Page 44 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

The woman was nice, had listened to what Marie had to say on their first appointment, and had suggested they start slow. She wanted Marie to practice some relaxation techniques and do everything she could to relax. Matteo had agreed, which surprised her.

She’d woken up the morning, after he’d decided to get her drunk, with a slight hangover and the distinct memory of spending hours telling him about her childhood. He was supportive and stayed home the next day to make sure she was alright. They’d spent some time talking about it all throughout the day and had come to the decision, together, that counseling would be good for her.

After a shower and drying her hair, she got dressed in casual clothes: a light-blue skirt that billowed softly around her knees and a white silk camisole. The clothes wouldn’t be on her for long so she went for something she could slip off and on easily. A pair of flat sandals replaced the flip flops she was used to wearing.

For a moment she stared down at her feet. The sandals were a camel brown leather with gold and turquoise beads along the panel that stretched across her feet and around the strap that ran around her ankle to close on the outside with a gold clasp. When it was warm in Louisiana, she’d pull out her old flip flops and carry on. Sometimes, she’d splurge a little and buy a new pair at the closest discount store.

Now, she could afford fancy sandals and that fact took her breath away. She didn’t have to wear flip flops, even though she was used to wearing them, but she could if she wanted to. That was the difference in her life, she could choose what she wore now. With a hint of a smile on her face, she left the penthouse and went down to the car she’d decided to drive.

The sunlight glinted off the windshield of the white Fiat Matteo ordered for her when she pulled out of the parking garage. It was a small, compact car, and though it was rather boxy, she loved it. She just had to get used to driving in New York traffic. That part wasn’t so easy, but she was getting the hang of it.

She turned right as she pulled out of the garage and came to a yellow traffic light. She braked just as the light turned red and waited for the green signal. The car was quiet, so she turned her gaze to the radio and had just started to flick through the buttons when a pinging sound made her look up.

There were men in black standing 200 feet in front of the car, they’d surrounded it, and every single one of them wore black ski-masks. Marie froze, her mouth as wide open as her eyes were as she took in the fact that each man held a handgun in his hand, all pointed at her.

Stupidly, she glanced up at the light and wanted to cry when she saw it was still red. She looked down and saw that one was drawing closer. Her brain went into automatic then and said fuck the traffic light, she had to move. She stomped her foot down on the gas just as the gunman started to fire, and his companions joined him.

Bullets sprayed into the car, the windshield starred so badly she could barely see, and each second felt like an eternity as the car began to move forward. The men moved as she drove by, but the shots being fired did not stop. Something stung her side as she drove by a group to her left but she ignored the burning pain as she tried to get away.

What the fuck was happening? She couldn’t figure it out, and at the moment all she could really focus on was her escape. The side mirror to her left was gone, the windshield was cracked and in fragments but still holding steady in its frame. She tried to see through a small section about two inches wide as the car sped forward, but the pain in her side started to sting even more and she felt her panic turn into a rope around her neck that grew tighter with each moment that passed.

Her thoughts turned to Matteo when she saw that the men were far behind her. She needed to call him, but she couldn’t take her eyes off that two-inch section of the windshield for long and she was afraid to take her hands off the steering wheel. She wasn’t sure what the shots might have damaged in the car and she was worried it would stall before she could get to… where? The spa? No, not there. She needed to go somewhere safe. She saw a white sign with a blue H on it and finally glanced down at her side.

A started cry of fear and surprise tore from her throat when she saw the entire left side of her camisole was covered in red. Blood. That was blood. Holy fuck, that was blood. Another sound of distress broke the silence in the car and her foot came off the gas pedal. She realized she’d slowed down when a car behind her blew its horn and she glanced up startled. She’d taken her eyes off that two-inch section for too long and she was about to run into a light pole.

She put her foot on the brake, but she didn’t do it fast enough. With the sound of screaming metal in her ears and fear crushing her heart, Marie braced for the impact. She hit the pole at 45 miles per hour. An airbag exploded from the steering wheel and threw her awkwardly back against her door just as the back end of the car swung around and tilted over. Marie’s head slammed against the window as the car crashed down on its side. Blood continued to pour out of the wound in her side, a warm trickle of her life slipping away, she thought just as the world went dark around her.

* * *

“Marie? Marie, can you hear me?” A stranger’s voice called to her from somewhere outside of the darkness and she tried to open her eyes.

It felt like her eyelids weighed a ton as she tried to open them, and she whimpered in distress. Why couldn’t she open her eyes? She whimpered again as she tried as hard as she could to force her eyelids to open until finally, they opened up just enough for her to see the face of a man dressed in a fireman’s uniform, right down to the yellow helmet he wore. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

“I… I can.” She tried to lift her hand but she was too tired. The struggle to open her eyelids had sapped her strength. What was wrong, what had happened? Why was she on the street with a fireman kneeling over her. “What’s happened?”

“Ma’am, it looks like you’ve been shot and then hit a pole. We’re taking you to the hospital, you’re safe.”

Marie tried to nod but her head was so heavy all she could do was let it fall to the side. That showed her the car, peppered with gunshots, and she wondered how she’d survived. Pain lanced through her head as a wave of nausea covered her skin with gooseflesh. The wrenching burn of pain was all she knew as the agony in her side suddenly became too strong to ignore, too much to bear, and the world went dark again.

* * *

“She’s coming around,” she heard Matteo whisper near to her and she reached out for him, fear stealing her voice away. All she could do was make an odd sound as she reached out to him, for him, and she opened her eyes to look around. Where were they? Where were those men with the guns?

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Don’t worry, you’re safe and I’m here. Those men are gone.” He slid into the hospital bed beside her and took her gently in his arms. “Don’t move, alright, Marie? You’ve had to have one very epic surgery and you’re going to be here in the hospital for a while. Which is probably the safest place you can be right now.”

“What surgery?” she whispered, not sure why anyone would do surgery on her.

“You were hit on the left side. The bullet severed a section of your intestines and the surgeon had to put it back together and clean up the area around it. It’s been dealt with but you’re not out of the woods yet. They want to keep you in to watch for infection and to make sure you won’t need another surgery.” He took a deep breath and ran his hand down her right arm. “Baby, I’m sorry. You were apparently targeted for an assassination attempt. I don’t know why yet, but that’s what it looks like. The police are investigating, and you’ll have to speak to them in a few minutes, but for now, I want you to know, I’m handling this. They will be taken care of. Keep that in mind when you talk to the police, alright?”

“I will,” she said carefully. His voice had been gentle when he spoke, but there was a deadly undertone to it that she couldn’t ignore. “I’m not scared, anyway, Matteo. You’re here with me.”

She squeezed his hand gently and then put her head back on the pillow. “I’m so tired. I want to go back to sleep.”

“You can after you talk to the police, honey. Come on now, have a sip of water, and let the nurses look you over first.” A pair of nurses dressed in rose-colored scrubs came into the room.

“How is your pain, Mrs. Mazza?” the nurse with rich, dark skin asked as she leaned over the left side of the rail of Marie’s bed.

“It’s not bad. I don’t feel much, to be honest.” She gave the gentle-looking woman with a cut chin-length bob a tentative smile.