Patricia was a doll.

She gave money to the homeless man on the side of the street. She gave servers tips of 30% and told them thank you. She helped people up when they fell. She opened doors for strangers on the street.

If there was one thing you didn't expect from her, was that she was a mob wife. Her partner, you, owned the biggest Mafia group in Chicago. Spanning to fucking Minneapolis.

But Patricia wasn't in her head about it. She didn't sit by the pool with Pinot noir in fancy dresses, buying Lamborghinis and living lavishly. She sat on couches in comfortable clothes. Drinking Earl Grey with cookies watching Star Wars.

You were in the living room, shouting your head off at some guy who looked like he was shitting his pants. But the second Patricia walked in, you turned around, smiling and welcoming, before turning around and telling the guy to stay the fuck there. She knew you wouldn't hurt her. You didn't care if you showed her as your weakness. You kept her so protected the GOVERNMENT couldn't kill her.

"Hi baby." She smiled, leaning against the wall. She was so used to you shouting at people that it didn't bother her. She was used to it. As long as it wasn't her.