Chapter 10

Ten

Romeo – Three Days Later

“Romeo, she’s still refusing to let any family members, except your two brothers, into her hospital room!” Mikhail growls down the phone.

I sigh, leaning back against my chair as I run a hand down my face, my wedding ring cold against my cheek as I mumble, “I know Mikhail. She’s my wife, and I can’t even enter the room. She only let Leonardo in to rip him a new asshole. She figured out pretty quickly that he had his ex-fuck buddy switch the contraception shot with water. She hasn’t let him in since, only Antonio.”

And it’s fucking frustrating me to no end.

Three days, and I haven’t laid eyes on my wife. Since she decided to have us kicked out, I’ve stayed outside her door, refusing to leave. Today, I had two phone meetings about the casino we own in Las Vegas that I couldn’t put off.

It’s the first time I’ve been home since she was admitted.

“What the fuck do we do, Romeo? I can’t go around killing hospital staff, but my wife is in my fucking ear, wanting to see her daughter,” he mutters.

I scoff, “The same daughter she abused with a belt at the lies Liliya told?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he rasps, “She’s trying to mend things, Romeo.”

I hum. “It doesn’t get rid of the scars on her back, though, does it?”

He sighs and changes the direction of the conversation, knowing I’m right. “Do you know when she’s being discharged?”

I chuckle. “She’s ensured to block us from getting any information, but I’m heading back there in about five minutes. I had a guy look into her records this morning. She’s due to be released this evening.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes when I hear a shout from his end, and he growls, “Alright, keep me updated. I’ve got to go; Liliya’s pitching a fit downstairs. She’s probably discovered Maxim has taken over from me as of yesterday, and when I say found out, I mean realized she’s been cut off.”

With that said, he hangs up, and I sigh, slumping in my seat, my wife coming to mind as always.

I don’t know how to get through to her. She won’t speak to me, only to Antonio. Even then, she’s ensured he doesn’t know when she’s being discharged, not wanting him to tell me, completely forgetting who I am and the contacts I have.

If Elena thinks I’d allow her to leave me, then she has another think coming. She’s my everything, and it’s time she understood that.

I sigh when the sensor on the front door beeps, and I turn the camera on, expecting to see one of my family members only to tense seeing my fucking wife hobble inside, Marco and Aldo trying to assist.

Motherfucker!

Standing up with such force my chair bangs backward, I storm out of my office and down the hallway.

Aldo winces when he sees me, and I glare his way as I boom, “Why didn’t I get a phone call about your release?”

My wife, my little fucking spitfire, doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, she looks at Sarah, our other maid, and confirms, “Did you do as I asked yesterday?”

Sarah clears her throat, her eyes coming my way before nodding, “Yes, Mrs. Russo.”

El flinches at her title, and I narrow my eyes, before she nods back at the maid, and then hobbles to the stairs. I growl when she goes to climb them without assistance.

Quickly I rush after her, but before I can touch her lush curves, she turns sharply and snaps, “Lay one disease-riddled finger on me, and I swear I’ll push you down the fucking stairs!”

I smirk; I can’t help it. I lift my hands in surrender, fucking loving this fiery side of her, so fucking happy that it’s back. She growls at me, clearly not happy at my reaction, and then hobbles up the stairs with me right behind her.

It takes her a little time because she continues to refuse my help like the stubborn woman she is, but when we get to the top, instead of going to the left toward our room where I’ve fucking missed her these past three days, she turns right.

“ Farfalla ?” I question in confusion, but she ignores me as she opens the furthest door from our room. My anger grows, and I snap, “Why the fuck are you going into the guest room?”

She continues to ignore me as she walks in, grabbing something off dresser, and I look into the room. It’s then I notice all the belongings she brought from her parents' house—nothing I bought her—hanging in the opened closet door.

Reality hits.

No fucking way….

She turns toward me and tilts her head, stating, "We’re officially separated. Congratulations, Romeo. You can now move your mistress in.”

My jaw ticks, and I go to take a step forward, ready to grab hold of her, but instead, she smashes paperwork into my chest, causing me to grab hold of it, before she slams the fucking door in my face, and locking it for good measure.

I slam my hand on the wood and shout, “You’re not fucking sleeping in here, Elena; you are my fucking wife!”

She doesn’t answer me, and I growl in anger, looking at the paperwork. My whole body shakes when I read “separation agreement” at the top.

That little….

“If you think I’m signing this, Elena, then you're wrong. You're mine!” I snap, and storm away from the room she’s hiding in, and rush down the stairs, grabbing my phone out of my pocket.

I dial number one, and Leonardo answers on the third ring.

“I’m a little bit busy, fratello …” he says.

“Is Arnold still breathing?” I ask straight away.

He’s quiet for a moment while I walk out the door, heading to my Mercedes. I climb in before he answers, “He is. He’s still not telling us where he hid the 50k he stole from us….”

“Keep him alive; I’m on my way,” I state.

