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Chapter 18
Presley
For a few days now I have kept my distance. The connection that we had on our wedding night was indescribable, but it was born out of anger and hatred. I still know him as the man who bought me on a ship where women were being used as sex slaves. Now I also know him as a mafia Clan leader, a ruthless man with a bloody past and likely an equally bloody future. My marriage to him puts me in danger, a lot more danger than I had imagined when I got on that helicopter with him where he told me that I was lucky. Lucky's clearly subjective.
Part of me still hopes for a way out of this, but it isn't lost on me that there are some benefits to staying in this union for longer than a few days. And it's not just about the money, but the power that he might have that I could use to my advantage. Maybe I can even make up for the screw-ups of my father in the way that he presents himself to the public. In the tabloids I may look like a wild child, but I am not that girl. I do like to have a good time and live a different kind of life than they live. I don't like the button-ups and the straight lines, but I feel I am smart and have a lot of ideas that could help people. Maybe there is an amicable way that I can make some of that happen because I am Stefan Dalca’s wife.
I ate breakfast this morning in the same guest room that I had been locked in that very first night here, still moaning uncontrollably at the quality of the food here. His chef is exquisite.
But now I'm walking up to where he sits in the living room, seemingly having just finished his own breakfast. I think it is time that I wrap my mind around the fact that, at least for now, I am Mrs. Dalca, and that means that I need to learn to protect myself. There are many enemies that he has that have now become my enemies, and apparently have my own to add to the list considering I have unknowingly pissed off the people that I have known my whole life. if whoever these enemies are can get Heather to bring a gun to my wedding, then who else can they get to? For all I know there could even be a mole in this very building pretending to be one of Stefan’s men.
I am not going to take these threats lying down because I am no damsel in distress. I am a southern woman with a temper that I know how to use.
"Presley, to what do I owe this honor?" Stefan greets sarcastically, moving over on the couch so that there's room for me.
I sit down next to him, close but not so close that our bodies are touching now, though I can't deny that there is electricity passing between us in the small gap. Probably left-over tingles from what we did a few nights back. He may be a crazy asshole, but he does know what he is doing with a woman's body.
I ignore his sour salutation and speak what's on my mind. "I am to be married to you, and by proxy a member of the mafia, I think that I need to learn to defend myself. I need to have access to a gun and a place to practice shooting it. I need to be allowed to carry one with me in case something ever happens. I've decided I'm not going to lay down and play a defenseless damsel. I need to be able to do this for myself to feel safe here. I also want to be trained in any other kind of combat that I need to know that might save my life or set me up to better handle this kind of lifestyle. I don't pretend to know everything about it, but I am sure that there are dangers around every corner and places where you could use my extra help even if it is taboo for a woman to come along for the ride."
I look at him, showing my vulnerability. I don't have to come to him about this with kindness and could have just tried to go behind his back to get a gun. I don't know all the ins and outs of underground criminal activity, but I'm sure it's not that hard in the middle of Rio to get an illegal gun, especially if you have the money to pay for it.
He clears his throat and stands up. "I would say that you're right about being non-traditional, but Mariana is pretty non-traditional herself. I will make sure that you get a gun and we set up some time at a shooting range and a martial arts studio that I know of in town. I can easily rent it out for our privacy. But for now, I would like to put you at ease. You almost died while getting married, and you deserve a night on the town. What do you say you get all dolled-up pumpkin, and I will show you everything that is fun about Rio?” he offers.
I narrow my eyes at him, hoping I can trust him to actually follow through what it was he was saying about my request. I know nothing so far about his trustworthiness other than the fact that he did double cross someone, which led to this revenge plot using Heather to get to me, but I don't know if that speaks at all for his true character because I am sure everyone involved in the mafia has double crossed someone at some point.
God, that is so ridiculous to say- mafia. So many people in the regular world even speculate if the mafia and the mob are real at all, and here I am married to a member. So, I guess if they can traffic women, sell drugs, and look someone in the eyes when they shoot them, they can certainly buy a wife.
He offers his hand to me like a gentleman to help me stand up, and then takes it as he gently gives me support back up on my feet again from the low couch. I have always been convinced that luxury furniture is meant for looks and not for sitting on. It isn’t practical at all.
