DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

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Heat traveled up through my back. My anger was alive and trying to claw its way out of me. I didn’t usually show emotion, let alone anger.

The military taught me not to let my personal feelings affect my mission. Everything was tactical-stay cool, do the job, and get out. If you didn’t, you were dead. I’d adopted that mentality when I joined the marines and it stuck with me even years after I was out.

I rarely let anything other than logic dictate my actions. But when I saw Frankie across the table trying to look and act like she wasn’t scared, I lost it. Just the thought of somebody hurting her made me lose the grip on my tightly-held control.

What pushed me over the edge was that she was fighting with me about her safety like she didn’t care. Telling me I was off the hook like I could ever just flip a switch and stop worrying about her. I would never be able to do that with Frankie. Someone else, sure, but not her. Never her.

“Yes, I do,” I said through gritted teeth. I was on my last nerve. How could she be so fucking casual with her own safety?

“Why?” she shouted, exasperated.

That was it, I snapped.

“Because you’re my fucking wife, that’s why!” I bellowed, slamming my fist on the table to emphasize my point. Everyone who’d been sitting around the table fell eerily silent. The look of pain that flashed over Frankie’s face made me immediately regret my outburst.

I chanced a look at Carlo to my right. He was leaned back in his chair watching me with a quirked eyebrow. He’d known, but no one else had. Of course, all it took was a public records look up to see that Frankie and I had gotten married eight years ago, and there was no divorce on file. Mia was sitting stock still, but her eyes were bouncing from Frankie to me, her mouth hung slightly agape.

My eyes fell back on Frankie, standing on the other side of the table. A pang of shame squeezed at my heart when I noticed her hands were trembling slightly and her nose was red, which meant she was about to cry. I’d done that. I brought up the one thing that I knew would break her. I was the worst kind of asshole.

“You haven’t treated me like your wife in a really long time. Don’t hurt yourself trying to start now,” she said, trying to sound hard and angry, but I knew her too well to be fooled. She was just barely holding on, a fact that was confirmed when she bolted for the door.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let my head hang, both hands splayed on the table in front of me while I tried to calm myself down. It didn’t work.

“FUCK!” I screamed.

“Is someone going to explain what the fuck is going on?” Mia asked, agitated.

I looked around the table at the people that had become like family to me, noticing the shocked and confused looks on their faces. I’d have to explain myself eventually, but it would have to wait. Frankie was my first priority.

I moved to go after her but instead came face to face with an angry Mia.

“What in the actual fuck?”

“God, Mia,” I groaned. “I don’t have time to do this right now. I’ll explain later.” I sidestepped her, careful not to jostle her for fear Carlo would probably shoot me. I heard her screeching as I made my way out the front door. It was going to take a lot to calm her down this time-poor bastard. But I had my own woman to worry about.

Jumping in my car, I raced down the long driveway-memories and worry clogging up my headspace as I merged onto the highway headed for Frankie’s apartment. I can’t believe I’d outed us like that. Frankie had been working for Carlo for close to four years now, and neither of us had breathed a word to anyone about our marriage, no matter how much of a joke it was.

It was going to take a lot to get back in her good graces, not that I’d been there much in recent years. I’d been able to let her keep her distance. I deserved it after all, but that was when I knew she was safe. With an unknown threat looming, I couldn’t afford her the luxury of distance anymore.

She may hate me, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t, couldn’t let her down. Not again.