Mafia Darling (The Kings of Italy Book 2)

A full bladder woke me in the middle of the night. After I used the toilet, I noticed that Fausto’s side of the bed was perfectly neat. Was he still awake, or had he slept somewhere else?

I didn’t care. I didn’t need his warmth beside me to sleep. Or the tender way he wrapped around me in the mornings.

Besides, I was still annoyed at him. So what if he hadn’t talked dirty or kissed me? Wait, that wasn’t right. He had talked dirty at the start, right up until—

I sucked in a breath. That was it. He’d been his normal, controlling, filthy mouthed self right up until the moment he asked who I belonged to. When I didn’t answer, that was when it all changed.

That asshole.

My chest burned as I stared at the bed. He had a lot of fucking nerve being upset with me—with me!—for not saying I belonged to him. What, did he think his magic cock just made all my anger and hurt disappear?

Filled with righteous fury, I grabbed my silk robe and stormed out of the bedroom. I checked the guest rooms in our wing, but they were all empty. Then I went down to his office, where I found the door open, the room unoccupied. Undeterred, I kept searching. I looked in the kitchen and the dining room. The sitting rooms. I checked the patio. No Fausto.

Hadn’t he said there was a gym and an indoor pool?

The security rooms were on the east side of the castello, so I normally avoided that part. I went in that direction, opening a door I’d never been through before. A television show sounded from somewhere inside, so I followed the noise. A large room full of monitors sat on the right, with two of Fausto’s men behind a desk, watching an Italian show on a laptop.

“Buona sera, signorina,” one of the men said, rising. “Are you looking for Don Ravazzani?”

I pulled the robe tighter. “Yes. Do you know where he is?”

“The gym.” He pointed in the direction I’d been going.

“Grazie.”

I continued down the corridor until I found the gym. Sure enough, I saw Fausto through the tiny window in the door. He wore long shorts and no shirt, sweat rolling down his body as he ran on the treadmill.

I threw open the door. “You have some motherfucking nerve.”

He didn’t turn. “Why are you out of bed, Francesca?”

He wasn’t even winded, which was mind-boggling, but I didn’t have time to unpack that now. I moved directly into his line of sight. “You’re pissed because I wouldn’t say I belong to you.”

His mouth tightened.

“Oh, my God! I don’t believe it.” I pointed at his face. “You do not get to be mad at me for anything until the end of time, you stronzo. What, did you think I would fall all over myself to declare my love for you the second you whipped your dick out? If so, you are completely fucking delusional.”

He slapped the stop button on the treadmill and the belt began slowing. “Delusional? Is that what you call it when you undress for me? When you beg for my dick? You are the one who is delusional, Francesca. We both know you belong to me. You will always belong to me.”

“No, I don’t. You lost your ownership rights the moment you kicked me and your unborn child out of the house! You said I was dead to you.” Horrifyingly, my voice cracked on this last part. I took a deep breath. I would not cry in front of this man.

He put his palms together and bent his head, touching his fingertips to his lips. “I am sorry for ever saying that, for hurting you. But I took on the ‘Ndrangheta brotherhood to get you back. Not to mention I risk going to war with every one of D’Agostino’s allies to keep you, while the GDF is breathing down my neck. Everything I have is hanging in the balance, Francesca, but I don’t care. I would fight to the death to keep you here.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “If you hadn’t kicked me out, none of that would’ve even been necessary.”

He threw up his hands, stepped off the treadmill, and began pacing. “I am aware, and I am drowning in fucking regret over it!”

Grabbing a small dumbbell, he hurled it against the mirror, which shattered in a million tiny pieces in an unholy crash. I covered my ears, ducking. One of the guards burst through the door, gun drawn, but Fausto held up his hand. They had a quick exchange and the guard left.

“What do you regret, Fausto? That you lost your little plaything? Or that I showed loyalty to your only son and heir, and you perceived that as some sort of slight against you?”

Fausto’s chest heaved as he bowed his head. “I told you that I love you. I want every bit of you, like we had before. Yet you hold back. You want me to treat you like Katarzyna, then? Fine, I will treat you like Katarzyna.”

“I don’t fucking want you to treat me like Katarzyna. I want you to give me space so, I don’t know, maybe I can wrap my head around what’s happened to me over the last month. You are being incredibly selfish and butthurt for someone who’s entirely in the wrong!”

“You come to me, begging me for a favor, wearing that red lingerie. And for what? You whore yourself out so easily? I don’t want a whore. I want the woman who gives herself over to me, who surrenders to me so sweetly I could choke on it.”

“If you call me a whore one more time, il Diavolo, I will stab you in your sleep. And fucking you on the sofa is surrendering. Did you need it in writing?”

“You let me have your body but that’s all. Everything else is locked away and I am allowed to be pissed about it.”

