Mafia Obsession

Scarlet

Elio drives us to another penthouse about a mile from his parents. Mom, Alessia, and I sit in the back, Alessia staring out the window on one side of me and Mom doing the same on the other. They both seem spaced out for their own reasons. Leo sits in the passenger seat. My heart broke a little when I saw my man helping his dad into the car-the pain in his eyes.

When we reach the penthouse, Elio drives us into a private garage and climbs from the car. He opens the door and offers his hand to his mom. I can tell he does this reluctantly, as though it hurts him. I’m unsure what to say or do to help heal the rift between them.

Cheating… It’s just so wrong. It makes me sick to think about it. Whenever I think about getting steamy, it’s always with my man. I can’t even imagine somebody else touching me, being naked with me. It’s unnatural. It doesn’t fit into my head.

“Come on, Mom,” I say, touching her arm softly. “Hmm?” she replies. “Oh, yes…”

She opens the door on her side and climbs out. She’s shaky on her feet, so I offer her my arm. She clings to it gratefully as I lead her to the elevator, joining Alessia. Elio returns for his father, helping him into the wheelchair and pushing him over.

“Mom, can you take Dad and Mrs. Smith upstairs? I need to speak with Scarlet.”

He speaks in a detached way, and he doesn’t look at his mother. It’s like he can’t, not after what she did. There’s a coldness to him that wasn’t there before, but I can’t blame him for that.

“Of course,” Alessia says, pressing the button to the elevator.

Elio takes my hands and leads me away from them. Even so, he waits until they’re inside the elevator. I turn and see Mom watching us, even in her spaced-out state. She’s got a small smile on her face, almost like she’s happy I’ve found somebody and can see how much belonging flames in me when I’m close to my man.

“What a dinner,” he says once they’re gone, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ. Mom cheated. I never would’ve guessed that.”

“Would it really ruin the Family?” I ask.

“Don’t you think cheating is serious?” he growls.

I place my hand on his chest, calming him down a little. “I’d never cheat on you,” I tell him. “Never. Just the idea of it is sick to me.”

“Promise,” he says fiercely, leaning close, letting me feel the heat of his passionate, frantic breaths.

“I promise,” I tell him. “I swear…”

He pushes his lips against mine. I can feel how badly he needs this kiss. There’s fresh hunger in the closeness. We kiss even deeper, the passion scorching, but then he grabs my shoulders and gently pushes me away.

“I need to go back.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“First, we need to ensure Russel checks in with his men and that his men don’t guess something’s up. After that, we’ll work out how to get our hands on this video and delete all the copies. Then…” He grits his teeth. “We end the prick. I would’ve cut him to ribbons if he hadn’t pulled that slimy little ace. What he did to you…”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”

“No,” he grunts. “Nothing about this is okay. You need to go now, angel. Otherwise, I won’t be able to do my job.”

“I’ll talk to you later?” I ask hopefully.

He nods, kissing me with surprising gentleness on the cheek. “I’ll text you.”

Is everything okay there? he texts a few hours later.

I’m lying in bed, Mom snoring across the room from me. We’ve decided to take the room with two singles. Mom passed out almost as soon as we got here. I’m glad she was sleeping when all the mayhem happened and didn’t have to experience any of it.

Yes, I reply. Everybody’s in bed. What about with you?

As good as they can be. Russel has checked in with his goons. They bought it.

Was it difficult to make him do that? I ask.

I’m not sure you want to know that. It might make you feel differently about me.

I know you have to be tough, I tell him, my thumbs moving so fast. I know you have to be brutal sometimes, but I know you’re a good person, too. You use your toughness for a reason.

Then yeah, he replies. It was surprisingly difficult. I think he’s staked everything on this. He got overconfident. He’s sobered up a little now and clearly regrets it.Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

What’s the next step? I ask.

Finding out how many copies there are, where he’s stashed them, and how to delete them all.

I know cheating’s wrong. I’d never do it. I swear, Elio. I only want you, but would it really ruin the Family?

Men in this life are old-fashioned, he replies. They take a dim view of a woman being unfaithful. It will make Dad look weak, weaker than he already appears. If I were don, not just acting don, maybe that would be different.

Then become don, I tell him. You can do that, can’t you?

