The Don and His Russian Bride

IX

"This cannot be happening." I searched through the drawers a second time. Perhaps my eyes had skimmed over a box, missing it. Once again, I came up empty handed.

Now out of options, I folded squares of toilet paper and laid them on the inside of my panties. The entire property was the size of a small Russian village, yet there was not a single pad or tampon in any of the bathrooms I checked. Since the mansion was not accustomed to female occupants, I would make do with what I had in the meantime.

Moving through the kitchen, I waved to Carlotta. When I told her of my dilemma, she said it's been years since she's had to worry about needing a tampon. She checked the supplies kept for the maids, only to find the stock empty.

Though frustrated at the inconvenience, this gave me an opportunity to step off the grounds for the first time in weeks. I marched to the garage with purpose.

Despite knowing my way to the garage, I had never been inside it before. There had never been a need to. Each time I arrived or left the mansion, the drivers parked in the driveway, providing me a shorter distance to the entrance.

I entered the garage. Immediately, I faced an exorbitant amount of cars. Days before marrying Luciano, my impression had been that, because of the similar types of business, living with the Italian mafia wouldn't be much different from being raised in the Russian mafia. However, I soon learned the Martelli family lived a far more luxurious life than my father.

Walking through the aisles, I admired the various expensive sports cars among the few inconspicuous vehicles. With Luciano's abundance of wealth, it would have been hard not to flaunt it beyond his extraordinary mansion. Even so, the mafia needed access to cars that could go unnoticed on the streets. In addition to this, the garage housed rows upon rows of black suvs. Men in the mafia preferred black suvs for transportation because the tinted windows kept them hidden and the vehicle could withstand bullets better than most.

Seemingly unattended, the cars invited me to get behind the wheel. What would it be like to jump into one and leave this place far behind me? Would there be a high speed chase after me on the way to my father's house or could I cruise around the island before Luciano's men caught on to my absence?

It didn't take long before my visions of each scenario vanquished by my reality. I neither knew where to find the keys nor how to hotwire the cars in order to escape. Requesting for a driver seemed to be my only chance at leaving the compound.

I called out to the first man I located. I recognized him as the driver from my shopping excursion weeks ago. Unfortunately, I had never bothered to learn his name. "Hey, you! I want you to give me a ride."

The look in his eyes held bewilderment, but he remained otherwise unruffled. "Sig.ra Martelli, you aren't supposed to be down here."

"I disagree. My prison chains allow me to wander anywhere on the property. The garage is on the property."

"Property or not, you have no reason to be here."

"I actually do have a reason. I would like to go somewhere." When he showed no signs of accepting my reason, I rolled my eyes for effect. "This requires a car."

"As far as I'm aware, you have nowhere to go. You are to stay here on the property until Don Martelli tells me otherwise."

It didn't matter if he wanted to be stubborn. I would be leaving one way or another. "What's your name?"

"Mario, Signora."

"Listen, Mario. As we speak, there is blood dripping out of my vagina. Sooner rather than later, this toilet paper won't be enough to handle it. The only way I can properly manage it is if you drive me to the store to buy the products I need. Now do you see how urgent this is?"