The Don and His Russian Bride

XIII

"Would you stop tapping your foot?"

    He could've said his final goodbyes at the mansion and sent me away without ever seeing me again. Instead, he climbed into the backseat of the car to sit with me during the ride. If this were any other day, I would tap my foot louder. Except I couldn't. Not when this would be our last day together.

    I answered Luciano by resting my foot flat against the floor. Houses passed by the window in a blur as we sped on our way to meet with my father. Having to keep still while riding in the car felt like torture. I began tapping my fingers against my cheek in a steady rhythm.

    "Why are you so jittery? I thought this is what you wanted."

    I turned my head to see Luciano's stony expression, which gave nothing away as he observed me. Feeling as though he could see right through me— to my deepest emotions— I cleared my throat. My voice came out as clear and stern as I hoped for, "It is."

    Luciano nodded his head. He could sense my nerves were bigger than I was letting on, but was willing to drop it. I, on the other hand, couldn't keep myself quiet.

    "Are you really going to let me go?"

    "Why wouldn't I?" His brows furrowed in confusion as if to say, What does it look like I'm doing?

    I straightened my back and adjusted my position on the seat to face him. "I've been begging you for weeks to take me back home. It doesn't feel like it should be this easy."

    "I don't know what else to do. Clearly, the only way I can stop hurting you is by taking you home."

    His words were like a sledgehammer to my heart. I dug my fingernails into my palms to test if my senses were still working. Just yesterday morning, I had wanted nothing more than to get as far away from Luciano as possible. But now that he was trying to do the right thing, I found myself wishing for him to fight harder for me. The unfairness of it all struck me. As soon as Luciano began to show me the kind husband he could be, we would part ways.

    My thoughts turned to what would happen after we separated. Would he file for an annulment, as if our marriage never happened? Would he forget about me and choose another woman to be his wife? The questions that came to mind had me hoping I could get one more answer from Luciano before I left him for good.

    "Why me?" I asked under my breath.

    "What?" He whipped his head to the side to face me. He looked uncertain of whether he heard me correctly or if I said anything at all.

    I raised my voice to offer more clarity. "I asked you once before why you chose me, but you never answered. There's no point in keeping it a secret any longer. Out of all the women you could've married, why me?"

    Luciano let out a deep exhale and rubbed at his stubbled chin as he considered how to approach the subject. He made his next words concise. "You're the daughter of a Russian mobster."

    "True. What does that have to do with anything?"

    "I explained to you the other day how I never wanted to become Don Martelli, like my father. This life is too dangerous for the family I've always desired. I swore to myself I would never drag a person, especially a woman or children, into the mafia the way I was. It's selfish... but loneliness has been eating away at me for years."

    I ached for the boy with a puppy who turned cold and unreachable all this time to protect innocent people. On the outside, it seemed like he had everything anyone could ever want, from his muscular body to his million dollar mansion. But he didn't have everything. He sacrificed his family and his dream for a job he never asked for. I pushed down the instinct to reach out to him so I could listen to him further.