Divorcing Her Mafia Family
Chapter 8

She and the girls were having more fun with the fire extinguishers than they had with the original blaze, and they were laughing it up. They were drunk and exhausted as the embers smouldered in front of them.

“It’s one in the morning,” Magda croaked out, the smoke and the chemicals mixing with her exhaustion. “We need to get some rest.”

A deep voice cut into their conversation, “ready for bed yet, little wife?”

Dimitra turned to face him furiously. “Excuse me?”

“Surely you’re exhausted now after all the drinking and dancing and flame throwing,” he mimicked her blowing of fire, “my little dragon. It is time for bed. Come,” he waved his hand at her. “You get to sleep in the bedroom you redecorated. You put so much effort into it, you should enjoy it as much as I will.”

Dimitra stopped in her tracks at his words. “No. that is your bedroom. Mine is on the first floor.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No. Your bedroom is the one you redecorated because you didn’t want to sleep in a bed, I had another woman in. Surely you didn’t burn my bed out of spite if you were never going to share the new one with me?”

“I most definitely did.”

“I should tell you I messaged your mother earlier. She is coming for breakfast. I let her know I fully supported your decision to get rid of the bed which made you so uncomfortable. She was very pleased to know you bought us a brand-new bed to share.”

Dimi swallowed hard and heard the hiss from the girls behind her.

“Holy f**k,” Magda whispered behind her. “He called your mother?”

“I am not sharing a bed with you.”

“You have a choice, little wife,” he stepped closer, his predatory smile broadening when she stepped back in reflex. “You sleep in the new bed you bought for us, or I come downstairs and sleep in the bed in the guest room, but either way, we are sharing a bed.” He tapped his wrist, “tick tock, your time for making a choice is ebbing away.”

“No.” She folded her arms over her chest, suddenly wishing she hadn’t drunk the entire quart of vodka.

“Yes. We’re sharing a bed.”

“I’m not having s*x with you!” she yelled furiously.

“Who said anything about s*x? I mean if you want to have s*x and begin practicing baby making, we can but personally I prefer a woman less drunk and more awake.” He leaned close, “you smell like a distillery and your eyes are almost completely shut with exhaustion. I’d prefer you more,” he waved his hand around, “alive for our first time.”

She let out a shriek of rage at his words and then one of terror as he swept her up into his arms. “No. Miklos, put me down.” She punched at his shoulders as he carried her into the house.

“Ladies, I’m sure you’re already set up in whatever rooms Mrs. K put you in. Good night,” he waved over his shoulder

“Wait,” Dimitra screamed, “I’ll sleep upstairs but let me grab my pyjamas and toothbrush. Please. Just put me down so I can grab them.”

“Fine,” he set her on her feet and followed her to the bedroom, grinning at the way she stumbled.

She rubbed her head. She wanted to punch his smirking face. He was too cocky. Why wasn’t he angrier about the bed? “You don’t need to follow me to my room.”

“Yes, I do. And if you think you can lock yourself into the room or the bathroom, you are mistaken. Since we’re renovating the house, a few kicked in doors won’t make a difference to the bottom line now, will they?”

She clenched her fists furiously as she considered he’d read her far too easily. She stepped into the room and immediately her eyes ran to where the boxes of dye sat on the other side of the patio doors. She had put them outside earlier with the intention of dumping them before she went to sleep.

Magda pushed past Miklos and moved in front of the doors, blocking his view. “Hey, if you’re sleeping upstairs can I have this room? The bed is better.”

“Sure,” she couldn’t fight the grin on her face at her friend’s quick thinking. She grabbed her toothbrush and a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She held them up for inspection. “All set. If I’m not down by breakfast, call the police. It means he’s finally snapped and killed me. You know where I’ve left all the evidence.”

“Yup. Thumb drive, safety deposit box.” Magda winked back.

“What evidence,” Miklos growled at them.

“What are you talking about?” Dimi made a face, “nobody said anything about evidence. Which one of us is drunk. Lead the way my soon-to-be-ex-husband!”

“Oh, Dimi,” Magda called out, “catch.” She threw a little controller to her. “You may need that.”

