Divorcing Her Mafia Family
Chapter 36

Dimitra decided she had to be nuts. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to Miklos’ game. Now she was laying in her bed with her fingertips still pressed against the thin wall which separated their beds wondering what he was doing. Where he’d been for the last hour was unknown, but he was in his room again.

He was whistling in his room. It was a song she knew well and grimaced. Had he hacked her playlist favorites? Modern Shakedown. Is this what he was doing? Does he think she stole from him and wanted it back? If so, what was it? Her romantic silly little heart was thinking his love and she g*****d loudly and gave an expletive filled shout into the air at her stupidity.

The whistling ceased and she suddenly missed it. Where was he? The clatter of him climbing into his bed made her inch back to the wall. He was right there. On the other side. Was he looking at the wall as she was? She grimaced as she considered he could start snoring at any second. Perhaps he wanted to nap with her.

She turned and put her back to the wall and wrapped her arms around a pillow. She was stupid to think he was right there as if wanting to nap with her.

“f**k, s**t, balls!” she cursed again furiously.

Her phone alerted her to a text message. She grabbed her phone off her nightstand and rolled her eyes at the message.

“I’m trying to read quietly. Stop cursing, sailor girl.”

“Screw you. I can’t sleep.”

“We just met a couple of hours ago but if you need a screw …”

She blinked at his words and then giggled when he sent her a photo of a box of screws.

“You are weird.”

“Not weird. My mother says I am unique.”

A laugh erupted from her chest at his message. She watched the ellipsis of his speech bubble as he typed.

“Why can’t you sleep, Elektra?”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you need to talk? I can be a good listener. I’m really good at making people talk and tell me things. Do you want help getting loosened up?”

She blinked as she considered all the ways in her first eighteen years of life, she had seen him make people talk. She looked back to the picture of screws and had a memory of him using a nail gun on a mark’s hand.

“Not via text message but thank you.”

“Go to the balcony. It will be like a confessional.”

“I don’t need confession or absolution. I need a clear head.”

“Balcony, thirty seconds. I have beer. I’ll pass one around the ledge.”

She g*****d and rolled off the bed. What was she doing? “Curiosity killed the cat, Dimitra. Haven’t you learned s**t in the last twenty-six years?” she was grumbling to herself as she made her way out to the balcony.

She heard his patio doors sliding open and pushed her rattan chair right against the wall separating them. “This is weird.”

“Here,” a golden arm shot around the wall with a can of beer. “It’s cold.”

“Thanks.” She took it, popped the tab, took a long sip, and listened as he flapped fabric on the other side. “What are you doing?”

“There’s bird s**t all over my chair. I’m just putting a towel over it to give me a place to sit. I don’t know what happened between yesterday and today, but the birds are roosting here. I’m sure of it.”

“Maybe Theresa cleaned it just before you got there?” She couldn’t fight the grin on her face knowing he couldn’t see it. His grunt of displeasure made her giggle, and she covered it with a cough and took another sip of the beer.

“What is keeping you awake, Elektra?” he asked from directly opposite the wall.

“This feels weird.”

“Hey, oftentimes it’s easiest to talk to a stranger.”

She rolled her eyes at his words. “Fine.” She exhaled slowly, “from the time I was thirteen until I was eighteen, I had a crush on a man who I adored. He was everything to me. Everything. I’ve even killed for him, Draco. The first time he ordered me to make a hit I was seventeen and I did it without blinking. I will be the first one to admit, having feelings isn’t a thing I’m good at. I can put it all away. My dad would be proud of how cold I can be.”

He was silent, listening to her.

“But with him, I couldn’t put it away. I loved him. My father and his father paired us up. Married us off and he hated me for it. I could feel the hate rolling off him. I was thinking of it today, the day he told us we had to get married and how cold he was. It was the first time he had ever been cold on a personal level. Had he been cold and emotionless while we were doing business for Pops? Sure. But then again, I was too. You put the s**t away until you’re home surrounded by family. He was my family and then suddenly he wasn’t.”

“That must have been hard,” he said quietly after she was silent for a few moments.

