“Traded for love” [Book 1 - Mafia in love]

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Chapter 4 - He said he would think about it [Republished]


I knew she would ask for it again. The divorce, that is.

This is the second time. First time she asked, I took my whole wrath of anger on her till she almost fainted in my arms.

And when she did, I caressed her for tenths of minutes in a row, tasting her skin and filling my lungs with her scent, to last with me till the next time she wouldn’t be conscious, and I could refill.

That night was my torture, my travel to hell and back.

I couldn’t show I still loved her or else they would have used her against me or against her father and I wouldn’t mind her being used against me. I would gladly give up my life for hers. I have Gio to keep her safe and I trust him like a brother.

But she would never be safe under her father’s so-called protection because the motherfucker would never think twice to abandon or trade her again.

They must never know she is the core of my life, the reason for my existence till I am done with them.

I fucked her hard as a punishment and felt her entire body with my palms and my lips when she was wasted and numb in my arms.

I know. I was a monster. But these were the only times I could ease my longing for her.

The only times I could love her, even hidden in the dark of her faint, the only moments I could be the man madly in love, tormented in the midst of our love but not having her fully.

The dirty affairs of her father and brother grew too dangerous and hardly I took my father out. I threw myself in, putting on the table a fake business and using it to take her out, which was my priority from the moment I saw her first. I was going to turn them all to ash immediately I put Becca to safety.

It was a life and death matter, but I never thought twice.

My death meant nothing to me comparing with hers. I will never take lightly any threat on her life, or let it happen.

When I saw the empty bottle of pills on the bathroom’s floor and I realized what she did, it felt as if it was my hand that shoved those damn pills down her throat.

I failed in the neatest fucking way to protect her.

I took her out of her father’s home to save her and I pushed her over the cliff even stronger and maybe faster.

I had to make others believe she was unimportant to me.

She had to be oblivious to it. She was the purest heart I knew and most probably her father would have surely read in her eyes if I was to play games.

That fucker would never think twice before slitting her throat if it brought him more money or better businesses with the Italians.

I could never understand how come she was the total opposite kind to her family.

They are all scums, heartless while she was a pure, loving soul. She was the love of my life and everything I had holly.

It is time I end what I’ve started three years ago.

It was true I had never stopped my plans but I stumbled and got delayed the moment her fucking brother ditched me to the Italians two years ago. I had to make alternative plans, like losing the Italians and getting rid of her father. And brother.

I have to get my wife back. I missed her like hell and she had been suffering for too long.

Although my heart was breaking to see her always drunk and high with the pills she used to take, I was grateful for the nights when she would pass out in a deep sleep.

Those were the only nights I could lay next to her in bed and hold her for hours, smelling her scent, feeling her soft skin with my own.

I miss my wife and I am afraid that lasting longer, this torture I am putting her through will trigger her downfall and drain life out of her.

She fucking tried to kill herself today and this was the last drop I could take.

She was laughing at me insanely when she gulped all those fucking pills.

She was happy she did it.

She was fucking happy she would get away from me, even in death.

She hated the guts of me and she used to love me so.

“I will think about it,” I say without moving.

Like fuck I will!

The divorce would be her death sentence and her death is not an option for me, not even the slightest scratch on her skin.


He slept on the two seats sofa of the hospital room till morning.

I laid on my left side, staring at him for hours. My eyes wouldn’t close, wouldn’t have enough of him.

No sleep came the entire night.

He said he would think about it. I wanted to believe him but the more I thought about it, stronger something was telling me he was bullshitting.

He said it just because I tried to kill myself and he wouldn’t want more pressure on me.

Nothing will change.

But right here and now I have the joy of gawking at him and missing Lucas till my heart bleeds.

I woke up after maybe an hour of sleep with a soft touch on my forehead.

“Becca, wake up, baby. Time to go,” he said.

I open my eyes and see Lucas standing next to my bed, running his fingers through my hair and glancing at me, waiting for me to open my eyes.

I slightly stiffen seeing him so close to me.

It used to never be a good thing to see him so close to me.

I am yet not used to this new Lucas, distant but carrying.

Seems losing his baby made him a pussy. Pathetic!

“Sure,” I say and stand up from the bed to have my morning refresh and change my clothes.

It took me less than thirty minutes to be ready and exit the hospital’s doors.

Silently, striding side by side and with his right hand laid flat on my smaller back, we both got in the car and Charles drove us home.

I was in a mood for precisely nothing.

All I could think of was to take my sleeping tablets and lay down in bed for God knows how long. I didn’t have a target.

As long as the pills will put me to sleep and take me away from my pathetic life, it’s just enough for me.

The drive was in the same deafening silence, but somehow comfortable.

Arriving home, I walked in the house, dropping my purse on the floor next to the stairs on my way up with the precise intention of locking myself in my bedroom.

“Becca, get ready. We have a flight in four hours,” he tells me, fixing himself a glass of brandy.

“Flight? What for? Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes. We will stay on the island for a while.”

“We? I thought you said you would think about the divorce. I thought you would start the process.”

I knew he wouldn’t, but I wanted to push for it.

“Don’t start, Becca!” he said in a menacing tone.

I was not surprised at all. I knew he didn’t mean it the first time I heard it and here it was the proof.

“I will think about it while we are on the island,” he continued and I laughed mockingly, continuing my way to the bedroom.

“You can take your flight alone. I am tired,” I shout before closing the door and lock it.