Not soon enough. There are procedures. We’d need to gather the men. I can’t waste time until this video is gone. It’s disgusting to even think about. A video of my mom…

I can’t even imagine, I reply. I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I’m sorry any of it happened.

You don’t need to apologize for anything. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have found out what this lowlife piece of filth had over my mom. If it weren’t for you, we’d be lost.

I don’t think that’s true, I type. Anyway, the main point is that now you’ve got to handle this mess. I know you can do it, Elio. You’re strong. You’re capable. You’re experienced. You’re all the things I ever dreamed my boyfriend could be.

Did you used to dream about having the perfect boyfriend, then? he asks.

One of the downsides to texting is not being able to hear the person’s tone. However, I don’t have to hear him to know he’s probably sounding pretty bitter right about now. The stuff with his mom has got him thinking about our relationship. It feels so amazing-not to mention surreal-to think of it like that. Even if I’ve told him I would never cheat, maybe the concerns are still there.

I didn’t have time to think about relationships, I text. I was too busy working, stressing, trying to help Mom. When I did think about it, I always just figured it wasn’t for me. I never felt anything for anyone. Anyway, high school boys are so immature.

Some would say you would be better off with one of them, he texts. Your own age, no criminal connections… There’s a lot to think about.

Are you saying you’d end things with me?

No. Never. I don’t want that. I want you, Scarlet.

Then stop implying it, I type. I’m happy being with you, even if this has been the craziest couple of days of my life. Even if it shouldn’t make sense, it DOES. We make sense. Tell me I’m wrong.

You’re not. I feel exactly the same, but I’ve got twenty-three years on you. I’m a forty-two-year-old man. Some people would say you’re not in the best position to make an informed decision.

Are you trying to convince me to have doubts?

COULD I convince you? he counters. The last thing I ever want to do is take advantage of you.

I sit up in bed, looking across the room at Mom, her chest rising and falling softly in silhouette. I wish he were here now, in person. Then I could hold him tight, look him directly in the eyes, and let him know how serious I am.

You could spend the next ten years trying, and you still wouldn’t convince me, I type quickly. I don’t care if I’m only nineteen. I don’t care if people would think I’m immature. I’ve had to grow up fast. I know what I want

-who I want. It’s you.

I want you too, he replies. Just you. Nobody else. The mafia life is one- sided as hell. Men can cheat. Married men can have girlfriends, but not me, Scarlet. I only want you. Forever.

I gasp, then bite down, not wanting to wake Mom. I read his message repeatedly, trying to convince myself I’m not going crazy. I read that correctly. He wants me, only me…

Three dots appear and disappear. He’s probably wondering why I’m taking so long to reply. I’m unsure how to tell him I’ve wanted him since the moment I saw him. How can I explain that destiny touched me the second I laid eyes on him? Fate claimed us both.

Forever? I type slowly, as if taking my time with the message means his answer will be the one I want-the one I need.

I wanted to tell you this in person, but yes. Forever. Learning what happened between Mom and Dad has made me see things differently. I can’t keep this locked inside anymore.

I read his message, then see he’s typing another. Turning, I sit up, placing my feet on the floor. I can’t stay in bed. I feel like I need to get up and run, get up and sing, get up and do something. Maybe I should call him, but if he’s texting, there’s probably a reason. Honestly, texting about this is far easier than talking would be.

When I saw you, my singing angel, I knew you were mine. It happened before you left me that note and asked for help. It happened INSTANTLY. Before, I was a cold workaholic. I was content to work sixteen hours a day, burying my head and ignoring even the idea of relationships. But when I saw you, that all changed. I knew I had to have you.

I read this message, my heart beating so hard, a smile spreading warmly across my face. Tears threaten to sting my eyes. I can’t believe he’s saying this. What if somebody has somehow gotten hold of his phone? Is this really him?

I knew you were-you are-MINE. You’re the future mother of my children. You’re my future wife. I have to tell you this now. I can’t wait. Life changes too quickly. Everything can flip upside down in a moment. Nothing is secure except us. I have to know. Do you feel the same? COULD you? Do you want to be my woman?

I’m about to reply when I see he’s typing another message. I imagine my man hunched over his phone, powerful shoulders bulging, typing fast as the passion scorches through him. My body tingles just like it did when we were getting steamy, my core telling me to find him, ride him, take his seed.

