Undressed By The Mafia God

Valentina waited for Marco until past midnight. Still, he did not come home. In fact, he had not been home in four days, which Valentina considered childish.

A grown man deciding the best response to marital crisis was to stop sleeping in the marital bed altogether.

Was running away now the doctor-recommended approach to marriage problems? Had she missed the memo?

Step one: marry into the mafia. Step two: have a baby. Step three: develop emotional distress. Step four: husband relocates to his office.

Ridiculous.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a while, phone in hand, staring at the last unanswered call. He had not picked up. Valentina gave it one final shot. She opened their message thread and typed.

You either come home now or I will come searching for you.

She hit send then she stared at the screen. Marco might be angry. He might be punishing her. But he would not want his wife wandering around New York in the middle of the night.

Right?

Ugh.

She was not so sure anymore. Valentina sucked in a breath, went downstairs, and poured herself a glass of Rémy Martin Louis XIII from the bar. She sat at the bar to wait, wrapped both hands around the glass without drinking much. She kept looking towards the door.

Nothing.

No message.

No sound of tyres on the driveway.

No Marco.

The brandy burned when she finally took a sip, but even that could not soften the ache. Marco thought she was pulling away because of him.

The whole truth had Luca’s name in it. And if Marco ever saw that truth in her eyes, whatever remained between them might not survive.

Almost three o’clock, Valentina stood.

Enough.

She had made the threat. Now she would follow through. If Marco wanted to behave like a child, then she would locate him physically and embarrass them both in person. At this stage, shame had left the marriage. She stormed up the stairs.

First, she checked on Matteo. He slept peacefully in his crib, one little fist tucked near his cheek, mouth slightly open.

Valentina stood over him for a few moments.

Her son.

The one innocent thing in the middle of all this darkness. Then she went to her bedroom. She changed out of her nightwear and into a small summer dress. She slid her feet into sandals, grabbed her phone. She intended to stop by the quarters behind the house to inform the nanny to stay with Matteo while she was gone. Not that she planned to be long. She would go to Commissioned, find Marco, drag him into whatever private corner and force him to talk to her.

She went downstairs but by the time she reached the entrance hall, the front door opened. Marco stepped in.

Valentina stopped. The relief that hit her was so sharp it nearly made her knees weak. He looked tired.

He paused when he saw her.

She released a single sigh. "Hey..."

Marco shut the door behind him and dropped his keys on the entrance table. "You called for me...Everything alright?"

"You’ve not been home."

"What do you need?" Marco asked.

The question was so cold, that she did not understand it.

"I topped up your account at the beginning of the week." His voice was flat. "You want more money?"

"No."

"Then what the fuck do you want?!"

The thunder in his voice was volatile. Valentina flinched before she could stop herself. Regret flashed across his face. He was tired and hurt. The silence, the excuses, the feeling of being unwanted in his own marriage.

"You..." she whispered.

Marco chuckled. "Me?" he asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Valentina’s throat tightened. "Marco—"

"No, really." He took a step forward. "Is this the part where I’m supposed to understand? I stop coming home because clearly my presence irritates you, and now you’re standing here saying you want me? Are you suddenly bipolar or some shit like that? Oh..." His mouth curved bitterly. "Let me guess. This is the moment you announce you are divorcing me."

"What?" Valentina stepped closer, alarm cutting through her tears. "Marco, no. Is that what you think this is about?"

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"I don’t know, maybe that your wife is struggling?"

"I did think that." His voice sharpened. "I asked. I tried. I reached for you, and every time, you gave me a wall. Valentina Montgomery...tell me what you want from me."

She swallowed. "Vee is inviting us for a family barbecue tomorrow." Valentina heard how stupid it sounded the second it left her mouth.

A barbecue.

God help her. Her marriage was bleeding on marble, and she had led with family attendance.

"I wanted us to go together," she added quickly. "I don’t want my sister to know about this."

"That’s why you called me," he said. "For show. For appearance. So Vee doesn’t notice her sister’s marriage is falling apart?"

Valentina closed her eyes briefly. "That and..."

"And?"

Her voice broke. "I hate this."

"I’m confused," he said.

"So am I!" she snapped, tears spilling now. "I’m confused too, Marco. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what this is. I just know I hate it. I hate sleeping without you. I hate that you haven’t been home. I hate that when you are home, I don’t know how to act around you anymore."

"I’m sorry, okay?" she said. "I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m not strong. I’m not." Valentina pressed a hand to her chest as if she could hold herself together physically. "Everyone keeps acting like surviving this life is just something you do if you love hard enough. Like if I love you, I should be able to stand beside all this and not shake."

"I am tired of this life," Valentina yelled.

Marco calmed down. At least now, finally, she had said something true. "So what do you want?" he asked quietly. "You want to leave?"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!