“It was. I got sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yes. Depressed. Anxious. If I heard he was coming home, I would panic waiting for him to shut me down like he did. I went away to school and each time I came home, he was nowhere to be found and frequently documented in the tabloids with his pants around his ankles with other woman. I felt rejected. I felt unlovable. We had a great housekeeper. She’s the best. There was one time I spent three full days laying in bed and I just couldn’t get it together enough to pull myself out of my funk. It was Thanksgiving. He was in Greece. My parents wanted me to come to dinner, but I couldn’t. Mrs. K told them I had the flu and had been up all-night sick. She urged them not to come in case they caught it. She said she’d stay since she was already exposed. She lied for me. Then she made me a little dinner and she came and crawled into bed with me and had Thanksgiving dinner with me. There were a lot of weekends like this.”

“I’m sorry you went through this.” Regret tainted his voice.

She shrugged, “it took me three years to stop crawling into my bed the minute I walked into his house. I just didn’t want to contaminate his house. I felt like an enemy or an unwanted guest. It’s funny, each time I would come home, my Pops would make me go with him on a job. I had a harder time walking into an empty house than walking into a warehouse with my dad to watch him punish an enemy. It’s sick right?”

“I don’t think it’s sick. What you were doing with your dad was familiar and probably an activity which made you feel connected. Even if it’s dark, a kid knows who loves them. Your dad loves you.”

“He does. He’s just a giant knob head.”

The chuckle on the other side of the wall made her lips pull up.

“I thought my husband was just like him.” The chuckle stopped, “but my housekeeper and my mother both disagree. The thing is, I’ve spent the last eight years building him up to be this giant motherfucking piece of s**t who would f**k anything with a hole. I built him up to be a misogynistic d**k. f**k me, I hated this guy.”

“You went from love to hate?”

“There’s a thin line, Draco,” she used his pseudonym with a smirk. “I wanted him to pay. I met a man,” she said suddenly veering away from her anger. “I was in fourth year of college. Met a few guys if I’m honest and dated. Actually,” she gave a tilt to her head, “he was a professor of one of my friend’s classes. He taught an anthropology course, and I met him waiting for her one day. We went out a few times nothing serious. One night at dinner he gave me this big, long dissertation on how humans have never been geared for monogamy. It was his educated opinion due to a deep seeded need for a safe partner and our need for security and comfort, womankind tends to let our hearts get caught up in one person as a way to hold onto the feeling of protection. He said for men, it’s about spreading seed everywhere, thus they often struggle with monogamy far more than women do. Though, he also hypothesized many women will frequently look for the better, stronger partner which would account for the number of women who cheat.”

“Do you believe this theory?” Miklos’ voice was barely a whisper.

“It made sense at the time. My mother stays with my dad because he’s a safety net. My dad d***s around with anyone who will bend over. With the way I grew up, it was a rational explanation.”

“You don’t sound like it’s still your mindset.”

“I think the professor was using his theory as a way to explain to me he would never be able to keep his own d**k in his pants and because of his theory and my father’s behavior and my husband’s steady stream of lovers, I allowed myself to believe men can’t be trusted.”

“But not now?”

“I don’t know,” she said staring into the hole in the top of her can as if it held answers. “Now, I’m confused.”

“Why?”

“Because this past week, he has been back in my life and he’s been a bully and a jerk, rude, and condescending, but he says he wants me, made promises I want to believe and insists he means to fix us and like a fool, I want very desperately to believe the words of a man who hurt me. What kind of woman am I? I left because I fear I will be weak, and I am not a weak person. I think I’ve let my own experiences and hurt taint the possibility of replaceing love again, especially with him.” She closed her eyes as she hesitated in asking her question, “what does it say about me as a person for wanting to forgive and just go running back to a man who nearly destroyed me? The girl my father raised would slice a person’s throat for being so stupid and yet, here I am, in a foreign country because I’m terrified of giving in to him and to my own stupid heart. What is wrong with me?”

Dimitra felt breathless as she waited for his response and then wondered if he’d left because he was quiet for too long but then he spoke.

“I think what it says about you, Elektra,” he purposefully used the name, “is you have an amazing capacity for love even after all the darkness you have encountered in your life. The person who hurt you does not deserve your forgiveness.”

His words felt like a punch to the chest.

