Mafia Puppet

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43 | three pieces of marshmallows

“DONNA...” SOMEONE GRABBED my shoulder, startling me awake.

"Wha...?" I trailed off when I realized it was Carina.

"The Don's in the car," she said.

I was confused for a moment before I felt a stab of pain once I realized that he didn't come to get me himself because of our fight. The last time we had to go together and I was asleep, he woke me up in bed himself. This time he told someone else to do it. I hated to admit that I wanted him here with me right now. I wanted him to tell me that everything way okay in between us, but I knew that was wishful thinking.

"I'll be down in a minute," I told her, getting up.

But Carina didn't budge. "He ordered you down now, Donna."

I fisted my hand. Carina was just handling orders but the way she said it made me angry. Her tone had become more harsher and dominant, and I really didn't like that.

Instead of bursting out, I sweetly smiled at her as I sarcastically said. "And I'll be down in a minute."

She narrowed her eyes at me. I knew Carina valued her job a lot and she liked to follow orders. If I didn't come in time her job would be in jeopardy. I was no fan of pissing off the Don but I also didn't like getting ordered around anymore, especially by a maid that worked under me and someone I was nice to. I knew I had no power against my husband but I did over her. My husband was almost never in the house in the morning. I was and I could make her life hell. She was forgetting who appointed her.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face. It was the afternoon and I was honestly surprised that I had fallen asleep. I felt bad for doing what I did. What was wrong with me? I needed to stop being so groused. It wasn't her fault I was having a bad day or that I had a fight with my husband. I was being a coward by taking my anger out on someone who didn't deserve it, but that didn't mean I was going to apologize either. I couldn't bring the Donna. It wasn't about being the bigger person, it was about power. I apologizing to her disrespected my husband's position. A woman's rank was determined by her husband but somehow that no longer felt normal to me. Was Antonio really my identity? Was I okay with that?

I tried to freshen up quickly but it still felt like I took too much time.

Hours ago, Antonio found out about Arianna and the note. I still feared what he would do to me even though he didn't do anything yet. What was the worse that could happen? Him killing me. It was a possibility, but I didn't think he'd do that.

Antonio was an enigma. The more I tried to understand him, the harder he was to solve. I didn't know how he'd handle this or how I'd convince him of my loyalty. I was trying the best I could and I knew it was stupid of me to hide things but I'd didn't have a choice. It was my sister against him. She was innocent. He wasn't.

After ten quick minutes I was out, only to find my husband instead of the maid. He stared at me quietly. Why'd he come back? I wasn't ready to face him yet. I did want to talk to him but not when I was surprised. It needed to be on my terms.

"I had to go to the bathroom," I said after the silence became too thick.

He didn't acknowledge my response. "Let's go," he said. He sounded closed off and calm. Too calm, and I didn't like it. It made me anxious.

"I need to change?" I said. It sounded more like a question. I just slept in these clothes. They were sweaty and made me uncomfortable. This was supposed to be a normal statement but it wasn't. It was more like testing to see if he would burst and vent out his anger. I knew I was already walking on thin ice but I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know how to behave. Did I behave like nothing happened or fearful or timid or bold?

I needed a break.

He pursed his lips. "Hurry up," he simply said. He didn't even sound mad and that made me feel guilty. Maybe that was exactly what he wanted—for me to feel bad.

I quickly changed into a tighter brown sweater-like dress that went to my shins. It was long sleeved and warm with a v-neck. It didn't go too deep to show my cleavage but it exposed my shoulder blades. I paired it with high heeled wedges before pulling on large hoop earrings and the neckless Antonio gave me. My hand froze as I stared at it. I slowly turned it around and a small gasp left my lips.

No. I couldn't believe it. That wasn't possible. Antonio wouldn't do that. He didn't do caring and sentiments.

There was a date engraved on it, and it was written by my husband himself. I knew from how messy it was. He wrote messy and wasn't very good with pen. I figured when I went to his office.

Antonio took the initiative to write it himself when he could've got it done by someone else. The necklace was custom made, not something he picked out randomly just because it looked good. I didn't want to cry again and I didn't have the time to either so I just sniffled. I looked at myself through the mirror. My nose was turning red and my cheeks were flushed. I had small dark spots under my eyes and a tiny pimple growing at the side of my head that I still needed to cover with make-up. It wasn't that noticeable but right now I could see all my imperfections. I could see very little imperfect detail.

I grabbed my purse and threw in my small emergency make-up kit. I'd doll myself up in the plane. I didn't have the time right now. I ran a hand through my hair and brought some to the side. I recently had it done and it shined. It made me look a tad bit better and less like I was just about to cry.

I wanted to ask him why he wrote it himself, and why he particularly wrote our wedding date but I didn't have the guts to ask him. When I walked out, I saw him waiting. His eyes skimmed over my body and lingered on my necklace for a second longer before he left. There was nothing. Not even anger or surprise. He was as composed as ever, just like the day I first met him.

I followed him out.

As we walked out the huge manor, bodyguards circled us like the last time and j like before, we got into an SUV and then we were moving. Apparently, they were all waiting for me. He was waiting for me and I didn't know what to feel about that at this point.

The drive to the airport was extremely awkward. I didn't dare ask him any questions and to be honest, I really didn't want to talk either. I was confused. Doing this for a wife was very unheard of in this generation. Most men would just gift their mistresses something luxurious. They didn't do custom made or write things themselves. The Don doing that for me despite being so busy made me confused.

