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I shudder. A million—make that a billion—bugs seem to crawl under my skin at once. I wrap my arms around myself, then stare forward.
He must sense my disquiet, for he shoots me a sideways glance. "You don’t have to worry about anything; I’ll take care of it."
"You do realize, I’m used to taking care of myself?"
"That was before you were my wife," he retorts.
"See, this is what I hate about you Mafioso. You get so macho, so possessive. You forget that we women are individuals with the ability to choose for ourselves."
"And I don’t doubt that. I’m aware that you’re a career woman, someone who is strong-willed enough to make it on her own in the cutthroat world of acting. But this is beyond your capabilities."
Anger twists my guts. I whip my head around to face him. "How can you say that? I grew up in this world. I know how it works."
"Then you also know that being a woman makes you more vulnerable. Especially when you consider the fact that your brother bartered you—"
"Like you took me as collateral for the safety of my family."
"It’s not the same thing, and you know it," he says through gritted teeth.
"How isn’t it the same thing? Thatstronzowants me for just one thing. And you want me for thesamething."
He slams on his brakes in the middle of the road. The sound of brakes screeching reaches us, then a chorus of horns sound.
"How dare you compare what we have to what thatfaccia di merdathreatened you with?" He turns on me. "You’re my wife, goddammit," he growls.
"With no say in how I get to live my life, apparently."
"I’m letting you pursue your career, aren’t I?" he snaps.
"And I’m supposed to be grateful for that? Men can do what they want, when they want, even after they’re married, and no one questions it. Whereas, we women have to justify what we want, explain why we want it, beg some man to allow us to do things. Why, almost every director who puts out a casting call is a man. Do you know women constitute about ten-percent of film directors in the world today? That’s it. About ten-percent. And PS, I still have to bow and scrape to a man to get a role. Not to mention, maybe having to sleep with him."
"You arenotgoing to sleep with anyone else, you hear me?" he growls. "You’re my wife. It should go without saying, I expect you to be completely faithful to me."
Behind us, someone hits their horn again.
"You’re blocking traffic." I glance over my shoulder, then back at him. "Can you keep the car moving, please?"
"You’re not going to sleep with anyone to get a role. Not now; not ever."
I throw up my hands. "Of course, I’m not going to do that. I’ve never done it, and I never will. I have more self-respect than that. I was saying that’s how things work in the film world. How did we even get onto this topic?"
The litany of horns grows more insistent.
"Please, can you move the car?"
"And you will obey me when it comes to matters of your safety. You will not do anything foolish to endanger yourself again."
"Oh, so you do believe it’s my fault I was shot?" I fume.
"I didn’t say that."
"Then what did you mean by that?"
"All I meant was you need to do as I tell you so I can ensure your safety until we deal with this new threat."
"And if I don’t?"
"If you don’t, I’ll—" There’s a banging on his window.
