Page 12 of Mafia Darling

Marco frowned at me. “We cannot go to war over this. It’s bad for business.”

“I will start a thousand wars to get her back.”

“Then think about Crimine,” he said, reminding me of the annual gathering of La Provencia, the ’Ndrangheta leaders, coming up. It was held in the mountains and many of our important decisions and alliances were made there. “They’ll expect you to answer for this.”

“I will do whatever the fuck I want, cugino, and those old men can’t stop me. Not when I bring in the most profits.”

“Papà, she . . .” Giulio seemed to be struggling for words. “We are helping her escape D’Agostino, but then you must let her go.”

I would do no such thing. My son, however, could believe whatever he wished. He’d soon learn how I planned to deal with Francesca. “Of course,” I lied. “Now the two of you get out.”

Marco glanced at Giulio. “Go tell them to be ready.” Once we were alone, my cousin gave me a pitying look that set my teeth on edge. “Rav, you’d best prepare yourself for the worst. She is a liability and Enzo—”

“She is not a liability, she is the mother of my child. And Enzo will keep her alive, if only to use her to torture me.” It was what I would do, after all.

“Do you think he knows she’s pregnant?”

The sheer terror of that possibility caused my balls to nearly retreat up into my body. I had to believe Enzo didn’t know, or else he would’ve used the information to his advantage. No doubt Francesca was smart enough to try to hide the pregnancy as best she could. “Doubtful, or else he would have mentioned it.”

“Still, you need to remain practical and not let your temper get the best of you. That includes not growing angry if she wants to leave once we have her back.”

She was my woman and I was never letting her leave. “You don’t need to worry.”

“My job is to worry, remember? And with everything going on, it seems to be more than a full-time job.”

“You can take a vacation once we have Francesca back.”

“And leave you to deal with Enzo by yourself? I don’t think so. Not to mention we need to learn why no one was watching the beach house cameras when she was kidnapped.”

Vic had been on duty that afternoon, but he wasn’t a guard, per se. More like a computer hacker whiz. He’d been in my crew for almost seven years, and had worked in my home for the last three. “You don’t believe Vic’s story about a security update?”

“It could be a coincidence, but I don’t like coincidences. And what of the others? Vic doesn’t work alone.”

I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. “We’ll deal with that when we return—including discovering how Enzo knew where to find Francesca.”

“The beach house was no secret. You know how the men gossip.”

I had replayed the video of the masked man dumping Sal’s unconscious body a thousand times in my head. Something still bothered me about it. “Yes, but the man in the house . . . It was like he knew exactly where he was going.”

“Maybe.” Marco exhaled heavily. “We’ll get Enzo to talk.”

Yes, we definitely would. “Is everything in place?”

Marco folded his arms across his chest. “Other than the Sicilians, yes.”

“Good. Call them now. Impress the importance of haste.”

“I will. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

I knew exactly what I was doing. I would save Francesca from that bastard if I had to burn the entire world down to do it.

* * *

Francesca

Enzo stayed for dinner.

I tried to hide in my room, but I was ordered to the patio to eat with Enzo, Mariella, and six of his men. The outdoor space was softly lit and lined with beautiful, fragrant flowers. Gentle waves crashed onto the beach in a rhythmic soothing sound. The scenery would’ve been romantic under any other circumstances, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I picked at my spaghetti alle vongole, aware that everyone was surreptitiously watching me. Was the food poisoned? Were they all waiting for me to eat it, then keel over at the table?

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