Merciless Contract: The Syndicate's Unwanted Wife novel · Chapter 3 of 32
Chapter 3: The Leftover
At Don Vittorio's table Gemma is made to serve, turns the laugh on the Don, and he whispers he would rather see her buried.
At three in the morning the terrace door opened and a blanket hit Gemma in the face.
Raffaele stood in the doorway in his shirtsleeves.
"Terms are terms," he said. "Don't speak about me in public again."
Gemma could not feel her hands.
She walked past him into the warm suite with the blanket around her shoulders and said nothing at all.
By morning she had a sore throat.
By noon she was sitting in the back of his black car, with a cough she kept swallowing.
"Smile at my father," Raffaele said without looking at her. "Say yes, sir, and eat what you're given."
"Or what?"
"Or he'll give you something else."
The Sandrelli villa stood behind iron gates on the hill over the docks.
Don Vittorio met them in the hall with both arms open.
He kissed Gemma on each cheek and held her hands a little too long.
"My daughter-in-law," he said warmly. "Look at her, boys. Look what the Albertinis sent."
Eleven men stood along the dining table, in dark suits, with no women among them.
Raffaele pulled out her chair and sat down two seats away.
Vittorio took the head of the table.
"In my house, the newest wife serves the first course," he said. "It was my mother's rule, and my wife's rule before she died."
A silver tureen waited in front of him, steaming.
"Gemma. A bowl for each man, eldest first."
Nobody moved.
Gemma looked at Raffaele.
His face showed nothing.
She stood, took the ladle, and went to the Don.
She filled his bowl to the rim and set it down so gently that not a drop fell.
"The Albertini leftover has learned to pour," Vittorio said, to the table. "A leftover is what's scraped off the plate after everyone has eaten."
A few of the men chuckled.
"Isn't that right, Gemma?"
She had a cold, an empty stomach and a husband who would not look at her.
She also had a ladle in her hand.
"Leftover or not, Don Vittorio, it's my father's tureen," she said.
"Albertini Freight sent it with the dock contract on Friday, along with the china and the silver."
"I counted the spoons on the way in. Eleven men at this table, and every one of you is eating something my family paid for."
The room went very still.
Then the man at the far end of the table barked a laugh.
Another man followed, behind his napkin, and another.
Vittorio's smile did not move.
His fingers went white around his spoon.
"Eat," Gemma said, and gave him a little nod.
She went around the table and served all eleven men, eldest first.
When she took her seat, Raffaele's hand came under the tablecloth and landed on her knee.
It was heavy and warm.
She thought it was a warning.
It did not slide away.
His thumb pressed once against the inside of her knee, hard, and then stayed there.
She kept her eyes on her bowl and could not taste a drop of soup.
"Wife, you're flushed," the Don called down the table. "Is it the wine?"
"I'm sick," Gemma said. "I've been out on a terrace."
"Out on a terrace," Vittorio repeated, mildly. "In November. Raffaele, what a strange place to keep a bride."
Raffaele's hand tightened on her knee.
"She wanted air," he said.
The meal lasted two hours.
Nobody said anything else to her, but every man at the table watched her go.
At the door, as the car pulled around, Vittorio took her arm and walked her down the steps.
"You're a clever girl," he said, pleasantly, in her ear. "I like clever."
"I like it better when it's quiet."
"Thank you, sir," Gemma said.
His fingers dug into her arm through her sleeve.
"My son will break you, or he'll bury you."
"I'd prefer the second, little bride. It's tidier."
He patted her cheek and let her go.
Gemma got into the car, shaking, and sat as far from Raffaele as the seat allowed.
He looked at the Don on the steps for a long time before he gave the driver the signal to go.
"What did he say to you?" he asked.
"He said you'd break me."
Raffaele's jaw worked.
"And you said?"
"Thank you, sir."
He turned his head and looked out the window.
His hand was still resting on the seat between them, palm up.
She did not take it.
Rosanna's name appeared on his phone, and he answered it in front of her.
"Yes. Tonight. Of course," he said, and hung up.
"Your stepmother has asked us to the Blue Room," he said. "It's the Sandrelli club."
"Wear something that makes people look at you and not at me," he added.
← Chapter 2 · All chapters · Chapter 4 →
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