Married to the Mafia Boss

Frankie

“I don’t get why we don’t fly out,” Amelia asks me as we join the little traffic on the freeway leaving New York.

“They can trace us easily,” I explain, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Don’t you guys have private jets?” she asks, staring out the window.

I nod. “We do, but there have to be flight logs and manifests, still easy to trace.”

“So basically, we’re going on a road trip. Can we at least have fun?” she asks, looking at me now.

“As long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves,” I say. “Though I don’t know what you’d constitute as fun.”

“Just seeing sights and doing tourist-type things,” she explains. “Eat good food and mingle with the locals.”

I snort. “Okay, we can do some tourist things.”

“Can I get a camera?” she asks. “So I can at least get some pictures.”

“We’ll buy you one tomorrow, though strictly cash. No swiping cards while we’re doing this.”

She reaches for the radio and turns it up. “At least there can be good music.”

I shake my head a little, but she doesn’t notice. I let her bop her head and sing to the music. I’m trying to make sure no one follows us. I know Katya and Alessandro will work on this problem until it’s solved, and we can come back home, but I can’t help but dread spending who knows how long on the road with Amelia.

My heart aches for her and I had hoped that confessing my love to her may stir some feelings, that she would at least try to love me back. It’s clear now we’re past that point, and this will never be a loving relationship, only an amicable one.

I have always been the cool, logical one in the family, but now it’s like my wires are crossed, and everything is short-circuiting. We may be amicable, but I will spend as little time with Amelia as I can. My heart and mind can’t take feeling this intense passion for her when she doesn’t feel it back.

It’s late when I pull into a hotel, almost eleven, and I drive the car into the underground parking. I get out and look around, keeping my hand on my gun. No one seems to be following us, which is good news.

“We’re spending the night here,” I say. “You just need your overnight bag, I guess.”

We get our bags from the car, and I carry them to the lobby of the hotel. The receptionist looks up at me, and I can see a certain interest in her eyes. I feel nothing, though. I want Amelia to look at me like that. Once upon a time, she used to.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Hi, how can I help?”

“Booking under Evander James,” I say. “Booked in advance.”

She types away on her keyboard. “Yes, we have room 154 ready for you, sir. If you’re not too tired, there are many things still happening in the casino and entertainment rooms.”

I nod, though I doubt I’ll be doing anything more than sleep. She hands me the key, and I pick up the bags. “Thank you.”

While in the elevator, Amelia turns to me. “Why don’t we go gamble a little? I’m sure they have card games.”

“It’s really late, and we need to leave early,” I say simply, but she pouts.

“Frankie, don’t act like an old man, or this road tripping is going to really suck. I’m trying to make it more enjoyable for both of us. Let’s just go down for an hour, and then we can sleep until seven and hit the road. We can grab breakfast at a gas station or something along the way.”

I consider her for a moment. I don’t want to make her miserable on this trip because I’d have to deal with the fallout of that. I sigh deeply. “Fine, we can go down for an hour, but don’t be grumpy when the alarm goes off early in the morning.”

We check into the room, freshen up and head downstairs. I’m vigilant about our surroundings. I don’t want to be caught off guard if anything happens.

The casino isn’t Vegas standards, but it’s nice. It’s pretty full for the size of the hotel, and we find ourselves at a poker table after I buy us chips to play with.

Amelia laughs through the game, teasing me about my poker face. I want to give her a smile every time, but I’m trying to keep my emotions in check.

At one point, she loses all her chips and drags me to the nearby bar. While I sip a beer, she dances on the small wooden dance floor, swaying to the music. My heart is thudding in my chest as I watch her. She’s so sultry. She’s so beautiful. I watch the way her body bends and curves. Trying to keep myself in check becomes that much harder.

I buy some more chips, and we try the blackjack tables next. She has a little more luck at these, but in between games, she’s dancing. “The music is great.”

Her grin sets my heart on fire, and I shake my head. “You’d dance to anything.”

“And you don’t dance at all,” she points out. “You should live a little.”

I don’t comment, but soon enough, I check my watch, and it’s one in the morning. “Come on. We’ve been down here longer than an hour. Let’s cash in.”

She doesn’t complain or argue, which I find surprising, but she is in the middle of a fit of giggles. I cash in my chips and take the notes handed to me. I put my hand on the small of her back out of instinct and guide her out of the casino and back toward the elevators. While we wait, she turns to me. “Why won’t you dance?”

“I don’t like dancing,” I comment as the elevator doors slide open.

We step in, and I hit the floor button. She sways to the elevator music, and I shake my head. “You’ll dance to anything. I have proved my point.”

She smacks my arm. “Maybe you don’t know how to dance. Should I teach you?”

No! My mind screams, thinking about our bodies being indescribably close to each other, grinding and swaying. The thought is enough to get my dick hard.

I frown. “I can dance. I just choose not to.” I climb off the elevator and check the hallway before leading her to our room. I open it, ready in case someone attacks. But the room is clear.

“I can teach you the foxtrot or the waltz,” she says with a grin as she gets her toiletries out of her bag. “But first, I’m going to brush my teeth and then change.”

I leave her to it, pulling out what I need from my bag and waiting for my turn. She’s surprisingly quick, and once I’m ready for bed, I find her sipping on a whiskey from the hotel bar fridge.

“Really?”

“A nightcap,” she giggles, taking a bigger sip. “You want some?”

There are twin beds in the room, a personal request from me. I sit on the opposite bed and take the tiny bottle. I down it and toss the bottle in the trash. “We have to check out early.”

“I know, I know,” she stretches and yawns, and the shift of her breasts through her nightie is not lost on me.

“Well, goodnight. While we’re driving tomorrow, I’ll try to find some stops we can make for fun,” she says, sliding into her bed.

“I still have work to do,” I say, climbing into my own. “So we can’t stop at every attraction.”

“Hmm,” is all I hear from her before she dozes off. I shut my eyes and try to expel her from my mind so that I can get a good night’s sleep too.