Convenient Mafia Wife: Prequel (Syndicate Rules Book 1)

Las Vegas, Nevada

Mancini Mafia

GIULIA

The twist of my husband’s lips lets me know just how distasteful he found coming into a sample collector cup.

Poor, beleaguered underboss. Not.

At least no one tried to knock him out and take the sample against his will.

‘My father has been bringing up your lack of pregnancy at least weekly since Neri turned one,’ Raff points out.

‘I am aware.’

‘You—’

‘Do not pretend that if I’d told him about the IUD, that would have shut him up. Patrizio would have insisted I have it removed.’

Raff inclines his head, making no attempt to deny it. ‘He is your don.’

‘That doesn’t give him the right to dictate when I get pregnant. This isn’t the 1950s, not even in the mafia.’

‘I am your husband.’

‘Yes. And if you had brought it up to me, I would have told you about the birth control.’

‘Don’t you think that as your husband, I should have been involved in the decision to use it in the first place?’

‘No. Again, not the 1950s. But I would have told you about it, if I knew you were worried.’ No one had been worried about me though, just whether or not I could not conceive again.

‘So, you are saying this is all my fault?’

‘Has there been a single word out of my mouth since my arrival that would imply I think anything else?’

His face goes blank. I’m facing the underboss and not my husband now. He’s about to say something about duty and the mafia and it will lacerate my already sore heart.

‘Don’t,’ I say, trying to fight the hopeless pain leaking in at the edge of my fury.

‘Do not what?’

‘Don’t go underboss on me, right now, Raff.’

‘I am the underboss.’

‘You are also my husband.’

‘I have never denied it.’

‘If you are mad at me, just say so. But don’t start yammering on about duty to la famiglia. Don’t shut me out.’ Though that last is more his default setting than not.

‘I am pissed you are on birth control and didn’t tell me.’ For just a second, the blank mask slips and I know that by pissed he means raging. ‘But according to you, that’s my fault.’

I shrug. If he’s hoping I’ll argue with him on that point, he’ll be disappointed.

Maybe I could have told him about the IUD, but no, I don’t feel like I should have. I hadn’t had a tubal ligation. I hadn’t taken away the chance to have more children, just put it off.

For the sake of both my physical and mental health.

‘Aria would not have hidden something like that from Enzo. And he would have been furious if she had.’

He’s right, but that’s still a low blow. Also, not relevant to our marriage. ‘My parents loved and trusted each other implicitly.’

‘Are you saying you don’t trust me?’ His deep tone is infused with outrage and disbelief.

Of course, he ignores my reference to love, an emotion my controlled husband has no use for.

Instead of firing back an automatic response to his question about trust, I take a moment to really think about it.

An arrow of insight pierces me to the core.

‘I thought I didn’t tell you because you didn’t need to know,’ I explain. ‘I wasn’t putting off having more children indefinitely, just until I knew I could handle another pregnancy and what came after.’

I had believed I didn’t feel the need to tell Raff about the IUD because of the emotional distance in our marriage. Which, yes, is something he fosters.

When we first got married, I’d been more than willing to build the kind of relationship my parents had. I craved closeness with the man I’d foolishly fallen in love with. Raff has made it clear he is not interested in me as anything but a convenient mafia wife, easy access bed partner and baby maker.

‘You thought?’ he prompts.

‘Yes, but you’re right. I don’t trust you.’

‘How the hell can you say that? I am your husband.’

‘But you are the mafia’s underboss first. And your father’s son second. Your role as my husband comes in a distant third, if that.’

‘You cannot tell me that Enzo put your mother ahead of his responsibilities as the don.’ He doesn’t mention the fact his role as son comes ahead of being my husband.

Raff probably sees it one and the same with being underboss and keeping his vow as a made man.

‘If my father knew that pregnancy would risk Mamma’s health after Severu was born, he would have suggested the birth control himself. And he would not have allowed her to go off of it unless he was absolutely sure the next pregnancy would not put her at risk.’

Even if that meant potential instability for la famiglia.

‘The key phrase there being if he knew, which I didn’t because neither you, nor your OB told me you should wait a year after Nero.’

‘Even if my pregnancy hadn’t been so exhausting, waiting at least a year to get pregnant again is not exactly rocket science.’ All he had to do was show the slightest interest in me as a person, and not a baby making machine.

‘My degree from Stanford is in business, not medicine, or engineering.’

The sarcasm is thick between us. So is the anger and once again my lady parts start sending all sorts of messages about how to resolve this argument.

Doing my best to ignore them and remain rational, I say, ‘You don’t need a medical degree to Google why is my wife so tired during pregnancy. But first you have to actually care about said wife’s welfare.’

‘I am not a mind reader. You should have said something to me.’

‘If one of your men was suddenly unable to do their job, wouldn’t you ask why?’

‘I thought I knew why. You were pregnant.’

‘Lots of pregnant women can work. I avoided having to go on bedrest because I didn’t.’

‘How the hell are you holding me accountable for not knowing what you did not tell me?’ Raff sounds beyond exasperated.

‘As long as I popped out a healthy baby, I didn’t think it mattered to you.’

