The Scandal: Mafia Vows

by SR Jones

  “You’re welcome to stay with me any time,” I say, voice thick with emotion. “It will be good to have you home.”

  “Well, it will be good to be home and for you to get to know Cora because we’re going to be married.”

  Something settles deep in my soul at the news my son is coming home. Something I didn’t know was unsettled before this moment in time. The second realization that comes swiftly on the heels of the first is that I want him to meet Rhea.

  Shit.

  She really is a lot more to me than a mere fuck to me, and I’m only just beginning to truly understand this.

  I watch her as she starts to make coffee for us. I wonder if I should talk to her about the fact that I know her dick of an ex-husband… Well, he isn’t even legally that, is he? I know he’s bothering her. I know he harassed her at the school gates, and I know he’s been texting her and calling her because I’ve got eyes on her phone and a man following her.

  She’d probably lose her mind if she knew, but she wouldn’t let me do it openly, so I had to revert to subterfuge. I can’t have her wandering around totally alone because she could be a target for a fair few people. I consider telling her, but then decide not to.

  I’m going to work hard on her for the next few days and try to get her to agree to have a man with her at all times, and if she keeps refusing, I’ll simply tell her there’s no choice. I don’t want to have to make her, though. I want to persuade her, have her believe she’s got a choice in this, even if she hasn’t. She spent years in the cult having no ability to make decisions, and I don’t want to take that from her; I already did when I made her move in here.

  At the same time, I need to know she’s safe.

  I sigh and walk up behind her, placing a kiss on the back of her neck. “No coffee for me, thanks, gorgeous. I’ve got to get going.”

  She turns and smiles at me. “Okay. See you tomorrow night still?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go out,” I say on a whim.

  “Oh, that will be nice.” She beams up at me, and I feel guilty that other than our one meal out, and a few coffees, I’ve been treating her like a dirty secret.

  She bites her lip, fidgets on her feet, and then takes in a deep breath. “Stamatis, I need to talk to you.”

  Those are never good words to hear from any woman’s mouth. I still and nod. “Okay, shoot.”

  “This between us… I feel as if we’re having this illicit affair, and I don’t like it.”

  “I’ve left my wife and am currently getting a divorce,” I say, immediately defensive for some reason.

  “No, I’m not talking about you and Lena; I’m talking about us. I’ve never said anything like this to anyone before, so this is hard for me, don’t make it more so.”

  “I’ve not made anything more difficult for you, Rhea. You’ve not said anything of substance yet.”

  She scowls at me, and I know I’m being a dick, but she’s pissed me off saying I’ve made her feel as if we’re having an illicit affair, even though I know she’s right. I was coming around to the same conclusion myself, but now she’s pushing it, and I don’t like to be pushed.

  “I won’t be your dirty secret,” she says, angry now too.

  “You’re not a dirty secret. They all know we’re fucking, darling.” I indicate the outside where the main house lies.

  “You’re a pig,” she says angrily.

  “Look, we’ll talk about this in a few days. Can’t we simply have a nice time tomorrow night, and then I promise you, we’ll discuss this. I was going to talk to you about it anyway.” I give in a little, not wanting an argument.

  “No,” she says, with a mulish tilt of her chin.

  “What?”

  “No. You don’t get to wine me and dine me, and then take me to bed, only to tell me two days later you want out of this.”

  “I don’t want out of it,” I say with a shake of my head.

  “Or that you want to keep me like some sort of … prostitute.”

  “I haven’t kept you like a fucking prostitute. Fuck you, Rhea.”

  “No, fuck you.”

  Her words shock me. She doesn’t swear like this in anger ever, so far as I’m aware.

  “You want more from me, but you don’t trust me,” I say.

  “I do trust you.”

  “Really? Told me everything, have you?”

  She flinches slightly.

  “Yeah, didn’t think so. I’ve also been begging you to let me put a man on you, but you refuse, and yet I know way more about the threats you face than you ever could. You don’t tell me stuff, and you don’t listen to me. Where’s the trust?”

