Page 102 of Mafia Darling

“Come here.”

Instead of obeying, she put her hands under her cheek and looked at me. “Where?”

“Come, lay down next to me.”

“Fausto, there isn’t enough room in that bed. I’ll hurt you.”

“No, you won’t. I need to hold you right now. Ti prego. Come squeeze in next to me, bellissima.”

Her gaze softened and I knew I had her. She unfolded from the small bed and padded over to me. She wore just a t-shirt and panties, and she’d removed her bra, so her breasts swung beneath the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Cristo, I wish I felt better. My dick hadn’t even twitched since I had been shot, but mentally I still craved fucking her, touching her.

Brow furrowed, she went to my uninjured side and lowered the rail. “How is this going to work?”

I lifted my good arm and tried to make space for her. “Get in.”

It took her a while and I had to hide a wince or two, but she made it work. She stretched out on her side and cuddled ever so gently to me. It was the first time I’d held her since the shooting and my body relaxed, settling into the uncomfortable mattress. “I have missed this,” I murmured, closing my lids.

“Me too.” Her lips found my throat. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

“Ti amo, Francesca. No matter what happens in the future, know that I love you with everything I am. When I was dying on that street, my last thought was of you.”

“Oh, baby.” She pressed closer. “I don’t want to think about that ever again.”

“Nor do I.”

“I should never have asked you to delay killing him. If I hadn’t—”

“It does no good to dwell in the past. I don’t blame you or Emma. I had plenty of time to kill him before your sisters came, but I enjoyed toying with him.”

We were both silent for a few minutes, the sound of the machines in the room our only companion. She finally said, “I can’t believe we’re having a boy.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“I’m . . . nervous. I want for him to be able to make his own choices when the time comes.”

I thought of my first son, at home and miserable. “No one has a choice in this life.”

“That’s not true. Furthermore, it shouldn’t be true. Would you have chosen anything different if your father had allowed it?”

“No. I loved the life. Never once did I want to do anything else.”

“But that’s you.”

I forced myself to give voice to my greatest fear. “He won’t choose me.”

She was quiet, her breath gusting over my throat and making me shiver. Finally, she said, “No, but he will choose himself. And isn’t that more important?”

“You will never see him again,” I snapped. “I will never see him again. He will need to disappear to stay safe. Change his name, his looks. All because he refuses—”

“Stop right there. He’s not refusing anything. He’s done everything you’ve asked of him, even at the expense of his own sanity. He wants to make you proud, but think about what you’re doing for a second. What kind of life are forcing him into, secrecy and lies? Celibacy and loneliness? It’s beyond cruel.”

“It’s the only way to keep him safe.”

“Except for letting him go and giving him a chance to find true happiness outside the mafia. You have to accept it and let him decide.”

The plaster ceiling wavered as my eyes filled. She made it sound so easy, to give my son a choice and watch him walk out of my life. That wasn’t how things were done here. We were all about family and legacy, and even Italians not in the mafia stuck close to home. I raised him myself after Lucia died, every moment of his young life forged into my brain. It was like asking me to cut off my arm and never notice its absence.

“Baby, I know this is hard,” she said quietly. “But as parents our job is to put our kids first. Always. I know you love him, which means you have to give him a choice. If you don’t, it will kill him.”

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