Page 25 of Mafia Darling

“We should get going,” she said quietly to Giulio. “I don’t want to be late.”

That got me to turn around. “Where do you think you are going this morning?”

Her right eye twitched but her voice remained flat. “To the obstetrician, Fausto.”

“I will take you.” My day was packed with calls and reports, but I would push them off to do this with her. For her to forgive me, we had to spend time together.

“You are going to take me to the doctor. You?”

“Me.” I glanced at my son. “Tell Marco. I want six men with me, cars in front and behind.”

“Sì, Papà.” With a kiss to Francesca’s cheek he disappeared from the kitchen to make arrangements for the trip. That left me alone with her, as Zia was outside in her garden already.

“You cannot seriously mean to go with me,” she said. “You never leave the estate.”

“Except for you, it seems. And what is the problem? I am the baby’s father. I should go to these things.” I hadn’t accompanied Lucia to the doctor, so I had no idea what to expect. But these were things most men did when their women were pregnant, no? When Marco’s wife had been carrying the boys, Marco had treasured the tiny black and white sonogram photos like they were gold bars, showing them to anyone in the vicinity.

She seemed to be struggling with a response, her mouth opening and closing several times. Finally, she said, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t come.”

I sipped my espresso and regarded her over the rim of the cup. If she was over me, as she claimed, why not let me tag along? We both knew she wasn’t over me, though. I would never allow it. I was prepared to move heaven and earth to win this woman’s forgiveness. “That is too bad,” I said. “Besides, I want to hear for myself that everything is all right with our child.”

“Suit yourself.” She stood up and brought her dishes to the sink. “Though I just have to ask, what kind of lunatic gives a finger as a present to a pregnant woman?”

“Giulio already informed me it was a bad idea, but you deserve proof of his suffering, amore mio.”

The porcelain clattered in the sink. “Shit,” she murmured, righting the dishes.

Had it been the endearment that rattled her? If so, she should brace herself. There would be far more of those, as many as I could sneak in.

“Let’s go,” she said evenly as she strode past me.

Hmm. Her demeanor was unnaturally calm. I’d expected an argument or a biting comment, at the very least. I did love to argue with her. Back when we were together, our arguments usually led to fucking.

Was this new attitude a tactic to avoid arguing with me?

Ah, that made sense. I smiled as I followed her through the castello. I would love nothing more than a battle of wits with this woman, but she would lose. I hadn’t risen to where I was in this world by being out maneuvered. Still, I relished the challenge.

She could act as calm and boring as she liked. It wouldn’t work. Nothing about her could ever bore me. Didn’t Francesca know that by now?

Once in the car, she studied the streets out the window, ignoring me. I didn’t care. I had plenty of work calls to make during the ride. One of those was to touch base with Toni, who oversaw the legitimate side of my business empire. During the call he talked about trades and our portfolio, and I listened with half an ear. From the corner of my eye I watched Francesca’s foot bounce, her flat shoe dangling from the tips of her toes. It was unintentionally sexy and I wanted to pull her feet in my lap, slide my palms up her calves . . .

“Stop staring at me,” she said without sparing me a glance. “It’s creepy.” She angled the other way, shielding her feet from me, and I tried not to laugh. Creepy? Then why were her nipples poking through her bra and shirt? She couldn’t hide her body’s reaction from me.

I finished my call as we arrived at the office building. She reached for the door handle but I grabbed her arm. “Wait here. Do not get out until you have guards surrounding you.”

“Fausto, the only person I am in danger from is you.” She flipped open the latch and left the car, and I was forced to let go of her. Damn it.

I hurried out my door and came around quickly. My men surrounded us and we all headed toward the door. “Cristo, Francesca! It’s not safe for you to run around the streets of Siderno.”

“I apologize.” She slipped sunglasses on her face and covered her eyes from me. “Next time I’ll wait.”

Her voice was tight, as if the acquiescence nearly killed her. I had to credit her acting skills, though. If I didn’t know her so well, I might have believed she meant it.

One person was already in the elevator when our entourage piled in. He took one look at the big soldati and bulges under our jackets and quickly excused himself, getting out before the elevator doors closed. Francesca sighed but said nothing.

The guards waited outside the main door to the doctor’s office, while Marco and I escorted Francesca inside. The two women behind the reception desk perked up when they saw us, their eyes darting to me then back to my woman. I rested my hand on Francesca’s lower back as we came forward, ignoring the stiffening of her small frame at my touch.

She removed her sunglasses. “Francesca Mancini to see Dr. Russo, please.”

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