"Your clothes. They bother me. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟."
~
Marriage was not for love -it was for business. It was a strategic move that one had to make wisely. For the Lombardis and the Morettis, this marriage was the most calculated, showstopping...
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Here she was, a pawn again.
It's been three months since the casino opened.
Roman flew back to Italy the next day and he just got back a couple of weeks ago; Since then, they have been out for social events almost every night. She still was forced to play the same part but now it affected her a lot less.
She sat in the chair next to her husband, who had a hand over the seam of her thighs. They were at a dinner with all the capos and their wives and it was just her luck that she was the youngest one at the table. So it was no surprise that no one paid really any attention to her; when they first got here, everyone wanted to talk to her but Roman always interrupted and well, her husband was the Don so anything he said was listened to.
Everyone got the message that she was just arm candy.
They talked in animated Italian and even though she was fluent, she didn't bother listening. They complained about the economy, how they should start investing in more Casinos than clubs, explore the hotel route, and consider changing their arms dealer.
She had vast knowledge of things since she made her fortune off of land and investing, but she knew whatever she said wouldn't be listened to. The other wives chatted quietly, not disturbing their husbands' conversations.
She was not invited to the chatter since she and Roman were at the head of the table and anything the women asked her would interrupt them. His wedding band burned her skin and she had her gaze trained on her lap, her rehearsed movements perfected.
To any other eye, she was calm and collected, composed and nonchalant; but her self-esteem was quickly diminishing and she felt smaller and smaller. She felt like an animal caged in a zoo for gawkers and ignored the ache in her chest.
There was a lump in her throat and she blinked slowly, feeling like the scared little girl her father berated for fun. She didn't make a peep, keeping her mouth shut and her eyes downcast like the object they saw her as.
What was the point of it all? What was the point of her living the same life as her mother?
She couldn't run away; they would find her.
She should just kill herself.
They had been married for six months now. It was October and they had taken ten steps backwards. He acted like he cared in front of a crowd then left her deserted when he was done with her. She was exhausted.
"Stay here," he bit out, hard voice harsher when he spoke to her compared to everyone else. She fought a wince, nodding once.
She heard him as he left the table and everyone gravitated to the other room for dessert. She stayed put.
She didn't eat much of the dinner but wondered why she wasn't allowed to go with everyone else. It was alright; she didn't want cannolis anyway. The dining room was silent and she was the only soul there; after a few moments, she could hear loud laughter and conversation from the other room and she felt a pit in her stomach.
