The Mafia Contract Series

It’s so good to laugh. To be around a normal human being for the first time in a lifetime, it seems.

Freya is a cute bundle of gorgeous love, and she is not at all shy of me, which I’m thankful for.

“Jasmine, come and see my bedroom.”

She runs and grabs my hand and tries to pull me to my feet. Marianne makes to speak, and I shake my head, grinning as I pretend Freya is too strong for me.

“Wow, honey, you are stronger than a man. Isn’t she Marianne?”

Laughing, her mom nods. “So strong. Too strong for me.”

Giggling, Freya pretends to drag me to her room, and I love how happy I am. It’s as if the tension doesn’t get invited inside and was left at the door. Here we are just three human beings enjoying a moment of light relief.

Marianne says fondly, “I’ll make your lunch, Freya. We don’t have long before you are due back to class and I’m at work.”

I feel a little guilty that I’ve interrupted their break and as Freya leads me to her bedroom, I say with interest, “Do you like school, Freya?”

I’m guessing she’s around six years old, and she pulls a face. “Not much. I prefer to play with my toys but at least Bailey is there.”

“Is she your friend?”

“He.”

She shrugs. “Max Bailey. He lives a few doors away. He’s my age, so we learn together.”

“Do you have any other friends?”

“Just Simone from my ballet class. Mommy takes me there two times a week and I play with Simone after at the park.”

“Do you ever get a sleepover? Does she come here to play?”

I’m concerned she doesn’t have a wide circle of friends, which kind of comes with the territory and it can be lonely sometimes even if you have a sibling.

“No, mommy says we’re not allowed anyone round. The boss won’t like it.”

“The boss?”

“That man who lives in the big house. Mommy told me to stay away from him because he’s scary.”

“That’s good advice.” I giggle because hearing Freya describe Angelo as a monster she should stay away from, makes me see the funny side. Mind you, he is, and I must remember that.

Freya looks at me with wide eyes. “Mommy said you live in that house. Do you keep away from him, too?”

“I try.” I sit on the edge of her pretty pink bed, and she jumps up beside me and rests her small hand on my cheek, staring earnestly into my eyes and looking as if she’s seen a fairy.

“You’re pretty. I like your hair.” It draws my attention to the last person who said that and it causes my skin to tingle and my blood to heat.

“Thank you.” I smile and she peers closer, which could be disconcerting, but I know how unfiltered kids are.

“Mommy told me you were pretty. She said you were kind too.”

“Like your mommy then.”

I smile and reaching out, pull her onto my knee and love how soft she is. Her small arms wrap around me and for a moment, it’s so good to hold someone. A child. An innocent in a tarnished world and my heart fills with a protective surge of love for her. This is so wrong. To keep an angel imprisoned in this place of hell, despite how well protected she is. She should have many friends, lots of parties and activities to attend. It makes me think of my own life and how protected I was. I don’t want that for her. I want her to be free to be the best she can be, not looking over her shoulder waiting for someone to decide she ‘will do.’ It reminds me of when I stood before my husband and he said dismissively, ‘I’ll take her now.’ I felt worthless and as if I didn’t count, and yet he surprised me when we were alone.

Freya draws my attention back to her as she strokes my face and smiles. “Don’t be sad, Jasmine.

We can play a game if you like. I have a teapot and everything. We can pretend we are pretty princesses taking tea.”

“I would like that.”

As she jumps down and pretends to make the tea, I try to enjoy the moment because according to Angelo, there will be no kids of our own to enjoy and I wonder what sort of life I’ll lead without a family of my own. Just a couple of hours in the sex room after meals, I guess. Not much to shout about, really.

Then I remember how happy I was in his arms, and it doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Sugar?”

Freya holds up the plastic cup and I smile. “Two please.”

She giggles. “Mommy says sugar rots your teeth, you naughty girl.”

I can’t help it and burst out laughing and that’s how Marianne finds us when she heads into the room and smiles.

“I see that Freya has made the tea already. Maybe you should bring it through and eat some lunch before we head back.”

Freya gathers her own cup and hands one to her mom and, as we head to the kitchen, I’m in no doubt I’ll be a constant visitor to their home. I would trade it in a heartbeat for the luxury of the mansion because this is real life, not the designer’s dream next door.

Over lunch, Freya chatters and makes us laugh and then she looks at her wrist as if a watch ticks there and says seriously, “It’s time for business.”

Marianne looks confused and I say with interest, “What business?”

“I don’t know, but Bailey told me that’s what his daddy says when the men visit when everyone else is sleeping.

“How does he know?” I’m a little confused and so is Marianne, by the look of things, and Freya shrugs. “Bailey told me he creeps downstairs sometimes and listens to them. They talk about stuff and drink lots of soda.”

Marianne appears anxious, and I say in a puzzled voice. “Does Sam go too?”

“No.” Marianne’s eyes are wide, and I can tell something is really off about this and I smile at Freya and say softly, “So, did Bailey tell you anything else about this business?”

She is obviously loving being the center of attention and says with excitement, “He told me they whisper a lot, which means it’s serious. He told me he heard one of them use a rude word, too.”

“That’s not so good.” I share a look with Marianne and say evenly, “Do they ever talk about what they’re doing?”

“Bailey said they play war games.”

“What does that mean?” I’m confused and Freya shrugs. “Something about fighting and killing.

They must choose the winning side and not lose.” She grins. “Bailey likes to play war games. I told him he should ask his daddy if he can join in.”

Marianne says quickly, “Don’t interfere, Freya. It’s their business and you have no right telling Bailey to do anything.”

