But she needed that money badly. She had never thought that the day would come when she became one of the many cheap lovers Ricardo kept around himself. She collected all her strength.
“Okay,” she said, “I’m coming over.”
“Good,” Ricardo acknowledged, “I sent Jake over for you.”
“Giacomo,” Bliss muttered.
“Who?” Ricardo asked.
Bliss did not give any answer.
“Well, anyway,” Ricardo said, “listen, Bliss, pull yourself together. He might be there any minute.” Just then Bliss saw the limousine pull over in front of the house.
“See you, Ric,” Bliss said on the phone.
“See you soon,” Ricardo replied before cutting the call.
Bliss packed the bare minimum in a bag and left her flat. Closed the door behind her and run down the stairs. The chill was not at all pleasant outside. Jake waited for her right in front of the entrance of the house.
“Bliss,” he nodded, “is that all your luggage?”
Bliss handed the bag over. Jake placed it inside the trunk of the car then opened the door for her.
“Thank you Giacomo.” She took her seat. A crystal glass was prepared on the table. But she did not feel like drinking champagne. When they started to roll, Jake lowered the little window.
“Bliss,” he said.
“Yes?” she answered.
Jake found her eyes in the mirror.
“It might not be my business,” Jake said, “but I feel like I must tell you that you deserve better.”
Bliss did not know how to react. It took some effort not to break down into crying there on the back seat.
“I love Mr. Drago as my own son,” Jake continued, “have been working for the family since he was a little boy. I know he has his flaws, but believe me, deep down he is a better man than most of the others.”
A solitary tear rolled down Bliss’s cheek. Even Jake understood her.
“Thank you, Giacomo,” she said.
They arrived at the skyscraper where Ric had his favorite penthouse. Jake parked the car and opened the door for Bliss again.
“Good luck,” he said as farewell.
Bliss took the elevator. She got out on the 56th floor. The door of the penthouse was open. She stepped in.
Ricardo was sitting at the other end of the huge living room in a comfortable armchair.
“Look around, Bliss” he commanded her. She closed the door behind her then looked around as he requested.
The Christmas decoration was brilliant. But there was more. The pictures the photographer took. They were all there. The nonexistent memories of the last four years of their very existing marriage.
“I think this is going to convince them,” Ricardo laughed, “and everybody can just live happily ever after. I really do not want to embarrass the old man with confessing that I have not been married at all until last weekend.”
Bliss did not take her shoes off. Mentioning last weekend gave her the idea to run away immediately.
“What’s the matter, Bliss?” Ricardo asked. He walked up to her. “Care for a drink?” he offered his champagne.
“No, thanks,” Bliss muttered.
“Listen if this is about what happened on the second night, if you want we can talk about it later,” Ricardo said hesitantly. He registered the change in Bliss and the only reason he could identify was that hot night they spent together. How it was a problem – now he could not grasp that. Before Bliss answered someone ringed the bell.
Ricardo opened the door. A blistering, blond beauty stood there in a cocktail dress. She had an enormous pair of plastic surgery breasts. Her legs were slick and long. Her face might have been nice in a normal case, but the fury that distorted it was pretty far away from anything normal.
“So this is she!” the girl screamed.
“Amanda,” Ricardo gasped.
“This is who you are going to spend your Christmas with!” Amanda screamed. On any other day, Bliss would have thought she was comical. “This is your family, this is your wife!” her screaming ended in a flood of Italian words.
They kept on arguing with Ricardo. It took minutes until the security arrived from downstairs. They grabbed Amanda and took her down with the lift. Ricardo closed the door.
“Good,” Ricardo said, “I’m lucky I married you!”
Bliss felt that unnatural cold creeping up inside her again. Ricardo took an envelope from his pocket. “And here is your money. Three times as much as the usual.”
That did it.
Bliss did not take the envelope. Without a word she tore the door open and run out. She could hear Ricardo shouting something after her, but frankly, she just did not care.
All she wanted was to be back in the safety of her flat. On the way home she switched off her phone. She made her choice: she would rather spend this Christmas home and alone.
Chapter 6
Bliss never in her dreams thought that she would spend the third weekend after Christmas in a hospital. She had these strange laps of mood, her appetite was varying on a scale from being unable to swallow a single bite to eating like a pack of hungry wolves. The final warning came when she vomited in the morning right after waking up.
The doctors told her what she suspected anyway.
She was pregnant.
The complete hopelessness of her situation hit her later, on the way home from the hospital. Suddenly all the colors disappeared, there was only the white of the snow and the black of the day. She was broke, losing her flat, and pregnant.
All this just a couple of weeks after Christmas.
She was thinking about calling her family but did not have the courage. What would she tell them? The truth was just too hurtful.
She fished her phone out of her pocket. There was only one person she could call. The father.
Ricardo picked it up after one ring.
“Bliss,” he said. His voice was full of emotion as if he really cared. “What the hell just happened? You have not answered any of my calls! Could not find you home either.”
She was there but she never opened the door.
“Bliss,” Ricardo said, “are you there?”
It took an inhuman effort to utter any word.