He jokes, “What, can’t trust your baby brother to uncover the truth?”

I start the car, breathing heavily, and I state, “My wife is pregnant and just handed me a separation agreement before slamming the guest bedroom door in my face.”

He’s quiet for a beat before saying, “He’ll be breathing.”

I hang up with his confirmation before throwing my phone on the passenger seat, and spinning out of the drive, the guard only just opening the gate for me.

I need to get this anger out, and then I need to figure out a way to get Elena to listen to me and hopefully forgive me for not saving her from that bullet.

Two hours, that’s how long I’ve been torturing Arnold. It took me twenty minutes, three cut-off fingers, and several missing nails for him to squeal about where he hid the money. Another forty minutes, a missing ear, and several stab wounds in his leg for one of my men to find the money and count it. And then another five minutes, and a missing hand for him to admit that he raped and murdered a woman married to one of my men.

Cale killed himself when he found Paula dead in their home four weeks ago.

“Fuck me, it’s like a bloodbath in here,” Antonio mutters as I pull the knife out of Arnold's leg. He’s barely conscious, and I’m covered in his splattered blood, but I don’t give a shit.

Elena’s adamant she wants to leave, but I won’t fucking let her.

“Rome?” Leonardo questions with concern, and I breathe heavily as I stab Arnold in the stomach four times, then slice his throat.

I wasn’t going to make him suffer; I thought he’d just stolen money. The plan was to find said money, see who his accomplice was, and then shoot him in the head, but then he admitted to what he did to Paula, and that was it.

Our organization values family, and I got their revenge.

“She handed me separation papers. She’s adamant about leaving,” I rasp.

Pain like no other fills me.

“Surely you’re not going to let her?” Antonio asks with fury, and I look at him.

“I didn’t spend six fucking years protecting that whore to lose my wife now. I need to convince her how I feel,” I admit as I drop the knife.

I shake my head in frustration and walk to the door as Leonardo asks, “What will you do, fratello ?”

I look his way. “Ensure I’m always around her. I’ll be working around my wife for the foreseeable future, and if I have to go away for business, like with the Cartel next week, then she’ll be coming with me.”

They both nod, and I head to my car. Now, my fury has subsided, and my understanding of her way of seeing things has crystalized. I need to plan.

For years, she’s watched me hover over her sister, allowing her sister to fawn over me and touch me, and I know for a fact if it was the other way round, blood would be spilled.

I can see why she thinks I’d want Liliya, but it's time my wife understood that I had to act that way for her safety because of the danger Liliya was putting her in, and I couldn’t exactly kill her sister even if I wanted to.

I was bound by a contract I couldn’t break because my fucking father had our lawyer draft it up, not rereading it before we signed.

It takes twenty minutes for me to get home. I’m fucking happy the warehouse is on the outside of Brooklyn, so I don’t have to go through city traffic.

I take the stairs two at a time, not caring that I’m covered in blood, and head to my wife’s temporary bedroom. I bang on the door several times before I hear it unclick, and she opens it a little, only to gasp in horror and open it wider.

I smile my eyes taking in the way her hair cascades down her shoulders, and I rasp, “See, that right there means you still love me, which means you’re not leaving.”

She ignores my words, her eyes taking in the blood and stutters, “Y-your’e b-bleeding….”

I shake my head, and lean forward, gently kissing her forehead, ensuring not to get blood on her white lace nightgown that I would love to rip off her right now, and whisper, “It’s not mine; it’s from a traitor who raped and killed a Made Man's wife four weeks ago.”

Her eyes widen, and she gasps. “Paula….”

I can’t help but kiss her again, loving how she knew who I was talking about straight away, just like the perfect Don’s wife she it. I state, “I won’t let you leave me, El. Not now, not ever. The contract was airtight because our family drafted it. I had to abide by it, farfalla .” I look down at her to see her eyes tearing up, and whisper, “I had Maxim keep you on that end of the room that day because I knew about the hit, and I couldn’t lose you, and I couldn’t go to the party without you without raising suspicion. If Liliya had died, our marriage would have been void because you weren’t willing to get pregnant.” She shakes her head, and I straighten and state, “You’re not leaving me, El. I’ll allow you your space in this room for now, but that’s it.”

Walking backward, I smirk at the anger entering her eyes, and say, “I’ll see you in the morning, my farfalla . Oh, and next week, you're coming with me to Mexico. I have a meeting with Miguel. I’m sure Renata will want to apologize.”

I head to our room, her outraged screech hitting my ears, making me grin and she shouts, “You made me an embarrassment, you allowed me to get shot, I could have died. We are through, Romeo!”

Despite the pain her words bring, knowing the truth of them, I smirk. She’s affected by me; she loves me, which means I won’t lose her, and even if she does try to leave, I’ll take a leaf out of Miguel’s book, and tie her to the fucking bed.

Get ready, El, because you’ve met your fucking match.