My dad, my not-really-a-dad, passed away today. No, he was murdered, but the truth is-I couldn’t even say this to Mom-I don’t care. I don’t even care about Mom’s addiction or all the drama and bloodshed. All I care about are those three dots on my cell phone screen, telling me he’s going to say something else that will send my soul soaring.

If you think I’m crazy for thinking this, you have to tell me. I need the truth. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Don’t lie to me. Don’t agree just because you want my money. I always need two things from you, Scarlet: loyalty and honesty. If you can give me those, nothing can ever break us apart.

I’m breathing fast, passion making my heart beat hard. There’s so much… yes, think it. There’s so much love inside of me. It’s burning through me, making me want to sing and cheer. It makes me want to sink into his lap.

Send me a picture, I reply.

Why?

I need to make sure you were the one who actually sent all these messages.

Okay…

A photo of my man appears. He’s not pulling some pretty boy pose like boys my age would be. He simply stares at the camera, his eyes as intense as usual.

I swallow, then start typing my message. I can’t let myself wonder if this is a trick. I can’t let myself wish we were sharing this under different circumstances without so much tension and doubt. I’ll never forgive myself if I’m not honest in this moment.

If you want the crazy truth, Elio, I feel the same. I wanted you the first moment I saw you. I never dreamed you’d want me, too. I thought I’d be too young, too plus-size, too unglamorous. I want you badly. I need you. I want to have your babies. I want to be your life. I want to be yours, only yours, and I need you to be mine, only mine.

When I send the message, I bite down, waiting for his reply. Texting has taken on a whole new meaning since I started doing it with my man. Before, it was just a convenience for making arrangements and making small talk with Charlotte. Maybe that makes me a strange nineteen-year- old.

Yet with Elio, it’s like we’ve gone back a hundred years. We’re not texting, exactly. We’re sending electronic love letters. My heart glows when I see those three dots. There’s no nervousness. He’s not going to take back what he said.

Swear you’re telling the truth.

I swear, Elio, I reply. I’m more confident about this than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. When we were talking about kids, I was thinking about US having a family. When I think about the future, I see US together. I can’t imagine anybody else. If we didn’t work out, I’d be a spinster forever.

If we didn’t work out? There’s no way for that to happen, my perfect girl, unless one of us cheated. I’d die before I cheated on you, and I’d kill any bastard who touched you.

I don’t want to be with another man. I look across the room, wondering why Mom’s panting so hard, and then I realize the sound is coming from me. You’re the only one I ever want. I promise. I’d never cheat on you.

Good, he replies. When this Russel crap is sorted out, we’re going to be together. Properly. You’ll be my mafia queen. You’ll always be at my side.

Me, a queen? I smile. I never thought I’d hear anybody say that.

You’re a kind, funny, sassy, beautiful, sexy, curvy, perfectly plus-size queen. Get used to it.

Perfectly plus-size? I write. That’s something else I NEVER thought I’d hear.

There’s something I don’t want to hear, beautiful-any negativity about your size. It was one of the first things I noticed about you. Your curves are perfect. Your thick, gorgeous legs. Your chest. Your wide hips and every single curvy part of you drive me wild. Never, never fucking talk badly about that. Understand?

More tingles move through me. I’m done being guilty about the way he makes me feel, the flurry of lust, the heat. So what if this has been the most eventful, stressful day of my life? This, right here, is real. We’re real.

Thank you for saying that, I reply. It means a lot.

It’s true. I’m sorry, angel. I’ve got to go now. Business, but I’ll see you soon.

Be careful.

I will. I’ve got a whole lot to live for now.

I love you, I type. Then I hover over the send button and quickly delete the message. That might be a step too far. Though, would it, after everything we’ve shared, this instant connection?

Screw it. Typing it out again, I click send.

Then it’s like fate gets involved. A moment later, I get a notification. The text failed to send. My signal has just dropped out. Call me superstitious, but maybe that’s a sign. I quickly unsend the message, meaning it won’t try to resend when the signal returns.

I lie down, too restless to sleep, my mind filled with vivid dreams about the future. Before, they were fantasies. Now, it’s real. There’s light at the end of this. There’s hope. There’s love. There’s family. When you get right down to it, that’s the most important thing.