“Thanks!” She tucked it into her waistband of her bikini. Miklos was studying her actions and she worried he’d ask what it was for but instead he had other things on his mind.

“Where did you put your guns?” Miklos asked suddenly.

“Back in my car,” she shrugged and staggered along the hallway before gripping the banister to climb the stairs. She looked up and sighed. It was a long way up. “Couldn’t go down to the gate and talk to the fire brigade fully armed now, could I? It would look suspicious.”

“What did you tell the fire brigade?”

“I showed them my ten fire extinguishers, said I was burning your bed of lies and they left me to it. I also,” she felt his hands upon her shoulders pushing her forward when her body leaned back down the stairs, “gave a blowjob to the fire chief. He was hot.”

“Did you now?” his voice was mocking her. “Where did you learn to do such things? The library has books I suppose?”

“Sure, the library.” She giggled. “Maybe I learned it when I was working in London.”

“When were you working in London?” he was laughing as if she were crazy.

“I was there nearly a year,” she scoffed as she reached the top. “Helped out an IT team with banking infrastructure when their system had been hacked. I was part of the team which rebuilt their firewalls and security system.”

“You’re so full of s**t,” he shook his head at her while she toddled down the hall in the direction of his bedroom. “Your imagination is something else. Your ability to spin a yarn is extraordinary. First hacking and the FBI and now working in foreign countries. You forget little wife; I’ve had you watched for the last eight years. I’ve known your every movement.”

She ignored his comment and entered his bedroom clapping excitedly. “I forgot how pretty it is! I love it!” She ran and jumped onto the bed excitedly. “I want this side!”

He frowned at her as if he had expected her to fight him more on his request, they share a bed. With deliberate movements she dropped her t-shirt on her lap and without any evidence of embarrassment undid her bikini top, completely exposing herself to him before pulling the top over her head. Hearing him curse in Greek made her cover her face with her hair as she reached to put the controller, her phone and toothbrush on the nightstand. Kneeling on the bed, she wriggled out of the bikini bottoms and then squirmed into the shorts.

The slamming of the bathroom door made her laugh with glee. Inside she was blushing a hundred different shades of red at how brazen she was being. For as long as she could remember she had lusted after him. Knowing she had just returned the favor, even minutely, was thrilling. Tomorrow when the alcohol was no longer as equally distributed as b***d in her system, she would likely be mortified. Tonight, she felt brave and powerful.

She knew he wouldn’t touch her when she was drunk but it didn’t mean she couldn’t f**k with him. She had felt the heat of his gaze on her a*s the entire time they’d climbed the stairs to the room, and she’d deliberately leaned backward against him. She lifted the edge of the bright pink duvet and slid into the bed. The sheets were pink satin, and she considered she’d have to be careful not to slide out of the bed it was so slippery. She reached her hands upward and trailed them over the fuzzy pink headboard and giggled loudly.

The door opening made her flick her gaze to the bedroom door and her breath hitched. He was wearing nothing, but a pair of boxer briefs and her tongue darted out of her mouth to wet her suddenly arid lips. A reminder of how he’d looked in the morning diving into the pool stark naked made her shiver and she caught the cocky smirk on his lips. He knew she would like what he had on display. What heterosexual woman wouldn’t?

He was carved and taut with dips and turns so sharp you could slice your tongue trailing the paths which disappeared beneath the lowly slung briefs. The way he filled out the front of his garments reminded her of Magda shaking the box of condoms earlier and notifying them they weren’t a size small. She sighed regretfully. If only she didn’t have morals. She looked back to his face as he strolled into the room. His hand reached out and plunged them into darkness hitting the wall.

“What a waste,” she clucked her tongue as she rolled to her side away from where he climbed into the bed.

“What’s a waste?” he asked before jumping back out of the bed. “What the f**k are the sheets made of?”

“Satin,” she giggled.

“Why did you get rid of the cotton sheets?”

“Because they had the stains of your o*****s all over them. These are prettier.”

His breath escaped his lungs like a furious storm, “your language and your tongue are filthy. Was your dorm a brothel?”

“Dorm? I stopped living in my dorm after first Christmas break. The girls and I got an apartment off campus.”

