Page 42 of Mafia Darling

“He is so fucking hot.” Giulio trailed after me like a sweet puppy. “He has huge hands, did you know?”

Yes, I knew. Giulio had talked a lot about Adam Driver’s hands at the beach.

“Paulo also has huge hands,” he said. “I miss him so much, Frankie.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“He’s back on the dating apps. I don’t understand it. How can he move on without me, like I never even mattered to him?”

I doubted it was easy for Paulo, but people coped with a breakup in different ways. “Come on. There’s gelato in the fridge.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Fausto

A full glass of whiskey in hand, I stood in the dark at my office window and stared off into the night. With the lights out, the stars over the vineyard would be radiant, but I didn’t even notice. Fury still burned bright in my chest, a ball of frustration that tightened with every breath I took.

Giulio was supposed to be my heir, the future of my empire. The men looked to him for leadership, an example of our strength and tradition. He needed to instill fear and respect. Instead, he was getting high and stalking his ex-boyfriend. Dio santo, if anyone should find out . . .

I rubbed my eyes. What did he want, to be the first openly gay leader of the ’Ndrangheta? This was a death sentence. He’d never make it to capo and everything I had sacrificed, everything I had done would be for naught. Did he care nothing for this family or his own life? For what I’d built?

There was only one solution to this problem, but my son would hate me forever. There was no turning back after I ordered it.

But order it I would.

That’s why I was the don. I had to make the tough decisions and carry them out, even when I didn’t want to.

I swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, the heat scalding my throat. Exhaling, I leaned against the window glass. I felt on the edge of my sanity these days. Perhaps a night of torturing Enzo D’Agostino would distract me from this ever-tangling knot of irritation inside me.

The door suddenly opened and light slashed into the room. Marco, no doubt. I didn’t turn around. “I thought you went home.”

The door closed and darkness returned. I heard light steps on the carpet, then the scent of olives and earth teased my nostrils. Awareness slid over my skin like a thousand tiny pinpricks. She always smelled like my estate.

This was not a good time, however. “I’m not in the mood for company, dolcezza.”

“Too bad.” She stood next to me and propped a shoulder against the window frame. “I want to know what you’re going to do about Giulio.”

“It is none of your concern.”

“That means it’s something bad.”

She was learning. “Go to bed, Francesca. It has been a long day. I will come upstairs later.”

“Don’t send me to bed like a small child. I want to know what you are planning to do.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Let him be with Paulo.”

I snorted and finished the rest of the whiskey in my glass. “Impossible, for many reasons.”

“What does that mean?” She grabbed my arm and forced me to look at her. “I know of one reason, because he’s your son and heir. What other reason could there be?”

I just stared down at her. She would figure it out. Francesca was a smart woman.

“No. Fuck, no,” she said, eyes wide as they searched my face. “You can’t do that. You can’t have Paulo killed.”

“He will never focus until Paulo is gone. He’s still watching him, for fuck’s sake.”

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