Married to the Mafia Boss

Amelia

There are no words that can convey how pissed off I am that Frankie thinks he can already control me. We haven’t even been married a couple of hours before he’s dictating who will be in my life and who won’t. I have to watch my mother be escorted out of Alessandro’s house, and no one does a thing to try and stop them. Is there no respect for my family? Or what I want? Yes, my mom can be harsh, but once you get to know her, you see a different side of her.

After the wedding, I am allowed to stay at my place for a few more days before the honeymoon, after which I must move into Frankie’s place, signaling the end of my life as I know it.

The fight we had at the wedding weighs on me as I start to pack another box. I don’t understand why he gets so fired up. He clearly doesn’t care about what I want or need. He is just following orders like the dutiful son and brother that he is.

I start to fill the box with the little trinkets my father has bought me over the years. Every year he gets me a beautiful figurine from Sicily, a tradition he started when he used to go over for business trips there.

I sigh and sit back, picking up my glass of wine and sipping from it. I feel like I’m just going to drink my way through this marriage if I can.

I decide to pack a few more boxes before I head to see my mom. Just because Frankie said it wasn’t allowed won’t stop me. I need to apologize for the way she was treated at the house. She didn’t deserve that.

Once I finish this box, I realize that my wine glass is empty, so I go to fill it. I shouldn’t get too drunk before I see my mother. She doesn’t like that I enjoy a drink. She thinks I’m on my way to becoming an alcoholic.

My mind drifts back to Frankie. I wish I could figure out his angle and what he really wants from me. I wish he would just admit he hates me so we could both move on with our lives. I wonder if he’ll let me sleep with other men since I’m definitely not sleeping with him-never again, not in his wildest and wettest dreams. For a brief moment, I think about having children with him and get a sour taste in my mouth.

What if the family wants me to provide them with new heirs? Lord, I think I will kill myself first. I put the thought out of my mind. I’ll have to deny that issue if it arises.

Besides, I don’t think he’s in a rush for children. He’s been weird since the wedding. I have to meet him for lunch every day. That’s ‘our thing,’ and sometimes he speaks to me nicely, and sometimes he just snaps at me for making a simple suggestion. The man is like a broken faucet, hot and cold, hot and cold… wait, isn’t that a song?

Yes, Katy Perry. I smile to myself. I have such a good memory. Okay, maybe I am a little tipsy. I guess I better get to Mom before I get any further along.

I freshen up and grab my keys and phone. I don’t have to order an uber because Frankie has given me my own driver. I climb into the car. “Take me to Sixty-Four A, Third Avenue.” I don’t say please. These are Frankie’s men. If they want my respect, they will earn it.

The drive feels like it takes forever, and I come to realize I’m a lot soberer than I thought, and suddenly, I’m filled with dread. I’m not sure how my mom is going to take this apology.

One thing is for sure: if I can stand up to Frankie every day, I can stand up to anyone.

I walk up to her apartment, leaving the driver to park the Audi. I knock on my mother’s door, and it swings open. A maid in uniform smiles. “Mrs. Sorvino, such a pleasure to see you. Your mother is in the sunroom.” She gestures for me to walk in, and I do so, heading straight for what my mother refers to as the sunroom. I don’t think apartments even have those, but it has lovely large windows, and it is very sunny.

“Amelia, I thought I’d never see you again. What took you so long to come to see me?” my mother asks, standing up and air kissing my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Mama, I haven’t had a chance to get away.” I won’t admit the truth that I’ve been a bit afraid to defy Frankie and had to work up the courage. “I’m so sorry for how Francesco spoke to you at the wedding. He shouldn’t have done that.”

“He’s a brute.” My mother sighs, all but dramatically collapsing back into her seat. I sit opposite her as she continues. “My blood pressure was through the roof, and I had to get two massages to release the tension that built up. I can’t believe you had to marry that ogre.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I will speak to him about letting you come back.”

“You think I want to? After how he treated me? A formal apology and perhaps covering my medical costs would be a step in the right direction.” She reaches over and takes my hand in hers. “Oh, my sweetheart, you mustn’t frown so much. You’ll get worry lines. In fact, I think it’s too late.”

She sniffs the air as I open my mouth to protest. “Have you been drinking? Amelia, it’s not even midday!”

I sigh. “Mama, I’m a grown woman. I can drink a glass of wine during the day if I want to.”

“Is that something your husband says you can do?” She clicks her tongue. “They know no culture and have no honor. Although after your choices, I suppose he might be one of the better ones.”

“Not all my choices are bad,” I say loudly, and she looks at me with wide eyes.

“I didn’t say they were, but honestly, Amelia, a lot of them are,” she clutches her pearl necklace, playing with it. “I blame myself. I didn’t teach you how to judge character properly.”

“You’re the worst judge of character there is,” I stand up. “And let’s not talk about drinking, Mama. You were blind drunk for many years after Papa left. I would go days without food, without a bath. And when you were awake, you’d pick on me all the time.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Honestly, Amelia, your memory is terrible. That didn’t happen at all,” my mother flusters. “I had some problems, but I never neglected you.”

“That’s all anyone in this family has done. Papa would travel constantly, and then he left for years only to come take me away from you and give me a cold, loveless life. You constantly criticize me. I’m too fat, too skinny. I look tired, I look old, I have saggy boobs.” She opens her mouth, but I hold a hand up. “Enough, Mama. I didn’t need Francesco to defend me at the wedding. I can defend myself. If you want to stay in my life, then you need to make a choice to change how you treat me because I won’t stand for it anymore.”

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I turn to leave. I paused at the door. “Another thing, Mama, you shouldn’t frown so much. Your worry lines are far worse than mine.” Feeling triumphant, I leave the apartment and hurry down the stairs before I lose the little bravery I have.