“Yes,” she managed to answer.
“Good,” he said, “listen, would you care telling me just what is going on with you?”
“Not like this,” Bliss muttered.
“Not like what?” Ricardo asked. “Listen, Bliss, I want to meet you.”
Bliss sighed.
“I want to see you as well,” Bliss said, “I must tell you something.”
Ricardo laughed. But it was not the usual nonchalant Ricardo. Real concern tainted his voice.
“Well, yeah, you better tell me something,” he said. “After all I’m your husband.”
“That’s not funny, Ric,” Bliss replied, “not anymore.”
“Okay, Bliss,” he said, “what about dinner?”
“The usual place?”
“Yes, if you like that. I pay of course.”
“Sure.”
“See you there at eight,” Ricardo said before she ended the call.
She had a good two hours so she decided that she would just walk. One leg after the other, she slid ahead on the ice covering the pavement on the side of the road. There were many people walking by her but, as if they knew that she conveyed something terrible, they all kept out of her way. Rain was drizzling, smearing even what remained from the snow of December.
She thought about the child. It deserved a chance of living like every other soul. But how? If she kept it, she would be soon not only homeless but also unemployed.
What was Ricardo going to say?
Financially it should not be a burden. Family first – wasn’t that an Italian thing. Bliss felt impossible to keep her thoughts together. She walked ahead in a sort of delirium. She could not feel the cold, was not bothered by the rain. Some of the memories of that t
rip in Vegas came back to her in a jumble of sounds and pictures.
The photographer driving the Rolls. Ricardo taking naked pictures of her. Giacomo winning the grand prize at the roulette table. Had she ever been to Paris? There was a picture hanging on the wall of Ricardo, proving that she once, maybe years ago indeed had been there. She was not even sure if Paris was in England, Germany, or France. Was it a capital?
She ended up on the bridge crossing over the river. The water roared by with a terrifying pace under her. Might be just easier to disappear from the face of this sad, black and white Earth.
She managed to rip her sight away from the swirling waves at the foot of the bridge, deep down, in the water. She looked around for anything, a sign, at least something heartwarmingly familiar.
It was Giacomo approaching her quickly from the other end of the bridge. She did not believe her own eyes. Maybe just another illusion.
But it was the old man himself.
“Bliss,” he said, “what a pleasure to find you here.”
The wise tone of the old man calmed her. She won her clear mind back.
“Giacomo,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
Jake smirked.
“Just between the two of us, I was sent.”
“By a Christmas angel?” Bliss asked.
“Well, Mrs. Drago, Christmas has been long over. You were missed by the family. They were really concerned.”
Bliss had to laugh. “What?” she said, “Ricardo did not tell them the truth?”
“Why, Bliss,” Giacomo said, “what is the truth? You are husband and wife as far as anyone on Earth can tell.”
There was not much else to say. Giacomo took her by the arm and escorted Bliss down from the bridge.
“Should you not be somewhere?” he asked.
She checked the time. She barely had half an hour.
“The restaurant,” she muttered, “I’m going to see Ricardo.”
Giacomo smiled.
“Tell him the truth,” he said, “do not forget, deep down he is a much better man than most of the others.”
Giacomo placed a hand carefully onto her belly.
“How do you know?” Bliss asked him in surprise.
“I hope you will not be offended but I was tailing you in the last couple of days. Ricardo sent me after you.”
Bliss could not believe this.
“But why?” she asked.
“You are important to him, Mrs. Drago.”
Bliss gulped.
“Does he know?”
“I did not tell,” Giacomo said, “I thought you should be the one telling him.”
Like the last time they met, Bliss could not spare shedding a tear.
“Thank you.”
“Care for a ride, Mrs. Drago?”
“Of course,” Bliss said.
They walked down two streets and turned at the corner.
The limo was parked there. Bliss got in the back seat. Giacomo got in front and started the engine.
Chapter 7
Bliss Valentine gave up, she could not repress her urge of crying any longer.
It started with a bitter lump inside her throat as if she could not swallow something solid and sour. A discreet snuffling developed into a series of occasional but a lot more conspicuous teardrops. Then the real crying started and nothing seemed to be able to obstruct the flood. Every word Ricardo Drago uttered at the other side of their table felt like another slap only adding more cruelty to her already painful torture. No matter how tough she wanted to present herself in front of him, she cracked up at the end. It was simply inevitable.
“And why are you crying?” Ricardo asked.
“If you do not understand anything, it just makes the whole thing worse,” she mumbled.
“You are talking crazy…” Ricardo observed. He took a tissue out of his pocket and offered it to Bliss.
“Thank you,” she said and blew her nose into it.
The same waiter who served them weeks ago came to their table. He had no antlers or a shining red nose. Christmas had indeed been long over.
“You care for another glass of wine?” he asked as politely, taking into account that Bliss was just crying her eyes out, as it was possible.
“I want another one,” Ricardo told him.
“And the lady?” Rudolf who was not Rudolf any longer asked Bliss.
“No, thank you,” she replied.
“Maybe something for dessert?”