‘You believe I would have pressured you to get pregnant before you wanted to, before it was safe?’

‘Yes.’

‘That is bullshit.’

I laugh, though the sound is hollow. ‘This morning proves the opposite.’

‘In what way does my concern about your health prove that I would willingly put it at risk?’

‘Because you weren’t concerned about my health, only the viability of my reproductive system.’

‘They are one in the same.’

‘No, they are not.’ The longer we talk, the more my fury dissipates and is replaced by sorrow. ‘There is no scenario in which you sending me to a fertility specialist without consulting me is an expression of concern for my wellbeing.’

‘Lara said the appointment did not go well. Since I now know that did not mean you got bad news, what does it mean?’

Good strategy. When you don’t have argument to make, change the subject.

Done with talking about what cannot be changed, I go with it. ‘It was a disaster but my reasons for thinking so are probably not the same as Lara’s.’

‘Tell me about yours.’

We’ve already covered the ground about me not knowing why I was at the clinic and how humiliating that was.

So, now, I tell him the rest. ‘Lynne, that’s the nurse who first showed me into the exam room, was rude. Dr. Hewitt was worse though. If I was a woman with fertility issues, he is the last doctor I would want to consult about it.’

‘He’s supposed to be the best in his field.’

‘Oh, he told me. Dealing with him is an awfully high price for the chance to have a baby.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘His was arrogant, condescending and borderline psychotic. When I told him I was on birth control, he decided he would remove the IUD without my consent. When I argued, he told Lynne to sedate me and when I balked, he called in Dolph to hold me down.’

With every word I speak, the aura of menace around my husband grows. ‘This Dolph laid hands on you?’ My husband’s tone is chilling. ‘Where the hell was Lara?’

‘My bodyguard was waiting outside the door, like the good little Mancini lapdog she is.’

‘You are angry with Lara?’

He has to ask? Men! ‘What was your first clue?’

‘You don’t insult your security detail. Or anyone else.’ He pauses. ‘Except my father.’

‘I don’t insult Patrizio.’

Raff’s right brow raises, calling me a liar.

I sigh. ‘I don’t mean to disparage my father-in-law.’

Unable to meet Raff’s eyes after telling that whopper right after the first one, I look away.

Sometimes I do mean to insult Patrizio. He’s worse than autocratic. He’s selfish and arrogant and unfeeling. I’ve never seen him say one positive thing to either of his sons and he treats our son, Neri, like a not very interesting chess piece on the board of his life.

My biggest fear since getting married is that my husband, for all his faults, will become more like his father. Raff can be an arrogant jerk. Case in point: this morning. However, he is a loving father, and he has never treated me like I’m a brainless ornament, like his dad treats his mom sometimes.

Patrizio may respect women as soldiers and treat then the same as his other made men, but mafia wives and mistresses are another category to him.

When Raff doesn’t say anything else, I continue. ‘Anyway, I shot Dolph before he could touch me. Then I shot at Dr. Hewitt but missed him on purpose.’

I wait for my husband to tear into me about putting la famiglia at risk with my actions.

He asks, ‘What happened after that?’

‘I got dressed and left.’ Remembering a detail, I add, ‘Oh, and Lara came crashing in after the first shot.’

Now Raff’s eyes narrow and his jaw looks hewn from granite. ‘You removed your clothes with all of them still in the room?’

‘The exam gown. I put my clothes back on.’

‘The doctor and his nurses saw you naked?’

‘I never removed my bra and panties,’ I correct.

‘Lara will lose a finger for this.’

‘You would punish her for your mistake?’ That’s something his father would do, but not Raff. At least I didn’t think so. ‘Lara didn’t send me to that psycho doctor, you did.’

‘I did not tell Hewitt to touch you without your consent,’ Raff grinds out.

‘He thinks you did.’

‘A mistake he will regret.’

My husband’s righteous wrath gives me pause.

‘Was it you, or your dad, who made the appointment for me with Dr. Hewitt?’ They never referred to my husband, just Mr. Mancini.

For once, I have no trouble reading Raff’s expression. To lie, or not?

‘If you’re going to lie to me, don’t bother answering.’ I jump up and head for the office door. I’m done.

What is the point of continuing this conversation? He doesn’t think he did anything wrong. He’s definitely not going to admit his father, the don, is out of bounds.

His voice stops me halfway to the door. ‘My father made the appointment, but I insisted on being seen first.’

‘How chivalrous of you.’

‘I thought so.’ He’s right behind me. ‘Come back and sit down, cara. We are not done talking.’

‘I am.’

His hand comes around my waist, turning me to face him. ‘Please.’

Has he ever said please to me before? If he has, I don’t remember it.

I nod, but step away from his touch. It’s too distracting. Something filters through his gaze, but I’m not sure what.

I retrace my steps, but don’t return to the couch. The view outside the floor to ceiling windows draws me to them. Vegas is in a constant state of flux with old casinos and other buildings being torn down to make room for the city planner’s vision.

Influenced in no small part by Patrizio Mancini.

It’s so different from New York and yet, there’s an undeniable beauty in the Las Vegas skyline.

