Page 27 of Mafia Darling

After she slipped on the cotton gown, she strode over and handed me her clothes. “Here. For your lap.” She tilted her chin toward the bulge in my trousers.

I spread my arms but made no move to take the garments. “Put them down,” I ordered softly, unable to help myself.

Her breath hitched and she licked her lips. Her gaze darted to my crotch, where my dick pushed insistently against my zipper. For a second, I thought she was going to play along, that she would bend over and place the clothes on my groin, and perhaps brush her hand against my cock in the process. Instead, she looked away and let the bundle drop onto my lap, uncaring if it fell on the floor.

I was a tiny bit disappointed, but mostly pleased by her reaction. She was not immune to me.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how different things would’ve been if I hadn’t fucked up with her. We might’ve been here together for every appointment, teasing and laughing while waiting for the doctor. She would sit on my lap and kiss me, while I told her how much I looked forward to seeing our child but worried over my ability to keep them all safe.

I couldn’t stand to lose anyone else.

Francesca hopped onto the examination table. “Don’t say a word, Fausto. You’re here as an observer only. I don’t want you throwing your mafia boss weight around with my doctor.”

More orders?

My dick twitched at her audacity. Though I longed to take her over my knees and spank her ass, I held up my palms. “You won’t even know I’m here, dolcezza.”

CHAPTER NINE

Fausto

“This must be the lovely Francesca,” my cousin Toni exclaimed, walking forward. He kissed both of Francesca’s cheeks “You are every bit as beautiful as I’ve heard.”

“Thank you,” she said, then looked to me for an explanation.

We had just arrived at one of the restaurants I owned in Siderno after the obstetrician appointment. I didn’t like how thin she was, and the doctor had expressed concern over the amount of weight Francesca had lost. Though the baby was perfectly fine, the doctor had encouraged Francesca to eat more, whatever she could hold down. So I decided to bring her to lunch, also inviting Toni to discuss business. He’d been pestering me for an in-person meeting for months. Two birds, one stone.

“Meet Antonio, my cousin,” I said. “He handles many of my businesses for me.”

“Call me Toni,” my cousin said. “Zio Toni, if you prefer.”

I pulled a chair out for her and she sat. “You speak very good English,” she said to Toni.

“I was raised in the Connecticut suburbs until I was twelve. Then my mother moved us back to Siderno and I became acquainted with my Italian cousins.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I was pleasantly surprised he agreed to meet in person today.” Toni gestured to me, still speaking to Francesca. “Your influence, no doubt.”

“Oh, I can hardly take credit,” she said as the waiter passed out menus. “Fausto always does whatever the hell he wants.”

I tried to hide my smile. “Francesca had an appointment at her obstetrician this morning. We came here directly after.”

She bristled in her seat, no doubt furious that I had mentioned the pregnancy. But there was no use hiding it. Word of my presence at the doctor’s office would spread all over Siderno by sundown. Besides, Toni was family. He deserved to hear it from me.

“Oh, this is wonderful news!” Toni exclaimed and leaned forward to slap my shoulder. “Complementi, cugino!”

Francesca rolled her eyes, then held up her hand to get the waiter’s attention. When he arrived, she said, “I’ll have the tiramisu and the frangipane tart.”

“No.” I proceeded to give the waiter a long list of things to bring to the table. She would eat actual food with vitamins and minerals first.

“You’re impossible,” she said when the waiter left.

Putting my hand on the back of her chair, I leaned over. “You may have whatever you wish for dessert, no? And I purposely did not order chicken.”

Her lips parted, a flush deepening her cheeks and throat. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I straightened. “Now we must discuss business,” I said to her. “I hope you won’t mind.’

---