Married to the mafia boss Series

Carmelo

I spent the entire day doing research on the internet. I bought two tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera at a local theater just twenty minutes out from the villa. It may not be a professional Broadway show you’d see back in Chicago or New York City, but it would do just perfect.

I was in luck; the show’s opening night is in a week and I’ve been brainstorming ways to take Arabella with me. I’d have to talk to Lazzaro, maybe convince him Arabella wants to see it and I’ll go to protect her. Frankly, if I have to sneak her out, I will. I’d gladly take the risk to show witness the experience with her.

Of course then I listened to myself and realize it’s not worth the risk. I’d rather be here than back in Chicago not knowing how she is or if she’s safe. I’d do anything to get her to go. I’d even go past Lazzaro’s authority and speak to the ultimate Godfather of the Cosa Nostra.

The first-and last-time I saw The Phantom of the Opera, my mother, brother, and I were all the way back in the balcony. I mean you couldn’t even see the disfigurement on the phantom we were that far away. This time I made sure to buy front row tickets no matter how expensive they were. It’d be worth it.

I can hardly wait to tell Arabella the good news. We spend the nights together, it’s my favorite part of the day. Either she comes into my room or I go into hers. Every night since we’ve been here has ended one of two ways, either with us having sex or me watching her as she peacefully sleeps. It doesn’t matter which, I just like being close enough where I can protect her. Not to mention she’s the best company I’ve had in years.

The sun is beginning to set and I look out the window, past the vineyard to see the orange sun slowly descend. The entire sky is now a hue of pink, purple, and orange and I’m tempted to find Arabella just so I can share this amazing view with her.

My body is still anxious to tell her the news. I begin to fidget and pace. Usually, I’m a very patient man, but how can I be so patient when I have such a great gift to share. I know she’ll love it. As much as a science nerd she is, I know she has a passion for music. I’ve caught her reciting ballet in the kitchen while waiting for food and caught her listening to the notes I played on violin. She will love this play, she’ll get lost in the music like I did and like my mother did.

I decide to stop torturing myself and find her. She may be in her room already getting ready for the night. She might be in the library reading the book or having a swim at the pool. There’s even a skip in my step as I cross corridors and explore rooms looking for her. I check as many places as possible before hunting outside.

When I open the sliding glass door to the back I can hear the gentle sound of water lapping from the pool. I smile, she must be swimming. Nearly running, I go in the direction of the pool but stop once she comes into vision.

She’s not alone.

Arabella is in the hot tub sitting on some man’s lap. I’ve never seen this guy around the house, who the hell is it? She’s kissing him with a fierceness and his hands are roaming her body as if he owns her. Arabella tips her head back breathing heavily and the man moves his lips down to her neck where she moans.

I can’t stop the gasp that escapes from my lips. The noise startled Arabella and we make eye contact. Her eyes are dilated from lust, but her body tenses in regret. The man doesn’t stop placing kisses all over her, either ignoring my presence, or he didn’t hear me in the first place. Her mouth parts as if she wants to say something or call out to me. Sadness and regret replaces the lust in her eyes. I turn around and go back to my room.

The skip in my step is no longer there and all excitement has left my body. I drag my feet and slump my shoulders on the long walk back to my room. My entire body feels heavy and it’s as though the entire world has gone silent. I feel like I’m in a dream. I don’t know how I found my room being as mindless as I am now. I’m simply going through the motions without thinking and realizing what or where I’m doing and going.

A flood of emotions washes over me and I don’t know how to feel. I sit on my bed and stare at the floor. Who was she kissing? Why was she kissing him? Has been with other guys while she’s been with me?

I know we aren’t an item, we aren’t exclusive, I mean we’re only friends and I’m her bodyguard-but when we first started fooling around we made a promise to each other. No other people. We did that to ensure the other wasn’t fucking around with people who may not be clean. We decided to be friends with benefits. There was no need to find other people.

Yet she did.

She was making out in the hot tub with some strange man. She must know him. Could it possibly be a boy she knew when she was in Italy last? An old crush? An old flame reignited?

The possibilities are endless and each one worse than the last. Each one stabbing me in the heart making me rub at my chest. A physical pain in my chest makes me want to scream as well as cry. I don’t know how to feel, but I also know I have no right to be jealous. No right to be possessive. But I can’t help myself.

I want to pull her out of the hot tub and beat the living shit out of the man who is touching her. The only restraint I have is from the thought that this could be a misunderstanding. I don’t want to get in trouble with Lazzaro, which will in turn lead to my death by Antonio.

Never once in my life have I felt so proprietorial, so out of my mind furious that I’d rather die than feel like this. The thought alone of her with him is killing me. I wish I had my violin. I want to play. I need my escape. I need to feel the vibrations of every note and close my eyes creating a symphony of madness to release the madness within. The same madness that is sending me spiraling into a dark void.

I want my violin to silence my thoughts. Never have they been so loud. I lay down on my bed and put my hands over my ears. I try to breath with steady rhythm, but they come out harsh and jagged.

Fuck. What is wrong with me? This isn’t like me. This isn’t like me at all.

Get ahold of yourself, Carmelo.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

This can’t be what I think it is. It just can’t be. This is a mess.

I am in love with Arabella Moretti.