Page 67 of Mafia Darling

“Okay.” She hugged me back. “I’m sorry. I wish I was like you and Gia but—”

But she wasn’t.

“Don’t apologize,” I said.

“Thanks, Frankie.” She drew back and wiped her face. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Let’s forget about this for right now and go downstairs for something to eat.”

When we left, a figure shifted from his position against the wall.

Fausto.

Damn it.

I plastered a smile on my face. “Hey, baby. What are you up to?”

He pushed off the wall and stalked forward. “I could ask you the same thing, but I’ve already been alerted by the men in the security room.”

Those blabbermouths. I touched my sister’s arm. “Go back to your room, Em. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Good night.”

Emma went back inside, but I didn’t look away from Fausto. I couldn’t decide if he was angry, annoyed, or merely bothered by the dungeon excursion. So I played dumb.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I licked his earlobe. “Want to come to the kitchen with me? I’ll feed you.”

“Why did my son take your sisters into my dungeon?”

Sighing, I let him go. We were doing this now, I guess. “I need to talk to you.”

Oh, the suspicion that coasted across his handsome face. “Is that so, amore? What about?”

“Can we go to our room first?”

“And why would we need to do that? Are you going to give me bad news?”

“No, of course not. But I don’t think this is a conversation you want to have in public.”

He leaned in to grab my hip, tugged me close, and put his mouth near my ear. “Get going right now, monella, before I spank your ass here in the hallway.”

* * *

Fausto

As I trailed my soon-to-be wife to our wing, I didn’t know what I was feeling. Angry, yes. But mostly I was very confused.

Lucia never would’ve dared allow her family into my dungeon. She wouldn’t have asked or even entertained the idea. Our world has clear boundaries and my first wife understood them perfectly.

Francesca didn’t seem to care or even be aware of those boundaries. Not only had she allowed her sisters to traipse into the dungeon, but she somehow also convinced my son to give a tour.

Ma che cazzo?

I would have words with Giulio tomorrow, but in the meantime I had to deal with Francesca. Just because we were getting married, this did not mean she had control of my men and my estate. I was the boss, not her, and she needed to concern herself with our children and home—not mafia business.

She would respect our boundaries.

I closed the bedroom door and watched as she sat on the bed. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. “Explain.”

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