Chapter 12
Omerta: code of silence
Megan:
When Antonio walks through the door, I don’t
know whether to run to hug him or run to my room and lock the door.
I know he’s mad...and for good reason. I know how foolish I was to
follow them.
Antonio walks over to me,
standing over me where I was lounging on the couch. Erin is in
Clarissa’s suite.
Lucky girl!
He takes my hand gently, hauling me up to a
standing position, and leads me to my room.
My heart pumps wildly in trepidation, and my
hand tingles where he’s touching me. Even though we’re alone, he
closes the door. His eyes glass over with need.
“Lie down,” he orders me.
Unsure, I climb on the bed and lay down with
my head against the soft pillows. I wonder what he’s going to do.
He stands at the end of the bed grabs my ankles and tugs me towards
him. He takes off my sneakers and they thump to the floor. He kicks
off his own shoes and kneels on the bed. He throws his leg over my
hips and straddles me, pinning me to the bed lusciously.
My belly jumps at the contact, wanting more.
I wait - each second killing me. I want to reach up and pull him
down to me. I take my hand and slide it under his shirt across his
meaty abs. He gathers my hand and holds it. He takes my other free
hand then traps them both to my sides.
“Don’t. Ever. Follow. Us. Like. That.
Again.” Antonio’s tone is intimidating. I nod my head because I
can’t move my hands...and I’m afraid to open my mouth. Suddenly, he
takes my hands and thrusts them over my head. He leans down and
gives me a searing kiss. He kisses me feverishly like it’s
life-or-death. “I wouldn’t be able to take it if anything happened
to you,” he whispers, intensely staring into my eyes.
I can only continue to nod my head in
agreement. Antonio has immobilized me, physically and mentally.
After a brief and passionate staring contest, he lets me go. I feel
bereft immediately.
“Sorry, you are right,” I say quietly, a
little afraid to move even now. “It was stupid.”
I knew it was dangerous when
I did it ran after him. I felt so empowered, but my run-in with
Demetrius was sobering. He could have dragged me out of the casino
and down the street. No one would have known.
What was he doing here anyway?
Clarissa said he is not welcome.
Antonio strips off his shirt and lies down
next to me on the bed. He draws me to him, spooning my body with
his. I snuggle in deeper, breathing in his scent...suddenly feeling
his comfort. As he holds me in silence, Antonio’s breathing becomes
even and wispy. I close my eyes and sleep finds me.
*****
Megan:
I wake up and see Antonio still sound
asleep. He hasn’t even switched his position. He must be really
tired. I sneak out of bed so I don’t disturb him.
I halt, hearing voices in the suite as I
approach the door. “When are you leaving?” asks Vito’s deep
voice.
“Next week,” Erin replies.
I hear pots and pans clang. Someone is
cooking in the kitchen.
“I never thanked you for the
clothes...sorry. I really love them,” Erin’s voice is small and
hesitant.
“Yup,” he replies, and I hear a cupboard
open and close. “Don’t you have sea salt around here?” he asks,
avoiding Erin’s thank you.
“We don’t really cook here. Everything comes
from the kitchen, except snacks and microwavable stuff.”
Without seeing them, Erin’s voice sounds so
young and slight compared to Vito’s masculine low-toned one. They
are polar opposites.
Whatever he is making smells incredible. My
stomach awakens and growls, but I don’t want to intrude on them. I
wait and listen by the door, eavesdropping some more.
“What’s that called again?” Erin asks.
“A frittata.”
“It looks like you pumped air into an
omelet.”
“It’s thicker and fluffier than an omelet.
It’s a whole different texture,” he lectures.
I cover my mouth to keep from giggling. I
know Vito can cook, but it sounds funny listening to him. It is
such a contrast to his usual unapproachable, beat-em-up
persona.
I am ready to give in to my stomach when
Antonio stirs. I turn to him. He is so gorgeous lying there on my
bed, mussed and groggy from sleep. He stretches, his muscles
rippling from the movement, and flashes me his perfect smile.
“What are you doing?” he says sleepily.
