Some people recognize him because of his violent reputation, while others can feel the danger coming off him, and their instincts tell them to stay away from us.
Adriano’s sharp gaze flicks over the store before he reaches for a shopping cart like this is the most normal thing in the world.
Slipping my hand through his arm, I smile as I mention, “You’d think people would get used to it by now, seeing the big, bad mafia boss is out shopping with his wife.”
A low chuckle escapes him while we move farther into the store. The fluorescent lights reflect against polished floors, and music plays overhead.
For a few seconds, I let myself soak it all in because moments like this are very special to me in a way I don’t think Adriano fully understands.
Sure, like most women, I love expensive gifts and all the luxuries he provides for me, but shopping for food and cleaning products with my husband is priceless.
There was a time in my life when everything felt temporary and uncertain, when survival came before comfort and happiness. Back then, I used to watch couples shopping together and wonder what it felt like to belong somewhere so completely that even ordinary errands are intimate.
Now I know.
“You’re smiling again,” Adriano murmurs, his tone filled with satisfaction.
Grinning up at him, I admit, “I’m happy.”
His expression softens before he scans the area around us again while steering the cart toward the produce section. The way he’s aware of where every single person is, is so subtle that most people would miss it.
The serious look he gets during meetings, the ruthlessness that settles over him around enemies, and the lethal stillness that makes grown men start sweating when something pisses him off.
But his quieter and gentler side that only exists around me and our family and close friends is by far my favorite.
We stop near the vegetables, and Adriano immediately starts inspecting avocados with terrifying seriousness while I grab basil, parsley, and lemons. As I walk, he sticks near me, his hand brushing over my back or his arm touching mine every now and then.
I notice how the other shoppers carefully move around us, most of them trying very hard not to stare directly at him.
When I see a man lingering too long and glancing in my direction, I suppress a groan.
Here we go again.
The second Adriano notices, the atmosphere vibrates with tension. I’m grabbed by my arm, and my overprotective and way too possessive husband steps partially in front of me while giving the man a threatening look. His tone is frighteningly harsh as he snaps, “Don’t fucking look at my wife, asshole!”
“Move along,” Little Ricky says, gesturing with a lift of his chin for the man to get going.
The poor guy instantly glances away while turning pale, then disappears in the direction of the toiletries.
“Yep, go get toilet paper after shitting yourself,” Little Ricky chuckles.
“Stop it,” I hush him. “You’re being mean.”
He pouts at me in the way that makes it very difficult to stay upset with him. “Sorry, boss lady.”
Not wanting Little Ricky thinking I’m angry, I smile at him before turning my attention back to the vegetables and fruits.
I can feel the tense energy coming from Adriano as he sticks to my side, and say, “You scared the man away, my love. You can relax.”
“He was staring at you,” my husband complains.
Holding a bag of potatoes in my hand, I look up at him. “It was barely a glance.”
Adriano tilts his head, his expression telling me I’m not going to change his mind. I push the bag into his hands and walk to the onions.
There’s absolutely no point arguing with him when he gets like this, especially because I know exactly why he pays attention to things other people would normally ignore.
Danger has shaped every part of his life for so long that vigilance has become second nature.