Boss, Your Love Means Nothing Anymore novel · Chapter 1 of 16
Chapter 1: A Bullet in the Wrist
Ever since our baby died, I stopped doing everything that bothered Fermín.
I stopped asking where he was going.
I stopped checking the clock when he came home late.
I learned to sleep without waiting for him, even if he spent the whole night out of the house.
That afternoon, a stray bullet grazed my wrist in the middle of the street.
It was a shootout between two trucks, half a block from the bakery where I bought Friday bread.
I threw myself behind a mailbox and felt something hot running down to my elbow.
When I raised my hand, blood was dripping onto my gray sweater.
In the hospital emergency room, a young doctor cleaned my wound very carefully.
"It's a deep scratch, ma'am, but it didn't touch the bone," he said.
"Thank you."
"Do you want me to notify a family member?"
I stared at the white ceiling for a moment.
"I don't have family."
The doctor looked at me a second too long and didn't insist.
My parents died when I was nineteen.
The rest was a surname I'd been lent.
A nurse came in with the gauze and stopped to stare at my face.
"You're Mrs. Cassano, aren't you?"
I didn't say yes or no.
"Mr. Cassano's convoy is downstairs," she went on, eyes wide. "Four trucks at the door. Do you want me to go up and tell him where you are?"
I looked down at the bandage covering my wrist.
"That won't be necessary."
"But he's your husband."
"I know. It won't be necessary."
The nurse pressed her lips together and kept wrapping the bandage.
Half an hour later, the door to the exam room burst open.
Fermín walked in wearing one of his dark suits, collar open, his split eyebrow tenser than ever.
He was thirty-eight years old and had the habit of walking into any room as if it were his.
He stopped at the foot of the gurney and looked at my wrist.
"You're hurt."
"It's a scratch."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"The Boss has more important things to do," I said.
I didn't say it with resentment.
I said it like someone reporting the time.
Fermín frowned, more annoyed by my calm than if I'd screamed at him.
For a year he'd expected the usual from me: the reproach, the tears, Candela's name spat in his face.
And I had none of that left.
He was about to say something when we heard voices on the other side of the curtain.
Two of his men, talking low, but not low enough.
"Did you hear about Candela? Seems the Boss does care about that girl."
"She twisted her ankle at the casino. He sent three armored trucks to clear the entrance."
"And he carried her out himself in his arms. Didn't even let her shoes touch the floor."
Fermín's jaw tightened.
Then he glanced at me sideways.
He expected me to explode with her name.
To demand explanations.
To make a scene in front of his men, like I'd done so many times before everything ended.
I didn't say a word.
I stayed propped against the pillow, calm, looking at the bandage.
Fermín studied me for a few seconds.
He thought I'd finally stopped giving him trouble.
"I'll take you home," he said, a little softer.
"Yes. Thank you."
We didn't talk in the car.
He sat beside me, staring out the window, knuckles clenched on his knee.
I watched the lights of Buenos Aires go by and thought about the drawer at the bottom of my closet.
There was the envelope with the ticket, the passport with my maiden name, and the paper I'd signed three weeks ago.
"We're having dinner at home tonight," Fermín said as we got out. "Genaro's coming. And Candela, if her ankle lets her."
"Okay."
"I want you at the table."
"I'll be there."
He looked at me for a moment, like he was waiting for a question that never came.
Then he went up to his study and closed the door.
I went up to the bedroom and opened the closet.
Behind the coats was the light wooden urn, the size of two hands together.
I stroked it with my fingertips, the bandage brushing against the wood.
Then I took out the prepaid phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.
Berta answered on the second ring.
"Mija, what happened?"
"Nothing serious. A bullet in the wrist."
"Holy mother."
"It's tonight, Berta. After dinner."
There was a long silence on the other end.
"Did you already sign?"
I looked at the folded paper inside the envelope, with my signature at the bottom.
"Already signed."
"Then I'll send someone I trust," Berta said, and hung up.
I sat on the edge of the bed with the urn on my knees.
Six hours to go.
Tonight I was going to sit at Fermín's table for the last time.
Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend