Page 92 of Mafia Darling

“I agree, but he’s too paranoid to ever hire anyone to do it.”

This I believed—and Fausto’s paranoia was hardly unwarranted. Enzo had stolen thirty million Euros from him recently. Did Toni know? I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my news to share, if Fausto hadn’t confided in Toni. Besides, someone had helped Enzo steal that money. Until we knew who, I was keeping that information to myself.

Guilt settled in my stomach like a stone. Would Fausto’s cousin really betray him?

Jesus, I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought anyone would dare an assassination attempt in broad daylight on the street, either. Showed what I knew.

“Well, I’ll go through his email for now,” I told Toni. “Then, while I sit with him at the hospital, I can go through the larger issues and type out his responses.”

“Va bene, signora. That would be a big help. In the meantime, you can sit in on the meetings, take notes, and relay the information to him as you see fit.”

I could do that.

While I hated the reasons behind my involvement in Fausto’s business, I was excited to help. I didn’t want to be a clueless mafia wife, whose only purpose was to raise babies and look good on my husband’s arm. That would drive me slowly insane. I needed to do more and this was the perfect way to contribute.

Toni set me up with a separate email and calendar just for me. The next day I began joining conference calls and introducing myself, taking notes and learning who was who. Most everyone conducted business in English, and Toni hired translators for those who didn’t.

I was in the midst of a call with a chemical company in Germany when Giulio walked in. He looked terrible. Like he hadn’t slept or showered since before Fausto’s shooting more than a week ago. I frowned at him and made sure I was muted on the conference call. “Hey, G. Everything okay?”

“You know the answer to that.” He dropped heavily into a chair. “What are you doing?”

“Listening to a chemical company in Germany whine about the construction delays in their expansion.”

“That’s an excuse on the part of the construction company to drag it out and earn more money. The construction company is either one of ours or belongs to another ’ndrina, someone my father is doing a favor for. Ask them.” He nodded toward the laptop, where I had my video and sound off.

I unmuted and interrupted. “Excuse me, but what is the name of the construction company?”

“Bosporus Construction Limited, Frau Ravazzani,” someone answered.

Giulio gave a nod, then motioned for me to cut the sound. “That’s the North Rhine-Westphalia ’ndrina,” he said. “Papà’s undoubtedly given Bosporus the job in trade for something else. I’ll make a call today, see if we can’t resolve it. That’ll be one less headache for you.”

“But one more thing on your plate.” I reached over and rubbed his shoulder, which was tight. “Should I be worried about you?”

“No, because it wouldn’t change anything. And I don’t want you under any additional stress.”

That didn’t reassure me in the least. I stood and began giving him a shoulder rub. “What about your stress?”

His head dropped forward and he groaned. “Mamma mia, that feels good.”

“I’m serious. Are you sleeping?”

“I’m okay. You have enough happening right now. Don’t worry about me, too.”

That was not a great answer. “Talk to me, then. How is it going? Can I help?”

“No, no one can.” He exhaled long and loud. “I keep thinking, this is my future. This is what it will be like when he steps down. Which he could do tomorrow, if he wanted. He has you and a new baby on the way. After almost dying, he might decide to hand it over to me.”

I didn’t think Fausto would do this. He was too much of a control freak to let it go, at least for now, but I could see a scenario where he slowly turned more over to Giulio in the next few years. “Is it so awful?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

“But I want to know.”

“They know he’s hurt and they’re coming for us. For me. We’ve had three of our supply houses hit in the last two days, and it will only get worse. So I have to make a show of strength to prove that we aren’t weak. That I’m strong. It’s such bullshit. Like proving my manhood or something.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly.” He rolled his neck as I continued to rub. “I’ve tortured and threatened so many men in the last thirty-six hours that I’m sick to my stomach. I’d much rather sit in here and take conference calls and make stock trades. Use my brain instead of killing people.”

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