Romeo The Mafia Casanova

Thirty-Five



Eden’s [POV]

“Oh my God, Tristian. What are you doing?” I jerked back. “Where did you even get that? Why do you have a gun, and why do you have it pointed at me?”

“What, Red? You scared now?”

“What are you saying? What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to see if I could make you love me.”

His whiskey breath assaulted my senses. I knew it. He had been drinking before he got home. “You’ve been drinking.”

“You drive me to drink.”

“Tristian, you don’t know what you’re doing. How drunk are you?”

“Enough to where I’m finally seeing you the way I need to.”

“Put the gun down. I’m your wife. Do you hear me? I’m your wife, Tristian.”

“You’re my wife when it’s convenient for you.”

Tears flooded my eyes, and I instinctively stepped back, but he gripped my hair from the nape of my neck, roughly yanking it back. It felt like he was trying to tear my hair out. My eyes widened, and I would have sworn my heart stopped.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, barely above a whisper, though a huge part of me already knew the answer.

“I told you. I’m trying to make you love me.”

“I do love you.”

“LIES!” he shouted, making me jump from the sharp tone in his voice.

“You’re scaring me. Please put the gun away, and we can talk. Your son is in this house. He’s here right now. Don’t do this.”

His eye glazed over, and he let me go.

One by one, I took in everything he wanted me to see, not knowing what I wanted to focus on more. Hours seemed to pass us by, our past colliding with our present and destroying our future.

Nothing could have prepared me for this.

Not even me.

Or Romeo.

I stumbled on my footing, desperately trying to catch my bearings. My body quivered, creating goosebumps all over my flesh.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t fucking breathe.

The walls were caving in on me.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

The room was spinning faster and faster, harder and harder, around and around, over and over with no end in sight. My whole world tilting on the verge of crashing. Abolishing everything in our path. I couldn’t stop any of it. My emotions went from one to the other, feeling empty.

Terrified.

Ashamed.

Guilty.

I gazed up at him with pleading eyes and a devastated expression, but he backed away with caution. I didn’t know if it was for my protection or his. As his eyes searched for mine, for a few moments he had returned to me.

He was Tristian again.

My Tristian.

That was the first time I’d seen him all night.

It was the first time I’d seen him since I told him the truth in his office.

It was the first time in what felt like an eternity that I wanted to run to him, seek shelter in his arms, in his embrace, in his heart beating in the same symmetry against mine. I wanted to show him how much I loved him.

I still loved him, right?

After all this…

What he’d done.

What I’d done.

How sorry I was, hoping he’d understand. I could get through to him. Feel him as my husband, who used to be my very best friend. He meant everything to me. However, nothing could have saved me from this type of darkness he inflicted on my heart and soul.

I was frustrated.

Bewildered.

Not knowing what to do or how to do it.

Memories of our childhood made themselves known. The boy I had grown up with. The one who’d protected me. Confided in me. Stood by my side. He was in every year of my life. I’d never imagined he’d turn into this monster, this demon, this violent man who put his hands on me while holding a gun over my heart.

Had he always been this way?

Was he trying to seek revenge for always being second to Romeo?

Hurt me?

Embarrass me?

Break me until there was nothing left for him to ruin?

I thought about all of this in a matter of seconds, minutes, hours…

I didn’t know. It all tumbled together, forming one big cluster of what-ifs, and where did we go from here?

Should I leave him?

Raise Naz in a broken family?

He didn’t deserve that. He was a good boy, the best boy; he needed his mother and father together. I wouldn’t raise him to believe love didn’t exist. I’d seen what divorce could do to children, and experienced it with friends. They weren’t the same. Something inside of them changed, and I wouldn’t do that to Naz.

He was a victim in all this.

My mind spun.

I wanted to scream.

To run.

To hide from the truth staring me right in the face.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything…

When we heard, “Mama!”

My petrified stare flew to my boy.

“Mama!” he yelled again, running into the living room in his pajamas.

I didn’t hesitate for one second; I hurried over to him and picked him up. Not looking back once, I hauled ass out of the house into the garage.

Placing Naz into the passenger seat of my SUV, I ordered, “Naz, get into your booster seat for me, please.”

“Mama, what happening?”

“Nothing, baby. Just please get into your seat and buckle up as fast as you can,” I pleaded, trying to make my voice sound calm when I was freaking out. I opened the garage as Tristian stormed out.

“Eden!” Tristian banged on the window, bringing both of our attention over to him.

His eyes went from me to the lock on the door. Instinctively, my hand hit the lock before he could open the door.

“Eden! Unlock the door!”

“Mama! What happening?” Naz asked, his voice sounding like mine.

“Baby, please put your seatbelt on.”

“Eden!” Tristian banged on the window; he was going to break it.

With a shaky hand, I turned on the ignition. Throwing my car into reverse, I got the hell out of there.

Tristian didn’t back down, continuing to bang on the window until I heard a sickening cracking sound.

“Don’t do this! I’m sorry! Eden, I’m sorry!”

“Mama! I scared, Mama! I’m scared!”

“It’s okay. I’m here, Naz. We’re almost out of the driveaway.”

Why did it have to be so damn long?

“Eden! Stop the car and open the fucking door!”

“Mama!”

With each bang of Tristian’s fist against the window, it mimicked my rapid thoughts, my shuddering core, my crushed heart, and my soul. He chased us down the driveway; it was hard to speed out of there, the design of our driveaway was too narrow, and I couldn’t hit the gas as much as I wished I could. Until I was finally able to throw the gearshift into drive and hightail it down the street.

Leaving behind Tristian.

Our home.

The one I had made us out of so much hope and possibilities.


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