Luciano: Lovers-to-Enemies-to-Lovers Mafia Romance (Belles & Mobsters)
Luciano: Chapter 9

I had to admire my wife’s resourcefulness. I couldn’t remember the last time someone slipped through my fingers and got this far. Oh wait, yes, I could. It was my wife then too! The last time she disappeared, her family smuggled her out of the country without a trace. She vanished right out from under my nose.

I had to get my connection in the police to get me off the island and have them follow her discreetly from the moment she stepped foot off that ferry. One thing Grace didn’t know was that I had connections to pretty much all the authorities in Sicily. I watched her with passport in hand and a carry-on bag, her son in her arms. Her friend had a carry-on bag too. I was curious to know where they kept their stuff since they never went back to their house. I couldn’t help but be a little impressed. My wife was prepared in the event I ever found her. She had come a long way from being my naive, trusting wife.

However, I wouldn’t repeat the mistake and let her slip through my fingers. If I have to chain her to me, I would. Or even better, maybe her son. Because I knew without a doubt, she would never leave without him. He would be my leverage.

“Your plane is ready, Mr. Vitale.”

“Good.” I headed towards my wife, with Massimo and Mario, one of my local bodyguards, and two police officers. She was ready to board a plane for South Africa.

Fucking South Africa!

What did she think she’d do in South Africa?

Yeah, never gonna happen.

I strode towards her, coming up right behind her. Even now, I admired her graceful back as she held her son in her arms.

“Going somewhere, wife?” I asked her, in a mocking tone, towering right behind her.

She jumped, a startled whimper leaving her mouth. She turned around to face me, her son wrapped in her arms watching back and forth between his mother and me. I watched her face pale a few shades again, her eyes filled with terror and surprise. It seemed to be her only response to me. She feared me, as she should.

I should have felt regret, sorrow, but I didn’t. I felt nothing but satisfaction that I got her. She was going to fucking leave me, like dust, behind her. Without a backward glance. Now that I had her, she wouldn’t have a chance to escape. She’d be under my clutches till I was done with her.

“My plane is ready,” I told her, my voice cold and unwavering. “You will be boarding with us.”

“No.” That was twice in a day she refused me.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll make a scene,” she threatened, her eyes darting around the airport.

“You can, but it won’t matter,” I warned her. “The police here work for me. Make a scene, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder then carry you into my plane. Or even better, I’ll take your kid and leave you behind.”

She knew I was serious. I wasn’t in the habit of making empty threats.

“We don’t want to go anywhere with you,” she hissed.

“I don’t give a shit about what you three want. But I know you are coming with me. Or maybe I’ll drag your kid with me and allow you to follow like a dog.”

Her eyes flashed in anger and hate. “Asshole,” she muttered.

I watched her weigh all her possibilities, her facial expression changing. The moment she resigned herself to the realization she had no other choice, I could see it in her eyes. I smirked; it took her long enough. But resignation wasn’t the only thing lingering in her violet gaze; there was fury and detest in there too.

Pure hate. I would know; after all I was intimately familiar with the feeling.

“Fine,” she spat out. She shared a glance with Ella, then a quick nod by my wife. Those two would give us problems; I had no doubt about it. “But Ella stays with us the entire time. Even when we get back to the States.”

I should tell her no. She doesn’t get to set rules. I wanted to punish her; make her regret ever going against me.

“If not, you might as well kill us all now,” my wife added in a false bravado. There was a hint of fear in it but also something telling me she meant it.

“Fine, she can stay with us.” Fuck, did those words just leave my mouth? She’d always had this effect on me; made me want to do right by her. Till she burned me and stabbed me in the back.

“Thank you.” Her gratitude surprised me. I didn’t expect it, probably didn’t deserve it either. Her voice was small, and she tore her gaze away from me and gave her friend a small nod in a silent agreement.

I could always take the offer back, I assured myself. It wasn’t as if I owed my wife anything.

We strode towards the gate that would take us outside and to my own private plane. Mario led the way, the two women after him with Massimo and I following behind. I wouldn’t risk her escaping again.

I watched my wife’s rigid back as she walked in front of me. Her son kept peeking over her shoulder at me. He didn’t look anything like his mother. He babbled something to his mother and Grace’s posture immediately changed.

“In a little bit,” she murmured softly to his unknown question. The loud engine of the airplanes was the only noise surrounding us while we walked towards the steps of my plane, Vitale Enterprise.

My wife’s step faltered and she stopped right before taking the first step. I saw desperation and tears glistening in her breathtaking eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Always so stubborn. Ella was half way up. Seeing Grace falter, she paused too. The two friends locked their eyes, unspoken words but understanding in them.

She turned to face me. “Why do we need to come?”

I jerked my head at Massimo to let him know to keep on going. I could handle my wife. He climbed up the stairs and nudged her friend into the plane.

“First, because you are my wife,” I told her.