“Sure.” He ignored her comment. “Your imagination since you’ve been home is beyond what I remember from when you were younger. You used to tell tall tales, but this is next level. FBI, apartments, London, hacking.”

“It’s all true,” she laughed as she slid her hand under the pillow and pulled it closer to her cheek, snuggling in. “You think I’m a little protected flower, but I’ve lived far more than you would ever believe.”

“If you had lived so much, I would know.” He reached out and grabbed her and pulled her protesting backwards.

“Let me go. You said no s*x.”

“I didn’t say no cuddling.”

“I don’t want to cuddle with you.”

“You’ve wanted to cuddle with me since you were thirteen and I was twenty. It’s why you caused a fight between the girls.”

“Not true.”

“It is true.” He yawned loudly as he wrapped his arms around her middle and held her captive to him.

“Let me go.”

“You got rid of my body pillow,” he argued. “You’ll have to be a stand in.”

“Her name was Eve, not body pillow.”

“Eve never slept in the bed,” he grunted. “She slept across the hall in the spare room. We might have f****d in here but the only person who ever slept in my bed was me.”

“You’re weird.”

“Not really,” he yawned again, “door is locked so nobody can come in and try to kill me when I sleep.”

“I might.”

“Have at it. If you assault me, I get to spank you in retaliation and I would relish it after the day we’ve had. Between the display in church and burning my furniture, which is a travesty, and I will never forgive you for, and then getting drunk and parading around in nothing around my security team, you are in trouble, Mrs. Laskaris. You will be punished but I need you sober for it.”

“Is this why my mom is coming for breakfast?”

“No, your mom is coming for breakfast because it’s been a long time since we were together as a family. She misses you.”

She was quiet for a moment, “she looked unwell today.”

He sighed at her words, “she has had a rough go lately.”

“You think? Her husband f****d himself to death and his nurse brought him back to life with the same lips she used to suck his d**k. My mother had to stand there and watch a half naked woman perform CPR on her husband and then take the credit for reviving him.”

“What would you have had her do? Only the nurse knew what to do.”

“I would have let him die.” Her words were cold and ruthless.

Evidently, he was surprised by her harsh comment because he said nothing. She questioned his silence, “Are you telling me in her shoes, you wouldn’t have let him die?”

“I cannot comment on the relationship of your parents.”

“Why does everyone give me the same lame-a*s answer. It’s bullshit and you know it. If I’d been mama, I’d have beat the woman into the ground and let them both die together.”

“You are not so cold, kopelia mou. They have been married forty years.”

“I am not your little one.” She retorted blandly, “and I am so cold. They might be married forty years, but he’s been cheating on her thirty-nine years with anyone who will part their knees. Did you think I did not hear the fights growing up? Did you think I didn’t watch her heart break when he would go to the clubs for work and come home at dawn with lipstick on his neck? My mother who never wore a bit of makeup in her life because he insisted it makes her appear a w***e, had to watch as he once came home at breakfast after being out all night with lipstick on his d**k. I heard them fighting while I sat in my bedroom willing it to stop.”

“It is not your relationship. You do not have to like it, but you must respect it is theirs to do with as they wish.”

“You’re right. It is theirs but it taught me a valuable lesson. I will never be with a man who would treat me so poorly. On my wedding day my mother told me I would have to learn to turn the other cheek to be your wife. What a laugh. I would not degrade myself.”

“Your mother said that to you?”

“She did. It was the first time. It wasn’t the last. We all know you are his double.”

Dimi felt his hands tighten warningly on her h**s at her words, but she was too drunk and too far gone to care now. “You are no different, Miklos. You have no regard for women. Our marriage might be a farce and not worth the ink on the marriage certificate, but your treatment of women is no better than his. You run roughshod, taking what you want, throwing away what you don’t. Even if our marriage had been real and valid and had we consummated it in Greece, you still would have taken lovers. If tomorrow I agreed to do what Papa demands and what you are suggesting and make this a real marriage, you would have a mistress by the end of the week.”

“That is not true.”

“No? Tonight, at the club, you were there three hours maybe? How many women did you dance with? How many put their lips to your ear, to your throat? How many pressed their breasts to you trying to get as close to you as possible?”