  “Maybe I want to make my own decisions for once.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re making bad ones.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, hating the hurt on her face. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

  I head out the door without another word and cross to the main house.

  I don’t know why I reacted the way I did to her words. Hadn’t I been thinking that I needed to make this something more? Something deeper? So why the anger? Things are churned up at the moment. My son is coming home. I’m divorcing my wife, and now, I’m starting to realize how much I care for Rhea. It’s all making me … anxious, which fuck me, is a new feeling for me.

  When I press the door buzzer, I’m greeted by a serious looking Damen. “Hey, Stamatis, come in.”

  I step inside. “Something wrong?”

  “Shit might be going to kick off big time over in the UK with this stuff between Konstantin and Popov. It will interfere in the agreement we’ve got with Allyov because my gut tells me Andrius is going to go against Allyov if it comes down to it.”

  I agree; my gut’s been telling me the same too.

  Being under siege is never fun and that’s exactly how life feels right now. There’s the Russian mob shit, which I don’t need. There’s my ex-wife, and a more volatile woman one could never meet. There’s Rhea and my feelings of her, and then there’s Papan, her piece of crap ex, with his determination to keep within the cult, and also see his son. To me those are two completely contradictory stances because I don’t want him to see Gus if he’s still part of that circus of freaks.

  This is another thought to pull me up short. It seems I’m caring about Gus now too, despite not having spent much time with him. He’s a cute kid, though, serious and studious, and Rhea adores him.

  Life is complicated, and I need to simplify it again. One of the ways to do that would be to admit to Rhea how I feel about her, but then, can I be what she needs?

  “You want to talk about it?” Damen asks. “You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  At first, I’m about to give my stock answer of, no. But then I pause and think. “You know what. Do you have five minutes?”

  “Yeah, of course. Let’s go into the study.”

  I follow him in there, and we sit.

  “How did you know … with Maya, that you wanted to be with her?”

  He gives a harsh laugh. “I didn’t, not in time to stop her being hurt. I fucked up. I was so worried about my family and the past I carried; you know how my father was.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “It meant I couldn’t admit what was in front of my face, my feelings for Maya. I denied them, and it cost her dearly. I believe if I had told her, she’d never have tried to leave that day.”

  He’s never admitted this to me before.

  “I should have manned up and understood how I felt long before I did.”

  His words hit home. I need to do the same.

  “I don’t know, though, if I can make it work,” I admit to him. “I’ve got all this shit with Lena, and she’ll go fucking nuts if she sees I’ve moved Rhea and Gus in with me. Then there’s Gus. If I tell her how I feel, and we make this something more, he’s involved too. It means we can’t simply walk away six months down the line if it doesn’t work out.”

  “How would you feel if she left today
, went back to her husband?”

  The words are a punch to my gut. It sours my coffee from earlier, and it must show on my face because he laughs. “Yeah, what I thought. You don’t want anyone else to have her, so far as I’m concerned it means you want her. Does she feel the same?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “She started to tell me as much today, and I screwed it up.”

  “Go back over there, and tell her how you feel.”

  “If I’m going to, then I’m going to do it properly,” I say. “We’re going out Saturday night, and I will tell her then. Make it romantic.” I grin.

  He laughs. “You say you’re not sure, but you’re wanting to make the night romantic and do it right? You’re sure. Anyway, I could have told you the first moment you two met. The rest of us knew; we all saw the fireworks. You don’t see that often, real Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton shit right there.”

  “I’m amazed you know who they are, youngster like yourself.”

  He laughs again. “You’re hardly an old man.” Then he sobers. “And you deserve some damn happiness, so grab it with both hands.”

  He might just be right, and I think I am going to grab it with both hands.