I put my hand on the window, heat radiating through even the insulated, bullet proof glass. ‘If your father made the appointment, he probably did tell Dr. Hewitt to do whatever was necessary to get me pregnant, up to and including artificial insemination or IVF using that sperm sample you so helpfully provided.’

‘I will talk to my father.’

‘Do that. Because if I am ever put in a situation like that by him again, the nurse won’t be the only person I shoot and I will be aiming to kill, not wound.’

‘You’re fucking sexy when you go all Annie Oakley.’

Expecting censure for daring to threaten the don, Raff’s words shock me.

‘More Ma Barker surely.’ At least she was a figure in organized crime.

‘If you say so.’ His big hands land on my shoulders, providing more comfort than such a simple, not overtly personal, touch should.

As angry as I am, I need that comfort. Even though I wouldn’t admit it to him under torture right now. But I don’t move.

‘Were you on birth control before Neri?’ he asks.

Ah, he’s remembering the two years it took me to get pregnant after our wedding. Dr. Hewitt said that contributed to Mr. Mancini’s (i.e. Raff’s father) certainty something is wrong with my lady parts.noveldrama

‘Yes.’

‘An IUD?’

‘No. I used the implant, but I didn’t like the headaches or the lack of libido.’ I didn’t even realize the effect it had on my sex drive until I had it removed a month after my father’s death.

I hoped bringing new life into my family would help all of us with our grief. It worked.

The other benefits, besides getting pregnant, of having the implant removed are that I no longer have daily headaches and I cannot get enough of physical intimacy with my husband. The sex is so much more intense than our first year of marriage.

The IUD has none of the negative side effects for me that I experienced with the implant. My OB told me that other women experience the opposite. Every woman’s body is different.

‘I thought you got pregnant because we were having more sex.’

Cause, meet effect. ‘I’m sure that helped.’

He turns me to face him and puts one hand under my chin to lift my head, so our eyes meet.

His gaze searches mine. ‘Why did you get the implant? You knew everyone expected us to try immediately for a child.’

‘Not everyone. My mom didn’t.’ In fact, Mamma had been the one to suggest I go on birth control before the wedding.

‘Aria knew?’

I nod, my chin sliding against his finger. ‘Mamma was nineteen when she had Severu. She knew how hard it would be for me to find my footing among strangers in a new city while pregnant.’

Because that was exactly what she’d had to go through.

‘You wanted a chance to settle into Vegas before pregnancy hormones hit.’

Isn’t that what I just said? I manage not to roll my eyes when I nod my agreement again. ‘Besides, I wasn’t ready to become a single mom at twenty-two.’

‘You are not a single parent.’

‘No, I’m not. You’re a lot more hands on with Neri than I expected.’ Raff has always been more committed to his role of dad than husband, but there is no way I could know he would be that way. ‘I didn’t know what to expect and what I did know about your dad didn’t give me a lot of hope.’

‘I am not my father.’

‘Keep it that way.’

‘He is a strong don.’

‘One day, you will be too, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop being a decent father.’

His thumbs brush up the column of my neck sending shivers of arousal down my arms. ‘You have an appointment to remove the IUD when you go to New York next month?’

‘Yes.’ I try to ignore the way my body is reacting to his nearness.

You’d think with all the experience I have doing that, I’d be better at it. Six years married to a man who turns my crank just by being in the same room makes for a lot of practice not showing my sexual excitement in the company of others.

‘Thank you.’

My brows furrow. ‘For what?’

‘For being willing to give me another child.’

‘Like you said, it’s part of the agreement.’

‘You are too good of a mother to see our children as a means to an end.’

‘Which is why the timing of my pregnancies matter. I needed to know I could handle parenting Neri with my other responsibilities before adding to them.’

‘You don’t have to run the galas.’

‘That’s not what our don said.’

‘As you have pointed out, he is not your husband.’

Now he wants to take the stand that Patrizio’s word isn’t law in our marriage? When it’s something I actually don’t want?

‘I like using my education,’ I point out. ‘Even though we’re using the benefits to launder money, the mafia’s take from them is no more than most charitable organizations’ overhead costs. And each gala finances important endeavors. It makes me feel good to be part of that.’

Sliding out from under his hands, I say, ‘I think we’ve hit our quota of talking for the month.’

Not one word of it has assuaged the pain in my chest at the knowledge that I’m just a walking, breathing womb to the Mancinis.

Needing some time to myself to process and put my game face back on, I go back over to the door. ‘Can you unlock this for me? And I’ll let you get back to work.’

‘Not just yet.’ He’s closer now. I can hear it in the nearness of his voice.

But he moves like a darn shadow and it startles me when his hand covers mine on the doorknob.

He tugs me around to face him. Molten grey eyes devour me. ‘You stripped in front of medical staff, your bodyguard and my capos.’

I frown. ‘I was angry.’

‘Yes.’

‘With good reason.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘So, unlock the door.’

‘We have one more item on the agenda.’

What agenda? ‘This wasn’t a planned meeting.’

‘You are not leaving without an undeniable reminder of who this delectable body belongs to.’