AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My bodyguards and I drive out to the suburbs to my father’s mansion. His River Estates mansion is turning into a fortress. More security guards. He is even flying soldiers in from Italy. This situation with the Bratva is getting out of control.
I walk into the living room. My father, Paul, Jr., and Vinnie are already having drinks.
“Bobby, how is your beautiful little wife?’ My father asks.
“Fine.”
I don’t want to talk about Gwen.
“How was the honeymoon?” Paul Jr. asks.
“Uneventful. Gwen got badly sunburned on the day we arrived and had to stay in bed the whole time.”
“Ah. That peaches and cream complexion – no Italian blood.” My father laughs.
“Poor Bobby! His bride is still a virgin! You didn’t get to pop your Wifey’s cherry! I would be happy to break her in for you!” Paul Jr. offers.
My father scoffs, “Paul! Don’t be crude. That is your brother’s wife you are talking about, she is not a whore, show some respect! Bobby don’t worry she just needs time. She will come around.”
I don’t respond. My sex life is none of anybody’s business. My wife is none of anybody’s business.
“What are we waiting for? I need to get back to the city.”
“Bobby is hoping he will finally get lucky tonight.” Paul Jr. says with a shit eating smirk.
I ignore him.
My father and brothers talk about the Bratva threat for a couple of hours. We do not resolve anything. Nothing is decided. Paul Jr. wants war. My Father, Vinnie and I do not. We don’t know enough. We don’t know what they are planning. We don’t know what they want besides more drug territory and more of Fielding’s real estate. We need more information. I tell Paul Jr. we may have to pick up one Antonovich brothers’ soldiers for questioning and torturing. Probably not in that order.
The next few days pass. I feel restless. I am capo of the Chicago Outfit – I don’t like feeling like this. This problem with the fucking Russians needs to be resolved.
Gwen and I drift further apart. I am not cut out for marriage. I am hoping the charity ball will change things between is. Maybe a romantic evening of dancing and sex will get us closer.
Gwen
Marriage is boring. Nothing to do. Bobby is never home.
I am wearing a beige sports bra with matching short leggings. I just finished an hour of yoga in the exercise room. I walk in our kitchen. Maria is stirring something on the stove. I grab a water bottle from the fridge. The kitchen is warm and smells delightful - garlic, onions, butter, olive oil, tomatoes. I wish I knew how to cook.
“Maria, can I help?”
“No, Tesoro. I am all finished with the gravy.” Maria looks at me and shakes her head. “You better change into something decent, before your husband gets home. That outfit is too skimpy. Bobby won’t like it.”
“I don’t know when he will be home. It doesn’t matter – he is never home. I am so bored.”
“You need a baby in your belly. A Mother is never bored….”
I leave the kitchen. I don’t need to hear a lecture on motherhood from Maria. Even if she means well.
I flop down on one of the couches in the living room. I set my water bottle down on the coffee table. I look out the window. Clear. Sunny. Mid-seventies. The weather is nice – I wish I could go for a walk. Not allowed. I have to keep hidden and safe. I feel like a prisoner.
I pick up my cellphone from the coffee table. I open the settings and connect to the living room’s Bluetooth speaker. I open my music app and blast my playlist.
I stand up from the couch. I have not danced in a while. I want to lose my inhibitions. Let loose. Feel the music. Swing my hips. Shimmy. Throw my arms in the air. Kick my legs. Dance with abandon. Nobody can see me. I close my eyes. Become one with the music. I feel free. Forget myself. Only me and the music. No marriage. No Bobby. No penthouse. My moves are sexy. Uninhibited. Angry. Out of control. Sensual. Sexy. Erotic. I roll my hips. Shake my breasts. My nipples are hard and on fire. I feel good. This is fun. I feel alive. Free. Rap music is loud. Electrifies my body. Hot. Sweaty. Twirling. Spinning. Twerking…
“Ahem.”
I open my eyes mid twirl and see Bobby. Watching me. Leaning against the staircase. Standing with his feet crossed, arms crossed over his chest. One eyebrow raised.