  Fuck it, I’m going to go for what I want for once.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rhea

  I have prevaricated for the last couple of days as to whether or not I ought to tell Stamatis to go shove his meal up his backside this evening. When it comes down to it, though, I want him, and I want to see him. Part of me is dreading it as he said we would talk tonight. What if he tells me he’s over this? Over us?

  Gus went to his friend’s house yesterday for the night, and tonight, he’s having a movie night with Star and Markos. I’ve told Stamatis I can’t stay at his place. I’ll meet him for the meal and then come home to Gus. He was fine with it, and I’m glad because if he does tell me it’s over, I can go home and mope in my own bed. Who I am kidding? I won’t mope. I’ll be bawling my eyes out. I will survive, though. I have been through worse. Heartbreak is bad, but it’s not a patch on surviving a cult, and learning to navigate all the emotional fallout, which I am doing.

  It will hurt, but I’ll get over him.

  Still, I want to make a good impression, so after Gus and I meet with his father, I’m going to pop into my new favorite store, the designer clothing exchange Maya introduced me to, and buy something smart.

  Drinking the rest of my coffee, I stare out of the small kitchen window. Outside are four huge men, all wearing shorts and nothing else, playing basketball. I’m used to it now, to them. Today, though, I’ve got to lose a man like this. A big, hard, probably battle-trained man, who is following me for Stamatis, and I know exactly where to do it. On my way to pick up Gus, I’m going to stop for a coffee, and nip to the ladies. In this particular coffee shop, there is a large window in the women’s bathroom, and it is ground floor height. It’s always been open whenever I’ve been in, and I plan to climb out of it and lose my bodyguard that way.

  By the time I arrive at the coffee shop, I’m a nervous wreck. I took a hot and sweaty bus all the way into town. Now I know to look for him, I noticed my guard was onboard too, keeping an eye on me. I never looked directly at him, though. Best to let him think I’m oblivious to him.

  Now, he’s behind me, and I can sense his presence. He’s good, though, because I never would have noticed him if not for glancing up at the exact time I did when Papan grabbed me outside the school. I order a coffee and take it with a cake and a newspaper to a table in the corner. I sit, take out my phone, and mess around on it for a moment, sipping my coffee. Then after about five minutes, I get up and head back to the ladies, leaving the paper I purchased on the table, making it look as if I’ll be right back.

  Once in the ladies, I take the scarf I shoved into my bag out and cover my hair. Then I throw a dark shirt on over my white t-shirt and button it up speedily. Once I’ve done, I climb out of the window by balancing one foot on the sink counter and hoisting myself up. The drop down the other side is shallow, thank God. I land on one foot and one knee, which hurts some. I don’t have time to coddle myself, though. I’m up and moving as quickly as I can, racing across the parking lot at the back of the coffee store, and to the gap in the fence leading to a side street.

  Once on the street, I slow my pace and walk casually. Even if my bodyguard realizes I’m missing and rushes out to look for me, he’s looking for a woman with redish hair and a white t-shirt.

  Ten minutes later, and sweatier than I thought humanly possible, I arrive at the café where I’m meeting Gus’ friend’s mom, Gabriella. Gus is with her, holding her hand, and her son is holding the other one. I get a pang of melancholy when I think that in another year or two, he won’t want to hold hands anymore.

  “Mom,” he cries, and rushes to me, embracing me briefly.

  I smile at Gabriella and say thank you for having him.

  “He’s no trouble at all,” she replies.

  “See you at summer school on Tuesday,” I say, and Gus and I cross the square heading for McDonald’s with a last wave to the pair who turn and walk off in the opposite direction.

  It’s a busy day, lots of traffic and people milling around, but the place is quieter than usual. Maybe because today there is a parade in the old part of the city, and most folks have possibly gone there. I enjoy the sun on my face and try to calm my nerves as I head toward the restaurant and my first proper meeting with Papan in a while.

  We head a little way down a side road, away from everyone else, to cross over where there isn’t as much traffic. It’s the way I always take him when we come here, which is fairly often as Gus loves McDonald’s.

