Page 11 of Mafia Darling

I was quickly untied and left there, kneeling on the floor. What was happening? Relief flooded me as Enzo began texting on his phone, ignoring me, and the guards wandered away. Sagging, I caught my breath and tried not to think about how close I’d come to dying.

Mariella slipped a hand under my elbow and helped me to my feet. “He’s very attracted to you,” she said quietly. “If you want to join us, you are welcome. And, it might make Fausto jealous.”

Inspiring jealousy in a man I hated seemed like a terrible reason to have a threesome. “Hard pass,” I said. “But this is why you should help me. Please. I need to get out of Italy.”

She gave one small shake of her head. “He will kill me if I help you escape.”

“It’s not safe for either of us here. Come with me. We can help each other.”

Mariella’s eyes were flat and resigned when they met mine. “There is no escape from these men.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Fausto

I knew something was wrong as soon as Giulio, Marco and five of my men crowded into my office on the yacht. We had dropped anchor off the coast of Napoli, not far from Enzo’s beach house.

“Papà,” Giulio said in his most reasonable tone. “You should sit.”

Marco grimaced, knowing me well enough to understand how this came across. No one told me to calm down or take a seat. I was the head of this ’ndrina, the capo, and I could never show weakness. “Tell me,” I barked, remaining on my feet.

“A message has come in from D’Agostino,” Marco said. “It’s bad.”

I appreciated his directness, but my gut cramped all the same. What had D’Agostino done to her? If he had hurt her, I would bomb the entire Gulf of Napoli, skull fuck his corpse, then go after his wife and children. “Show me.”

Giulio handed me the phone and I froze. My glorious girl was on her knees, her face covered in tears while a Glock was shoved in her mouth. Enzo had her restrained, ropes crossing her body, under her breasts, and I could see the terror in her eyes.

A red mist coated my brain.

I couldn’t think, the anger so swift and so violent that I threw the phone across the room, where it cracked open against the wall. With a roar, I flipped the desk over with both hands, papers flying and my laptop sliding to the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Giulio ordering the soldiers out of the office, but I was too busy lifting a chair and hurling it across the room to care. I was a berserker, hell-bent on the destruction of everything in my path.

I tore the room apart. Broke furniture, cracked lamps. The framed pictures were thrown to the ground, where glass shattered. I cut my hand at one point but didn’t stop. I couldn’t rid my brain of that image, the woman I loved being mistreated. Tortured.

Because of me.

I caused this. I sent her away and left her a target for my enemies. And, for what? She had only honored my son’s secret. I should have appreciated such loyalty to my own flesh and blood. Instead I cast her out. My love, the mother of my child.

Porca puttana! I shoved my hands in my hair and pulled hard on the strands, certain I was coming apart at the seams. I had to get her back. I had to get her back and rip the skin from Enzo’s bones. Then I would somehow convince her to forgive me.

Please. God, please, do not take her from me.

I don’t know if I could survive it. While Lucia’s death had been a tragedy, it didn’t destroy me. Instead, I had dedicated myself to killing those responsible and raising my son. Retribution for her death was enacted coldly, methodically, mostly because I knew it was expected of me.

But losing Francesca? It would break me.

The image of the gun in her mouth returned and I lunged for another chair, needing to throw it against the wall, but Giulio and Marco were suddenly behind me. They held me tight, even when I snarled and lunged like a wild dog.

“Papà, basta,” my son said. “Let’s work on getting her back.”

It took a few minutes, but the haze slowly began to clear and I could think once again. “I’m fine.”

Marco and Giulio released me and I straightened my cuffs with trembling hands. “We go tonight.”

“Rav,” Marco started. “We aren’t ready. We are waiting on the Sicilians.”

I made a deal with some of my Cosa Nostra associates in exchange for their help in killing Enzo and retrieving Francesca. “Tell them they have”—I checked my watch—“four hours to get here, otherwise the deal is off. And so is our truce.”

“Fuck,” Giulio muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

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