At his silence she pursed her lips, “just as I thought. You have the image to uphold. Playboy billionaire with the world at his fingertips, making women come on command.” She snorted with disgust, “the only difference between Miklos and Vasili is in his heyday he was a millionaire. You have infinitely more money at your disposal.”

“What would you have me do?” He asked quietly, his breath near her ear as he adjusted closer to her.

The heat of his chest pressed against the thin cotton of her t-shirt, and she hated herself for how much she felt just with the simple act of him holding her. “If you have to ask then I know my decisions to leave this family are correct.”

“It is not so simple, my little wife,” he reached a hand up and brushed her hair off her cheek. “We have a contract. A legal and binding agreement. Have you forgotten?”

“Do you think I even know what was written on the agreement? My father forced me to sign it. For all I know it says my b***d is to be sacrificed to the dragons in a volcano in repayment to the devil for something he sold his soul for. I was not even permitted to read it. I don’t have a copy.”

“If we divorce before your thirtieth birthday, then I forfeit all my interests in the company.”

“How unfortunate for you.”

“You also lose every penny in your trust funds coming to you when you turn thirty. I have personally managed those funds, my little wife. It is a lot of money.”

“I don’t need it.”

“A child between us will double your inheritance.”

“I would not bear your child for all the money in the world,” she whispered and felt his hand drop away from where he played with her hand. “I will not bring a child into this family only for him to grow up to be a mini version of his father and grandfather. I would sooner be barren the rest of my life than create a child like either of you.”

As he rolled away from her, she knew her words had hit their intended mark. She slipped as far away from him in the bed as she could and fought the tears of guilt sliding down her cheeks. This was for the best, she reminded herself. The more she repeated her intentions aloud, the firmer her resolve would be.

They had never had a real marriage. It was a contract on a piece of paper about dollars and cents. Love, respect, and commitment were not in the cards for her if she stayed with him. If ever she wanted to be loved and respected, it had to be with someone who was not part of the life.

She clutched her pillow tight to her as she heard him sigh next to her.

“Dimitra, I will prove to you, I am not the man you think I am.”

“You have already proven you are,” she replied bitterly. “You have spent eight years pretending I don’t exist.”

“You were a child.”

“In your eyes, perhaps but I have not been a child for a very long time. My innocence was snuffed out of me when my father made me kill my first mark at thirteen. Out of all the darkness my childhood held, there was always one person who brought me brightness.” She felt the lump in her throat expand as the vodka acted as a truth serum, “one person who made me laugh, dried my tears, and helped me forget everything I had to do to survive my family. You considered yourself my big brother, thought it babysitting but you were my savior Miklos and when I needed you most, when I was most afraid and most vulnerable, you abandoned me.”

“Dimitra.” He protested her words.

“You left me,” she whispered into the quiet of the night.

“You were the one who went to Boston. The one constant in my life and you up and left for another state on the other side of the country.” His tone was accusatory.

She heard the anger behind his words and shook her head and rolled back onto her back, her arm tucked under her head, in the replicate pose he had taken. He wasn’t putting this on her. “I applied to MIT while we were on our honeymoon. When you left me all alone in Greece to go to party in one of Pop’s clubs with the girls and I could smell their perfume on you from down the beach.”

“Your father gave me an order to replace a mole while we were there. It was a vacation for you. It was work for me.” He exhaled loudly, “you were too young to understand.”

“You were angry at being forced to marry me. You were angry at having to go to Crete. You were angry at the situation we were in. Instead of acting like the adult you keep saying you were, you left me alone and transformed right in front of my eyes to the one man I despise. Not once did you say I shouldn’t go to Boston. You wanted rid of me as bad as I needed to escape. You will not gaslight me into believing any of this is my fault.”

They lay in uncomfortable silence both staring at the ceiling. Finally, she spoke again, just before sleep claimed her. “I want a divorce, Miklos. Set me free.”

“No.”

“I will keep asking until you concede.”

“Do as you must.”

She closed her eyes as drunken slumber pulled her into the dark abyss of nightmares. When she began thrashing in her sleep from memories awakened by their talk, strong arms comforted her, and she curled into the heat of the man holding her. Lost in her dreams she did not hear his whispered apologies nor his vow to make everything right. If she had, her resolve might have been lost.