Chapter 7 - A Married Couple's Disagreement

Immediately, a new message appeared from the unknown caller. "I'm your husband." Elena let out a sigh of relief. That made sense—Mr. Fabio had probably given him her number. So no one in the mafia knew her real phone number, and she wasn't talking to anyone dangerous. Elena smiled and began typing out an apology message, but her husband sent another message. "You said you were busy, so I will be brief. I wish to divorce." That caught Elena off guard, knocking her smile right off. "Sorry," she typed out, "but can I ask why?" She debated leaving it there but decided to double-text. When talking to practically a stranger, she wanted to make sure the ambiguity of her tone didn't lead her husband to misconstrue her meaning. "I mean, if that's what you really want, I won't object. But your grandfather made it sound like you really wanted a wife, and we haven't even met once, so I don't understand why you're calling it quits already." Three dots in a row let Elena know her husband was typing a reply. It took another two minutes before it was sent to her. "I am not entirely opposed to married life, but I do not wish to be married to a promiscuous woman. The noise from your apartment was unmistakable." "I have no desire to sully the relationship between you and my grandfather—I doubt he would even believe me if I told him about his guardian angel's s****l appetite," he continued. "But I would not have agreed to this marriage if I knew this about you. Therefore, I would like us to divorce as soon as possible." Elena squinted at the message in confusion. So her husband had stopped by in person, or at least got to the right floor before he left? She must've still been at work. "I think you heard my roommate," Elena confessed. "I also work odd hours like you, so when she's alone with a man, she can forget about our neighbors." "I called this number a few hours ago," her husband replied. "You were with a man then." "I got called into work early and forgot my phone. My roommate answered while she was on a date. I'm sorry if she was rude, by the way—she's normally really nice." "Was she on a date with the same man who visited her at your apartment?" "Honestly, I have no idea." The conversation stalled, but only for a minute. Elena's phone buzzed as her husband sent a new message. "I am unsure whether to believe you. I have only your word to go on." Elena considered her husband's words. If she were in his shoes, she'd probably be hesitant, too. Despite giving Aria's s*x life a pass, Elena wasn't sure she'd be able to settle down with a man as wild as Aria in that respect. Add in the fact that his grandfather no doubt talked Elena up a lot, and Elena could see where he was coming from. She could, admittedly, agree to the divorce. She didn't want to be married to a man who didn't want her—that would be a recipe for disaster. But she also felt bad about breaking her promise to Mr. Fabio. And a tiny, selfish part of her wanted to be married a little longer just in case Don Morello really was still looking for her. If her government records still said she was married, the don would no doubt assume she wasn't a virgin. There'd be no way someone as prideful and arrogant as him would want someone's leftovers. Elena frowned at the thought. Would staying married make her just as manipulative and awful as the crime lord? If so, she'd rather take her chances as a divorcee than end up further tainted by the mafia life. She started to type, saying that she'd divorce him if her husband really wanted her to. But rather than thinking of her own peril, Elena recalled Mr. Fabio. The old man had talked about his grandson a lot, both before and after her marriage to him. Mr. Fabio didn't hesitate to call attention to his flaws, but he also clearly cared deeply for him. Elena could only imagine how upset he'd be upon hearing about his grandson's divorce. Elena deleted her message. She typed out a new one. "How about this: let's meet up in person and clear up this misunderstanding. Then we can decide what to do." As she hit send, Elena yawned. She really needed to go to bed. "Hey, Aria," Elena called into the kitchen, "mind if I take that tea to my room. I don't think I can stay up for another minute—I'll pass out." Massimo sat in his office. Instead of doing valuable work, he was staring at his phone. "Don Massimo," Luca called out, "would you like me to stop my report here?" Massimo didn't look up. "No. Continue." The good thing about Luca was that he didn't push Massimo on anything trivial. He didn't complain about Massimo's mood or pester him for explanations. It was one the reasons Massimo found his second-in-command so valuable. Luca continued as if nothing had happened. "I'm sure you're aware, but the criminal empire is unstable right now. I think the Pesci family's actions last night are symptomatic of that instability." Massimo agreed with the sentiment. It seemed like all the mafia families were testing the waters lately, seeing how much they could get away with. Seeing if they could end up on top. Luca hesitated for a moment. "And the matter of your lack of heir is not helping the situation." Massimo looked up from his phone and abandoned it on his desk. He sat up straighter. "I think the issue of a traitor within the Ferraro family is more pressing, soldier," Massimo said coldly. Unfortunately, Luca was in his position because he wasn't easily cowed—not even by his own boss. He didn't even flinch or blink at the outburst. Massimo realized Luca had probably expected such a reaction They had been working together for a while, so Massimo knew, on some level, that it shouldn't be surprising that Luca could anticipate his actions. Massimo reminded himself that he knew Luca's own nervous ticks, like thumbing a bullet before loading it into his gun or digging his nails into his palms. Their relationship was a two-way street. Still, Massimo couldn't help but feel uneasy at the revelation Luca could predict his actions. If there was one thing a don could not be, it was predictable. Predictable was only one step away from manipulable. And manipulable was only one step away from dead. "Don Massimo," Luca said with the perfect amount of subservient stubbornness, "while you are correct that finding the traitor is a high priority, stabilizing your position as Don of All Dons is more important. If you're killed, your power would fall into anyone's hands, even the traitor within your own circle. You have worked too hard for me to allow such a possibility, sir." "What are you proposing then?" Massimo asked. "I'm proposing that your grandfather is right—you need to be married and have an heir. And while you're legally married, we both know you're not really married. Not yet." "So," Luca continued, walking up to the edge of his boss' desk, "I'm proposing that you meet this woman in person." "You were there the last time I met her," Massimo spat through his teeth. "You didn't go into her apartment and you didn't actually see her," Luca countered, "so maybe she's a slut or maybe she's a saint. You'll only know for certain if you actually talk to her and get to know her. Then you can decide yourself whether she should be the Mafia King's partner and all that entails." Massimo recognized that it was a good idea. But such a realization also soured his mood. Massimo hated dealing in gray areas. "What if she's with the traitor?" Luca paused for a moment. That was another thing about Luca: he didn't speak or act rashly. "According to Mr. Fabio, she doesn't know you're part of the mafia at all. So you could hide your identity until about halfway through your meeting and then reveal it," Luca suggested. "Based on her reaction, you should be able to tell if she's lying—or if she's up for ruling the mafia world." Massimo hummed. It was a good plan, and he was out of holes to poke in Luca's reasoning. So Massimo picked up his phone and sent his wife a message. "Let's meet Tuesday at the Incantevole Hotel, 9pm." His phone alerted him to the fact his message was read, but even after several minutes, he did not receive a reply.