The Mafia King's Unknown Doctor Wife novel Chapter 3

Elena didn’t spare Massimo and his wife another thought. She needed to pack up her things and get ready for Massimo’s probation period. It was her path to freedom, and she wasn’t going to let it slip through her fingers.

But, as she boxed up the little trinkets and equipment she had gathered during her short stay working at the Ferraro’s hospital, Elena’s thoughts drifted to her own marriage. More specifically, her own husband. A mysterious man she had married ten days ago.

She really didn’t know anything about him. All she knew was what Mr. Fabio had told her: he was hopeless with women, distrustful of others, and not very social. It wasn’t a lot to go on.

Surely Mr. Fabio had said something else about his grandson, maybe in passing? Before he ever brought up the idea of an arranged marriage?

Elena focused and recalled when she had first met Mr. Fabio. She had been giving him medical treatment and asked if there was anyone to call. Mr. Fabio had informed her that his only relative would be too busy to arrive.

“What does he do?” Elena had asked, hoping the question would distract Mr. Fabio from his pain while she worked.

Mr. Fabio had stayed quiet for a long moment. “He’s a mechanic.”

The old memory didn’t give her many more details, but it was something. So Elena knew the following about her husband: he was a cold, workaholic recluse who had a job as a mechanic.

It didn’t paint a flattering picture.

Still Elena hoped she’d get to meet him some day. If Mr. Fabio vouched for him, he couldn’t be all bad.

But Elena had to focus on the here and now. She might not work at St. Camillus anymore, but her days would only be getting busier. Being the family doctor for the Ferraros would require her full attention.

She decided to head to the grocery store and meal prep for the week. Then she’d stay up studying, brushing up on her medicinal knowledge. She was determined to pass Massimo’s probation period with flying colors.

Contrary to what his grandfather thought, Massimo wasn’t unobservant. He wasn’t unfeeling either. For example, he felt quite strongly that his entire life situation had taken a turn for the ridiculous lately.

Massimo knew that he was a total outlier in the mafia world. Only 27 yet the mafia don of the most important criminal family, he walked a perilous path.

Add in that he was unmarried and had no legitimate heir, and it became easy to see why Massimo worked as hard to establish himself as he did. Grandfather could call him a workaholic, but Massimo knew the truth: his position required his total focus—otherwise, he’d lose the other families’ respect.

Once that was gone, it’d be impossible to stay in control. And Massimo would not lose the position his grandfather had entrusted to him. Not over something so trivial and preventable.

He didn’t have time for scheming women—he had enough problems dealing with scheming dons and capos. The big city never slept and neither would Massimo if there was any work to be done. He needed to be ruthless and efficient.

Luca, his second-in-command, approached his desk, interrupting Massimo’s musings. Luca’s expression was purposefully neutral, which meant he had news that was going to piss off his boss.

“Your grandfather is on the phone, Don Massimo.”

With a sigh, Massimo took the phone Luca offered him. “Hello?”

“Have you still not met your wife?” His grandfather, Fabio Ferraro, immediately asked. The old man could really be stubborn and impatient.

“I told you, I’m busy.”

Massimo looked back at the reports Luca had handed him an hour ago. The work done by the Morello family looked fine on paper, but his gut said something was fishy. He needed to look into it more closely…

“You’ll have to meet her eventually,” Fabio scolded, like Massimo was still a young child. “You should do it sooner rather than later. In fact, you should’ve done it the day your marriage was registered.”

“You know I was busy managing the families,” Massimo hissed. He really didn’t have time for his grandfather’s lectures today, not after he lost so many hours interviewing potential doctors. “And then I was shot—you want me to meet this floozy while I’m bleeding out?”

“I didn’t raise you to talk to your elders like that,” Fabio scolded. “Mind your manners, boy.”

A rant was no doubt at the tip of his grandfather’s tongue, so Massimo figured his best bet was to play mediator.

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