Sold to Mr. Giordano

Arielle

I had set the table, used the good plates, cleaned up my mess in the kitchen, dished out four dishes—one for me, Antonio, Arabella and Carmelo. I sat and waited for my husband to get home… he should be home. He said he’d be home around this time.

Arabella and Carmelo exchange glances wondering if they have permission to dig in. I nod my head and allow them to start eating, but I sit back and wait hoping Antonio will enter through the elevator at any moment.

The two of them finish minutes later and even grab seconds while I still haven’t started. My stomach rumbles, but I for some reason don’t feel have an appetite as I think about how mad Antonio is at me.

When they finish, I told them they could be excused. I don’t leave the table and I don’t take a bite of the cold Ziti in front of me. Instead, I grab my fork and play it. Any minute he’ll be home, I’m sure. I’d have to reheat his dinner though. I look at his full plate now cold, two perfectly good meals wasted.

Arabella must’ve excused herself to her bedroom, because I don’t see her in the living room, while Carmelo stands away from me to give me privacy—but not out of sight. I sigh and tell myself not to cry, it’s not worth it. But I want to cry, I want to cry for the face that this is my life now. My sad ruined life.

It’s dark by the time Antonio gets home. The elevator door dings but I don’t look in his direction, I stare at my wasted Ziti. Antonio walks over, I can see his shadow in my peripheral view. He stands at the head of the table and looks down at what would’ve been his plate.

“It’s cold,” he says.

Did he taste it or did he just know?

“You said you’d be home at dinner time. I thought I’d wait for you,” I sniffle.

“You’ve been sitting here for hours?”

“I made dinner for us, I thought it would be nice—our first dinner together as a married couple. I waited…”

Antonio is silent for a few passing seconds. “You shouldn’t have waited. Don’t do this again. When you make food, eat it and save a plate for me in the fridge for whenever I get home. You just wasted food,” he says angrily as he grabs the plate and dumps the contents of it in the garbage. He throws the plate into the sink breaking it, causing me to flinch with fear.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “Don’t touch it, I don’t want you cutting yourself and then I have to take you to the emergency room. I’ll clean it up later. Go to bed.”

I open my mouth to argue with him but decide against it. I push out of my chair and walk up the stairs and into the guest bedroom I occupied before the wedding.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

When I enter Arabella is laying in my bed reading a book. “What are you doing in here?”

“This is my new room of course. This is the biggest guest bedroom and you obviously won’t be in here anymore. You’ll be sleeping with Xander.”

“No,” I shake my head adamantly. “I’m not sleeping with him tonight and not ever.”

“I didn’t mean sex.”

“I didn’t mean sex either. I’m not sharing a room with him,” I huff and turn on my heel to go to one of the various other guest rooms.

I enter the guest rooms en suite bathroom and turn the temperature hot to relieve my aching body. I’d be lying if I admit that I wasn’t sore from my night with Antonio. Just thinking about it makes my body feel tingly. I turn the water colder to sate my raging hormones and to bring me back to reality. I can’t think about Antonio right now for my sanity. I use the vanilla scented shampoo and body wash provided and take my time to really clean myself—but mainly to wash the scent of Antonio I could still smell on my skin.

When I get out of the shower and wrap my hair and body in a towel. I groan realizing my suitcase must’ve been brought up to Antonio’s room, which means my change of clothes are in that suitcase. I can’t exactly sleep comfortably in my dirty sweater and jeans.

With a single deep breath I open the door and head down the hallway to Antonio’s master bedroom. When I enter, I’m mortified to find he’s already in there sitting in a chair sipping some alcoholic beverage.

“I-I just came for my clothes,” I rush over to where my suitcase lays next to an empty dresser that Antonio must’ve cleared out especially for me.

Antonio doesn’t say a word, he just sips his drink mindlessly while staring at the empty fireplace. He looks distant—cold and cruel.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I guess I just thought you didn’t care about me, that it was all for sex. I never picked you to be gentle or kin—”

“I’m neither of those things. You’re right, you should think of me as that person—the person who doesn’t care about you. You’re my wife for the benefit of the Famiglia, and I will protect you because you are mine, but I am Capo. I kill people without remorse,” he stands and walks toward me. “I kill without remorse because I don’t care about people’s feelings. It is what makes me good at the job I do. You think a little nineteen year old brat such as yourself could really melt my cold heart? Grow up. This isn’t some romantic movie you’d watch with my cousin. It’s real life, your parents should’ve taught you better.”

Tears pool in my eyes at his harshness and still he doesn’t back down, he doesn’t feel bad. He just continues to look at me with annoyance and hate. I swipe away my tears and fumble to grab my suitcase while holding the towel against my body. I wanted to leave his room as quickly as possible.

He grabs my arms forcing me to stay. “Where are you going?”

“To the guest room, I won’t be any more of a bother to you,” I tremble.

“We’re married. You’ll stay here where I can keep an eye on you.” I open my mouth but he dismisses me by saying, “End of discussion.” Antonio moves across the room to where his mini fridge is, he pulls out a bottle of bourbon and pour himself another glass. He leaves the bottle out—probably because within seconds the glass he just poured is already gone and down his throat.

I grab pajamas from my suitcase and change in the bathroom, when I come back Antonio is lying in bed, he’s back facing me. I climb in and face towards him, I want to reach out and grab him but instead I move as close as I can to his body without touching him and inhale his scent.

Antonio somehow made me want to seek comfort in him, the day before our wedding I despised him and wanted out and now… well now I don’t know what I want. But I do know I don’t want him acting like this toward me anymore. Where was the sweet Antonio who kissed me with passion and scanned my face for any sign of pain so he could stop?