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Again, I am already fucking stressed out. I sip, fighting back a headache from not getting proper rest after the fight with Caruso and my bullet wound. When I called Claudio, after escaping to safe ground, he told me they’d been going round in circles, waiting for my call in case I needed anything and that she was half asleep. I didn’t want to be in the same car with her like that. I didn’t want her first impression of me to be that. So instead I asked for a car to be sent to me and for him to keep driving around till I could fix myself up.
It didn’t take any more than two minutes for a car to get to me. When I got home, Maria, got to work immediately. She helped with pulling the bullet out and treating the wound. She has done so enough in the past to expertly do it within minutes. She functions all around. She’s a caregiver, a cook, a housekeeper, and a silent friend.
“Do you have any questions?” I need to get out of here. I need to rest so the pain killers I have taken can work fully.
That, and I also need time to process this change. To assess the situation and fully envisage the foreseeable future of this arrangement.
“No,” she mouths it because I didn’t hear a single sound pour out of her slightly parted chapped lips.
“Maria will come down to you, she will attend to your food needs, take you to your room, and help you settle in.” I’m on my feet, ignoring the sting in my leg.
She keeps her eyes on me like I’d disappear if she blinks. She still cannot believe this is her new reality. Playing wife for Massimo Gaeta. Becoming the one to produce an heir for the Gaeta empire.
“Rest tonight, you have some blending in to do, future Mrs. Gaeta,” I down the remaining of my whiskey glass and leave a stunned Alessandra in the living room.
I don’t know if she’s aware of what that means for her. What my last name means for her. She is about to switch roles, from bowing at the feet of men to having them clamoring at her feet.
She will be tossed into the world of Cosa Nostra, and not just backstage, but on stage with the spotlight on her. If she is not watchful, if she is not prepared for the performance, she’ll burn from the heat.
She is about to go from slave to empress.
My empress.
And oh, the misery.