“Whether your marriage was real or not, paper, contract, or whatever you choose to call it, he cheated. His actions were inexcusable. Abandoning you, leaving you alone to suffer in depression and sadness because he was feeling trapped and angry instead of dealing with his feelings and emotions like the adult he claimed to be, was wrong and as far as I’m concerned caused irreparable damages. If you never went back to him, the blame rests solely on his shoulders. You deserved far better than to be treated so shoddily. The fact you would consider, even remotely, the possibility of giving this man a second chance at being with you doesn’t make you weak. It speaks to how much better a person you are over him. In your shoes, I am unsure he would be as gracious. I would think if your husband were blessed with the possibility of you loving him again, he would take great care not to ever make you question your worth or value again. You are far too special a woman to be treated so carelessly.”

She wiped a tear off her cheek, grateful he couldn’t see her and finished the last mouthful of beer before she spoke again. “I deserve to be happy. I just want someone to love me, for me. Not because it’s forced or demanded. I fell in love once. I disrespected our vows too. I slept with someone, was as intimate as you can be without intercourse. Played house if you will. I cried over him. I mean not as much as my husband but man I cried. I am no better than he was.”

“You are a hundred-fold better. As I just said, your capacity for love is superior to anyone else’s.”

“I just want someone to love me as I love them. I wanted him to love me. Was it too much to ask? To love and be loved?”

“No. You deserve all of those things.”

“Can I ask you a question, Draco?”

“Of course,” she heard the smile in his voice when she used his chosen name.

“My husband said he always considered me a kid sister. Now he’s saying he wants a real marriage. How does a man just go from brotherly affection to l**t, s****l desire and possibly the love a married couple could have?” Her question caught him off guard and she knew it from the long exhale he gave.

“I cannot speak for all men in general but as one who has lived a situation eerily familiar to yours,” he gave a mocking laugh, “I can tell you only my own experience.”

“Please do,” she waved her hand as if he could see her.

“We can call this my balcony confession then if you will. This is in no way an excuse. Please don’t think I’m saying this to garner sympathy. There is no excuse for the way I treated my girl. I will say, I never expected to marry her when she was eighteen. I truly considered they would let her finish her education first before marriage and they sprung it on me just before her birthday. I was taken by surprise as much as she was that day. Also, I have denied this story to myself so many times I convinced myself it was a nightmare or dream and you will be the first and only person to hear my confession. Again, there is no excuse. None.” He sighed, “but, she was a child when I learned I had to marry her. I treated her like one of the boys and like a sibling because it was easier to put her in such categories rather than admit as she grew older my feelings were changing. When she was sixteen, I was twenty-three. She and I did a job for her father. The way she ruthlessly conducted an investigation made my d**k hard. I felt dirty and nasty for wanting what I shouldn’t have wanted and so, I forced myself to keep her in the sister category. Rather than feel like a dirty old man I relegated her firmly in a sister category and never let the memory of the night surface again. That same night I went to the clubs and slept with two women to get her out of my head. In hindsight I think a therapist would tell me I slept with other women as a way to prove to myself she wasn’t what I wanted. It took for her to show up and flaunt it right in my face how she was always far too good for me and exactly everything I ever needed, for me to realize she was the one I wanted. I was simply too f*****g stupid to understand. I let anger and frustration dictate my behavior. I have lost her, and I likely won’t get her back but if I could tell her one thing, it would be I do love her and I think I always have.”

“You got a hard on for her when she was sixteen?” Dimitra was leaned forward.

“Out of my entire story, this is what you heard?”

“I’m simply repeating what you said.”

“I also said I love her.”

“But you had a boner for her.”

“She was too young. I was too old. It was wrong and inappropriate, and I pushed it down and I made myself forget. It made me treat her differently, but it had to be otherwise I couldn’t have lived with myself.” He tapped his head against the wall separating them, “but I took it too far to the other side and in the end, I’ve lost the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“What was it about the interrogation which got you hard exactly?” she was grinning as she heard his exasperated breath.

“You are missing my point.”

“Am I?” she giggled. “I feel it’s really necessary for me to fully understand the scope of your regret and why you had to go to the lengths you went to in order to not feel like a pervert.”

“No.”

“If it were me and I was your girl, I think it would be good for my ego to know I wasn’t repulsive and I could in fact, make a d**k hard at sixteen.”

“You need your a*s slapped.”

“So, I’ve been told.” The Cheshire Cat’s grin wasn’t as wide as hers.

The metallic echo of him cracking another beer had her on the edge of her seat. The gulping noises as he almost emptied the can had her gripping the chair arms excitedly.

