Becoming the Street Boss - Hayley Faiman Page 0,63

make myself look as presentable as possible to see the judge for the first time. This judge is going to determine what happens to me from this moment on.

Do I stay here, or do I get to go home?

Walking into the courtroom, my eyes find Salvatore and I smirk at him. He grins, shifting is gaze behind him. My eyes follow his gaze and my heart stops beating in my chest at the sight of my wife sitting behind him.

Rage fills my body.

She shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want her to see me like this. Not ever. She gives me a sad smile, but I look away, ignoring her. Taking my seat next to Salvatore, I narrow my eyes on him.

“What the fuck?” I hiss.

“She wanted to know what she could do to help,” he says with a shrug of his shoulder.

I shake my head once. “You think I want her here? For this?”

“She’s your wife, Mass,” he informs me, as if I don’t fucking know.

“For less than a week, Sal. She doesn’t know shit about the life, not really. She needs to be at home.”

Salvatore opens his mouth to speak, but the bailiff announces that the judge is entering and demands that we all rise. Neither one of us speaks again as we stand to our feet. The judge walks up to his bench and dips his chin as he sits down. We’re told we can sit, so we follow suit.

“Mr. Ferrucci, you have been charged with one count of racketeering and one count of extortion. Do you understand these charges?”

Standing, Salvatore does the same next to me. “Yes, Your Honor, I do.” I don’t want to be charged with shit, but I understand what I’ve been charged with.

“Your Honor, if I may,” the federal prosecutor says, speaking loudly. The judge drops his chin slightly to give her the go ahead. “We are requesting that the defendant be remanded without bail until his arraignment.”

“Your Honor, my client has no criminal record. He would gladly hand over his passport until the arraignment, but he isn’t a flight risk. He’s a newlywed and wishes to go home to his bride.”

There is a moment of silence, and the judge lifts his head from his papers, looking up to me. “Is that true, Mr. Ferrucci? Are you a newlywed?”

Shifting my gaze to Salvatore, he nods his head once encouraging me to speak. Looking back at the judge, I give him a small smile. “Yes, Your Honor, my wife is right behind me, sir. We were married last Friday.”

The judge’s eyes shift from my face to Pippa behind me. He lifts his hand, motioning for her to stand and come forward. I can feel her walk up behind me, her presence is so welcome, and I wish that it wasn’t.

I wish that I wasn’t as drawn to her as I am, that I didn’t want her so bad all of the damn time, that I wasn’t falling for my wife.

“You’re married to Mr. Ferrucci?” the judge asks.

Pippa clears her throat, her sweet voice washes over me and I wonder how I would be able to survive being separated from her for thirty fucking years? I wouldn’t, and there’s no way I would ask her to wait for me that long. But how would I even give her permission to go elsewhere? I’d have any fucker who touched her taken out.

“Yes, Your Honor, I am.”

The judge shakes his head once as if he’s disappointed in her. “You’re too young to have your life ruined by a man like this. I suggest you file for divorce, cut your losses, and run. If you need help, there are plenty of people who will help you with the necessary paperwork.”

I hear a couple of people gasp behind us, but I ignore them. My eyes narrow into slits as I stare at this overreaching fucking judge. He’s done. He’s just signing his fucking death wish. I’m not going to stand for this shit.

A man does not tell another man’s wife, in front of him or ever, to file for a goddamn divorce. I bite my tongue, but swear to fuck it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

The judge’s head shifts to face the federal prosecutor. “I will grant your request for remand. Though, I do realize that it’s a bit unprecedented as Mr. Ferrucci doesn’t have a criminal record. I feel as though this time apart will give his wife the freedom she needs to save