Page 113 of Mafia Darling

“The money is what really matters,” someone said, and chuckles erupted around the room.

I stood and pulled on my cuffs to straighten them. “I vow here, in front of all of you, that any gay members of your families are irrelevant to me. As Borghese said, what matters is business.”

Without waiting another second, I strode out of the meeting room, Marco right behind me. The monks had a collection box near the front door, so I took out my wallet and removed all the cash I had, like seven or eight thousand Euros. I shoved it all in the collection box, then walked out and got in my car.

It was time to go home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Francesca

I worried the entire time he was away.

When Fausto was set to return, I paced in the entryway while Nesto leaned against the wall, watching me. He hadn’t left my side during my husband’s absence, except when I used the bathroom. I knew this was to keep me safe, but I would much rather have Fausto’s gaze on me.

After scolding me for scuffing the entryway tile, Zia dragged me to the kitchen for chicken in lemon sauce and a side of roasted eggplant. She had a tartufo for dessert, which reminded me of Giulio and our dinner way back when I was first in Siderno. I started tearing up.

Zia shook her head at me. “He is better off. He’s a good boy but he never liked this life, not like he should in order to lead. Your son will take over when it’s time.”

This was a conversation for another day. No way was I deciding my child’s fate like that. I didn’t care what Fausto said—our children would make their own decisions.

“It’s the hormones,” I told her. “I cry all the time.” Lately, it was true. Losing my close friend and Fausto’s shooting had turned me into a weepy mess.

“Basta,” Zia said. “You must remain strong. You are La Donna.”

“La Donna?”

“Sì, Donna Ravazzani,” she said. “You are Don Ravazzani’s wife.”

I looked at Nesto for confirmation. He nodded once. “It is what we call you, especially after Don Ravazzani was injured.”

La Donna. Holy shit.

I hadn’t expected that.

“These last few weeks, you have stepped into your role,” Zia said with a nod. “You make us all very proud.”

I bit my lip to hide my smile. They were proud of me? No one had ever said that to me before, other than Fausto. “I will do my best. I never thought this was how my life would turn out.”

Zia shook a wooden spoon at me. “He needs you. Never forget it.”

And God, I needed him.

The front door opened and closed. I started to get up, but Zia hissed at me. “You stay. Let him come and find you. These men, they are hunters, capisce?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Was this really her advice?

I waited, trying to appear calm as the ticking of the cane grew louder. Then my man appeared, his face weary but gorgeous. I started to grin—until I saw the blood on his suit.

Jumping up, I blurted, “What the fuck happened to you?”

He held up his free hand. “I am fine, amore.” Then nodded at Nesto, who quickly disappeared into the hallway.

Zia went over and Fausto bent to kiss her cheek. “The blood is dry,” he said. “I didn’t track any into the house, I promise.”

She patted his face. “Good boy. Now go, be nice to your wife. She’s been very worried.”

Zia left the kitchen and Fausto came over, his gaze soft as it raked me from head to toe. “Mia bella moglie,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to mine. “I like this t-shirt.”

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