“I want a divorce,” she cut me off. I ground my molars to keep my cool. “Leave us here. I know you said divorce doesn’t happen in your world. But annulment does.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I need something from you first.” I need to fuck you out of my system and bring down your entire family. I kept those words wisely to myself. “And in order to get an annulment, your physical presence is needed in the U.S.”

Fuck, I hoped that was true. I was making shit up as I went. Her eyebrows scrunched as she processed my words.

“All our possessions are here,” she muttered. “All my son’s toys. Everything.” We locked gazes. “You could leave us so we can at least pack properly.”

God, she really thought I was an idiot. She’d disappear, and it would take me another three years to replace her. If I was lucky.

“No. I already have one of my local men packing up your stuff. It should be right behind us.”

She let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’ll give you whatever you want.” My cock stirred to life at her offer to give me whatever I wanted. If she only knew! “I’ll sign any paperwork, tell you anything. Please, Luciano. Leave us here.”

“You are starting to piss me off, Grace,” I gritted instead. She was so good at tearing down my control. I was half tempted to bend her over, right here and fuck her. But her son was in her arms. Fuck! “Get on the plane.”

“Aereo, Mamma,” her son babbled.

She took a deep, resigned breath. “Yep, plane.” I placed my hand on her lower back and nudged her up the stairs. She quickly smacked my hand away. “I got it, thank you.”

Lovely, she couldn’t even stand my touch, and I was ready to pounce on her. Years of jerking off with only images of my wife to help me replace release finally caught up to me. This homecoming was worse than I could have imagined.

The second she entered the cabin, Ella quickly stood up and headed her way. “Are you okay?”

Grace nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. If looks could kill, my dear wife would have had me dead already.

“Hello, Mr. Vitale,” the stewardess greeted us. “Would you and your guests like some drinks?”

“Yes, thank you. The usual.” I would need to get drunk to survive this transatlantic flight with my wife on board. Otherwise, I might drag her into the back of the plane by her hair and fuck her senseless.

“And you ladies?” she asked our guests.

Grace and Ella just shook their heads.

“And who are you?” The stewardess cooed Grace’s son. “Would you like some milk or juice?”

The boy looked from the stewardess to his mother, questioning in his eyes.

“Whichever you want, Matteo,” she murmured.

I covered my surprise. Matteo was my father’s name. Not that she called my father by his first name. Initially she kept calling him Mr. Vitale and gradually changed it to Dad. It must be a coincidence. Matteo was a very common name in Italy. Was that the name of the boy’s father?

“Succo,” Matteo answered the stewardess. She looked in confusion at Grace and then me.

“He’ll have juice,” I told her.

Grace turned her back to me, then headed with Ella and her son to the furthest corner of the plane and sat themselves there. Massimo and I shared a look. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if they could run anywhere, unless they planned to jump out of the plane.

The stewardess was back with all our drinks.

“I brought you two ladies some water, just in case,” she told Grace and Ella.

“Thanks,” they both murmured, taking the bottled water.

I couldn’t help but watch my wife. She seemed different somehow. More confident, stronger, more beautiful. Although that hair would have to go. I loved her natural hair color. Not that it should matter to me at all.

The moment she had another man’s child, our marriage was history.

No, the moment you pulled the trigger, your marriage was history.

I shoved my conscience away. I didn’t need it, didn’t want it. She wanted an annulment. I should want it too. She meant nothing to me. Then why did it bother me to think of her marrying someone else? It would be the only reason she would want a divorce or annulment. The whole marriage with her started wrong, the means for revenge against her family.

And that need for revenge wasn’t gone. I would use her, for revenge and to drag her back into my bed. I had to get her out of my system somehow.

I watched her with her son as the plane ascended into the air, murmuring soft words to him I couldn’t hear. I recalled how she insisted on not having kids during those short months we were married. She certainly didn’t mind having a child with another man right away. I wanted to hunt him down and slice his throat for daring to touch something that wasn’t his. Fuck, I wanted to torture the man, nice and long, and see light extinguish from his eyes for ever seeing my woman flush with orgasm. The bitterness in my veins was like poison.

Her fingers stroke her son’s hair softly, her whispers soft. I watched the boy’s eyes droop and the moment we were up in the air, he fell asleep, his head on his mother’s lap.

I turned my gaze away, grinding my teeth. Instead, I caught Massimo watching Gabriella. He had a crush on her before they disappeared. I imagined he probably still did.

Yeah, good luck with that.

I would have to assign Roberto to keep an eye on the women, although that didn’t sit well with me either. Grace was a beautiful woman, and Roberto didn’t have a woman. He knew if he even thought of touching her, he’d be a dead man.

I trusted Massimo unconditionally. He was family, a true blood relative. But he would think with his dick. So would I. We needed someone with no skin in the game to keep an eye on them, so they wouldn’t slip through our fingers again.

Although I refused to look my wife’s way for the rest of the trip, I sensed her the entire time. I could hear the two of them speaking in hushed voices, and I had no doubt they were planning an escape.