The wooden banister is smooth underneath my hand, worn down to a glossy finish by the thousands of hands that have run along it while taking the stairs up to the bedroom. I have to admit, even though I scoff at tradition, going through what many generations have gone through before me just feels right. Maybe it’s placebo, but I feel more powerful than I usually do as I walk up to the bedroom.
When I finally arrive at the top of the staircase, all the way on the fifth floor of the mansion, I’m surprised to find light bouncing down the hallway from the master bedroom. It seems as though my bride has already made herself comfortable. This could be interesting. Honestly, I’m not sure what to expect from her, but I’m soon to find out.
I walk softly down the hallway, not wanting to alert Honey that I’m here just yet. I may be a large man, but I can slink down a hallway like smoke. You learn to be light on your feet when a single creak of a floorboard could result in your death when you’re in enemy territory. Life is short for those who fail to learn the rules of the mafia. It’s very short.
When I get to the door, I peer inside, scanning the room like I would if I were assessing a threat. Honey isn’t on the bed as I hoped she might be, pale legs parted and eagerly waiting for me to claim her, but I do hear her inside. She’s in the bathroom, the steam of the shower still lingering in the air and the smell of apricots replacing the usual muskiness of the faded old wallpaper.
I step into the room and close the door, just as Honey comes out of the bathroom. She’s completely naked, her skin glowing under the soft light of the lamp. Her grey eyes grow large when she sees me, and color rushes to her already rosy cheeks. Just as quickly as she came, she disappears back into the bathroom, obviously not anticipating my early arrival.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I must say, I’m not disappointed,” I say, stepping toward the bed and loosening my bowtie.
“I’m sorry,” Honey says from the bathroom. A second later, she appears again, this time wrapped like a Christmas present in a fuzzy white bathrobe. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Well, I hope you’ll excuse me then because I’m pretty sure we’re sleeping in the same room tonight,” I say, testing her sense of humor again.
“Oh?” she says, nearly convincing me that she’s displaying genuine surprise.
“Yes, we might even be sharing the same bed,” I say, tossing my bowtie onto a chair beside the dresser.
Honey laughs, her voice nothing but pure positive energy. If she’s nervous, I can’t tell. It puts me at ease to know that she doesn’t have a stick up her ass. I’ve met plenty of people who couldn’t match my wit and humor. We’ll have to see if she passes further tests. I might actually get along with her once we get to know each other, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. It’s business before pleasure, and it always will be.
I begin unbuttoning my shirt, turning to Honey as she rummages through the drawers of the dresser beside the bed. “Are you hungry? I can order food,” I ask, even though we were both stuffed full of cake at the wedding reception.
To my surprise, she looks over her shoulder at me and nods. “Yes, please. Let’s get a pizza.”
“Alright,” I say, rubbing my chin. “But the toppings you choose are going to depict the direction of our marriage.”
“How so?” she asks, pulling a thin white nightgown from the dresser.
“If you say pineapple, I’m filing for a divorce,” I say, trying to look as serious as possible while I speak the words.
“That’s my favorite,” she says, her expression as serious as mine.
“Wait, really?” I ask, blinking at her and relaxing my face.
Honey’s serious look cracks into a beautiful smile. “I’m just fucking with you. I actually prefer just cheese.”
“God,” I exclaim with a chuckle. “You really had me fooled for a second there.”
“I’m tricky, so you have to watch out,” she says with a wink. She turns back around and walks to the bathroom. “I’m going to change while you order the pizza.”
“In private?” I ask, hoping I would get to see her perfect body again.
“Business before pleasure,” she reminds me, then disappears into the bathroom once again.
Damn.
I guess she’s just as serious about this mafia union as I am, which is good. It’s easy to get lost in the curves of a beautiful woman, but I’d be foolish to get too deep into Honey. She looks like she could melt my brain, turning me into a useless puddle of apathy within a week’s time. I must be careful around her.
I’m so caught up in my first impressions of her that I almost forget to call for the pizza. I stand like an idiot at the foot of the bed, my shirt half-unbuttoned, and my wedding shoes still on my feet. I snap out of my daze once I realize that I’m in it, and I move to the small black phone sitting on the bedside table.
I pick it up and dial three for my assistant. George is an old friend of mine, and he’s been through a lot with me. He’s the one in charge of getting food and making sure nobody has slipped anything into it. I try not to be paranoid about poisoning, but I’ve seen it happen to some of the best, and I’d rather not risk it. A simple call for pizza places my life in George’s capable hands.
It’s a good thing I trust him.
“Hello sir, and congratulations on your marriage,” George’s posh voice crackles through the earpiece after a single ring.
“Thank you, George,” I reply.
“What
