Plain Jane and the Mafia Beast

“No.”

He saw her jerk back.

“Like that, just no?”

“It’s not allowed in our life.”

“Wow, talk about double standards.”

“The wives don’t need anything else. They’re being taken care of. They’ve got sons. There’s no need for anything else for them.”

Her mouth dropped open in a perfect O of shock. He found that utterly cute. “You don’t think she has a right to be with someone that … I don’t know, gets her hot and excited?”

Arika’s cheeks were on fire.

“They don’t need that.”

“You’re unbelievable. Women want that kind of stuff as well. Granted, not all women, but then not all men do either.”

“They want sex?”

“Yes!”

“They get sex.”

“Not with guys they actually want. They probably just have to lie there. I don’t need to know anymore.” She held the hand up that he wasn’t holding and shook her head. “I can’t bring myself right now to even think about this.”

He chuckled.

“You’re doing it to make me crazy.”

“The women are not allowed to take lovers. If they do, it’s in secret, and it’s highly dangerous.”

“Is that what you’d do? Marry who you’re told and then expect her to live a lonely, miserable existence being your wife and only getting anything intimate when you deem it necessary to have sons?”

“I’m not part of the mafia like that. I’ll not be providing anyone with sons that are needed. Whoever I take as my wife will be mine and, believe me, Arika, when she’s in my bed, there won’t be any need to take a lover. I’ll make sure she’s well-kept and gets everything her heart desires.”

****

“You’re a pretty good cook,” Arika said, twirling her fork in the spaghetti.

“Living on your own, you learn these things. I’ve never been one for takeout food.”

“Why were you at the diner then?” she asked, slurping up the spaghetti with the rich sauce he’d coated the pasta in.

She’d been in his home now for two days. During that time, the pain had started to lessen a little, which she loved. She’d also completed her assignment and caught up on her studying rather than reading a romance novel.

Fortunately, Vincenzo hadn’t forced anyone to come and sit with her during this time to she didn’t have to deal with any more scary stories. Daniel hadn’t returned either, and it made her a little uncomfortable that she hoped he’d in some way ended that guy.

She wasn’t normally a girl prone to violence, but she didn’t like his friend. In the last couple of days, she’d learned a lot.

Not everything was about the mafia either. He worked for them, but he wouldn’t go into their secrets and even though he spilled the beans on the mistresses, it wasn’t exactly news either. They made films about the mafia, so she imagined a lot of stuff was there and easy to find.

“I was at the diner because of Daniel. It was late. I was hungry, and he picked the diner. I normally go in for an Italian place.”

“Is that your favorite kind of food?” There was that little smile to his lips. She noticed he got that from time to time when she said certain stuff, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the weird questions she asked.

This was the first time in her whole life when she’d been alone with a guy. Not only that, what else was she supposed to ask him?

“I love Italian. I do think it’s the best food on the planet.”

“I like Chinese,” she said.

“No.”

“Yes. Nothing you say is going to change that. They’ve got eggrolls. There, done,” she said. “And shrimp toasts, which I love so much.”

“Italian has meatballs.”

“Meh.”

“Seriously?” he asked.

“If that is all you’ve got to say then I can add noodles, rice, spareribs, I mean, come on, they’ve got wontons. They so beat Italian any day.”

“Pizza.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never really liked it. I mean, cheese, granted, but the bread part and everything else I don’t like.”

“I don’t even know if I can let you live.”

She burst out laughing.

In the two days they’d been together, she found herself growing less and less afraid of him. He wasn’t someone to be scared of.

Vincenzo wasn’t going to hurt her. He took care of her, running her baths, feeding her, checking her wound, redressing it, helping her.

He’d even taken her assignment to her professor and gotten the notes she would need in the two classes she’d already missed. If he was such a bad guy, he wouldn’t have done that for her.

“You’re the first person I know who doesn’t like pizza.”

“It’s not like I grew up on it, you know. At the home where I stayed, pizza wasn’t a luxury they could afford. We got food, but it always had to be stuff that helped to fill us up. Not something because it tasted good.”

“I remember what that was like.”

This made her pause with her fork to her lips. “You were in a foster home?”