  We walk down into the dark of the street, shade dappling us and the noise of the traffic from the main square already receding somewhat. I walk farther and then decide to cross. As we near the road, Gus’ hand tightens around mine, and I turn to him to see him being pulled away from me.

  What the hell?

  It takes a moment for my brain to parse what is happening and bring me up to speed. A man is tugging Gus by his arm. The man isn’t someone I recognize at first, but then it hits me as I stare at him, shocked for a moment.

  He’s from the commune.

  A man I never spent much time with because he creeped me out with the way his gaze lingered on the women of the community. Papan spent time with this man, though. They used to talk as they chopped wood together.

  He’s pulling Gus harder now, and Gus is starting to panic, trying to stay with me. I grab hold of his jacket and pull with all my might.

  “Let go of him, or I’ll hurt him,” the man snarls.

  He must be crazy doing this in broad daylight. Then again, there’s no one here; they’re all out in the bright sunshine of the main square with the traffic noise roaring in their ears.

  Gus squeals, a high panicked sound, and yanks his arm as hard as he can.

  “Get off my son. Help me! Help,” I scream.

  Footsteps behind me have me sighing in relief. The man glances behind me, curses, and then let’s go of Gus. He shoves me hard in the chest and then sprints away.

  I tumble backward and reach out instinctively and blindly to grab something. There isn’t anything, though, and I stumble backward, going over on the curb into the road.

  Thankful I didn’t fall, I smile at Gus. Instead of smiling back, his mouth opens into a dark, cavernous scream.

  Time slows. I see everything so clearly. Gus screaming, the man running toward us to help, and out in my peripheral vision, the yellow of the cab hurtling toward me.

  The moment it hits my world goes blank.

  **

  Voices drift to me on a fog of confusion.

  “Head injury.”

  “Severe concussion.”

  “Broken arm.”

  “Hit her head.”

  The words mean nothing to me. They come and go.

  “Not family.”

  “No, sir, you can’t stay.”
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  “His father came for him.”

  “Hours ago.”

  “Sir, calm down. He was his father, the boy recognized him, called him Daddy. He said he was taking him to stay with him at a friend’s house and would be back to check on his wife.”

  “I don’t find that boy, you’re in so much shit.”

  That last voice is familiar. Deep, authoritative. Warmth fills me when I hear that voice, but I can’t put the name to it.

  I close my eyes and sleep again.

  It’s so bright. My eyes hurt, my head hurts. I don’t know where I am. I blink and try to look around. The room smells clinical. Unfamiliar. The insistent beeping of a machine somewhere close by is annoying. I lift my arm.

  “Mom? Oh, God, Mom.”

  Someone squeezes my hand.

  “She’s awake.”

  Star. I’d recognize her voice anywhere. I turn to her and blink, smiling as her beautiful face comes into focus. Gosh, my head hurts. My throat too. I lick my lips.

  “Here, Mom.” Star lifts my head and puts an ice cube around my lips. “They said no fluids yet, as they might need to do surgery on your arm; they’re looking at the scans now.”

  Surgery? I lick my lips again and speak. “Why? What’s happened? Where are we?”

  “You’re in the hospital. You had an accident.”

  “I can’t remember anything.”

  She frowns. “What is the last thing you remember?”

  I try to think. There isn’t a last thing. Not one thing standing out, but lots of jumbled things, thoughts fluttering around my mind like insects. I remember the dark-haired man with handsome features, and he’s the big kingpin isn’t he? Me and him, we’re a thing, but I can’t recall his name. I know Star is expecting a baby, and me and Gus are living in her old apartment.

  “We live in your old apartment,” I tell her.

  “No, not anymore. You did, though. That’s good, Mom, that you remember that. It will all come back. You live on Damen’s land now. You’re staying with us. You and Gus.”

  On the word Gus, she starts to cry. I try to sit up, to reassure her, but leaning on my arm makes me cry out in pain.