Chapter 6

Six

Romeo – Two Months Later

I tap my pen on the glass conference table as Peter, our project manager, goes over the numbers for the restaurants we own, all on the legal side.

Antonio, Leonardo, and Mario see to our illegal businesses. We all sat down an hour ago, confirming profit is doubling with the new shipment of cocaine.

“As you can see here,” Peter states, pointing at the graph near him on the opposite side of the large glass oval table, members of the board all listening as he continues, “Our family-based restaurants are up by 15%, and our elite restaurants for the wealthy are up by 20%.”

I nod and ask, "And our clubs?” causing eyes to come my way, the snobby men and women nod, wanting to know.

Peter quickly changes the charts and points again, “Are up by 12% since last month.”

I nod again, and he continues going through the revenues and what we can do to improve the percentages, but as usual, my mind wanders back to my wife.

For two months, I’ve made sure to be home when she wakes to have breakfast with her. I’ve tried to be more attentive in public, but nothing seems to make her happy. I’ve been failing miserably, especially after the event we went to last week.

Liliya threw herself at me when I left the men's room, and my wife walked around the corner to see her sister’s body pressed against mine, her arms around my neck, but instead of getting upset, she fucking walked past us, ignoring me for the rest of the evening while her sister stuck close by like a bad smell.

Fuck, even her mother told her to get a grip on herself and have some class, instead of throwing herself at a married man.

I don’t know who she shocked more, me or Mikhail.

My wife, however, ignored us all.

“Alright, let’s try some of the ideas you’ve come up with, Peter. Build up a team in marketing, and send us the reports next month. Meeting dismissed,” Antonio says loudly from beside me, snapping me out of my head as chairs scrape on the hardwood floors, everyone leaving.

As soon as the last person walks out and shuts the door, Antonio turns to me and asks, “El still not talking to you, huh?”

I huff. “She’s talking to me, just not about her day-to-day activities as she used to, she’s more fucking formal.” I run a frustrated hand through my hair, and admit, “I’ve gone from having a wife who wants to communicate and talk about our days, to her being withdrawn. Even at events, where I’m showing my affection to her, she’ll find her way back to the wall or the corner, flinching at my fucking touch.”

He sighs, leaning back in his chair, and asks, “Does she know about Saturday?”

I scoff. “What, that her sister is having an early birthday party, and she has to be there?” He nods, and I shake my head. “Not yet, and things are going to be fucking shit.”

He sighs. “Surely Renata won’t go through with her threat.”

I give him a brow raise, and he winces as I state, “Liliya sent her videos of her and Miguel fucking when he was high from years ago, hoping to piss her own father off. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want Maxim taking over. She knows he’ll cut her off completely, and she’ll either have to marry for the organization like her sister did but to someone lower in rank because of her track record, or get a job. Renata is on the warpath, and Miguel is trying to do damage control, especially after he realized he loved his fucking wife.”

He groans. “I don’t get Liliya’s fucking mind with all this shit. All she’s doing is putting her life in danger, which means putting your life in danger, because you are contracted to fucking protect her personally.”

I hum and say, “For what it’s worth, I believe Anastasia is regretting her actions with the contract now.”

He scoffs. “Why? Because you found out about your wife’s fucking scars on her back, and Mikhail has been slowly torturing her by taking everything she loves over the past four years, or because she’s seen how bad her eldest is.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. All I know is that she’s been calling my wife more. Instead of calling once a month, she calls at least three or four times a week. El will answer, and the call can range from a few minutes to half an hour, but she barely speaks; she just listens. Az has been keeping me up to date, monitoring her phone, just in case she decides to pull a runner.”

Not that Elena knows. She’d fucking castrate me if she knew the head of our security within the organization is monitoring her.

He shakes his head. “I don’t care if El is willing to listen to her. She marked her, fratello , and it’s just wrong. You know your wife, nothing she could say and do could warrant that kind of punishment, she’s too fucking sweet.”

I tap my pen again. “I know, Antonio, believe me, I fucking know. She’s giving me the cold shoulder, yet allowing me to have her body.”

He stands, straightening his suit jacket, and says, “She’s looking for a way to leave you, fratello , and you need to figure out a way to ensure that doesn’t happen, and not just because you're madly, obsessively in love with your queen, but because I’ve read through your contract with a tooth and a fucking comb with our lawyer.”

I groan, “I know Antonio. If El divorces me, then I’m to marry the bitch.”