Freya shrugs, seemingly unconcerned, and I’m a little sad when Marianne says firmly, “We should clear the lunch away and get ready for class.”

She says apologetically, “I’m sorry, Jasmine. I must walk Freya to class and head back to help with the housekeeping.”

“Can I help?” She looks utterly horrified and I laugh. “I mean, can I take Freya to class? I’d love to see it and I haven’t met the teacher yet.”

“Miss. Crossby.” Marianne hides her smile and says in a low voice, “It’s Miss. Crosby, actually, but you know kids.” Freya pretends to gag and Marianne whispers, “She’s a little set in her ways. It would be amusing to see your reaction to her.”

“Then you agree I can take her.”

She nods. “If you don’t mind.”

“It would be my pleasure. I don’t have anything else to do.”

BY THE TIME we’re walking toward a building set a short distance from Marianne’s house, a thousand red flags are waving at me. Whatever Bailey overheard doesn’t sound that innocent to me and knowing the kinds of conversations I used to listen to, I’m guessing this one is much the same. Men who are either unhappy about something and planning a way out of it, or gossiping about the people who rule over them.

I used to hear all sorts of things where soldiers would relate what they had heard and tales of killings and what led to it. Just thinking of Freya and Bailey listening to similar things makes me sad and I try to push it away because I want to enjoy some innocence while I have it.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Freya skips along beside me, and I pretend for a moment that I’m her mom and this is how it must feel. It saddens me to think I’ll never experience what it’s like to be a mother but must be content that I’m comfortable and cared for to a degree.

We reach a small building that looks well kept and as we enter the door, I see we’re in a small classroom with various doors off to the side. It looks quite sweet with brightly painted drawings on the walls. There are many picture books and colored rugs with bean bags set on a small, carpeted area. Tiny desks are standing in rows and as we enter, a rather austere woman stands and says with alarm, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“No, you don’t.” I offer her my hand. “Jasmine Sontauro, Angelo’s wife.”

She turns as white as milk and I see a flicker of fear in her eye as she stutters, “Freya, go and play in the yard with Bailey.”

Freya just shrugs and then surprises me by throwing her arms around my legs and hugging me tightly, burying her face against them, whispering, “I love you, Jasmine.”

It takes me back a little and I bend down and kiss the top of her head before saying emotionally, “I love you right back. I’ll come and visit soon. I promise.”

She seems happy with that and heads off and Miss. Crosby looks agitated. “I’m sorry. Have I done something wrong?”

“Why would you think that?” I am genuinely confused, and she plays with her fingers nervously.

“Because you came here to find me. Nobody ever comes here.”

“Apart from the children, of course.”

I smile to make light of it, and she nods. “Of course.”

“It’s OK, Miss. Crosby, I was at a loose end and asked Marianne if I could walk with Freya to class.”

I cast my eyes around the room and love how cozy it is. “It all looks amazing. The kids have a wonderful place of learning. You’re obviously doing a good job.”

She seems to lose a little of her tension and even ghosts a smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“So, tell me, Miss. Crosby, have you been here long?”

“Twenty years, ma’am.”

“That long! Wow, you must have taught Angelo and Winter then.”

I watch in surprise as her eyes darken and I even detect a shimmer of tears.

“I did, ma’am, and it broke my heart when they were left without a mother.”

Now I’m uneasy because she has reminded me how disposable the women are around here and I say in a whisper, “What was she like?”

“She was beautiful, ma’am. Elegant, poised, and she carried herself like a queen.”

“But what was she like inside.” The rest goes without saying and she sighs heavily. “She was detached, cool and devoid of emotion.” Miss. Crosby looks worried that she’s spoken out of turn, and I rest my hand on her arm and smile reassuringly.

“Let me tell you something, Miss. Crosby. She sounds like my own mother, and you know what…” I pull a face. “I can’t stand the woman.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of the severe teacher’s lips, and I sigh heavily. “To be honest, I hated both my parents and couldn’t wait to see the back of them. The only person I’ll miss is my sister, so I understand how hard it must be for Angelo’s sister, Winter. The fact they’re twins makes it even sadder, and I can’t begin to imagine how they must be feeling.”

Miss. Crosby appears upset. “Winter was such a beautiful soul. Good, kind, strong, and fearless.

Angelo adored her and they were inseparable and that’s why it’s so hard now they’re estranged.”

“I didn’t know that.” I’m shocked and she whispers, “When Winter married, Don Delauren, she never came back. Only once when her father died, and it tore my heart to shreds to see the emptiness in her eyes. She looked happy enough on the outside, but I could tell she was going through the motions. I’m guessing Angelo could too and it must be so hard knowing there is nothing you can do about that.”

“Can’t she visit more?”

Miss. Crosby shakes her head. “Apparently not. We haven’t seen her since and it must be difficult for them both.”

I watch the shutters come down as she realizes she’s probably spoken out of turn and, wanting to reassure her, I say warmly, “Thank you. I’m not here to cause trouble. I was merely curious about my new home. Please don’t be afraid of me. I mean you no harm.”

She visibly relaxes and then surprises me by saying with a hint of emotion in her voice, “Angelo needs a woman like you. I’m glad you’re here.”

I stare at her in surprise, and she just smiles and says loudly, “I should go and see what my two latest students are doing. They certainly keep me on my toes.”

She turns and heads out to the yard and I make my way out of the school and contemplate what I’ve learned. My heart breaks for my husband and his twin, but it certainly explains a lot.