Page 82 of Mafia Darling

So I’d been smarter. Creative and more progressive. I alone brought the ’Ndrangheta into the twenty-first century. Drugs may be better understood by the old school, but I earned hundreds of billions every year with fraud. Fausto Ravazzani would never get his hands on it, either.

A key turned in the metal lock at the top of the stairs and I froze.

That sound haunted me. It signaled hours and hours of terrible suffering, and I wasn’t certain how much more I could endure.

Besides, he’d promised to kill me the next time he visited.

When I’ve sent her sisters back to Toronto, I’ll come down and finish what I’ve started.

My heart began racing as I tried to suck in air. At any second the heavy door would swing open and I would hear the scrape of their shoes on the stone steps. Their laughter and glee as they anticipated hurting me over and over.

Nothing.

There was only silence. I didn’t understand. Where was Fausto? His consigliere, Marco, or his son, Giulio?

I was sweating. My breath wheezed as I tried to force enough air into my damaged lungs. Had I imagined the sound? Or was this just another way to torture me, to build my fear until I was nearly catatonic.

Cazzo. I didn’t know anymore.

The room swam, even though my eyes were closed, the darkness swallowing me up. And I welcomed it.

* * *

Fausto

As we drove to the doctor’s appointment, Francesca’s face was nearly pressed to the car window, her wide eyes, taking in the city. It was like she’d never seen shops and restaurants before.

Because she hasn’t seen much of Siderno before.

Guilt settled at the top of my spine, regret weighing heavily on me this afternoon. If I were a normal man, I would have taken her out to dinner, shows. Nightclubs and parties. Everything a girl her age deserved.

But I wasn’t a normal man and our life would always be lived in the shadows. She and our children would need to stick to the estate, as I did. It was too dangerous otherwise, and Francesca would eventually come to respect my orders without question. My first wife had died at the hands of my enemies. I’d never survive it if I lost Francesca, too.

I wondered whether I’d been too lenient in giving in to this appointment today. Her concern over the baby convinced me, though. I had been rough with her recently, so it would be good to reassure us both.

Extra precautions had been taken for the outing, including tripling the number of soldiers accompanying us. The car had been swept for bugs and tracking devices as usual, and the route had been secured. While Enzo no longer posed a threat, I still had other enemies. I wasn’t taking any chances with Francesca and our child.

Marco’s phone rang, interrupting the silence. He answered and spoke quietly in cryptic sentences, as we always did with our business when using phones. When he finished, he turned toward me. “It’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

Because Francesca was in the car. “Anything serious?”

“No. I had to shuffle people around today while you’re gone and the men were confused. Also, I worked out who is going to Piedmont.”

“Good. Are you keeping Giulio apprised?” My son was in the car behind us, riding with more of my men.

“I’ll text him now.”

“Is this about Enzo?”

At Francesca’s question, Marco winced and slowly faced forward, like he was removing himself from this conversation. I angled toward my wife. “You know I can’t discuss these things with you.”

“But you were just discussing it in front of me.”

“A good wife would pretend she didn’t hear anything,” I teased, knowing it would make her mad, while I ran my fingers along her arm.

She lowered her voice and leaned in. “You don’t want a good wife. You’d be bored with her in an afternoon.”

She was probably right. I shifted to kiss her, my chest swelling with the magnitude of what I felt for this woman. I loved her so fucking much.

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