nearby,, while the whole perimeter was secured and evacuated.

My heart drops into the pits of my stomach and I kill the engine of the car, ignoring the man talking to me. On the sidewalk, I spot a black coated person, with a black fedora, face hidden by the tall collar of the coat, taking a sharp turn on a narrow alley between two tall buildings.

Shit-