Waiting for my Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Cates, Georgia

  “Your wife. Not your whore.”

  “Correct. And as my wife, it’s your duty to give me a son.”

  “That much is true. But it is my duty to give you a healthy son. Not one who is impaired because he was conceived while you were high on cocaine and God only knows what else. And don’t try to lie to me and say that you’re not high. Even in this dim light I can see that your pupils are enormous.”

  Perceptive little princess.

  “I didn’t do that much.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Emilia Bellini is brave for calling me out on this. And that’s exactly what I need—a woman with a fucking spine. But the sharp tongue I’m not so sure about yet.

  “Have you even considered what might happen if I became pregnant by you while you’re high?”

  No. The thought has never crossed my mind. But it has now.

  I go to the bed, simultaneously kicking out of my shoes and unbuttoning my shirt.

  “If you want sex tonight then you’ll need to go find it somewhere else. I’m not doing it with you again while you’re high. You hurt me last night. A lot. But more important than that, I won’t risk conceiving a child with you while you have drugs in your system.”

  Peeling my shirt from my body, I toss it to the foot of the bed.

  “Did you not hear a word I just said?”

  “I heard every single word, and you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to touch you tonight.”

  I take off my pants and lie down beside her, pulling up the sheet.

  “I thought you couldn’t sleep after you’ve done coke.”

  I drape my arm over my eyes. “I never went to bed last night. I’m tired.”

  She turns off the lamp, and I feel the mattress shift as she settles into a comfortable position.

  Tired and wired. It’s an exhausting combination. I want to sleep so badly, but my body won’t allow me to. My thoughts are racing, and that means that I end up in the darkest corner of my mind, thinking of things better left alone.

  “Why did you choose Moretti over me?”

  One breath passes and then another.

  “There was never a conscious decision to choose him over you.”

  “But surely you had been told your entire life that I would be your husband, just as I was told that you would one day be my wife.”

  “Of course, I was told, but it’s impossible to feel betrothed to a name and not a person.”

  “It was different for me. I have memories of seeing you when we were younger. For me, you’ve always been mine.”

  “I’m sorry you felt betrayed because I wanted to marry Nic. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

  Anger. Jealousy. Betrayal. That’s a short list of the emotions I’ve been feeling. But hurt? That’s not one that I felt belonged on the list. Until now.

  “What made you love him?”

  “He was my best friend from the time we were small. He understood everything about me.” She pauses a moment and snivels. “He was going to take me away from Mafia life. We were going to run away together and live ordinary lives.”

  The man she loved was going to take her away from a life she despises. I’m the one who’s going to drag her into its deepest depths. It’s just another reason for her love for Moretti to grow while her hatred for me multiplies.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you last night. I would have been gentle with you if I had known you were a virgin.”

  “I didn’t think you realized.”

  “I didn’t. At least not until this morning when I saw blood on the sheets. That’s when I put it together. The realization messed with my head, and I left before seeing you so I could sort out my thoughts.”

  “I was a virgin and now I’m not. I don’t know what there is to sort out about it.”

  “In spite of what you may believe, your virginity was very important to me. I wouldn’t have treated it with such disrespect if I had been aware that it was still intact.”

  “Well, you did and now it’s gone forever.”

  It’s not gone forever. It belongs to me. And I cherish it.

  “How did Moretti resist you?”

  “Premarital sex is a mortal sin. I asked him to wait until we were married, and because he loved me, he was willing to do so.”

  Moretti was willing to wait, and I forced her to commit a mortal sin with me. Although unknowingly, I took her virginity.

  The dude’s dead and still beating me where this girl is concerned.

  “I was angry when you made me believe you’d been with him. I wanted to hurt you because you were my betrothed. Your virginity was mine to take, and I thought he had stolen it from me. Last night would have been different if I had known the truth.”

  “You’re wrong. My virginity was never yours to take. It was mine to give. And I would have given it to a man who chose to love me. Not one who chose to hurt me.”

  I’m doing a spectacular job of proving myself to be the monster she thinks I am.

  Fuck.

  Emilia is going to be the mother of my children. No woman will ever be more important to me than she is.

  “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to protect you. I want to protect our children.”

  “Okay. Then put your money where your mouth is. Protect the health and well-being of your child by being drug-free when we make this baby.”

  “I can do that. It’s not a problem for me.”

  “To be safe, we shouldn’t do it again until that toxic shit is out of your system.”

  “How long of a wait?”

  “At least three days. Probably four to be safe. And you need to… empty out what’s in there.”

  “I get it.”

  “And I don’t think you should sleep with other women while we’re doing this. You could infect me with something that might harm the baby.”

  “If I’m sleeping with you, then I won’t have the need to sleep with other women. Anything else?”

