Obsessed with His Bride

It went on like that. He’d pick me up in the morning, we’d open up the bakery together, and once the actual staff showed up, normally a woman named Maureen that wore crimson eyeshadow, had old tattoos on her arms, and dressed like a biker lady, he’d sit at a table and take meetings while I drank coffee and watched.

I learned a lot about him in those days. And I had to admit to myself, it was nice.

I was starting to like being around my father’s killer.

And that scared me more than anything.* * *The morning rush came in like usual as I leaned back in the booth and sipped the coffee Sergio made me before the old man disappeared back into the kitchen. He always made a point of coming out and chatting with me, and I think he liked having a young woman around for once.

Gino paged through the Philadelphia Inquirer, glancing at the headlines before flipping through it. “You read that thing?” I asked him.

He glanced up. “Just because I’m a thug, I can’t read the news?”

I laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, you’re going too fast.”

He grinned. “I’m a thug. I just read the headlines.”

I smiled back and sipped my coffee, and couldn’t help but feel a chill at the thought of how comfortable things were beginning to feel. Dante sat back at his table, eating a muffin and staring at the window. He hadn’t gotten many petitions, and I could tell he was getting a little bored. He checked his watch, this silver, gleaming thing with diamonds studded in at each hour, the most ostentatious thing he ever wore, although I knew for a fact that any one of his suits probably cost as much as my entire wardrobe. They were subtle about their expense, whereas his watch was all about flash.

He put the muffin down, blueberry crumbs on the plate and the table, and stood up. He nodded at Gino. “Enough for today,” he said.

I stood and stretched my legs. “Slow?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Who knows.” He walked over and looked down at me, a little smile on his lips. “You getting interested in my business?”

I shook my head. “You drag me here every day. I guess I was bound to get curious.”

He snorted. “Please. I see you staring, watching. I know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah? What am I doing?”

He tapped my forehead and leaned close. “You’re thinking.”

I swatted his hand away and he laughed, standing back up. There were a few customers, and I noticed an older woman with blonde hair cut short to her ears was staring at us with a disapproving look. I ignored her and turned toward the door.

“Come on,” I said. “Don’t be a dick. Drive me home.”

“What’s the rush?” he asked. “Gino’s not done with his paper.”

“Gino can’t read,” I said.

“I can read,” he protested. “I just don’t.”

“Don’t let her get under your skin, kid,” Dante said and nudged Gino as the young soldier tried to stand. “Relax. Stay here and finish up. I’ll take her home.”

“Boss—”

“It’s fine,” Dante said. “Relax. Stay here. I’ll come pick you up when I’m done. Go tell Sergio I left and ask him for something to eat.”

Gino nodded and frowned. “I hate asking Sergio for food. He always makes me do dishes.”

“Then do the dishes and don’t complain.” Dante grinned and turned away. He walked past me and grabbed my arm, dragging me along. “Come on, little Aida.”

“Don’t be a dick,” I muttered but I let him lead me out through the doors and into the morning sunshine. It was the sort of morning where birds were in the trees chirping at the sky, and people seemed to be walking with a smile on their faces. It was a Disney kind of morning, and although he pulled me along by the arm like a child, I felt a thrill at being touched by him.

I knew I was going down a dark path. I knew I was tumbling head over heels into something I should’ve been running from, but the way his hands touched my body, the way he smirked at me, the way he acted like he owned any room he walked into made my heart flutter, my body sing out with need. I couldn’t resist it, even if I remembered my father wrapped in plastic that night, the gunshot ringing out and echoing off an abandoned, empty school.

I could still see Dante’s face from that night, stern but empty.

“Get in,” he grunted, opening the SUV’s door. I climbed into the passenger side and he slammed it shut before heading around and getting behind the wheel.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

He shook his head. “I’m not.” He started the car and checked for traffic then pulled out.

“Tell that to the way you just dragged me down the street.”