Married to the mafia boss Series

Anastasia

Before breakfast I had already thought of six different potential ways I could murder Angelo. All six came with scenarios where he could defend himself or him possibly shooting or stabbing me before I even have the chance to try.

Angelo Ricci is insufferable. He is a prick. The list goes on and my hands have never urged to strangle someone quite like him. He’s infuriating with that obnoxious cocky grin of his.

Looking down at the ring on my left hand, it looks expensive. Shiny white diamonds with a gold band. My heart flutters at the thought of one day experiencing a real fiancé. I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never even had my first kiss. No boys would come near me knowing my father and while I was training I didn’t have time to fall in love. Still, I fantasize about falling in love. I guess I’m a romantic.

Angelo catches me analyzing my ring and I shoot him a dirty look. “Stop looking at me.”

“You like your ring?”

My cheeks heat up. “No.”

“I’m deaf, not blind. The way you looked at the ring it’s almost as if-”

I shake my hands, interrupting him. “Stop. Stop talking with me. I’m your prisoner and I want nothing to do with you.”Angelo shrugs his shoulders. “Noted.”

The car ride to his office was silent. Not the kind of silence I experience everyday being blind. This is double the silence. Extreme silence. Silence where I know Angelo is ignoring me and avoiding even looking at me. Of course he has to prove a point like this. Then again, I did deserve it.

No, I don’t. He’s the one who kidnapped me and he talks to me as if we’re alright with each other. We are not alright. I am here against my will. He’s ruined my life. He’s taken me away from my father, my friends, he’s even had the nerve to take away my blonde hair.

I hope the asshole never speaks to me again. If only my father would come through sooner and get me the hell out of the Mafia’s claws.

The hat and sunglasses Angelo provides for me hides me well. When I walk beside him entering the building all I can feel are eyes on us. The men whisper to each other, worse than school girl gossip. Angelo keeps his head held high and his expression as intimidating as I’ve ever seen it. I’m momentarily nervous by the powerful look emanating off him.

The look he wears is the look of ruthless Mafia Don. It’s like I’ve officially met Angelo Ricci. Whoever it was yesterday and this morning; it wasn’t him. The two personalities of Angelo are polar opposites. One has a crooked grin that would make any lady-besides me-swoon at first glance. The other has a cold expression that’d make even the strongest men quake in their shoes.

It’s strange being inside Angelo’s office. To anyone you’d think he’s a businessman. To people who live in this world, you see this office as power. The power to end someone’s life. The power to kidnap and get away with it. The power to torture and feel no remorse. I’ve never been inside my father’s office, in fact, I don’t even know if he has one. He’s done his business in many of the different warehouses he’s controlled. I’ve been to a few when I was younger.

The office feels weirdly mundane. Like I said, to anyone this looks like a normal office. But Angelo Ricci is far from normal.

He sits at his chair and begins to write in a notebook and then type in his computer. I can only imagine what he’s doing. Ordering drugs, guns, organizing where to hit next.

Figuring out how to get my father to cave in.

My father found me once, his men so close to taking me away and putting me back in the Bratva’s arms. I have faith he’ll find me again. The true question is; will he succeed?

I walk around his office already bored out of my mind. I try to find things to entertain myself as Angelo is distracted by his planning or whatever. I look out the closed blinds to see a breathless view of the city, next to the window on the wall is a picture. Leaning in closer to the photo to get a better look I notice it’s a little girl, maybe two or three years old.

I wave my hands to grab Angelo’s attention. “Who is she?”

He raises an eyebrow and I point to the photo behind me. His confused expression quickly turns into a scowl. “None of your business.”

Losing his attention I wave my hands again, I know he can see my movement but he still chooses to ignore me. I notice he’s wearing his hearing aid so I snap and clap my hands to further try and grab his attention-and also to annoy him.

His jaw ticks and he grips his pen tighter. It takes about two minutes before he rips his hearing aid from his ear, throws it in the desk drawer below, and slams the drawer shut.

Sighing in defeat, I take a seat in the leather loveseat in the corner of the office. I wish I at least had my phone to play games on or text my friends. As much as Svetlana and Tatiana can annoy me with their ignorance and their lack of understanding toward my lack of hearing, I miss them terribly.

I pick up the notepad on the side table next to me, rip out a page and throw it at him.

He abruptly stands up and stares at me with fire in his eyes. I shrink back in my seat feeling momentarily terrified.

“What?!” He signs angrily, “What could you possibly want? You told me to leave you alone and stop talking to you and that’s exactly what I’m doing!”

I gulp. My heart is beating fast out of my chest and my eyes sting with sadness. It’s not that Angelo himself is making me cry, it’s this situation. Angelo at the moment is my only form of company and I hate to admit that I’m lonely. I want to have a conversation, I want to go out, I want to do something. I want to have fun. If I had never hurt my stupid knee cap I would still be in Russia, safe, and doing exactly what I love most.

I have to constantly remind myself that Angelo is the bad guy, but as I sit here unharmed, wearing his sisters clothes and am under his protection from his own men, I start to question if he truly is my enemy.

I remember the Angelo Ricci from the picture I saw years ago. He doesn’t seem ruthless, he was never like his brother or his father and I wonder if he is a victim of his own circumstance. Just like me. I’m kidnapped because of my father. Angelo was forced to kidnap me to look strong and tear down my father but it would never have been his decision to kidnap me had his father and brother not been killed-had he not been born into the Ricci family.

Had I not been born into the Vasiliev family.

Laying on the loveseat I start dozing off, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Even though Angelo’s bed was as comfortable as a cloud, the thought of him sleeping in the same room as me made me uneasy. All I could smell was his cologne on the sheets, driving me mad. My dreams wandered to thoughts of him, thoughts that yet again made me force myself to remind me that he’s my captor.

Staying in the dungeon would’ve been easier to convince myself I’m kidnapped. Would’ve gave me more reason to hate Angelo and despite him taking me away from my life, I still come back to the conclusion that he hasn’t harmed me once.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

No torture. No starvation. Just confusion and self-hatred.

My world has always been black and white, although the Mafia and Bratva are all bad guys, it was always the Mafia was worse. The Mafia was out to kill us. The Mafia killed my mother. After meeting Angelo Ricci, the world seems more gray than anything.

Angelo and I sit in the unbearable silence. Avoiding the urge to look at each other and no talking. The tension between us thick and obvious.