Page 30 of Mafia Darling

She blocked my exit. “You are in a very precarious situation, Miss Mancini. And I suspect you aren’t as happy as Fausto Ravazzani’s mistress as you let on. Especially after Enzo D’Agostino kidnapped you.”

Jesus Christ. How did she know all this? Did she know I was pregnant, too? “Stop spying on me.”

The agent laughed. “If you are in Ravazzani’s orbit, you are being watched. Only a stupid woman would assume otherwise and one thing I suspect you are not, Miss Mancini, is stupid.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know you were raised in the life, albeit in Toronto. That makes you an asset to him, whereas the other women were just arm candy. He’s paid more attention to you. Even went as far as to impregnate you.”

I couldn’t hide the shock from my face. Yes, they did know everything.

She moved in as I stood there, reeling, and slipped the card in my purse. “Is this what you want for your child? A lifetime of wondering when their father will be arrested? Blood and murder and drugs? Think, Miss Mancini. We can help you if you help us. We can work to keep you and your baby safe. We can put Fausto Ravazzani away where he can never get to you.”

Did she honestly think that would work? I stood taller and pushed my shoulders back. “You know I’m smart, yet you try this line of bullshit on me. We both know there is no safety, even if I wanted to cooperate with you—which I don’t. Fuck off, Agent Rinaldo.”

I shoved on her shoulder to get her out of the way and slammed open the door. Benito was on his phone in the corridor, waiting for me while not paying a lick of attention. I rolled my eyes at his ineptitude. A GDF agent had just tried to get me to turn on Fausto and Benito was probably searching for a date on Tinder.

I strode past him and went down the hall. When I entered our private dining room, Fausto glanced up and raked my body with a hot gaze, as if making sure I was all right. My entire body tingled and the enormity of what I’d done hit me in that moment.

I had chosen Fausto.

Oh my fucking god. I had chosen this man, the one who had hurt me and tossed me away. The one who’d said terrible things and forced his son to pretend to be straight. The chance to escape had presented itself through the Italian government a few moments ago and I had thrown it away.

What was wrong with me?

A sweat broke out on the nape of my neck as I sat. I ignored the quirk of Fausto’s brow and finished my tiramisu, all the while contemplating my decision in the bathroom. Did I truly wish to get away from Fausto or was I kidding myself? What did I want?

Because if I really wanted to leave him, then—hatred of the police or not—I should have jumped at that opportunity.

Yet I hadn’t. Why?

At my core, I was a mafia princess. I’d been raised in this world and I understood it. Even being sheltered from my father’s day-to-day business, I knew how the organization worked and the men who ran it. Fausto had accused me many times of liking the danger, calling me bloodthirsty.

Do not ever try to tell me you weren’t made for this life, that you weren’t born to rule as a queen.

While I doubted that, I also would never stoop to working with the police. Doing so would get me killed faster than anything else. Fausto could never let that betrayal slide, regardless of the pregnancy, and his reach extended throughout the globe. There wasn’t anywhere I could go that he couldn’t find me, Guardia or not.

I put down my spoon, sick at the realization. There was no escape from this, unless he willingly let me go. And, considering he nearly cried at the sight of the baby this morning, it was safe to say he wouldn’t, at least not until the baby was born. But I certainly wasn’t leaving my child alone in Italy under Fausto’s care, so I was stuck here.

There was also the problem of my libido. I was struggling—and failing—to resist him. What did that mean? Was I fooling myself in trying to keep my distance? More than anything, I needed him to suffer, to regret his treatment of me so that it never happened again.

Which meant I was already intending to forgive him.

Shit.

I rubbed my forehead, beyond exhausted by the mess of my life.

Fausto moved his chair and stood. “We’ll finish later, Toni. I need to get Francesca back to the castello to rest.”

I considered contradicting him, but I was tired. So I didn’t protest when he led me out of the restaurant and helped me into the Range Rover. He settled beside me, his leg resting against mine. I didn’t bother pushing him away. My head was too fuzzy. I just closed my eyes and let myself drift.

He placed something on my lap.

Looking down, I saw a to-go bag from the restaurant. “What’s this?”

“I had them box up two orders of their tiramisu, since you seemed to like it. Don’t tell Zia, though. She will think you don’t like hers.”

I loved Zia’s tiramisu, so there was no chance of that, but his thoughtfulness touched me all the same. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

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