Married to the mafia King

Bianca

After my little back-and-forth with Adriano, I escaped into the bedroom to check my phone.

Debt or no debt, I was seriously considering bolting.

Adriano was hot, but he was an asshole and there was no way in hell I was going to put up with him for a second longer.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

If I’m honest, though…

I was bothered by how much he turned me on.

It wasn’t just his good looks (although that was a big part of it).

And it wasn’t that he was obviously the top guy in the room (although that was part of it, too). He was clearly the leader, the one everybody else deferred to.

It was weird, but…

I kind of liked the verbal sparring with him. The back-and-forth.

He was an asshole, yeahProperty of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

But he kept me on my toes.

He was quick-witted, and he could be pretty funny when he wasn’t being a dick.

But there was one thing that was a gigantic deal-breaker, the biggest red flag of all:

He was a mafioso.

THAT was what freaked me out the most: that I was turned on by a Cosa Nostra thug.

If one thing could make me walk out, that was it.

No good could come of being attracted to a mobster.

So I was seriously contemplating walking out the door

When I got distracted. As soon as I picked up my phone, I saw a notification that I had a voicemail from my father. It had come in only three minutes ago.

I hurriedly opened my phone and redialed

But it immediately went to voicemail.

Cursing, I hung up and played the message he’d left me.

“Hi, Paperotta.”

Paperotta was Italian for ‘little duck’ my father’s pet name for me ever since I was a baby. These days he used it when he knew I was mad at him and was trying to slip back into my good graces.

“I’m sorry about the money. I am, I really am. I should’ve told you last week when you asked… I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.

“But something’s different this time. I can’t tell you over the phone, but… something really, REALLY bad is going on. It’s a lot bigger than me owing them money a LOT bigger.

“I want you to get your mother out of town. Both of you get on a train and get the hell out of Florence. Go to another country if you can. I know money’s tight, but borrow from your friends if you have to. Trust me on this you need to leave town NOW.

“And whatever you do, do NOT go with Sergio or get mixed up with the Agrellas in any way, shape, or form. If they tell you to do something, RUN THE OTHER WAY.

“I’m begging you, Paperotta take your mother and get on a train and go as far away as you possibly can.

“I love you. Please call me and let me know when you’re safe.”

That’s where the message ended.

As soon as I heard the part about ‘something really, REALLY bad,’ my stomach sank.

By the time he got to ‘run the other way,’ I was nearly having a panic attack.

In fact, I was trembling when the call ended.

What had I gotten myself into?

What the hell was going on with this job I’d agreed to do?

I had to get out of here NOW

And that’s when the gunshots started.

Adriano

“What’s going on?!” Bianca wailed.

There was no time to answer.

The Uzis chattering on the other side of the door were answer enough.

Lars flung open the expensive drapes on the picture window and stepped back

And Massimo and I opened fire as Bianca screamed.

The glass window shattered almost immediately.

BLAM BLAM

KRASH!

Massimo and I lowered our guns, and Lars darted in.

He kicked out a few of the bigger shards of glass still sticking up. Then he ripped the comforter off the bed and threw it over the jagged pieces along the window sill.

I stuck my head through the empty window to look around.

Luckily the room was 20 feet from the nearest sidewalk. No one had been beneath the falling glass.

Plenty of screaming pedestrians were running away from the gunshots, though.

The bad news was that we were three stories up.

A jump from this height would break our legs

So we had to get lower before we dropped to the ground.

Lars was already on it.

“Massimo, strip the bottom sheet off and triple-knot it to one of the bed posts!” Lars yelled as he ripped the top sheet off the mattress. He immediately folded the sheet diagonally and made it as narrow as possible

Like a makeshift rope.

He then tied several knots at the farthest end.

At the same time, Massimo peeled off the bottom sheet and followed the instructions he’d been given.

“Push the bed over to the window!” Lars yelled as he tied the two sheets together.

The thugs began kicking at the shredded door.

Meanwhile, Massimo slid the bedframe over to the window.

“Is that going to reach to the ground?” I asked.

“No, but it’s gonna have to do!” Lars said as he threw the makeshift rope out the window.

It was long enough to dangle about halfway down

Which still meant a drop of 12 feet to the grass below.

It wouldn’t break our legs…

But it wouldn’t be pleasant, either.

“Is that going to hold our weight?!” I asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Lars said.

He grabbed the sheet and stepped up onto the windowsill. Glass cracked and gritted beneath the comforter

And then he stepped out, using the rope to brace himself against the exterior of the building.

The bedframe slammed up against the wall

But the bedsheets held.

“See you soon!” Lars said as he slid down the makeshift rope.

He got to the very end of the sheets dangled for a second

Then dropped.

There was a loud grunt of pain

And then he was on his feet, hobbling away from the window.

“Be careful of your hands, it burns like hell!” he yelled. “And stop sliding every time you hit a knot, or you’ll go too fast at the end!”

I looked over at Bianca, who was standing in shock by the bathroom.

In my mind’s eye, I saw the poor Ukrainian girl as she collapsed to the ground, her body riddled with bullet holes.

I could only imagine what the Italian girl had looked like.

“Get over here!” I yelled at Bianca as I stuck my gun in the back of my waistband.

She just stared at me in blank terror.