Page 35 of Mafia Darling

I clenched my jaw. “I do not wish to discuss the situation with Giulio. This is about you and me.”

“No, this is about more than you and me now. It became more the minute you got me pregnant. I was perfectly happy as your temporary mantenuta, and you had to ruin everything by accusing me of being a gold-digging whore! Just because I was willing to keep Giulio’s secret!”

I wanted to tell her she was never temporary, but why would she believe me? I had to prove it to her. My words were not enough, even if I meant them.

I gestured to the path. “Come. Vincenzo needs our help.”

She didn’t budge. “I changed my mind. I don’t feel like hanging out with you this afternoon. I’m going back to the castello.”

I put my hands together, shaking them. “Please, Francesca. You should see la vendemmia. It is magical. Let me show you. Or, let Vincenzo show you. I’ll keep my distance, if that is what you prefer.”

“Yes, I fucking prefer,” she snapped and started off toward the vineyards.

I exhaled in relief and followed her. At least she was still coming to pick grapes with me. That was a small victory.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Francesca

Vincenzo’s tan wrinkled face brightened when he saw me. “Signorina! I wondered if you would join us.” The vintner glanced over my shoulder and dipped his chin respectfully. “Signore Ravazzani. You honor us with your presence.”

Fausto came forward, shook the vintner’s hand, and spoke quietly. The people standing around us all laughed, grinning at him, and I tried not to look as annoyed as I felt. What, would they kiss his ring next?

A woman appeared at my side. She was slightly younger than Fausto, with a long braid of dark hair tucked under a sun hat. Her brown eyes were kind, her smile patient. “Is this your first time?”

I nodded. “I am a vendemmia virgin.”

The woman chuckled. “That sounds like a t-shirt.” Her expression turned serious. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. I am Emilia, Vincenzo’s daughter.”

“Oh, hello! He told me all about you.” Vincenzo often bragged about his daughter, the accountant who’d gone to university in London. “I’m Frankie.”

“I know exactly who you are.” Emilia shrugged then said sotto voce, “These old Italians are terrible gossips. Never trust them with your secrets.”

“Noted.” Of course they’d all been talking about me, the woman stupid enough to let Fausto Ravazzani knock her up.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” Emilia said, watching my face. “They think you are some kind of goddess, the woman who tamed the great Ravazzani.”

Tamed, right. Shifting the attention away from me, I asked, “You work as an accountant in the city.” She was also divorced, which Vincenzo mentioned through gritted teeth.

“I do. My father was hoping I would take over the winery, but I have a black thumb. Numbers are more my strength.”

“I always hated math class.”

She raised her hands. “Many people say the same, but numbers are useful, especially in our world.” She tilted her head toward Fausto, and I wondered what that meant. I looked at Fausto and felt conflicted.

You are a part of me, from now until they put me in the ground.

I liked those words far more than I should, and I wanted to hear him say he loved me again and again. Something had changed in the last few days. He was softer with me, more open. At night, when I pretended to sleep, he pulled me close and whispered Italian endearments that made my heart melt. He rested his hand on my belly, stroking and soothing, like he was comforting our child in there.

It was a different side of him, one I craved—and that was dangerous. For all his talk and whispers, this was still the same man who said I was dead to him, who planned on taking our child away from me after the birth. A murderer and a drug kingpin. It was madness to feel any tenderness toward him whatsoever.

Yet I did, more and more each day.

“Here.”

I looked up. Emilia held out a basket and pruning shears. Right, the grape harvest. Everyone else had started off into the vineyard, the sun coating the grapes in a burnished gold. Fausto, now wearing a baseball cap, was laughing with one of the workers, and that familiar tug of arousal in my gut grew stronger as I watched him. He was ridiculously handsome.

“Oh, you have it bad,” Emilia said, nudging my arm.

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