The driver rounded out of the highway and onto another road. "Where are we going?" I asked him quietly. The airport was the other way.

After a moment of silence, my husband answered. "To our private airport."

"Oh," I mumbled. That should've been obvious. Of course we'd be a taking a private plane. Antonio was very rich and powerful.

"Why didn't Alessia come here in a private plane, I mean?" I couldn't help but ask.

I felt awkward. The car was very silent since there was no music playing around. There was only the driver in the car with us who could probably feel the tension in the air. He was third wheeling the aftermath of our fight and I would've felt bad for him if he hadn't smiled at me when Antonio burned a man alive and killed Jasmine. I still hadn't forgiven him for that. He was a major bit—douche.

Antonio kept his gaze towards his window. "Because she didn't need to."

I wanted him to elaborate but then thought of not asking. If he didn't want to talk then there was no need for me to try harder. I needed to take things slow. I needed to play smart even though I knew what I did before was very stupid.

Soon after we rolled up into the private airport. As we got checked in, I noticed the hostess and pilot greeting us. Everyone had their head down in what I assume was fear or maybe respect but I suspected the latter.

Antonio held my hand, startling me. I looked at him but he didn't meet my gaze as we walked up the large stairs of the private plane. A flight attendant showed us to our seats embroidered with golden fabric.

The flight was themed with a rich gold colour and white shades, making the place look larger and richer than it already was. In the front were large cushioned chairs that could recline and at the back, another room was covered with curtains. I knew there was a lot more to the plane that I could see but I wasn't really in the mood for exploring.

A pretty blond woman stood in front and started listing all the safety procedures as I placed my seatbelt on. The woman left afterwards. Antonio wasn't really paying attention. He was sitting opposite me and had his back facing her. He probably already knew all these procedures.

He looked out the window as the plane was about to take off. His hand gripped the arm rest tightly and his face formed into a frown. I looked around to find the plane empty. The attendants weren't there and his bodyguard were sitting somewhere else in the plane. I didn't blame them. They left to give us privacy or they probably felt the awkwardness.

Antonio's attention snapped to me once I plucked off my seat belt while the plane was in motion. He didn't question it. He didn't even question me when I got up and sat beside him despite the plane taking off. He just stared at me.

I didn't know where the confidence was coming from. Maybe it was because of the little gestures he did before that made him different from Father or that I didn't like seeing him anxious because it made me feel vulnerable.

Placing my hand on top of his, I gave it a small squeeze. He instantly looked away and leaned his head against his head rest. His black hair was growing a bit longer and curled around the nape of his neck. It fell onto his forehead as he closed his eyes in peace. The frown lines were gone but I knew he was awake. He didn't let go of my hand.

It all felt like a moment to me. Hours ago, I felt hatred surge within his eyes and now he was relaxed with me. It was weird.

I didn't want to disturb him. I wanted to let him sleep so I did. But the flight attendant didn't. She came in holding a trolley full of drinks. Her long blonde hair was let out and her lips were coated with red. If I were to be honest, she looked beautiful.

She smiled at me. "What would you like, ma'am? Sir?"

I looked at Antonio. His eyes were open and now was only that I noticed how tired he actually was. Even after staying with him for weeks, this was the first time I felt like I tried to get to know him. Even after having a psychical relationship with him, I wasn't able to know him. But I was trying. I really was. I didn't know how to show him that and my actions were telling him otherwise. But I need him to try too. A relationship couldn't be successful with only one person trying. That would be toxic. Did I want a relationship with him? Could I have a relationship with him? Wasn't this already toxic though?

I knew some things about him like his favourite food was Chicken Marsala and that he loved hot chocolate with only three marshmallows inside. I also figured that he was a bit of OCD when he'd always pick up the little things I would sometimes forget to clean with a small frown. He loved his siblings and even liked to boss them around sometimes. And, he like to always be on time and if he was ever late he'd often call home.

"Water and a hot chocolate, thank you," I replied when Antonio didn't say anything.

With the black blazer and black shirt he sported, he looked like a billionaire. He was a billionaire but he had that out of bed vibe going on.

I looked at the blonde woman. "Add three marshmallows in the hot chocolate," I told her.

The attendant smiled and poured out some water and made a hot chocolate before handing it to me. I gave the warmer drink to my husband who didn't bother saying a 'thank you' but I didn't expect him to either. Antonio was more into showing than speaking. He liked getting jobs done, not saying them. I grabbed my water from her hand before she left.

I turned to face him. I didn't even realize until now that I hadn't removed my hand from his. But I didn't really care. I needed to talk to him. It didn't matter that he was intimidating or not. I just wanted to him because it felt too awkward and I didn't like awkward with him.

"Are you mad at me?" I blurted out an obvious question.

He didn't bother looking at me as he took a sip of the burning drink. I looked away, feeling embarrassed.

"When I killed your friend, were you mad?" he finally spoke.

I looked at him. He just looked off. He looked tired and out of it. He looked like a complete different person, more disoriented. I felt like I didn't know him at all and all the things I thought I knew were the things he wanted me to know.

"No," I finally replied as I watched his eyes close. "I just felt...disappointed."

Realization dawned on me and I didn't know what was worse: him being mad or just disappointed in me.
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