Another beginning to another story...one of these days I will finish one....maybe....
Let me know if you like it :)
She couldn’t even function she was so angry. Her eyes were burning with rage, and at this moment she could almost bet she was seeing a deep color of scarlet. Who did he think he was anyway? Did he really think she wouldn’t find out? Did he honestly think he was that sneaky? How long had it been going on? How long had this lie been happening right under her very nose? Of course he thought he could get away with it, he was gone on business every other week, and he was out of the country at least once a month. Who was she kidding? Did she honestly think that she Vivian Hammond Massorotti could tie down the famous Stephano Massarotti? Yes. Yes she did, or she wouldn’t have married him.
The bad thing is, now that she had caught him what could she do? Vivian sat there in silence as she pondered her options. Letting out a heavy sigh, she came to the realization of what she could do. The answer was nothing. Nothing. Nothing, because once you were in the mob you didn’t get out, unless you died of natural causes or were killed. Neither one of those options sounded good to Vivian, hell she was still in the prime of her life. She had only been married to Stephano four years, and she was already looking for a way out. She never in a million years imagined it would be as bad as it was, or that after a mere four year marriage she would want out.
Truth of the matter was she loved the money, but who wouldn’t? Not every 28 year old lived in a 5000 square foot mansion, with a pool, guest house, 5 car garage, and a maid. She also didn’t know anyone that had paid for that kind of pad with cash either, well nobody that wasn’t affiliated with the mob. Her anger was slowly turning into mass hysteria. Here she had caught her husband cheating on her red handed and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. It just wasn’t fair. Vivian screamed at the top of her lungs. It was more of a roar that echoed off the tile floors in her kitchen. She raked every single dish off of the counter, shattering them onto the floor. Her maid Rose came running in from the family room. “Mrs. Vivian, are you okay? Did you fall?” Rose inquired.
“No Rose, I didn’t fall. I just dropped a few things,” Vivian lied. She stared in total disgust at the mess she had just made all over her kitchen floor. She could tell by the look of bewilderment coming from her maid that she wasn’t buying her story, but she knew better than to pry. It was one of the rules of being the maid of a mob lord; you didn’t ask questions even if you were confused. You didn’t ask questions about anything, ever.