Page 88 of Mafia Darling

“We were very careful.” Giulio squeezed me hard. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Marco eased up alongside us. “You two need to get inside. I have to go. I need to find the shooter.”

Nesto came over, his phone pressed to his ear. “Enzo’s escaped,” he told Marco. “His men attacked the castello.”

I gasped as Guilio shouted, “Figlio di cane!”

Marco dragged a hand down his face, his eyes solemn. “A distraction. Of course.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I knew it was bad.

“I’ll keep you informed of his condition,” Giulio promised Marco.

Marco put a hand on Giulio’s shoulder. “You’re in charge. Until he recovers everyone answers to you. Be ready, Giulio.”

Giulio nodded. “Grazie, Zio.”

“He’s proud of you. He knows you can handle it, okay? And make sure she eats and drinks. For the baby.”

“I will.”

Marco took Nesto and drove off, and Giulio led me into the hospital. We were waved in, immediately sent to a private waiting room. I thought there would be paperwork to fill out, but no one asked us any questions. I supposed they all knew my husband. Presenting an identification card really wasn’t necessary.

I sat next to Giulio and stared at the blood on my dress. Was this the last part of him I would have? Dried blood on some expensive fabric? I didn’t want to wash my hands. I didn’t want to change. I needed to keep him close, even if it was just his blood.

Zia soon arrived, looking a decade older than she had this morning, and she asked Giulio questions in rapid Italian but I was too out of it to follow. All I could do was clutch the bottle of water in my blood-stained hands and stare at the wall.

What was I going to do if he died? Our child would never meet its father. I would never hear Fausto call me “dolcezza” or “piccolina monella” again. No more naughty games. I would live the rest of my life without his formidable presence, an empty hole no one else could ever fill. I wouldn’t survive it.

So much blood. His skin had been so pale.

I started trembling, my teeth chattering. Suddenly, Giulio was there, throwing his suit jacket around my shoulders. He knelt in front of me, his hands stroking up and down my arms. “You’re in shock,” he said. “Take a deep breath.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t. Air wouldn’t help fix him.

“Frankie, breathe, bella. Think of your baby. Fausto’s baby. He would hate it if something happened to either of you.”

I dragged in a deep breath and Giulio encouraged me. “That’s it. Keep breathing. He’s going to be okay.”

“You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“That was before I thought you’d faint on me. Keep going. In and out. I’ll see if I can find a blanket.”

Then he was gone. I blinked back tears and tried to focus on my breathing as Zia sat next to me. She didn’t speak and soon Giulio came back with a hospital blanket, which he wrapped around my shoulders.

Zia motioned to Giulio and started speaking rapidly, which Giulio translated for me. “Enough, Francesca. You must be strong. You are a Ravazzani now, his queen. You cannot sit and snivel and faint like a weak little woman. Everyone will look to you, his wife, regarding his condition. If you project strength and power, everyone will be reassured—” Giulio stopped abruptly and said, “Zia, basta.”

He gestured to my hands and my dress, apparently defending me, but Zia remained firm. She told him to shut up and keep translating.

With a sigh, Giulio kept going. “You are his wife, the one who bears the future of the family inside you. He will expect you to shoulder this, whatever happens, with grace and courage. Like a Ravazzani.”

I sat straighter, knowing she was right. This was not the time to fall apart. I had to be strong. For Fausto. For our child.

“Excellent,” Zia said, slowly this time. “You show them, Francesca. Show them the Ravazzanis cannot be defeated.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Francesca

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