The Mafia Boss's Sweet Wife

Author D. G. Risk 2015

Translation by Sаndstоrm

***

Tony and I got married two years ago. Of course, I was only twenty-three at the time, but I understood our agreement: he needed a beautiful young wife to give him children, and I, in turn, would be fully provided for for the rest of my life. To be honest, I liked it: puttering around the kitchen all day, playing the beautiful, sexy housewife, and besides, Tony turned out to be good in the bedroom.

At least that's what I thought!

Besides, he was my first man, and I didn't know much before I got married.

The truth is,

I still didn't have children, despite months and months of trying... And we were already starting to despair.

***

"More coffee?" Tony asked, addressing me through the kitchen door. I was there, flipping the last of the blueberry pancakes he loved so much.

"Of course," I replied. While the pancake was cooking, I brought the coffee pot into the living room and poured some into his cup. My long silk robe trailed behind me.

"Thanks, sweetie," he said, bringing the cup to his lips without taking his eyes off the newspaper.

"Pancakes will be ready in a minute," I said, "Want anything else?"

He shook his head no, and I went back to the kitchen.

I liked playing the role of a wife, even though I was only twenty-four. College was hard for me, and trying to build a career after graduation was even harder, but being a housewife was easy. I could wear whatever I wanted, cook, do housework, and have sex with Tony. He worried about the outside world, and I worried about the home.

The only problem was that we still didn't have children.

It wasn't for lack of trying. We made love almost every night for a year, but I just couldn't get pregnant. I knew it made Tony unhappy—he dreamed of coming home to a house full of smiling, happy kids after a hard day's work—and it made me unhappy too.

The other problem was that I didn't think it was my fault. I was twenty-four, and my health was perfect. He was in his early forties, and no one had ever gotten pregnant by him—maybe the Mob boss used condoms with all his mistresses before me?

I put the last two pancakes on a plate, got the maple syrup from the fridge, and brought it all to the living room. Then I put two pancakes on Tony's plate, handed him the syrup, and sat down.

Finally, he looked up from the newspaper.

"I had a meeting at City Hall today," he said with his mouth full.

"About the new landfill?" I asked. I took a pancake and poured syrup on it. My diamond bracelet sparkled in the sunlight streaming into the living room.

"Exactly," he said. "I also met with a couple of Feds about Johnny Olivetti, out of town."

He said it in a normal tone, but I gasped. Tony met with Feds? Isn't that dangerous?

"Why?" I asked.

He shrugged. "They caught him on a hook and thought it would make me talk."

"Talk about what?"

He smiled. "Business," he said. "You have nothing to worry about. They're just trying to get under my skin. They have nothing on me. They want to challenge me."

I sighed with relief when I saw his carefree look, though his words still troubled me.

"Well, if you say so," I said and saw that his glass was empty, "Want some orange juice?"

"No, I have to go," he said, glancing at his huge Rolex. "Do you have plans for today?"

"Just wanted to do some baking."

"Leave me some for when I get back, huh?"

"Of course," I replied and got up to clear the dishes.

***

"Hi, Tony," I said. I glanced at the stove where three beautiful pies were waiting to be baked. Wonderful.

"Hi, sweetie," he said, and I immediately sensed something was wrong in his voice. "Are you busy right now?"

"I was just about to put a couple of pies in the oven," I said. "What did you want?"

On the other end of the line, I heard him sigh heavily.

"These guys want to talk to you," he said.

"What guys?"

"The Feds."

I gasped, and my heart started beating faster in my chest.

What the hell do they want from me? I knew nothing about Tony's business. Most of his assets were in my name, that's true, but otherwise I was above suspicion—and the absolute truth was that I knew practically nothing about what he did all day, or his friends who often stayed for dinner, or his nighttime trips he took from time to time, or the money and guns stashed under our bed.

"It's not about business," he said. "They just want to meet you and ask a couple of questions. Nothing serious. Can you come down right now?"

I looked at the pies on the stove. To be honest, I was confused. I could easily leave them right here until I got back, if it really was nothing serious.

"I guess so," I said.

"Sweetie, do me a favor," he continued.

"What?"

"Wear something nice, something sexy, you know."

"Sexy?" I repeated.

"But elegant at the same time. And, uh..." he continued, embarrassed, which was unlike him. "Wear something from your fancy lingerie."

I blushed.

"Okay," I said.

"See you," he said and hung up.

Tony did this from time to time. He liked to surprise me by inviting me out on a date and then we'd go to a hotel or other apartments, or some other unusual place and make love. He was really turned on by making love in unusual, sometimes strange places—in his lawyer's office, in the Rolls-Royce under a bridge, by the river—and his request for me to wear something sexy didn't surprise me much.

I turned off the stove and went downstairs and opened my closet. There was a pile of lingerie—Tony often bought it for me and then I'd wear it during sex. I didn't know exactly what to expect, but as far as I understood, I had to meet these Feds first, so I chose a simple open-cup bra, crotchless panties, a garter belt, stockings, and high heels. I put on a low-cut blouse and a pencil skirt over it: sexy enough for my man, but also formal enough for an official meeting.

To remind them who I was, I put on big diamond earrings.

Then, without a care, I got into my Mercedes and drove downtown.

***

"How can I help you?" she asked, giving me a long, appraising look.

"I'm Mrs. Battaglia," I told her, maintaining a proud posture and keeping my back as straight as I could. I always liked telling people I was Mrs. They always looked at me in surprise and sometimes even backed away.