“Then be pissed at yourself. I’m giving you all I can right now, until I can trust you again. That is, if I can ever trust you again.”

Growling, he put his fingers through his hair, tugging on the thick strands like he might rip them out of his head. “Tell me what I can say! Mi dispiace, perdonami. This is driving me crazy.”

“There is nothing you can say. You claim to love me, yet you try to send me out of the room tonight, telling me it’s a family matter that doesn’t involve me. Am I your family, Fausto? Is our baby going to be your family? You need to fucking decide.”

“You know that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Really? Do I? Because so far, you’ve broken every promise you ever made to me. So, forgive me if I don’t believe a damn word that comes out of your mouth anymore.”

He snarled, “I do not like being called a liar.”

“I’m sure you don’t, capo, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are one.”

Spinning on my heel, I stalked out of the gym and slammed the door behind me. Both of the security guards watched me pass, their mouths hanging open, eyes big and round. I kept going.

One thing I knew for certain, I was sleeping in my old room tonight. Fuck Fausto and his comfortable bed.

Fausto

The morning brought clarity to my problems with Francesca, much like the daylight that broke over my vineyards at dawn. As I drank my espresso and watched the workers arrive for la vendemmia, I thought about my family. For so long it had been Giulio, Zia, and me. Yes, there were cousins, but my son and my aunt were the two people who mattered most to me. I would gladly take a bullet for either of them at a moment’s notice.

Now Francesca mattered to me, as well. Regardless of how it started, she and this child were part of my family. I’d waged a war to get her out of Enzo’s clutches, and I would die before I let her go again.

It was past time to prove it to her.

But first things first. Picking up my phone, I texted my son that I expected him in my office in the next ten minutes. Marco arrived as I hit send. “Have a seat,” I told him. “Emilia sent a text this morning and said she needs to talk as soon as possible.” I’d asked her to quietly begin looking for money that might link one of my men to Enzo or the GDF.

“Is this about looking into everyone’s accounts?”

“I fucking hope so. I want answers.”

Marco settled into his favorite chair and crossed his legs. “I checked on our prisoner. Wounds are healing as they should. No sign of infection. He should be ready this afternoon for another session.”

“Good. If Emilia can’t find anything, perhaps we can get Enzo to talk.”

Because Emilia didn’t know our code system for phone conversations, I unlocked my desk drawer and took out a burner phone. Marco would dispose of it as soon as the call finished. Just as I started dialing, Giulio walked in. He looked healthy, freshly showered, not hungover in the least. Scowling at him, I pointed to a chair. “Sit and listen.”

Emilia answered and told me to wait a moment. There was some scuffling, like she was walking somewhere, so I put her on speaker.

“Ciao,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”

“We can hear you. Are you free to talk?”

“Yes. I’m hiding in a storage closet.”

“Have you found anything?”

Giulio’s brow furrowed and he stared at the phone like it was a puzzle he was trying to solve. I felt like snarling that if he hadn’t been stoned last night, he would know what was happening.

“Yes, but I don’t yet know what it means.”

My muscles tightened, a knot forming between my shoulder blades. “Tell me.”

“Someone is stealing money from you.”

I ground my molars together. This wasn’t the first time someone had dared, but I didn’t need another problem at the moment. “How much?”

“As far as I can tell, around thirty million Euros or so.”

Marco hissed through his teeth and Giulio rocked back in his chair like he’d been struck. I tried not to react, other than curling my hand into a fist. It was a large amount of money, but it wouldn’t come close to bankrupting me. What infuriated me was the principle. “Why am I just hearing about this now?” I snapped. “Where the fuck were your bosses on this, the head of the firm that I employ? This should have been caught.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t told anyone. I can’t imagine they are unaware of it, which means . . . .”

Which meant they were complicit.

Santo cazzo Madre di Cristo.

“Tell us what you know,” I ordered.

“Small amounts are being siphoned off from the accounts in the Netherlands and deposited in various accounts in Haiti and Afghanistan.”

Marco murmured, “Countries with relaxed laws on money laundering.”

“Exactly,” Emilia said. “I discovered this accidentally. I don’t handle the Netherlands accounts for you, but I got a call from a friend at a bank in Denmark. He warned me that some of the transactions had been flagged for internal review. Then I started doing some digging.”

“The GDF?” Marco asked, looking at me.

“They wouldn’t steal it,” I said. “They’d freeze the accounts.”

“Agreed. This is someone very good with computers,” Emilia said. “A hacker of some kind, one that knows exactly where to look to siphon off your money.”

“Enzo,” I gritted out. That motherfucker. I knew he was behind this. I could feel it in my bones.

Marco stroked his jaw, his leg bouncing in agitation. “That doesn’t explain how he knew where to look. Which rocks to turn over. The accounts are complicated for a reason, Rav.”

