I meet her eyes, and almost refuse. It’s a grim story, and hardly portrays marrying into this family as a great thing. But her expression is so open, and she deserves to know.
“They were killed in a mafia turf dispute,” I say, as lightly as I can. “The lines of territories sound very clean when you hear that ‘this person is the kingpin of that area’, but London is messy. Streets curl around, parks sprawl, roads lead in onedirection then turn. There are an almost infinite number of small areas that have unique identities, and sometimes, they’re part of a bigger area, or overlap with another place. The disputes are often financial. Others are ideological, that an area or street should belong to a certain mafia because it makes sense culturally.”
She nods, but there’s a furrow in her brow, and I can tell she only partly understands.
“Eighteen years ago, when Lucia was a young mother and I was still learning the family business, there was an agreement between our enemies to squeeze us out, and take the spoils.”
“Oh. No.” Ruby’s face creases in horror.
My mouth flattens into a line as I remember the night I lost both my parents, grandparents, and my brother-in-law.
“They came for us at home. Here.” I pause as the old ache settles on my chest. “I was out at the time, and they posed as a normal sort of call, and pushed their way inside. My team are perhaps a little wary about unexpected callers to the house, even now. As you experienced.”
“Oh.” Realisation creeps across her face. “Yes.”
“They sent hit men from outside of London, but I tracked them to the families who should have been loyal to us. Italian families of Clerkenwell who had been here almost as long as we Angelinis have. Lucia and Francesca managed to hide in a hidden playroom Francesca had in her bedroom. But the rest… And by the time I arrived back, it was too late.”
The agony and rage that rise in me are just a faint echo of what I felt then, but still enough to silence me for a moment.
“They thought they’d found everyone. They were wrong. I caught one of the mercenaries, who revealed the whole plot. I took bloody revenge. Fair, but equal to what had been taken from me. And those I allowed to live were my most loyal men.I’m probably over-cautious, I know. But I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“But I’m not really your wife,” she whispers.
“You are absolutely my wife, Ruby. And like my father before me, I would die to protect my wife.”
Getting out of bed in the morning has never been an issue for me, but it’s more difficult now that I have to tear myself away from my beautiful, sleepy wife.
After a second night of me giving her an orgasm with my mouth, we seem to have a silent agreement that what happens in bed stays in bed. I’m not sure that it would extend to the morning though. The light would scare her off, or it might, and I’m not willing to take that risk. Whatever time she needs, we’ll progress at her pace.
So I get up, pull on work-out kit, and go down to the basement gym as usual. And the moment I open the door, I stop. My hand goes to my brow, massaging it gently.
My artistic wife’s reach is extensive, it seems. The simple, peacefully plain room has been decorated. Extensively.
On two walls there are floor-to-ceiling wallpaper or vinyl sticker-type things, of a rainforest.
On the other walls are bold motivational phrases.
“Ah fuck,” I say aloud. This isn’t how I imagined married life.
More sex. Fewer plant-based decorations. A lot more daily confessions of love. Kissing. Oh god, I’d love to have the right to kiss my wife whenever I wanted. And maybe guide her design choices.
I can live with the ridiculous bed cushions, but this? I hate it.
I spend an hour lifting very heavy bits of metal, and sweat out my angst. I determine to talk to Ruby about the redecoration of my gym. She was open to changing breakfast, surely we can compromise. Even if the green is quite soothing.
Giovani turns up, as usual, to give me a report.
“Don, the lawyers called. They say the annulment documents are waiting for you to sign.” Giovanni is regarding me with ill-disguised concern.
I nod curtly. “Let them know I’ll deal with it when I can.”
Meaning I’ll pile more paperwork on top of them for now, then burn them to ash and trample them to dust just as soon as Ruby agrees to stay permanently.
“What’s with the jungle vibes?” Giovanni asks, looking around critically.
That’s not acceptable. I won’t have any criticism of Ruby’s choices.
“It’s grown on me.” And I’m surprised to find that it’s true. The forest pattern is relaxing, and a nice reminder of Ruby. I’m not sure about the perky phrases, but imagining Ruby spending time selecting them for me warms my cold heart.
