Married to the Mafia Boss

Frankie

“I don’t understand why you are so insistent that I go?” I ask Alessandro, pacing in front of his desk. “I have several projects that I need to take care of.”

“I’m more than capable of handling my own business, Frankie.” my brother looks at me with steely eyes. “You haven’t taken a break in as long as I’ve known you, and that’s your whole life. Go, have a honeymoon, get to know Amelia because you’re tied together now.”

I wave dismissively. “There’s plenty of time for that.”

“This isn’t a request.” Alessandro sits back. “Understand?”

“Understood,” I say, leaving the office.

Amelia is waiting in the car outside. This was my last-ditch effort to try and get out of going on a seaside honeymoon.

It’s a long drive to the resort and an even more tedious process to check in, but once our luggage is brought up, Amelia and I are left standing in the living area of our room. Her bedroom is behind her, and mine is behind me.

Amelia looks around awkwardly. “I think I’ll go tan. What are you going to do?”

“Watch the news,” I say, glancing at the wall-mounted flat screen.

“Seriously? You come all the way to the ocean to watch the news. Why don’t you grab a book off the shelf, come to the beach, and read? Lord knows you probably need to work on your tan.” she grabs the handle of her luggage. “It’s a once-off invite.”

I feel suitably scolded and sigh, the tension mounting between my shoulders. I go to change into my swimming trunks and grab my sunglasses before I browse through the books that are available on the shelf in the living area. I find a decent horror-looking novel and grab it-Buried, it’s called. Its cover is worn from being read many times, telling me it’s a good choice.

Amelia comes out, and I gawk at her, glad I have my sunglasses on so she can’t see the lust in my eyes. She’s wearing a bright yellow bikini top and bottom, with a sheer blue and purple sarong tied around her waist.

“This place does have towels down there, don’t they?” she asks, looking at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I clear my throat. “And yes, they generally do.”

“See, you’re taking my advice?” She says.

I hold the book up. “Who doesn’t like a good horror on the beach?”

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask you this, but when we get down to the beach, will you rub oil on me so I can get an even tan.” She blushes. “I’m only asking you because I don’t want some shady guy touching me.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“So, at least you don’t consider me shady.” I smile, and she swats my arm.

“Don’t get too clever. This doesn’t change anything.”

“I know, but we’re stuck together now, so let’s try to be nice, at least,” I say calmly. She eyes me, but I turn for the door.

Once on the beach, we find two hotel loungers with towels and make ourselves comfortable. I watch as Amelia rubs oil everywhere she can reach before she holds the bottle out to me and turns around to rest on her stomach.

I kneel in the sand beside her lounger and rub a generous amount of oil on her skin. The sheen of the oil makes her skin feel and look luxurious.

I wipe my hand down my leg to get the excess oil off and put the bottle down, going back to my lounger. I rest back and open my book to the first page, and that’s how we remain-soaking in the sunlight as I read, and Amelia, I presume, is sleeping.

A waiter from the hotel comes around to offer us drinks, and I nudge Amelia. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Hmm, a cocktail, you pick,” she turns her head to glance at me.

“We’ll take a cosmopolitan and a beer,” I say, returning to my book.

“Is it any good?” she asks suddenly.

“What?” I look at her, confused.

“The book,” she says.

I smile. “It’s quite creepy, actually. Not an author I’ve read before, but if the plot keeps developing like this, I might read her other books.”

Amelia smiles. “How does it feel to actually relax?” she props herself up on her forearms.

I run a free hand over my stubble. “I don’t know. Is this relaxing?”

“Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about work!”

“I’m always thinking about work. If you want something done right, you do it yourself,” I say, looking back at my book.

She lies back down. Her face turned toward me. “Yes, but a break doesn’t hurt.”

I nod. “Except there’s going to be a pile of shit for me to fix when I get back.” I give her a grin. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well,” she declares, grinning back at me, “there’s nothing you can do about it now, so there’s no point worrying about it. You should just unwind and relax.”

The waiter arrives with our drinks, and I take my beer. Amelia sits up and takes her cocktail, sipping on it.

I turn my attention back to the book, and Amelia reclines against the backrest and looks out over the ocean as she drinks.

“I should have brought a book, too,” she muses, and I wonder if she’s talking to me again. “Tell me about yours.”

I snort. “It’s about a haunted underground mansion and a film crew that goes to prove it isn’t haunted. So far, they’re getting slaughtered like lambs.” I look over at her. “I can lend it to you while I have a nap.”

Amelia shakes her head. “I’m more of a romantic comedy fan. I didn’t realize you were into horror.”

It dawns on me that the tension between my shoulders is dissipating. I feel like I’m finally relaxing. “I was when I was a kid. I loved horror books and horror movies. It was an escape from the family for me.”

“You seem to love your family, though,” she comments.

“I do,” I say seriously. “My family is my everything, and I take it very seriously. They have given me everything in life, and I would be nowhere without them.”

She falls silent for a moment, sipping on her cocktail some more.

I sip on my beer, feeling slightly awkward. “This is nice,” I say, “that we can talk without trying to kill each other.”

“It doesn’t change how I feel,” she says quietly. “I’ve been sold like a possession. That’s all this is. I just want to have a pleasant holiday.”

I nod. “That’s fine. I can work with that.”

“Nothing is going to change,” she says again, and for a moment, I believe she is trying to convince herself of that.

My heart tears a little. There’s a piece of me buried deep inside that wants to say that I still care deeply about her, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I can’t place her in harm’s way.

I sigh and watch as she gets up. “And now?” I ask.

“I’m going into the water to cool off a bit,” she says, tossing her sarong onto the lounger. “Be back soon.”

“Don’t drown,” I say, with just a hint of sarcasm.

She gives me a strange look before flouncing down the beach toward the water, her ass swaying just the right amount to catch my attention.

It’s weird not to be busy with work, and I know it’s going to be frustrating if we start fighting again and there’s no work to distract me, so I hope we can keep this peace up for the few days we’re here.

I watch as she dips into the water, her luscious curls blowing with the wind that bounces off the water. There’s a radiant beauty about her that I will always admire, at least from afar.