“You have one hour, Becca!” I heard him shouting.

Well, locking the door was not much of a protection, but rather a statement. A statement that I wanted him to stay away from me.

I went straight to the bathroom, gulped my pills and on my way back to the room, to my so much desired bed I was peeling off my clothes, one by one, dropping them carelessly on the floor.

I don’t give a damn about anything at this moment.

They say, ‘be careful of people that have nothing to lose’.

Well, I was one of those people now. So, I ignored Lucas’ request and warnings. I ignored him.

I will sleep for a few days and then... sleep some more. Most probably until the pills will work no more.

But not long after I laid in bed and fell into an alpha state, lingering between sleep and awakening, I hear the door opening slowly and, like always, I pretend to sleep, mastering the control over my breath.

My nostrils fill with the powerful scent of his perfume.

I mentally smirk. What did I tell you about closing and locking doors in this house?

He wanders around the room, opening the walk-in closet and picking out my traveling bag, shoving some staff in it.

I peek between my eyelashes at a totally oblivious Lucas, but before I make a move, his phone buzzes.

“What? Double the security. I don’t care. It is your fucking job,” he speaks when picking up the phone.

I hear someone talking at the other end of the line, but I can’t hear the words or recognize the voice.

“I don’t want a bird coming in without knowing about it, do you understand?” he keeps growling in the phone, struggling to keep his voice down.

His tone is hard and deadly serious, and that alone tells me the severity of the conversation.

I think Lucas has always been a tough, dangerous guy, as he is no stranger to guns and shady business, the type of business he has with my father, and the Italians or Mexicans.

But to me he was another man, he allowed me to know the loving Lucas that I fell so hard for, the decent, caring son he was to his parents, the brother he was to Gio. We were one hand of people that we knew this Lucas and deep down in my heart this Lucas would always exist.

“And anybody or anything coming towards us or having the intention to come to us, I want to know. Especially if that anybody is her fucking father or brother,” he continues and he cuts off the call without waiting either a reply or a confirmation.

He continues packing my things and once done he closes the zipper, leaving the room with my bag in his hand.

I clearly heard him talking about my father and brother and I was wondering why would they want to come and visit?

They never cared about me since I got married, not that before they were awfully close.

I have been raised knowing I have one duty: sacrifice for the better of my family slash business.

And the moment I left my father’s house and moved to Lucas’s house, we cut all connections.

It was so good to be out of their sight, out of their house and life.

We would talk on the phone occasionally, but never more than five sentences, as if they only wanted to know how unhappy I was and feeding his joy with that.


“I have a trade coming and you will help me get it,” my father said when I entered his office and sat on the chair in front of his desk.

“Help like what?” I asked, rather bored than interested.

It was never a pleasure to talk business with my father. Well, talk was an overstatement. He was never talking. He was ordering.

“Your marriage will bring me 40% of this new deal.” he said, leaning leisurely against the backrest of his office chair.

“My what?” I mumble, feeling my blood drained all at once.

“You’ll get married to Tate’s son in a month, after the transaction is secured,” he clarified.

“Why the fuck do you need my marriage for a business transaction?” I spat on the edge of bursting into tears and swallowing the knots formed in my throat.

He stood up from his desk, threatening, with hands propped on it.

“Watch your fucking mouth, young lady!” he yelled. “And don’t you dare defy me.! This is what you were born for! This is what your purpose is!”

He always liked to belittle me.

In his sick mind, I was worthless.

Even my college was paid while I stayed home, watched and locked up practically all the time after months of having my mother insisting on him to let me leave for college.

And my brother was nothing better.

Hell, even my mother believed in him blindly.

I stood up, raising my chin proudly, throwing fire from my eyes and tears along my cheeks.

“You know what? I will gladly marry and get out of this shit whole you call home and from this twisted mind people called family. I hope I’ll never see you till the day you die. And when you do, I’ll still think about bothering myself to come and see you.”

I was damn scared of him and I couldn’t figure out where all of that courage came from.

I was so furious with him for belittling me all my life that I didn’t care what was coming.

Fuck, it could easily have been a bullet in my skull as I knew the man he was and the people he was dealing with and I wouldn’t wonder him having some dead bodies in his locker. Literally!

I twisted on my heels and left his office in tears.

I cried my eyes out that day until my mother came to check on me.

Well, sort of, as she actually came just to let me know that Mr. Tate’s son was coming for dinner. I had to get ready for guests.

At least he was a “son”, and I didn’t have to worry about him being a bald, old, smelly husband-to-be.


Lucas was one delightful surprise. I had been mesmerized by him on the spot and he seemed magically enchanted of me throughout the entire evening. The connection we did that night made me wonder if we had met before. He looked absolutely hooked and I was gracefully fascinated by him. Who wouldn’t? He was gorgeous.

I found it strange, though, that the deal my father had was not with Lucas’ father but with Lucas’ company. I was wondering why Lucas needed a marriage to seal that deal? He never met me before. We didn’t know each other, or at least that’s what I thought.

But that thought was soon forgotten as I fell for him strongly, on the spot, and I stopped questioning the reason for our marriage. I just wanted it to happen.

I don’t know what happened to us shortly after.

No later than one year Lucas became the exact opposite of whom I fell in love with.

Hate and anger soon nested in our home, and I was so tormented in that unhappy life.

In a matter of months, I became so depressed that I had to visit doctors for my anxiety.

I must have visited a few tenths of them, all filling me up with sleeping pills.

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