  “We must be married as soon as we know I’m pregnant. I won’t have people knowing I’m pregnant outside of wedlock.”

  “Plan the wedding. Have everything lined up, and I’ll put a ring on your finger the moment my child is in your belly.”

  And we’ll begin the rest of our lives together.

  11

  Emilia Bellini

  It’s Monday morning. I made it through the weekend with Luca Rossini, my only scathe the punishment fuck on Friday night. And damn, I was sore for two days afterward.

  I’m grateful he understands the logic behind abstaining until the cocaine has had time to leave his system. Or at least long enough for it to leave his penis colada.

  Luca is standing in front of the mirror towel drying his hair when I come into the bathroom. He stops and his eyes follow my reflection in the mirror.

  “You’re up early.”

  “Not really. I’m actually running late for work.”

  He turns around and looks at me. “You have a job?”

  “Yes, I have a job.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “I’m a principal dancer at the NYC Ballet.” I can tell by the bewilderment on his face that he doesn’t know exactly what principal dancer means. “I’m lead ballerina.”

  I lean into the shower and turn on the water, leaving my hand in the spray while I adjust the temperature.

  “No one told me. Have you danced for a long time?”

  “My whole life.”

  “You must be good if you dance for the NYC Ballet.”

  “I’m not good. I’m very good.”

  There’s no time for timidness. Besides, he’s already seen me naked.

  I’m in a hurry, so I yank my nightgown up and over my head, tossing it on the floor. Pushing my panties down my hips and legs, I quickly kick them out of the way and step into the shower.

  Luca watches my every move, his eyes never leaving my body as I undress. And I hope that seeing me naked torments him.

  “We have a new production
opening in two months. I’ll have daily rehearsals until then.”

  “You’ll perform on a stage in front of an audience?”

  “Yes. That’s what a production is.”

  “You’re a Bellini, soon to be a Rossini. You don’t think it’s dangerous for you to be in the spotlight?”

  I can hear the disapproval in his voice. It reminds me of Papà’s objection when I first took the job.

  “I’ve always had a life outside of the Bellini world, and I’ll have a life outside of the Rossini world.” I’m not giving that up.

  “You can’t live in the spotlight after you become my wife. There are too many people out there who would hurt you simply to hurt me.”

  “I’ve worked my ass off for my position. I can’t quit.” I won’t quit.

  “You should enjoy your production. It’ll be your last since I’m certain your dance company won’t want a ballerina on stage with a growing abdomen. This problem will take care of itself soon enough.”

  Jackass.

  “Sal will drive you there and back.”

  “Don’t you need him?”

  “I need you to be shielded and protected more than I need him to drive me. I’ll find an alternative.”

  I can’t believe Luca is giving me his car and driver. “That’s very considerate.”

  “It’s not considerate. It’s necessary. And it’s what a husband does for his wife to secure her safety.”

  “Either way, thank you.”

  “What kind of schedule do you have?”

  “Monday through Friday, nine to five. And probably some Saturdays when we get closer to opening night.”

  “So it’s like a real job?”

  It annoys the shit out of me when people act as though dancing isn’t a true profession.

  “It isn’t like a real job. It is a real job.”

  “When is opening night?”

  “September 13. I can get front-row seats for you if you’d like to come.”

  He chuckles. “That’s okay. I’ll pass.”

  Shit. Why did I even offer? I don’t want him there. “Okay.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  Good. “See ya.”

  Feeling cool air hitting my wet body, I look back over my shoulder and see Luca standing there, holding the shower curtain to the side.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Come here for a second.”

  I step toward him. “What is it?”

  He grasps the back of my neck, pulling me in, and presses a kiss against my mouth before I’m able to protest.

  “Have a good day at work, ballerina girl.”

  And poof, he’s gone, leaving me standing in the shower, breathless and touching my fingertips to my lips.

  What the hell just happened?

  * * *

  “Great rehearsal, everybody. I’ll see you all back here at nine in the morning.”

  Almost eight hours on my feet, many of them on my toes. It’s been a tough day. I can’t wait to get home and soak in the tub.

  Wow. I just called Luca’s house home. I must be really tired.

  “Hey, Em,” my dance partner, Peter, calls out. “Hold on a second.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Great rehearsal today.”

  “I know my fouetté needs more work, but don’t worry. I’ll perfect it before the production.”

  “Your fouetté isn’t why I stopped you.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Everyone wants an update on the case, but they’re too afraid to ask. Have there been any new developments?”

  Oh, there have been many new developments. My family’s murderer has taken me from my home, forced me to move into his house, sleep in his bed, consent to sexual relations with him, and plan a wedding while we try to conceive a son.

  And then there’s the kiss this morning that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

  Yes, Peter. There have been many new developments.

