Married to the mafia boss Series

By night I am exhausted. The day didn’t go as planned and dying her hair took longer than expected.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

We made a mess. I had my driver go out and buy red colored box dye for Anastasia. He bought many different shades of red and I even let Anastasia decide which color she liked most. By the end of it, Anastasia is transformed and that’s all that matters.

I have to admit, Anastasia can really pull off a deep burgundy color. She is hardly recognizable.

Earlier, I took her by the mansion before we got her hair done to grab some things Liliana left behind. Thank God they’re about the same size. I filled a bag with tons of clothes and accessories. I make a mental note to take her shopping for other items she’ll need later.

Adding a hat and sunglasses to Anastasia’s disguise, no one would think twice about her being Anastasia Vasiliev. She looks completely different and yet still breathtakingly beautiful.

The finishing touch to her disguise, an engagement ring, my own possessive and personal touch.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Just think of it as extra protection,” I sign back to her. “No one will touch you if they see you’re with me.”

“So what are you doing to tell your Mafia friends that you just randomly got married?”

“No one will question a Don. My life is very private and I’ll tell them you are a relative of the Moretti family. And it’s an engagement ring not a wedding ring.”

Anastasia raises an eyebrow not knowing who the Moretti family is.

“Antinio Moretti, he is my brother in law. Mafia Don in Chicago. Everyone knows who he is, but no one knows much about him.”

“And if someone confronts Moretti?” Anastasia taps her foot impatiently.

She does have a point. It’d be hard to claim her as a Moretti especially when everyone loves to gossip. Word will get around and soon people will figure out she’s not who I say she is.

“Not to mention-”

“Will you let me worry about this? We haven’t even been engaged an hour and already you’re pestering me.”

Her entire face turns red and her fingers curl into fists. I laugh and walk away, she follows tapping on my shoulder trying to, no doubt, cuss me out. I don’t pay her any attention as I start to make phone calls to my men. I have to know the extent of damage done at the club.

She begrudgingly sits across from me at the dining room table. Her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands looking bored. I dial Christian’s phone number.

“Where are you boss?” He frantically asks before I can get a word in.

“Safe.”

“And the prisoner?”

“Safe. Now, tell me the damage.”

“We lost six men but that’s nothing compared to how many Bratva men we got. Some escape, probably going to report back to Vasiliev that they failed. If we keep her here, they’re going to attack again. The whores are scared and with the damage… it’ll be a week before we can reopen.”

“I’ve already taken care of our prisoner and have given her a new place to stay. She is no longer your concern,” I say annoyed.

“But Boss-”

“No buts, you and Piero can help clean up and get The Dark Twist back up and running,” I end the call and throw my phone on the table.

I can feel Anastasia’s eyes burning a hole into me. I know she’s staring at me. I don’t bother to look up as I shout, “What?”

Startled, I feel hands on my hair. I look to see Anastasia brushing my hair back. Her face is blank, she has a calm and serene expression. Her eyebrows furrow together when her hands touch where my cochlear implant is.

“How old were you when you lost your hearing?”

“I lost my hearing three years ago.”

I stand and walk away from her no longer in the mood to talk especially not about my hearing loss. I grab the hearing aid and put it in my pocket. Anastasia still follows me I know she wants to ask more questions but all I want to do is go to bed.

Leading us both into my room, she stands at the doorway probably scared I took her here for reasons other than sleeping. I grab my pillow and throw it on the couch a few feet from my bed.

“You’ll be sleeping here so I can keep an eye on you.”

“No,” she’s quick to sign.

“Yes. I’ll take the couch. Don’t worry, you can trust that I won’t do anything. The bathroom is over there,” I point.

She shakes her head. “No way am I sleeping anywhere near you. I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” I look both of us in for good measure and I lay on the couch, close my eyes, and try to ignore the world.

Not even a minute later I am being poked at. I grab Anasatsia’s wrist and with my eyes still closed I sign, “Go to bed.”

She flicks my nose causing my eyes to open this time. “I can’t sleep.”

Sitting up I angrily sign, “And what would you like me to do about it?”

She puts her hands on her hips, her irritated expression quickly turning into a death glare. “I want you to let me go so I can sleep in my own bed.”

“No can do, sweetheart.”

Anastasia raises her hand ready to slap me. Just before her hand makes contact with my face I catch her wrist. I give her an unamused look that says, try me. Yanking her arm out of my grasp, she huffs stomping her way back to my bed. I put my arm over my face and groan, this is going to be just like babysitting. She’s more trouble than my niece. I look over at Anastasia who is sitting up in my bed with her arms crossed as if not sleeping is her way of rebelling-or she’s waiting for her chance to make her escape. Which will never happen. Not with the security measures I’ve taken.

Anastasia doesn’t bother me the rest of the night, and if she was up and causing trouble, I obviously didn’t hear a thing.

When I wake up, she is passed out on my bed. She mouth is open slightly, her new red hair is covering her hair, strands stuck to her lips and forehead. Her arms and legs are a jumbled mess on the bed, the sheets crumpled and half on her body, half on the floor.

I grab her shoulder and shake it. Instantly she is up, her hands in fists ready to attack.

“Calm down, killer. Get ready and we’ll have breakfast downstairs.”

She watches me carefully as she climbs out of bed and toward the stuffed bag full of my sisters old clothes. I watch as she gathers an outfit and holds the pile in her hands. I raise my eyebrow as she rolls her eyes and storms off into the bedroom to change.

I wear what I wear every day. A suit, one of my many tailored suits. I go for the dark gray one accompanied by a purple silk tie that costs more than the tailored custom made suit does. By the time I am tucking my white button up shirt into my pants, Anastasia comes out wearing jeans and a pink sweater, both which look a size too big.

She obediently follows me downstairs and into the kitchen where my cook, Isabella, is making my favorite-blueberry pancakes.

The way she glares at me from across the table, I’d think she’s plotting my death. She grips her fork tight, her baby blue eyes squinted and looking hard at me. Her lips pursed and pouty.

“Eat. We are going to my office for a bit so I can get some work down. If any of my men ask, I’m telling them we’re engaged,” I shake my head and hold my hand out knowing she’ll interrupt me. “I know you’ll be quiet on the subject,” I give her a knowing grin. “Then I’ll take you shopping for new clothes after.”

Her nostrils flare. “Fuck you! Who do you think I am? Some pretty doll to play dress up with?”

I grit my teeth feeling my temper rising. “Eat. I will drag you to the car with or without an empty stomach. So make your decision wisely because you won’t be eating for another handful of hours.”