Page 109 of Mafia Darling

“You have to trust me. I was raised in this life. I know how to stay safe.”

“Says the man who was just nearly killed by an assassin.”

“Francesca,” I said tiredly. “I am going. Now, stop arguing and come lie down with me upstairs. I want to kiss you.”

“I thought you said you were weak as a kitten.”

“I am, which is why you are going to do all the work.” I really was exhausted. Coming downstairs and sitting here had taken all my strength.

“The doctor said no sex, Fausto. Not until you are healed.”

My mouth curved. I liked this very much. “You discussed sex with my doctor?”

Her cheeks turned pink, as if she’d been in the sun for hours. “You discussed sex with my doctor. I don’t see the difference.”

“Is your pussy needy? Does it need to be filled, monella?”

She squirmed a little on the desk and I had my answer. Still, she shook her head. “You are not fucking me.”

I doubted I could get an erection, my body was in so much pain, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t help get her off. “No, I’m not, but I have toys upstairs that can serve as a substitute. And, you’re going to let me watch.”

“Dirty old man,” she said, but I could see the way her eyes darkened at the idea.

“Help me up the stairs and I’ll show you how dirty I can get.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Francesca

I couldn’t stop crying.

Five of us were gathered in the foyer, surrounded by three suitcases. Fausto was on his feet, propped up by a cane, with Zia and Marco nearby. Giulio and I stood off to the side, close to the luggage, and his arms were wrapped around me as I sobbed on his probably very expensive shirt. There was nothing left to be said. I had pushed for this outcome, hoped it would come to pass, but it hurt.

Giulio was the most composed out of all of us, which was understandable. It had been his decision to leave, after all. Fausto gave him a choice and Giulio had grabbed the opportunity eagerly. Now he would start a new chapter in his life as a whole different person. When he walked out this door, he was no longer the Ravazzani heir. Not a Ravazzani at all, in fact.

And I would never see him again.

I hated it, but I understood the reasons why he couldn’t live happily here. And really, this was best for Giulio, which was all that mattered. When he gave me the news I heard the excitement in his voice over his future, his chance to live proudly and openly as a gay man. Deep in my heart, I knew he would be okay.

Still, I couldn’t let go of him.

“Bella,” he whispered in my hair, “you will be fine without me. My father will take very good care of you.”

I couldn’t speak, I was crying too hard. He’d been my first friend, my rock here in a strange place. I would miss him so fucking much. This felt unfair, a punishment none of us deserved.

“Dolcezza,” my husband said gently. “The plane is waiting.”

Nodding, I stretched to press a kiss to Giulio’s cheek. “Be happy, G. Be safe.”

Giulio’s mouth lifted slightly as he kissed my forehead. “However you made this happen, I will always be grateful for it, matrigna. Ti voglio bene, bella.”

“Ti voglio bene,” I choked out.

Marco, of all people, put an arm around my shoulder to comfort and guide me away, his free hand holding out a pack of tissues. I took them gratefully and tried to clean myself up as Zia walked over to Giulio. She pressed a bag of food in his hands, telling him to eat and to make his bed everyday. She asked him to write her a card every Christmas to let her know he was all right. He hugged her hard, saying he would, then released her.

Fausto went over to his son and the group of us edged away to give them privacy. My husband clasped the back of Giulio’s head and pressed their foreheads together. Then Fausto whispered softly in Italian, too quiet and too fast for me to understand, and Giulio nodded in response. It went on for some time, until Giulio’s face crumpled, his composure faltering at whatever Fausto was saying.

Fausto kissed both of Giulio’s cheeks then stepped back. Giulio wiped his face and nodded at him, their eyes locked in some silent understanding. My husband had been uncharacteristically quiet in the hours leading up to Giulio’s departure, and I’d given him space to process his emotions. This was not easy for him. How could it be? His son was walking out the door to start a new life somewhere else, never to return.

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