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This is not what I wanted.
I’m not ready to leave the house. But what my husband says goes.
This is a Mafia marriage. Women in a marriage like mine have no power. If my husband says I have to have his baby, then that’s what I have to do, no matter what I think about it. If he says I must go shopping with his mother, then I have to do it.
I go up to our bedroom to get my purse. I try to be happy about the shopping trip. I’m sure we’ll be just fine. Going to the window, I pull the curtain open and watch as the car my husband is in drives away. He never tells me where he’s going. He doesn’t have to tell me anything. He’s the man, and I am nothing but his woman—his wife to do with as he wants.
Leaning my forehead against the cold windowpane, I wonder about the way life would have been had Carlo Vietti not wanted me for his wife.
He told me that my real father had plans for me. For all I know, he still has plans for me. But are those plans any worse than Carlo’s?
My eyes go to the bed that we have shared for a month. In that bed, we’re nearly insatiable, and neither of us can get enough of the other. Everything else fades away.
We feel lust for each other in spades. What we lack is the mutual respect my husband likes to pretend we have.
Do I respect him? Yes—but I have opinions. Opinions he never wants to listen to.
Still, I must remind myself that our marriage is new, and we have much to learn about getting along and listening to each other.
His mother and I have become pretty close, and the stories she tells of her marriage are more like horror stories. Neither Carlo nor I want our marriage to be bad. I’ll try to remember that before I say things that might make him angry with me.
Going downstairs, I meet my mother-in-law in the foyer, where she waits with two of the guards. “Are you ready, dear?”
“I am.” Putting my best foot forward, I try to enjoy a nice day of shopping. “I can’t wait to see this Christmas store Carlo talked about.”
“It’s wonderful,” his mother tells me as we walk behind the guards. I notice a couple fall into step behind us.
I have to admit that I do feel safe with so many big, burly men around to keep us safe. “This is going to be fun.”
Traffic is horrible, as usual, and it takes us over an hour to get to the store. But once we’re inside, I’m mesmerized by all the holiday glory I have to choose from. “I’ll never be able to get just a few things.”
“Get all you want, Isabella,” his mother tells me. “No one told you that you had a spending limit.”
“I’m not used to that.” Turning in a circle, I don’t even know where to start. “There are so many things. Should I begin with ornaments for the tree? Or maybe outdoor decorations? I just don’t know.”
Looping her arm through mine, my mother-in-law takes charge. “Okay, I’ve got a great idea. How about we get a tree for the living area of your bedroom suite?”
“I can decorate an entire tree?” I like the idea. “I need a theme. Red bows and green lights? Or blue and white ornaments?” With so many themes, it’s going to take me all day to find what I want. “I had no idea this would be so hard.”
“It’s supposed to be fun,” she says. “I’ll get you started. Think about the colors of your bedroom suite, and let’s play on that color scheme. It’ll help you get started.”
“Red and black,” I say as I haven’t gotten around to putting my feminine touch on the bedroom yet. But I do find a theme that would fit. “Over there. I see something that would fit in nicely.”
“Good. Now we’re on to something.” We head toward the black and red section of the enormous store, both of us ready to dive in.
Finding everything I want is slow going, and as the day wears on, more and more customers come into the store, searching for just the right thing to make their holidays bright. Before I know it, there are so many people around us that I lose track of my mother-in-law.
Looking around, I see her and wave. She shouts, “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Keep shopping. I’ll find you when I get back.”
I look over my shoulder to see two of the guards nearby and get back to searching for the perfect decorations for my tree. Feeling happy about my finds and looking forward to surprising my husband with the tree in our suite, I think about nothing but the holidays and how much fun they’ll be.
Moving deeper into the store, I’m on a roll, finding one thing after another, filling my basket to the very top. There are so many people around that when I feel a bump on one side of me, I think nothing of it. “Excuse me. Sorry.”
A bump comes from the other side too, and I turn to see someone wearing all black. Turning to look on the other side of me, I see another person wearing all black.
Just as I start to back up to get out from in between the hefty men, I find they each hold an arm, and I can’t move backward. Frantic, I jerk my head around to look for the guards but can’t see anyone I know.
“Help . . .” I manage to get out before I’m jabbed in the side by something sharp and a cloth is shoved into my mouth.
