Adriano Ruffo
Seems like today my lies are only growing.
“I…ah…met someone, Mom.”
***
“Three months”—Ruffo’s voice blankets the interior of his limo—“is long enough to plan the wedding and for your mother to recover sufficiently to no longer need your constant help.”
My body seems to be shrinking into itself, as if I can somehow get smaller and smaller until I disappear completely. Hard to do when I’m sitting across from him. Until ten minutes ago, I still hoped that maybe, just maybe, Ruffo wasn’t serious about the whole marriage contract. That hope died as soon as I left the hospital and saw his car with its tinted windows parked out front.
“A personal stylist will reach out to you next week to schedule time for you to select a wedding dress,” he continues in an even tone. “Feel free to pick whatever you like, don’t worry about the cost. If nothing catches your eye at the boutique, there are top-tier seamstresses on staff. They can make you anything you want. My car and driver will be at your disposal whenever you need.”
I nod, looking anywhere but at the man I agreed to marry.
Unlike most of my girlfriends, I never imagined my wedding day. Between working and taking care of Mom, daydreams of cakes and flowers, dresses and venues, never even crossed my mind. Did I hope that I would get married one day? Sure. But my thoughts were never about the event. The only vital part was the man who’d stand with me at the end of that aisle. It didn’t much matter if he was rich or poor, as long as he loved me. As long as he was the kind of man who cared about me and my feelings. Who would remember the little things in life, things that were important to me. Like my silent guest does.
A small, sad smile pulls at my lips. I guess this means there’s no need for me to work at the Annex anymore. With Mom’s surgery complete and all costs for her past and future care covered, the financial pressure is gone. But…I’d still like to go. Continue to enjoy my evening sessions. Not the disaster I experienced last time, but the hours spent in conversation with the man who barely said two words. After all of our time together, I’ve come to crave those Saturday nights with him.
I’m not sure what ever possessed me to imagine the silent guest as Adriano Ruffo. He could never be as cold or as unfeeling as the man across from me in this car.
As I close my eyes and take a breath, I can almost smell my silent guest’s faint briny scent. For a moment, it startles me. If I didn’t know better, I would swear it was real.
God, I’m such a basket case.
“You can remain at your place for now,” Ruffo drones on. “But after the wedding, you’ll move into my house.La Famigliahas very particular standards of propriety and the behavior of prominent members of Cosa Nostra. Regardless of our personal reasons, we’ll need to ensure our marriage is beyond reproach tooutside observers.” He pauses, long enough for me to wonder if he’s done talking.
“Maintaining the appearance of an amicable marriage will be crucial within our social circle and for the sake of my business. That also means that you won’t be able to continue working at your various jobs, but you may do so until the ceremony. After, you will receive unlimited credit to spend however you see fit. I’ll take care of your mother’s living expenses, however, so you don’t have to worry about that. You will accompany me to a variety of events where, as my spouse, your presence will be expected. And, you will plan and act as hostess at small social gatherings in my home. But those are few and far between. Any questions?”
My throat feels as dry as the Sahara Desert. I try to swallow and force myself to meet his gaze. “Does sleeping with you fall under my wifely duties?”
He clenches his jaw, glaring at me for what feels like an eternity without speaking. “I am many things, Little Iris, but I don’t force myself on women.”
“No. You only coerce them into committing murder.”
“Hmm. I don’t recall urging you to kill anyone.”
“You lied to me,” I bite out. “I didn’t pull the trigger, but if it weren’t for me, that man would still be breathing. And now I have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life.”
“Lied?” He leans forward, blue eyes glinting dangerously. “I asked you, plain and clear, if you wanted to know anything about the donor. You declined.”
The space inside the limo seems to shrink until those menacing eyes are the only visible light.
“So tell me, Little Iris, are you pissed at me for taking drastic measures to save your mother’s life? Or, are you mad at yourself, because even if you knew the truth, you would have still agreed?”
My heartbeat quickens, as if the distressed organ is going to leap from my chest. I start to tell him that isn’t true, but no sound leaves my mouth.
“You see, my guileless flower, human beings are faulty by design. We may believe that our certainty of what’s right and wrong is absolute, and that there are lines we would never cross. But the truth is, given a compelling reason, anyone might cave in the end. Everyone is capable of terrible deeds. Accepting that fact doesn’t make you a bad person. Merely human.” He cocks his head to the side. “However, in this particular situation, your hands are clean, so there’s no reason for you to lose sleep over it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means…that even if you protested, tried putting a stop to it, everything still would have unfolded as it did. The end result would have been identical. That man’s heart would still be beating in your mother’s chest right now. I would have made sure of it.”
“Why? You don’t care if my mom lives or dies.”
“Indeed. If I did, I could have simply paid for her care. Instead, I made sure all your financial options were denied. Even going as far as orchestrating the Spadas’ IRS troubles, which wasn’t easy and required traversing a few hoops. If I cared, I wouldn’t have wasted so much of my time. But of course, that wouldn’t have gotten me what I need.”
“My signature on the wedding certificate.”