Finally, he spoke, “We had a guy who had stolen from us. He was working for another family, and he slipped into our shipping yard, hijacked one of our trucks and trailer and absconded with it. We caught him a few miles up the road with the truck because we’d been tipped off and we got him back to the warehouse. It was her sixteenth birthday and her father felt as a birthday gift, she should be allowed to conduct the interrogation. I was allowed to sit and watch in the room with her to make sure she didn’t get hurt or f**k it up,” he laughed at the protest on the other side of the wall. “It was her first time. She could have messed up big time.”

“Did she?”

“No, she was perfection. The guy, his name was Frankie, got smart with her and asked what a punk a*s girl thought she could get out of him. She took knuckle dusters, broke his nose, and punched him in the d**k. He didn’t want to answer her questions. She got rougher and rougher and didn’t break a sweat. She was beautifully cold, calculated and collected and the guy finally started to panic. Frankie insulted her a couple of times and disrespected her more than once out of pure nerves, but she put him in his place. Then he stupidly flipped her off. She walked to the table of instruments, grabbed the cigar cutter, and had two of our guys hold him and she took the finger he’d held up to her off his hand and then threw it in a garbage bin clear across the room in one shot and did a dance like she’d hit the winning basket in a game. She didn’t even blink. Did I mention she did all of this in a hot pink ballgown type dress her mother had picked out for her sweet sixteen? By the time it was over, she had all the answers, her dress was covered in b***d, and she was grinning proudly at what she had done. Her smile damn near did me in. Then,” he took a gulp, “as if I hadn’t already been battling a semi-e******n from the ruthless determination she’d shown, she ripped the ballgown right over her head and tossed it to the ground and told our team to burn it because she wasn’t bringing the scumbag’s b***d home to her mother. She walked out of there in bicycle shorts and a sports bra she’d been wearing under her dress, and I had to jack off in the bathroom before I could drive her back home. Beating one out to the thought of a girl who had only turned sixteen that very day made me feel like a pedophile. It was one of the worst feelings I ever had in my life. I cannot tell you the shame I felt. I was twenty-three and she was a f*****g minor.”

“What did you do?” she asked quietly.

“I made her wear my jacket home. I felt like the lowest of the low. Someone I considered as close as family had made me hard. After that night, I forced myself to remember she was a kid, just my sister and not someone I should ever want to f**k. Not in a million years. I kept her there. To this day I still don’t understand why the dress came off other than to make me notice her and I did and it was wrong.” His last words were almost whispered.

“I bet she tossed the dress because she really didn’t want to upset her mother with the b***d and had no freaking clue you even noticed she was half naked. Also, the bicycle shorts were to avoid chub rub. Any girl with thighs wears shorts under a dress so the thighs don’t chafe. It’s a trick.”

“You think she had no idea? She didn’t toss the dress to get my attention?”

“Guaranteed her mother is nuts and would have screamed, cried, and prayed over her if she’d brought home a bloody dress. It was better to go home and lie and say it got ruined when she fell in a giant puddle of mud than to face the wailing cries of the banshee.”

“I always thought it was her trying to make a play.”

“She was probably so terrified of you even knowing she had a crush on you there is no way she did such a thing for your benefit. Also, she hated her body from the ages of fourteen to twenty.”

“Well, she had nothing to hate, though I’d not seen anything other than the one time. She was always dressed like one of the guys. Even swimming she wore t-shirts. My least favorite outfit and one she loved to wear the most were a pair of overalls like a farmer would wear which were easily four sizes too big and butt-ugly work boots. She kept her cigar cutters in the front part of the bib. I hated those things.”

“The cigar cutters or the overalls?”

“Overalls. What she can do with cigar cutters is a beautiful thing.”

“You are sick.”

“I know. I like violence. Sue me.”

She was quietly contemplating what they’d been discussing when the scraping of his chair made her look up in surprise. “Are you leaving, Draco?”

“I believe you have a date you need to get ready for and I have an errand I need to run in town. Be careful out there, Elektra. Bring your phone with you in case you need help.”

“I will. Draco?”

“Yes, Elektra.”

“Thanks for listening to my confession and for sharing your story.”

He rapped a knuckle on the wall between them, “anytime, beautiful. Anytime. I hope you found some of the answers you were looking for.”

As the patio doors closed behind him Dimi sat back in her chair and realized she was left with far more questions than answers and even more confused than when she’d first tried to lay down. What was she going to do?