  “Unfortunately, the police have nothing new.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “The people who killed my family will be brought to justice. I have faith in that.” And I’ll be the one who delivers retribution.

  “I’m sure you’re right. The police just need a little more time.”

  “Bye, Emilia,” one of the other ballerinas says as she walks by.

  I throw up my hand. “See you tomorrow, Kathy.”

  Peter walks toward the exit with me. “Do you want to share a cab?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I have a ride.”

  “Open invitation anytime you need one.”

  I don’t know Peter well. We haven’t worked together for very long, but I get the feeling that he’s flirting with me.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  He points to the left. “I’m going this way.”

  I point at the black Cadillac waiting for me at the curb. “That’s my ride.”

  “Wowzers. Fancy.”

  “Not mine. It belongs to a friend.”

  “Is your friend driving?”

  “No. That’s his driver.”

  “Your friend has a lot of money.”

  “Yeah, I guess he does.”

  Luca has a lot of money. And he’s about to have even more when the transfer paperwork for Bellini holdings is complete.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  I’ve taken about a dozen steps toward the car when I’m approached by a man in a dark suit. “Emilia Bellini?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Special Agent Reynolds. FBI.”

  I resume walking. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Just one minute of your time. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  I look toward the car and then back at the FBI agent. “That black Cadillac is waiting for me. I’m sure you already know who employs the driver, so you know I’m not lying when I say that one minute is all I can spare.”

  “Luca Rossini is responsible for the Bellini and Moretti murders. But I think you already know that.”

  I stare blankly at the agent, neither confirming nor denying his accusation.

  “You could be in grave danger.”

  I laugh on the inside because it’s actually the Rossini men who are in danger. But no one suspects because their killer is a woman who stands barely five feet tall and weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet.

  “The Rossinis are family friends who are helping me through a very difficult time.”

  “If they’re threatening you, I can help. But I need you to help me help you.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I don’t have to tell you what the Rossini family is capable of. They’re dangerous people.”

  “I know far better than you, Agent Reynolds, what the Rossini family is capable of.”

  “Then help me.”

  If I worked with the FBI, they would seize all assets, both Rossini and Bellini. That’s all they’re interested in. Not helping me or the other women in my family.

  My child’s inheritance would be seized, and everything I’m doing would be for nothing.

  “I’m sorry but working together isn’t an option.”

  “I know they murdered your family, and now they’re threatening you and your surviving loved ones.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I walk away and Sal gets out of the car, coming around to open my door. “Good evening, Miss Bellini. I trust that today’s rehearsal went well?”

  “It went very well, thank you.”

  When I arrive at Luca’s house, I find him in the living room watching television. I stop in the doorway, taking advantage of the moment to study him and wonder how a creature as beautiful as he is can be so vile and cruel?

  He turns, looking at me in the doorway, and smiles. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. I just got home from work.”

  Home. There’s that word again.

 
He pats the cushion on the sofa. “Come sit next to me.”

  I’m reminded of our first night together, but this time he’s in a much better mood.

  I sit beside him and kick out of my shoes, curling and uncurling my toes.

  “How was rehearsal?”

  “Exhausting. Painful. My feet are killing me, especially my toes.”

  He pats his lap. “Put them up here.”

  I shake my head. “They’ve been in sweaty pointe shoes all day. They’re gross and stinky.”

  “I don’t care. Give them to me.”

  I turn, placing my feet in his lap, and he takes one in his hands. “Which part hurts?”

  “Every part.”

  Luca squeezes, using his thumbs to massage the ball of my foot. “How does that feel?”

  I swallow hard. “Really good.”

  I close my eyes and he moves his thumbs in circular motions up and down the soles of my feet.

  “How was your day?”

  “Rehearsal was fine, but I need to tell you about something that happened when I was leaving.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I was approached by an FBI agent.”

  Luca’s thumbs slow for a moment and then resume their previous rhythm. “What did he want?”

  “Special Agent Reynolds told me that you were responsible for the Bellini and Moretti murders and that I was endangering myself by being with you.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “That you were a family friend who was helping me through a very difficult time.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you said?”

  He doesn’t trust me. And I’m going to need to change that.

  “Yes, Luca. I swear that’s all I said. You can ask Sal. He’ll confirm that I didn’t talk to him for long at all. I walked away.”

  “How do I know that I can trust you?”

  “You don’t. But first of all, I’m telling you about them coming to me. Secondly, by protecting you, I’m protecting our future children. In time, you’ll learn to trust me.”

  Isn’t that similar to what he told me?

  “Do you believe the agent? That you’re in danger by being with me?”

  “I believe my family and I are in more danger by not being with you.”

  “You’re a Bellini. I know you’d never work with the feds.”