He heads for the door mumbling, “I’ll never know how you haven’t punched our father for his fuck up over your contract, or put a bullet in both Liliya’s and Anastasia’s heads.” He walks out the door, but not before stating loudly, “Call your wife, Romeo.”

I groan again, leaning back in my chair, and slumping down.

He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, when it’s fucking not. She won’t want to go to Liliya’s, not understanding why we must, and unwilling to listen to reason.

Several times, I have tried to tell her what was written in the contract, and each time she’s fucking shut me down, and the two times I’ve given her the contract and told her to read through it, she’s torn it up, then burned it.

Sighing, I stand, button my black suit jacket, and grab my phone, before walking out of the room. The employees all skedaddle when they notice me, while some women stop and eye me up like I’m a piece of meat, despite knowing I’m married.

Ignoring them, I head toward the elevators, knowing this conversation with my wife needs to be in person.

Damn, I’d rather run into a gunfight naked, than have this conversation with my wife right about now.

Forty minutes later, I walk down the colorful hallway toward my wife’s classroom. It’s lunchtime, so I know that’s where she’ll be, but fury builds when I get to her open door.

Elena smiles at the soon-to-be dead fucker, Damian, who is wiping her fucking lip with a corner of the napkin, and it takes everything in me not to grab my piece from my back.

“There you go, Elly,” he says, smirking, his stupid slicked-back blonde hair looking ridiculous.

My wife furrows her brows and questions, “Elly?”

He smirks. “It suits you, and it’s all mine.”

“Huh…” she mumbles, leaning away from him a little, looking unsettled as his eyes go to her tits, my fucking tits , that he can see clearly from where he’s sitting on the edge of her desk.

Elena doesn’t notice; she is too busy checking the papers in front of her, and drinking her water through a straw.

I watch him slowly lick his bottom lip, and fury blinds me.

“Is there a reason you’re staring at my wife’s breasts?” I snap, making both of them jump.

The fucker’s face pales, while El tilts her head in confusion and asks, “Is everything alright, Rome?” with concern, and I get it, I never show up at her school, well, her classroom, in the middle of the day. Most evenings, I try to pick her up after work.

I may have had one of my men remove the alternator in her car two months ago, and it’s been in the “shop” since. She either has me or her guard bring her to school or pick her up.

I was hoping she’d talk to me more like she used to, but it’s not working.

The fucker clears his throat and asks, “Can I help you with something?”

I glare at him and snap, “Yeah, you can get the fuck off my wife’s desk, and fuck off now, before I put a hole in your head!” Elena sighs as he quickly jumps off her desk and runs past me, out of the room. I scoff. “Fucking pussy.”

“Was that really necessary, Rome?” Elena sighs.

I look at her and raise a brow. “Oh, so you're happy when women fawn over me?”

She winces and looks down, clearly not happy that I’ve seen her jealousy over the years, which I fucking loved.

She plays with the strap of her white top, and I sigh, closing the door, causing her to look at me with confusion.

I walk over and lean down, gently kissing her head, before sitting on the edge of her desk.

I place the contract down, causing her to furrow her brows, and look at me. I give her a small smile, gently cup her cheek, and rasp, “I want you to reread the contract, farfalla . I need you to, and everything will make sense.”

She shakes her head and asks, “Why? I don’t need to read it, Romeo.”

I soften my eyes. “Because then you’ll understand why we have to attend your sister's early birthday party. She’s demanding to have it on Saturday at Luis’.”

Her nostrils flare and shakes her head, stating defiantly, “I’m not going, and you can’t force me. I have no reason to be there.”

I wince. “I’m sorry, El, but you are. I have to be there, and I can’t go without my wife. Besides…she’s your sister.”

She shakes her head, anger radiating from her, and I sigh, knowing how that sounded. Her words confirm my thoughts as she states, "You'll be with her the whole time; why not just go as her date? Everyone knows your true feelings anyway."

Flaring my nostrils, I get off her desk. I lean forward and kiss her again, this time behind her ear. Then, I inhale her strawberry scent, and rasp, “Read the contract, Elena, and I promise everything will make sense.”

That said, I straighten and walk out without looking back, knowing I’ll just sit in the car and wait until she finishes her day, instead of going back to work, opting to answer emails on my phone.

I really fucking hope she reads through that contract, because I’m at my wit's end. I know she’s trying to figure out a way to leave me. I know she has no idea I swapped her contraceptive shot with water and could be pregnant, but right now, I’m ready to cuff her to our bed until she finally fucking listens to me.

I've spent four years watching over her sister, and I’m done. I want my wife, not anyone else, and she needs to realize that.

I fucking love her.