but that was necessary. She had no head for fashion, and he had an image to uphold. If he wasn’t the heir to her father’s little Mafia ring, then he might not care if she continued to run around in shorts and flip flops, but he was.
Marie paused, a cup of coffee held stiffly in her hands, as a new idea occurred to her. She was the only child of Nick Alfonsi. Celeste had chosen Matteo because he was her nephew, no relation at all to Nick. Wasn’t Marie entitled to some of that inheritance, though? Wasn’t she the one that should be the head of this “family”?
The inner workings of such organizations weren’t something Marie knew much about, her mother had hated anything to do with the Mafia, and that included books and movies. Most of that was fiction, anyway, but it would have given her an idea if nothing else. Celeste ran the business now, so it was apparent a woman could be the head of the family.
Marie knew why she wasn’t, why Celeste had left her with her mother and taken her own blood relative in as the heir. She was the bastard daughter of an affair - illicit and illegitimate. She was a reminder of what Nick had done, and Celeste hadn’t wanted her around. Which made her worry. What would she do when she found out Matteo had married the one woman that would be a constant reminder of what Nick had done?
That sent a chill down her spine, one so strong she nearly shivered in the warm café. Matteo would keep her safe, she knew he would. He’d become distant since their marriage, he didn’t speak to her about a lot of things, he wasn’t as curious about her as he used to be, but she suspected some of that was her own fault.
He had forced her into this and she resented it. She’d presented a cold front to him those first few days after he’d revealed the truth to her. Matteo was simply returning what she’d given off to him. They’d both warm-up, given time. She didn’t know if there would ever truly be love in their marriage, but there could be caring affection. There was certainly desire, by the buckets.
Would he ever take her seriously enough to let her help with the family business, she wondered? Once Celeste was gone, off to Italy or whatever her plans were, would Matteo let her have some say in what should be hers, anyway?
It was a new idea, intriguing even. If Celeste let her live, that is.
Marie gulped and took a sip of her coffee to calm her nerves. Maybe she should take some self-defense lessons. She’d try to talk to him about it all, at some point before they left. They had a little more time, so maybe not tonight.
She drove home with her purchases and carried them up to her bedroom. She still had her own room, and that was fine. She didn’t sleep there, it was mainly a place for her to store her clothes, and she had her own bathroom over there. She’d go there sometimes, when Matteo was out, and read a book in bed, or have a nap, but she slept with him every night. He’d asked her to, after that first night after their wedding.
He liked to have her with him while he was asleep, he’d admitted with a red tint to his cheeks. He slept better. She hadn’t pushed him away or laughed, she’d simply nodded her head in agreement and turned to spoon up against him. He could be sensitive at the most unexpected moments.
She put her purchases away, went down to find some packages had been delivered, and found several brand-new, designer suitcases big enough to hold most of her new wardrobe. They were all for her and more were on the way. She’d need them to pack all of her new clothes. This reminder that she would soon be leaving her hometown, a town she’d never left for long, brought on a quiet case of melancholia.
She went outside, now dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a long flannel shirt that came down to her knees, and sat on the back patio with a cup of coffee. It was quiet here, as it had been at the house she grew up in. If you didn’t count the sound of the wind in the trees and the call of animals in the distance.
Matteo