Chapter 6

'I am coming for you and your pretty new bride. Watch your back, blood will be spilled.' The words had been the first thing that I had thought of when I had suddenly become conscious again. What had happened? Was I dreaming? Did Giovanni really just shoot a man in cold blood? It is now becoming clear to me that he is not the man I thought him to be, he was keeping something from me.

Who did I marry?

I slowly started to open my eyes, wincing at the pain I had on my head.

"Evelina, are you okay, mio amore?" A deep voice wittily spoke to me as they kneeled down by my side. I panicked and quickly moved to the other side of the room, stumbling as I shot up by the dizziness. Surely I didn't hit my head that hard.

"Get away from me." I said.

"Please, let me explain. It's not what you think." Giovanni pleaded and walked closer to me. Only I moved back and threw the closet thing I could yet my hands, which surprisingly was a gold vase. "What the hell, Evelina!" He shouted but there was a slight laugh to his voice, but I wasn't laughing – I was scared lax

"It's not what I think? So I just imagined watching you carry out a cold blooded murder – and don't you dare smirk at me, this is not the least bit funny!" I screamed and tried reaching for something else but I was too slow as Giovanni quickly threw me over his shoulder, holding me tight.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked worriedly.

"Someone is here to see you." He said as he roughly forced the door open, holding me tighter. Through the mirror I saw the side of his face. He had a stone cold expression, which made me all the more nervous.

"I want to go back to New York." I said quietly as tears ran down my face.

"You will be doing no such thing, you are my wife, you are to stay with me at all times."

"I want a divorce then," I said trying to get out of his grip, "I don't want to be married to a murderer."

He radiated an aura that screamed danger. He placed me down on the floor, and roughly pushed me against the wall. When our eyes met, I could only see anger in them, they weren't calm at all. He was different from the man I had first came to Sicily with. But now I am starting to see that the man I married was a fake.

"Don't ever say that again, do you hear me?" He said lowly and roughly as he grabbed my face softly. Deep down I knew there was no escaping. I've stepped through a door with no way to get back out, but the worse thing was that I still wanted him in ways – and I hated myself for that. He looked at me some more before leading me to his office, and to no surprise, there sat Francesca and Giancarlo.

"Francesca, what is going on?" I asked looking at my friend who seemed as calm as could be.

"Sit down, Lina. I will explain everything. The men will leave the room." She smiled warmly and nodded at our husbands. As Giovanni shut the door, I soon heard a lock click into place afterwards. That bastard really locked me in.

"Giovanni! Unlock the door right now, you son of a bitch!" I shouted as I banged on the door.

"You don't mean that, mio amore. Please, just listen to Francesca." He calmly said before I heard footsteps walking away.

"Francesca, please just tell me the truth. What is going on?" I cried and paced around the room. Francesca walked up to me and placed a soft hand on my cheek, then embraced me into a warm hug. Just letting me cry for a few minutes before I pulled myself together.

"Listen to me, Lina, when I tell you who Giovanni really is, I don't want you to panic. He is a good man, and he cares for you deeply–" she began before I cut her off.

"Just tell me."

"Giovanni isn't just the owner of many businesses – they are just there to make everything look legit. Your husband is the Boss to a notorious crime organisation – he runs the drug trade in the whole of Europe, a lot of North America, and some parts of Asia. He is worth a lot of money, and this makes other people in the business angry. Giancarlo is his underboss, usually if Giovanni died – God forbid he doesn't – Giancarlo would take over. However, this family does things a little bit different. The first son you and Giovanni have will then become heir to all of what is here now and more. If Giovanni dies before you have a son, the title will go to his brother, Valentino."

My husband was in the Mafia? Hell, he was the boss to a mafia!

Was the last thing I thought before my head started spinning and my world went black... again.

Fucking great.

***

GIOVANNI'S POV

I studied the photo of Evelina and I that had recently been placed on the wall of a sitting area in our home. It was taken the day we had gotten married, and although she had been smiling, I could see the fear in her eyes. I was already annoyed that I couldn't propose to her properly, the way she had deserved, and now, I couldn't even tell her who I really was because she didn't want to be near me. Maybe I was wrong when I thought all those years ago that she would love me. I don't even know why I went through all the trouble just to make her mine. Because she doesn't want me – she didn't want a monster like me, and didn't deserve one either.

"She said she wanted a divorce, Giancarlo." I said trying hard to control my anger and frustration.

"She didn't mean it, Gio. This past month I've seen the way she has started to look at you, and how much more comfortable she has gotten around you. I personally think she might be falling for you. Just give her some time – it can't be easy finding out your husband is a world renown organised crime boss." He laughed lightly as he handed me a glass of whiskey. But I wasn't laughing anymore, I was too angry to laugh. She hated me, and I couldn't bare to think that.

"Maybe I should just send her back to New York like she wants. Maybe that would be best for her." I threw the glass of alcohol across the room and raked my hand through my hair, trying to calm down. But all of a sudden, I hear banging on my office door, and the drowned out screams of Francesca.

"Giovanni! Come quick!" Her shouts grew louder as Giancarlo and I ran quickly to the room and I opened the door faster than I thought was possible.

There she lay on the floor, hair sprawled out, eyes closed, and red cheeks. "Leave us." I said.

"But wha–" Francesca began.

"Please, leave us." I said cutting her off. Giancarlo guided a worried Francesca out of the room and shut the door. I gently picked Evelina up and placed her carefully on the long chair that was in my office, and then kneeled down beside her, checking to she if she was alright.

I was disgusted in myself.

I did this to her.

I did this to my wife.

"I am sorry, Mio Amore. I didn't want you to think of me as a bad man, even though I am. You don't understand how happy you make me, how I just want to be with you and only you, every single minute of the day. And I am ashamed that I have caused this for you – I don't deserve you, so if going back to New York and getting a divorce is what you really want, then I will allow it. As much as it pains me to say, I will." I spoke softly as I held her hand, staring down at the floor.

Today had just proven that being here wasn't safe for Evelina.

'I am coming for you and your pretty new bride. Watch your back, blood will be spilled.' And it was that exact note that had put it all into perspective.

No one would ever think to play such a joke on me, especially when it involved my wife. Everyone but Alexei Ivanov. And I promise, I will be dealing with him very shorty, but in a worse way than I did with his soldier who payed me a visit.

As I was in deep thought, a soft voice spoke to me.

"No. I want to stay with you." My wife had spoke lifting a hand to my cheek.

That was all I ever wanted to hear.