Arranged Marriage

Chapter 5

"So you've found the kitchen and the dining room," Patrick started as he led me towards the archway by the stairs.

"They're very nice," I told him, not recognising my own soft voice.

I knew it was a stupid thing to say but it was all I had. Every time he looked at me, I was transported back to my sixteen-year-old body where words couldn't function.

"This is the library," Patrick told me, gesturing to the large room.

It was darker than the other rooms, with the only light coming through was from the three, rectangle windows that looked out to the drive. Bookcases covered the walls of the two level room as well as red carpet on the floor. On the first level, two half circled lounges sat in the middle of the room making up a full circle with a round coffee table in between. On the second level were two red arm chairs that sat closely by a fire that could warm up the whole room.

"What's this room for?" I asked him, "I mean, other than reading."

"Meeting sometimes. When a business partner is more of a friend than a business associate," he told me.

I giggled, shaking my head.

Good old Mafia life. Even your closest friends were just a stepping stone to more money. Even husbands, come to think of it.

"What's next?" I asked, seeing all that I could.

He tilted his head towards another arch way.

"This way," he said, before walking towards it and me following.

What I found, strangely surprised me. I was not expecting to find a bar in this place. The red carpet continued till the steps to the second level. On the first level were three circled high tables and three stools to each one. The floor of the second level was made out of wood, a great contrast with the red carpet. There were three more high tables and of course the huge circled bar that safely guarded the alcohol behind it.

"Whoa," I breathed, walking up the steps, "what's a Mafia's house without a bar?"

"You're surprised?" he questioned.

I shrugged, "A little."

He nodded, but didn't say anything. He wasn't very talkative. His face said it all but even that was tough to read. He had a master of a poker face. I guess in our world, you had to have one. But not in a marriage.

Just as I went to start a conversation with him, he buttered in, "Would you like to see the rest of the house?"

I nodded, coming down the steps and following him back out to the void. He turned right and straight up the stairs we went.

"This is my study," he told me, opening up the French glass doors.

I pocked my head through, not feeling comfortable enough to go in. This guy had class, I had to say. The carpet was a nice light grey matching the stone walls of the house. Light rained in from the other French doors that led out onto the balcony. A large wooden desk sat to the side of the room with a large black swivel chair behind it. It was filled with paper work that still hadn't been done but neatly organised, like everything in the room. A large filing cabinet sat in the corner and a large leather lounge sat along the far wall opposite to the desk.
I took a step back but froze when I hit something hard. My head looked up and found Patrick staring at me once again. His brows were drawn together as his eyes continued to look at me.

"What are you looking for?" I asked him, "I'm not going to betray you, Patrick. I'm not lying to you either."

"I never said that you were," he said, his deep voice rumbling, "But do I need to be worried?"