“Shh...I’m listening to Erin and Vito,” I
say without an ounce of remorse for snooping and turn back to the
door.
I yelp when Antonio scoops me up and throws
me on the bed. “Hey!”
“You know what we do to spies?” he asks me
mischievously.
“No.”
He tickles me relentlessly. I laugh
struggling to get a breath in. I try to fight him off, but he is
too strong. I snort unbecomingly, and Antonio thinks it is
hysterical and he tickles me even more. I twist trying to get away
to no avail.
“What’s the matter, Megan? Can’t you talk?”
He torments even more, and I roar with laughter.
“Stop...please...” I try to get out, but my
words are cut off as I attempt to suck in air.
A knock on the door halts us.
“Meg? Are you okay?” It’s Erin.
“Yeah,” I call out. My response is fuzzy
from wrestling.
“Are you guys hungry? Vito made dinner.”
“We’ll be out in a sec,” Antonio yells to
her and lifts off me. He gets his shirt from the floor and slips it
on. I lay on the bed panting. “It smells good,” he comments.
Antonio reaches down and helps me up off the
bed. He caresses my hips and draws me in, kissing me sweetly. I
can’t resist, and I wrap my arms around his neck, drinking him in
before we head out to the kitchen.
At the table, there are four
dishes filled with frittata. A huge loaf of Italian bread sits in
the middle of the table. Everything looks delicious. The whole
scene reminds me of South Bend. When we stayed at the suite at
Notre Dame, there were many nights that Vito cooked. We all sat
together to have a
family
dinner, and I miss it. Doing something as simple
as sharing a meal together has been lost these three weeks while
Antonio has been chasing his Uncle.
I notice that is it dark now
and wonder how long Antonio can stay before he has
business
to take care of.
I push the unwanted thought away, determined to savor the time I
have.
We sit down, and Antonio slices up some
crusty bread and gives me a piece. Vito digs right into his
plate.
“So, have you started packing?” Antonio asks
Erin in light conversation.
“No,” she says.
We eat quietly for a while.
“This is wonderful,” I say to Vito. I am
always floored by his skills in the kitchen. If this mob thing
doesn’t work out, he could always be a chef, I think comically.
He shrugs as though embarrassed by my
accolades.
Dinner ends just as quietly as it began.
Antonio and I clean up the dishes, putting them in the
apartment-sized dishwasher and let it run. There seems to be an
elephant in the room, but I’m not sure what it is...I’m sure,
though, that something is bothering Antonio. It’s not at the
surface; it is buried deep down. His outward appearance shows the
same breathtaking, handsome, mobster.
After the kitchen is cleaned up, Antonio
sits on the couch, and I lie down, resting my head in his lap. Vito
and Erin each sit in a chair. Vito mindlessly presses the channel
button on the remote. Like a typical man, he never slow down enough
to watch to see if a show is something he might like. He just goes
around and around, like a Ferris wheel until he arbitrarily stops
on a station that is running the Three Stooges. Erin and I both
groan. I’ve never found them funny. Vito and Antonio howl with
laughter. I just don’t see the humor, even finding it repulsive at
times. I close my eyes instead of watching, and revel in the
contentment as Antonio strokes my hair. It feels so good that I
could fall asleep again.
I hear, rather than see, Erin pick up her
book off the coffee table, settling in for a relaxing evening.
Antonio’s occasional laughter echoes in his chest.
Erin falls asleep between episodes, and I am
in a profoundly relaxed state. Vito reaches over and takes the book
out of her hand, careful to hold its page. Leaning down, he lifts
her in his arms and carries her to her room. Her head is pressed
against his shoulder as she sleeps peacefully. I very subtly notice
him incline his head down to hers affectionately, pressing his lips
to the top of her head. I look away hurriedly. It is an intimacy
that catches me off guard.
Antonio flicks off the TV and we go to my
room. There is a weight on him, despite his appearance and behavior
this evening watching that ridiculous show.
I reach into my drawers and find a pair of
fleece pajama pants and a cozy white t-shirt for bed.
“You won’t need those,” a husky voice says
from behind me.
My belly flip-flops, and I straighten.
