Eduardo nods. "Yes, boss. Any requests for this asshole?"
"Drop him off at Lumina." It's Andretti's club, his attempt to make his mark on the city's nightlife. "Front door."
"Will do."
I turn and walk away. Outside, the air is cooler. I breathe in slowly for four counts, then out. Lukas falls into step as I make my way back across the lawn.
"It's a nice message to send," Lukas says. "Andretti should think twice before coming at us."
"A sensible man would think twice. I'm not sure Andretti has two brain cells to rub together."
"Perhaps you're right." Lukas pauses as we reach the door. He pats my shoulder. "I'm going to find some easy pussy. Why don't you blow off some steam with your wife?"
Ignoring him, I push past him into the house. I head upstairs and glance along the corridor to where Katya's waiting for me. A spike of adrenaline surges through me. After killing our intruder, I'm still keyed up.
I can't go to Katya when there's still violence pulsing in my veins, so I turn and head for my own bedroom. A shower and a change of clothes are needed. Then I'll go to my wife. Whether she’s ready for me or not.
FIVE
Katya
Lyingon top of the covers on the soft mattress of the bed I've already come to think of as my own, I twirl the ring around on my finger. The plain gold band confuses me. Men like Gabriele Volante operate in a particular way. They use jewelry to make a statement.
A big flashy diamond to signal his ownership of me was what I expected. It should have been a reminder to me of who I belonged to and a message to other men that I was off limits. Perhaps a ring like that will come but for now I have this simple gold band and I'm not sure what to make of it.
I'd like to think of the ring as Gabriele's quiet commitment to building a life together but I know I'm fooling myself. I've been doing a lot of that lately.
You'd think my circumstances would have knocked all romantic fantasies from my brain, but still they linger. A part of me hopes they never fade.
I have no idea what time it is, but the sky darkened hours ago. It's been a while since Maria came and collected the empty plates from the beautiful dinner she brought me.
There was a delicious pasta with artichokes that she mistakenly told me were anchovies. Her English is decent but she stumbles over some words.
The pasta was followed by a veal cutlet with sautéed vegetables. I tried to wave Maria off when she returned with a bowl of strawberry gelato for me but I'm glad I caved to her insistence because I enjoyed every mouthful.
People told me about Italian desserts and now I know they weren't exaggerating about how good they are.
For the rest of the evening, I've been trying to decide how I feel about what the night will bring. The moment of consummation doesn't hold any fear for me, not the way it might if I was a virgin bride. With Mikhail Orlov I discovered an appetite for sex. It wasn't mind-blowing in the way I've read about in books, but it brought me enough pleasure to know I want more.
My problem is one of expectation. I tell myself sex with Gabriele is purely transactional, a part of the agreement we made and nothing more.
But I'm married to him now and I find that matters more than I thought it would. This union really is until death parts us because that's how it works in the Mafia.
No matter how dispassionately we approach this, feelings are bound to come into it at some point. I fear they'll be mine rather than his. It leaves me vulnerable but I’ve survived before and I’ll do so again.
When I hear steps outside the door, I get up from the bed and stand next to it waiting for Gabriele to enter. I smooth down the front of my dress which is now crumpled from me lying on it.
Almost a minute goes by. I'm starting to think I imagined hearing someone outside when there's a sharp knock at the door. That surprises me.
Surely Gabriele would just walk in. He'd be entirely within his rights since the details of our arrangement are clear. He can have access to me at any time. For better or worse, I signed up for that.
Perhaps this isn't him.
"Come in," I call out.
There's another pause before Gabriele enters. He walks in, closes the door and stands there for a moment. His stillness unnerves me. There's a predatory quality to it, like he's sizing me up, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He's changed his clothes since I last saw him striding away from me in the foyer downstairs. His trousers are still black, but these are a looser fit than the ones he wore earlier. His shirt, a dark blue, is open at the collar.
