Page 55 of The Don

Chapter twelve

Eliza

The past few days have been a bit weird around here. Although I spend the nights in Ruben’s bed and in his arms, he doesn’t do anything with me other than kiss.

It’s screwing with my mind.

A part of me tells me I need to service him, because it’s my role and my job. That’s what he always told me when I was with him. He told me I was a whore who had to do what I was told or he’d break his promise and take Rose and do to her what he’d done to me.

Ruben is nothing like him.

Three days ago, Ruben returned to his room covered in blood. Not his, but someone else’s. So, I know he’s ruthless and dark. But when he touches me, all I feel is a tenderness I’ve never felt before.

I turn over in the empty bed to find Storm sitting on the floor, staring at me. “What is it?” He huffs and closes his mouth when I talk to him. His ears point up, and his brown eyes stare at me. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Storm stands and wags his tail. “Okay, okay,” I say as I sit up in bed and stretch. “Give me a minute.” I grab my tights and t-shirt off the chair beside the sofa and head into the bathroom.

When I’m ready to head downstairs, I call for Storm who’s already trotting behind me. I walk to the back and open the French doors to let him out. With a command, Storm runs down the back of the property and begins to sniff before turning to keep an eye on me while he does his business.

I wait for him to return before we head into the kitchen to find Maria leaning against the counter, having an orange juice. “Good morning,” she says eagerly and smiles. “Breakfast?” She pushes off the counter and places her juice down.

I wave my hand toward her. “It’s okay, I can make my own.”

Reluctantly, she relaxes and picks her glass up again. “How are you settling in, Miss Eliza?”

“Please, it’s just Eliza.” I open the cupboard where the glasses are and pour water from the faucet. “Storm is making it very easy for me.” I push my fingertips through his fur. “So are you. Thank you.”

“Me? I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve been kind to me, and that goes a long way.” Maria’s cheeks turn pink as she bashfully averts her eyes. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“You live here, right?”

“Si. I have a room down that way.” She points to her right which is directly under the room I was in when I first arrived. “I have my own room, and a bathroom which Signore Ruben made more accessible for me. I’m too old for bathtubs, so he redid the bathroom with a big walk-in shower and some railings for me too.”

Yeah, that sounds like Ruben. “You’re not actually related to Ruben, are you?”

“No, Miss Eliza. I’m not.”

“Then how did you end up living here and working for him?”

“Oh that.” She smiles as she lifts her glass to her lips. “He killed my husband.”

And she’s smiling about that? “Um...” My hands tremble as I hold my glass close to my chest. “He killed your husband?” I ask slowly, as if I’ve missed a key component to what she’s said.

“Si.” She places her glass on the counter, and clasps her hands around mine. “Signore Ruben is a good man, Miss Eliza.” Her weathered skin and gentle eyes tell me there’s more to this than she’s letting on. “My husband used to hurt me.” Maria’s features fall, and the softness is replaced with sadness. “He used to beat me all the time. He was a cruel man.”

“Oh,” I say. Sounds familiar.

Maria steps back, slides a stool out from under the breakfast counter, and sits on it. “My husband used to work for Ruben and his brother when they took over the family. My husband was part of Amico’s crew.” Amico must’ve been Ruben’s brother. “But my husband was very heavy-handed with me. He was a cruel monster. He’d beat me for no reason. He didn’t like the way my hair looked.” A sad smile tugs at her lips. “I woke up too early, too late. I made his coffee in the wrong cup. Anything and everything was wrong. Usually it was a few slaps, maybe a couple of punches, but I had to watch everything I’d do. I’d wake every morning and wonder if that was the day I’d breathe my last breath.”

My heart is breaking as she describes what I suspect is only the tip of the abuse she’d suffered. “I’m sorry, Maria. I didn’t know.” I pull the seat out beside Maria, and sit.

She places her warm, aged hand over mine and gently squeezes. “You’ve suffered enough to know how bad it can be, si?” Maria smiles sweetly toward me. I drop my chin and nod. “Signore Ruben is a good man who does bad things. But he’ll never do a bad thing to you.”

“I know,” I openly admit.

“Once he killed his brother, all his brother’s men came to work for Signore Ruben.” Wow. “He quickly got rid of the men who didn’t follow his rules.”