Bliss lost her marbles.
“Leave us alone!” she screamed.
The waiter disappeared as quickly as he could. He remembered the crazy couple from weeks ago. People did not change, he scornfully observed on his way back to the bar.
“Listen Bliss,” Ricardo said, “if this is about that night, I must say, I really enjoyed it.”
Bliss could not keep her secret inside herself any longer.
“I’m pregnant, Ricardo!” she said. Finally, it was out. She felt already a lot better.
“What?” Ricardo asked.
“You heard me…” she replied.
She expected lots of things to happen. Maybe Ricardo would ask her who the father was. Maybe he would be angry. Or he would not care at all. The only thing she did not expect was Ricardo’s real answer.
“But, Bliss,” he said, “this is beautiful.”
Bliss lost her voice. Beautiful?
Rudolf got back with the wine. He placed it in front of Ricardo. He run away without as much as a single word. Bliss took the glass and sipped a little wine out of it.
“You know,” Ricardo added, “it makes it a lot easier for me, too. What I wanted to say was that I missed you. Not only as my friend. I mean after that night…”
Those sparks of physical attraction performed their slow, seductive dance in his eyes.
Bliss took another sip.
“I thought, we could give this marriage a serious try.”
“And if you are pregnant,” he added, “you really should slow down on drinking wine.”
And with that he took the glass out of her hand and emptied it in one gulp.
Bliss was crying again.
But this time these were the tears of pure, cleansing joy.
Epilogue
Spring came like every year. The throbbing of life conquered whatever ground the stagnant frost had stolen from her throughout that last, long winter. Bliss was back to the hospital.
“Well, everything is just fine,” the doctor said. “If you plan to leave the country, well I would not recommend it in general, but it is still safe to fly up until the next couple of months.”
“Thank you,” Bliss told him while getting ready to leave.
“You know,” the doctor said, “I wonder if you want to know whether it is a boy or a girl?”
Bliss shook her head.
“No,” she said, “let it be a surprise.”
She left consulting room hastily.
On her way out, she placed her hand onto her belly. She grew into the habit of talking to the baby as if he or she could hear her.
“You are a very good little kid,” she said, “growing just fine, being healthy. You make your father very proud already.”
Ricardo was waiting for her in front of the hospital. He came with the Porsche. Bliss was disappointed.
“Where is the limo?” she asked.
“Oh,” Ricardo said, “Jake wanted a little holiday. Visiting his family in Jersey.”
Bliss took a seat next to him. But Ricardo did not start the car. Rather just stared at Bliss in demanding silence.
“What?” Bliss asked.
“So?” Ricardo asked.
“So, what?”
“What did they say?”
“What did they say about what?”
“For God’s sake, Bliss, is it going to be a boy or a girl?”
“I told them not to tell me,” Bliss said patiently. It was not the first time they had this conversation.
“You are
crazy,” Ricardo scolded. But then decided to kiss his wife on the mouth. “Can you travel with me to Italy?”
“I asked that,” Bliss replied, “and they said, yes.”
“Good, the family really missed you this Christmas. They absolutely insisted on us visiting them at Easter.”
Ricardo started the car. The motor woke up with a terrible roar.
“Just if I knew why you do not want to know if it is going to be a boy or a girl. It would be easier to find an appropriate name.”
Bliss just smiled.
She never asked the doctors because she already knew.
She felt that it was going to be a boy.
And she was going to name him Giacomo.
THE END
Becoming The Mobster’s Bride
Prologue
Luca Santiago Accorsi slammed the phone down angrily, pacing his penthouse apartment over-looking the most spectacular city in the world, Rome. The history, the amazing architecture, and fine art. But he didn’t see any of it. The only thing he could see was the end of his life, probably at the hands of one of Vincenzo’s hired thugs.
He shook off the morose thought. It wasn’t in his nature to be so depressed, he was a born optimist, always looking for the best in life, and in people. Which was part of what had gotten him into such trouble with the Italian Mafia. He had tried to stay out of it, tried to stay clean, but as one of the leading real estate moguls in all of Italy, it was only a matter of time before they had gotten some ties on him.
And they certainly had. He had been tricked, duped, by the oldest trick in the book. A woman. Vincenzo had hired her to meet him, charm him, and let him take her home. It hadn’t been hard for her, Maria was a magnificent beauty with long, dark black hair that fell in waves around her voluptuous body. Curvy, just how he like it. None of that model skinny stuff for him. You should never be able to count the number of ribs on a woman.
Stop it, Luca! He yelled at himself. Keep your mind off the women! He shook his head again, remembering it so clearly. He should have seen it for what it was, but he had been blinded by her beauty and his own instinct to trust people.
She had stolen everything. All his secrets, all his banking records, al his future plans. He could kick himself! He had been so stupid! He looked at the phone in disgust as he recalled the conversation he had just had with Vincenzo’s right hand thug. They wanted him to launder money for him through the new development he was working on. Hah!
REGENCY: Loved by the Duke (Historical Billionaire Military Romance) (19th Century Victorian Short Stories) Page 8