Strong arms roam down my back and then encircle my waist. I lean
into the embrace, passion fueling my shallow breaths. His hands
glide freely across my stomach and up to my breasts. I mewl in the
back of my throat, already filled with need for Antonio. I let him
explore while I stand still enjoying every caress. He spins me
around, and I can’t hold back anymore. I open to him and kiss him
hard. He squeezes my butt and pushes me into his erection making me
squirm delightfully.
He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around
his waist. He walks to the bed, and sets me down, moving slowly. He
kneads my breasts and nuzzles my neck at a painful pace. I need
more.
A plea poises to spill from my lips when I
hear his jeans unzip. My pulse quickens, and I am adrift in a
hungry passion that is only satisfied by Antonio.
Chapter 13
Underground: Mafia world
Megan:
The next morning I wake up warm and comfy.
Antonio’s muscled arms are wrapped around me tightly, and I close
my eyes to relish in the moment. I could stay like this all day,
but the bathroom beckons me. I reluctantly roll out of bed,
untangling myself from his arms. I am completely naked. I go to my
dresser and pick up the pajamas that I had planned to wear. I slip
them on and open the door.
Curiosity leads me over to
the couch to see if Vito slept there. I look down and the couch is
empty.
Hmmmph!
As I drag myself towards the
bathroom, Erin’s door opens and I behold a very disheveled
Vito.
Uh oh!
I
freeze. This is highly uncomfortable.
In the past when he has slept in her room,
it’s been to keep the nightmares away and make sure she doesn’t
hurt herself. Erin’s thrashing can be very violent. Lately, though,
she has been great and even insisted on sleeping on her own. She
said something about wanting to face her own demons. Doc Howie said
we should give her space...said that when she needed help, she
would ask for it.
“Hey,” he says sleepily.
“Is Erin okay?” I ask.
“She’s fine,” he says through a yawn.
“Oh.” I wrestle with asking more.
Vito doesn’t seem as
uncomfortable as I do. The awkwardness of his lavish purchases
makes this whole situation all the more unseemly.
Is he trying to buy her?
Antonio strides out of my room. The way he
looks should make flannel pajama pants illegal. His body is so fit
and formed; I find it hard to look away from him.
Vito immediately starts the coffee pot
dripping and beats me to the bathroom. I realize I’ve been standing
there a long time, completely dumbfounded. I am trying to put the
pieces of the puzzle together, when Antonio grasps me by the back
of the neck and pulls me in for a long luscious kiss before he
makes his way to the counter for coffee. The coffee smells heavenly
and just what I need to wake me up from my daze. Erin must have
smelled it too, because she comes out of her room.
I can’t help but feel a bit uneasy, but I
tamp it down and try to enjoy the day. Antonio has a big dinner to
go to tonight, so I just want to live in the now.
*****
Antonio:
I dress for the dinner in Megan’s room. She
is sitting on the bed watching me. She looks good enough to eat.
Her red hair dangles down her back and around her face, making her
look like a celestial angel...one that is mine.
I button up my dress shirt and start on my
tie. It is a tradition carried down from the 1930s to dress up in
your best suit for these types of occasions. It is the candy
coating over what’s really on the inside - mobsters. It makes us
appear civilized and refined in the underworld of criminals.
The celebration dinner is a time for the
families to get together who have formed an alliance. It is not a
business meeting, but a time to be social. It is always a
four-course meal with lots of wine. Vito and I need to be extremely
cautious. Not knowing where the Furlottis stand is a difficulty. We
can’t trust anyone right now. Signs of weakness are not an option.
Not showing up? Impossible! Even when suspecting you are walking
into a trap, you go prepared and with your head held high. Fear and
cowardice are invitations for mutiny and death.
I am ready, and I kiss Megan goodbye. I
don’t want to leave her, but I have to. It gets harder and harder
each time.
I think about what Ennio told me earlier
today. He didn’t find out anything out of the ordinary, but we both
surmised that it’s because of the Omerta, the code of silence. No
one wants to talk to him because they know how close our families
are. You don’t rat on your friends or your enemies. It’s part of
the code and stays in the family.