“Right,” Emilia whispered. “This is someone who is very smart, with an inside knowledge of your accounts.”

That was a very small list, one that didn’t include either Benito or Vic. I wouldn’t trust financial information to anyone outside of my small inner circle. Pretty much Toni and Marco were the only people who knew anything of use.

“I have to go,” she said quickly, then the call was dropped. I tossed the burner onto the desk toward Marco and rubbed my face with my hands.

“Cristo,” my son muttered.

“Exactly,” Marco said. “This is some serious shit, Rav.”

I did not have time for this. I wanted to talk with Francesca, make up with her, and spend the rest of the day fucking her into a stupor.

Instead I had to deal with Giulio, this missing money, Enzo, and a hundred other problems that came with my position. Exhaustion weighed down on me like a block of cement.

First things first.

I pointed at my son. “You are taking over security.”

“Me?” Giulio glanced at Marco then back at me. “What about Zio Marco?”

“You’ll work with him until you get up to speed, then relieve him.”

“Why?”

I smothered the urge to sigh. I didn’t like explaining myself, but he was my son. “Because it’s time you took a larger role, more than just working with Gratteri. And it’s too much for Marco to handle security alone with his duties as consigliere.”

“I would like to see my family every now and again,” Marco put in.

“But!” I pointed at my son. “No more excessive drinking, no more weed. No more sitting outside Paulo’s house. From now on, you work with me and Marco on finding out how Enzo was able to get his hands on my woman as well as thirty million of my Euros.”

“You suspect someone who works for us?”

“I suspect everyone,” I said. “I want you to start with Benito, Vic, and some of the younger crew. Get close to them, see if you can get them to talk. In the meantime, we’ll look at their families and expenditures. Anything that seems out of the ordinary.”

“As well, we need to lean on Enzo,” Marco said. “I suspect Mommo is involved somehow. Why else would he come and plead Enzo’s case?”

Giulio’s eyebrows climbed toward the ceiling. “Minchia! Anything else?”

“Yes, the GDF,” I said dryly. “It’s time you learn what being the don means. You’ll sit in this chair one day.”

His frown deepened. “I don’t like to think about that.”

“Not one of us escapes our destiny.” I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the desk. He was going to like this news even less. “You should know that I’ve sent Paulo away.”

His face lost all its color. “Did you . . . ?” He swallowed. “No, please. Please tell me you did not have him killed. I will do anything, just do not hurt him. I will not survive it.”

“He is alive and unharmed, but he is no longer in Siderno.” Paulo had boarded a flight for Belgium an hour ago. He would work for the ’ndrina there.

Giulio sucked in a sharp breath. “Where?”

“I’m not telling you.” Giulio’s eyes began to fill, his expression one of both profound relief and utter devastation. I added, “You have Francesca to thank for that. She begged me to send him away.”

“You were going to have him killed.”

I didn’t answer. We both knew it was the truth. “I plan on inviting potential wives to dinner and you will consider one. But we’ll wait until things calm down first.”

“You’re giving me time?”

“A little, yes. We have enough happening right now. This doesn’t mean I have changed my mind about your need for marriage, however.”

He sat forward and buried his face in his hands, saying nothing, and my stomach ached. I didn’t like making Giulio miserable but what choice did I have? I wouldn’t risk his life, his future, by letting him come out as openly gay.

“It won’t be so terrible,” I promised. “You’ll forget about this boy and soon settle down with a nice girl who will give you babies.”

Giulio’s shoulders hunched. “Right. Not so terrible,” he mumbled into his palms. “I can’t wait. Is that all?”

“Yes. Go and see Zia, get an espresso.”

He pushed out of the chair and moved slowly toward the door, his spine curved as if crushed under the weight of his unhappiness. It tore at my heart.

“Wait.” I followed until we were face to face, except he stared at the wall. So I cupped his jaw and made him look at me. “I love you. You’re a good son and you will make a great don one day.” I kissed both his cheeks. “Chi si volta, e chi si gira, sempre a casa va finire.”

An old Italian proverb, it meant no matter where you go or where you turn, you will always end up at home.

“Especially true for me because there is no escape,” he said before disappearing into the corridor.

When I didn’t move, Marco said, “You have no choice, Rav, and the work will take his mind off the boy.” Then Marco’s mouth hitched, like when we were young and gave each other shit all the time. I knew what was coming. He said, “You let her talk you out of eliminating Paulo. That must have been some negotiation.”

Yes, it had been. My eyes drifted to the couch. It felt amazing to fuck her again after so long, but she hadn’t given me everything. I was a selfish man when it came to Francesca. I wanted her, body and soul.

And the only way to get it, apparently, was to give her everything in return.