"Yes, I was informed you have a meeting with Agents Evans and Daniels," she said, looking down at her computer. "Let me check if they're ready for you. Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," I replied and sat down in the waiting room.

A little time passed before she returned and sat back down at her desk.

"They'll see you in a few minutes," she said.

I was so glad I didn't have to work like this girl. She did the most routine and boring job all day, while I did what I wanted, cooked, and did housework.

"Is my husband here?" I asked.

"It'll take a couple of minutes."

I started flipping through a magazine I found on the table next to me to kill time.

Eventually, I saw a man enter the waiting room. When I got a good look at him, my heart skipped a beat. He was tall and attractive, and even dressed in a sharp black suit, I could easily tell he spent a lot of time at the gym. His square jaw tightened as he scanned the room.

"Mrs. Battaglia?" he asked.

I stood up, trying to look as tall as possible.

"Yes," I replied.

He extended his hand. "Agent Evans," he said. "Thank you for coming."

"No problem," I replied, trying to look indifferent. It wasn't easy—he had green eyes and dark hair, and when he looked at me, his eyes burned with fire.

I lost control of myself for a moment, forbidden thoughts creeping into my head about what I would do with him if I had the chance.

"This way," he said, lightly touching my back with one hand and leading me down the hallway. I walked with my head held high, trying to maintain as much dignity as I could.

The conference room we entered was large and had a beautiful wooden table in the center, equally impressive chairs, a TV with a huge screen on one wall, and lots of windows—an excellent place!

Tony was there, standing and talking with another agent. That must be Agent Daniels.

He was also tall and well-built, only with blue eyes instead of green—he looked like a guy modeling underwear or something like that. I had to make an effort to push the dirty thoughts out of my head—my husband was right there!

"Hi, sweetie," he said and leaned in to kiss me. "Thanks for coming."

"Don't mention it," I replied and threw a sly glance at the two men behind him.

"They want to talk to you alone," he said. There was something strange in his behavior—it seemed like something was going on, and I couldn't figure out what.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. My gaze wandered from one man to the other.

"Absolutely," Agent Evans replied, "Just a couple of questions."

"I'll go get some coffee," Tony said. "I'll be in the waiting room when you're done."

What's going on here?

"Okay," I said, then squeezed his hand, just for a moment, and he left.

"Please, have a seat," Agent Daniels said. He pulled out one of the gorgeous chairs for me, and I sat down. I felt my garter belt wrap around my waist and legs and one of my stockings slid down slightly.

"I'll start," Agent Evans said. "Mrs. Battaglia! We have enough on your husband to put him away for life if we want to."

I gasped and pressed a hand to my mouth in fright, and my heart started pounding wildly. I could barely breathe.

"What are you talking about?" I gasped. Tears moistened my eyes.

Will I lose everything I have?

"Racketeering, arms trafficking, murder for hire. Hell! We could even get him for tax evasion."

What I heard shocked me.

"He ordered murders?" I barely managed to say.

"I told you she doesn't know anything," Agent Evans said. "She was just a teenager when we fished Buddy Campini's body out of the river."

Everything spun before my eyes. I knew for sure Tony wasn't a model citizen, I wasn't stupid, but that he killed someone? And now he could go to prison forever, and I'd be all alone without his protection and influence.

"That's not true," my chest puffed out in protest. He would never do that.

"Honey," Agent Evans said, sitting on the table across from me. "He could, and he did, and we have mountains of evidence of his crimes."

My hands felt numb, but even through my panic, I pondered one question.

"Why am I here?" I asked. They needed Tony, not me. And they were also well aware that I was completely useless—I knew nothing.

Agent Daniels smiled, two dimples appearing on his handsome face.

"You have a unique opportunity to help your husband get out of this right here, right now," he said.

"I don't know anything!" I exclaimed. "I can't help you with anything."

"Of course you can," and we'll help you, "Haven't you been trying to have a baby?"

When he said that, it was like a bolt from the blue. What's the connection between wanting a baby and Tony's problems?

I looked up at one agent, then the other—both standing tall by the table across from me.

"Yes?" I said, embarrassed. I didn't want to give these guys any more information than I already had, but they were going to put Tony in prison—what choice did I have?

And then I realized something: they both had a significant bulge in the area of their pants zippers.

They both had erections, and impressive ones at that.

Seeing this, I felt warmth filling me, sinking down to my pussy, even though it was wrong. Tony was my husband, after all.

"Mrs. Battaglia has already agreed," Agent Daniels said quietly.

"To be honest, it was his idea," Agent Evans said. "We're not pursuing him, and you'll be able to have a baby."

It felt like everything was spiraling out of control.

Even worse, I was absolutely, animalistically aroused. I swallowed, hoping to regain my composure.

"He would never suggest that," I said. Tony was always courteous and even a little jealous of me around his friends—this was absolutely unbelievable.

"He suggested it," Agent Daniels said, "Didn't you, Tony?"

I turned around, looking for him with my eyes. But instead, I heard his voice coming from the speakers of the phone lying on the table.

"Be a good girl," he said.

It was definitely his voice.

Agent Daniels pointed to a small black device on the wall: "He's watching too," he said.

I licked my lips. The ache in my pussy didn't lie—I definitely wanted what they were offering. I also wanted a baby—something Tony couldn't give me. But still, it seemed so dirty, so depraved, so wrong!

"Well?" Agent Evans asked. "I'm afraid we'll be stuck here all day."

"I'll do it," I said in a rush, and fidgeting on the edge of the chair,