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She looks away, but doesn't respond other than to ask, "Have you told your mother that?" What is that supposed to mean?
"Why would I tell my mother?”
“Italian mothers have a way of assuming that certain things will go a certain way. She could be planning the biggest soirée Tampa’s ever seen.”
“You’ll see soon enough. Don’t pay attention to her. She has no authority over you.”
She’s been warned.
Her lips tip downward in a frown, but she lets it go.
Cristiano shifts beside me. “I’m sorry about Brahm. I fucked that one up."
"We’ll talk about this privately."
He winces and doesn't respond. He knows what the consequences are, and no matter what I decide, I’m confident he’s earned them.
The drive to my home from the airport is about thirty minutes. I take advantage of the entire time to finish my work. My visit to the Rossis cut into the workday, and I never like to start the day behind.
I watch Marialena from the corner of my eye. I have a very short time with her to teach her, but I expect her to be ready before we have a public display between the two of us. I’ll have to use my time wisely.
I don't want to test her obedience in front of my cousin. The sadistic motherfucker will get a hard-on if I dominate her in front of him. Then I'd have to kill him. Inconvenient to deal with the day before a wedding.
But she doesn't do much except look out the window. "Is it usually this hot here even at night?”
Cristiano laughs. "It's about twenty degrees colder right now than it was earlier in the day, only because we had a torrential thunderstorm before you guys arrived. You'll be happy to know it'll be one hundred ten on your wedding day. I hope you don't like makeup because it will just melt right off your pretty face."
I definitely hate him. If my mother didn't make him work for me, I would've excommunicated him a long time ago. But now, I'm obligated to let the asshole in my company because he's family and that's how we do shit here.
Marialena looks at him as if he is a large beetle stuck to a card with a pin. Disgusting, and worthy of not much besides vague observation.
"Thank you," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not much of a makeup person. You?” I don't want to like her, but she's already getting to me. Anyone that can handle my asshole cousin with the grace she does is worthy of a modicum of respect.
"Seriously. Are you unfamiliar with the Florida climate?"
"Of course I know it's hot. You're literally residing on the Gulf of Mexico. So no, I'm notignorantabout Florida and its climate, but I've never been here before and it's surprisingly hot for someone like me. And do you frequently insert yourself into other people’s conversations? Or is that just a privilege you reserved for me?"
Oh, good girl.
Cristiano looks at me, and I watch his eyes. "I can see you haven't trained the girl yet."
“I’ve given her no expectations to treat you with respect. Looks to me like you’re the one who hasn’t been trained yet.”
Marialena snorts.
I sit back in my seat and cross my arms on my chest. "She'll learn to obey me. She won’t have to listen to you, nor anyone in my family. No one who works for me. Just. Me. And for your information, she has my full permission to give you shit back when you give it to her. In fact,” I say thoughtfully, stroking my chin. "She has my permission to give you shit with no provocation.”
Cristiano stares at me. At first, I wonder if he's going to have one of his little temper tantrums, but instead we both start when he laughs out loud. It's a chilling laugh, and neither of us are amused.
Fuck Cristiano. I look to Marialena instead.
I have no doubt she has many questions, and I'll answer those questions as the days go by. I don't expect love from our relationship, but a marriage devoid of outright antagonism might be nice.
I wouldn't know. I've never seen one.
"Update me on your deal with Columbia."
When I left, Cristiano had been reaching out to one of the newest mobs in the country.