"I guess it would be nice to get out of the house for a while, I admit. I am itching to see something other than these walls surrounding us even if they are picturesque. It is boring to be in here day in and day out with some books to read, high-end exercise equipment, and not much else.
“Great, I'll have us a car ready to go in 2 hours." He surprises me by bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it gently, leaving my flesh feeling warm before he walks away. I flex my hand in annoyance at its betrayal of me, appreciating his touch like that. I mean, I like how he fucks me, and tonight may be a fun night, but I do not want to get entangled with him emotionally. I don't even know if a man like him can have real emotions. Can he?
***
I have already spent several days in Rio, but I will admit that the most that I have seen are clubs, bars, and the beach. When I came originally with my friends, it was for a relaxing break, and I had kept my promise to my parents to lie low. That is, until this likely highly publicized marriage. I am sure that that's been splattered all over the pages of the tabloids quite a few times by now. I haven't actually tried to look even now that I have been given a new cell phone with access to my social media and everything. I just find that, for the most part since being without it, I don't exactly miss all the negative things that I see on there.
Our day begins with a basic tour of some of the most beautiful spots in the city. The famous sky-high statue of Jesus is one of the first. I was raised in a religious home. My parents often went to church and participated in various church fundraisers, my father always speaking out on conservative agendas, but I had never felt that strong call to faith like my parents claim to have. I saw a lot of hypocrisy in the organizations of religion.
But it is hard to look at this great feat of architecture that shows a prophet from God looking down on everyone, protecting them, and not feel something spiritually at all. I feel a calm come over me as I look up at it in silence that I am grateful that Stefan does not break.
He takes me to authentic and worn-down parts of the city as well as the newer spots built so that the rich and tourists felt safe. Both are beautiful in their own way.
And then, as the sun goes down, the downtown streets fill with revelers of all ages, shapes, and sizes. I've always been told that the locals really know how to party, and they do, music and dancing down every side street we walk on. I am just enjoying the vibe when Stefan grabs my arm and pulls me tight against his chest. I slam into him, forced to look into his eyes as he begins to sway his hips to the upbeat music playing in the street.
He has a genuine, small smile on his face as he holds me tightly and gets me going with the rhythm. I hate this. I hate this because I am not supposed to like this man or come anywhere near falling for him. As far as I'm concerned, this union remains as a marriage of convenience; a business transaction for me to cash in on at some point. For now, I'm the wife he needed to defy his parents, and he is the husband I needed to defy mine. But he is being so sweet and trying to make me feel safe and free that it's hard not to notice that there is something redeemable and likable under this hard, luxurious shell that he must have in the life that he leads.
He dips me, catching me only inches from the ground so that I am in a vulnerable position. He leans down and places his lips ever so gently against mine the kind of kiss that I would never expect out of this man and so different than any of the kisses we've shared so far. But just as quickly, he lets me go, and we are headed to the end of the street.
***
Stefan
As we sip our cocktails slowly and enjoy some of the local fare, I can't help but to think that I couldn't have asked for a better day with my new wife. I don't know if she feels any better about me than she did before, but I hope that the fact that she came to me with her concerns this morning is a good sign. She wants to be proactive and defend herself. And in this case, I am all for that. I did want a partner, an equal. I just didn't know the chick would want to take on the mafia lifestyle like this. But then again, it's almost as if she's been forced to since she's immediately in danger becoming my wife in the way that she did.
I laugh at the joke she just told when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I am still waiting to hear back from Enzo to see if he has found any leads on the person who was hired Heather to take out Presley, so I do interrupt our dinner together to look at it. Instead, I find myself staring at a blocked number and the message that shocks me to my core. It is an image, one of Presley's father with someone that is not his wife. They are tangled together, their lips touching passionately, but the most shocking part is that this person he is captured in the moment with is another man.
The threat is clear. If this person doesn't get what they want, which they have yet to reveal, they are going to likely go public with his image. They are letting us know that they have harmful dirt on us. And considering Presley's family can't seem to stay out of the limelight, hers is easiest to get dirt on. My brow turns down in concern, and I wonder how I should handle this; if I should tell Presley about this message. But when she looks up at me and can tell that something is off, I throw all caution to the wind and just pass her my phone so she can see for herself.
