Mafia Darling (The Kings of Italy Book 2)

When I came downstairs for coffee, I was surprised to find Giulio already at the breakfast table. I assumed he’d still be asleep, considering last night.

“Buongiorno,” I said, going to the espresso machine and finding my decaf supply. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

My espresso brewing, I turned to face him. “You were high as fuck last night.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I smoked too much in the car.” His gaze found mine and the sadness that lurked there gave me a moment’s pause. What had happened?

He said quietly, “Thank you for convincing him to send Paulo away instead of . . .”

“Of course,” I said immediately, my brows flying up in surprise. Fausto told Giulio about that? “I have your back, G. Always.”

There wasn’t anything else to say, no other kind words to ease his heart. So I focused on my espresso then took a seat next to him, waiting.

Finally, he rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m so tired of lying and pretending, of hurting. And it’s only going to get worse. He’s not even in the same city. He’ll forget about me and I’m stuck here, marrying some woman I don’t give a shit about.”

The misery in his voice sounded more than theoretical. “Has Fausto chosen someone?”

“Not yet. He plans to bring the candidates here when things calm down.”

How generous of Fausto. “I’ll speak to him.”

“I would say it’s a waste of time, but you got him to change his mind about Paulo. You are the only one he listens to, apparently.”

It hadn’t been listening as much as letting him eat me out then fuck me. “I don’t know about that, but he owes me after what’s happened. I’ll ask him to give you more time.”

“Thank you, bella.”

“It will get better, G. We’ll figure something out. Drinking and getting high aren’t going to help, though.”

He slouched in his seat, not meeting my eye. “I know. Fausto wants me to take over security from Marco.”

Wow. “That’s huge. Are you going to do it?”

“You act as if I have a choice.”

“You could tell him no.”

He let out a dry, bitter chuckle. “That would go over well. I’m not you, Frankie.”

“You have to be honest with him. You have to tell him what you want. Otherwise you’ll grow resentful.”

The edges of his mouth curled in a tiny smile as he sipped his espresso. “You are so wise, matrigna. No wonder Fausto knocked you up.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think that had more to do with my boobs than my brain—and stop calling me that.”

The sound of shoes clicking on tile grew louder, interrupting us, and Fausto soon strode into the kitchen. He wore a white dress shirt and navy trousers that hung loose on his trim waist, looking like a goddamn cover model for Hot Dad magazine. After a nod to Giulio and me, he went to the espresso machine. Normally, I loved to watch the graceful way he moved, but I averted my eyes and focused on the table. I was still pissed at him.

No one spoke as the machine whirred. I could still hear his angry voice ringing in my ears. We both know you belong to me. You will always belong to me. Wrong. He couldn’t treat me like shit then think a few “dolcezzas” and “amores” would fix everything.

When he had his espresso, Fausto came over to the table. He bent and pressed a kiss to Giulio’s head. “Have you eaten?”

Giulio shrugged, suddenly appearing like an angry youth. “Some.”

Fausto’s gaze flicked to me. “My office, Francesca. Now.”

I blinked. Was he for real? Ordering me around after last night?

He stalked out, denying me the opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself. Then I remembered my promise to talk to Fausto about the potential brides for Giulio. Well, now was as good a time as any. He and I were already fighting. What was one more disagreement thrown onto the pile?

Grabbing a roll out of the basket, I stood. “I’ll see you later, okay? We’ll watch a movie this afternoon.”

Giulio rose, as well. “I might be too busy. We’ll see.”

I kissed his cheeks, then carried my roll and coffee to Fausto’s office. The door was open, so I slipped inside and closed it behind me. He was sitting behind his desk, glasses on, staring at his laptop. “Have a seat, Francesca.”

I lowered myself into a chair, not speaking. Removing his glasses, he closed his laptop and picked up a piece of paper off the desk. “Read this.”

I took it from his hand. “What is it?” A bunch of legalese was at the top, but the word “agreement” jumped out at me, as did our names. “Is this . . . ? Is this for you and me?”

“Yes. I was working on it before.” He waved his hand. “I’ve had some alterations made since Napoli.”

Since I was kidnapped, he meant. Still, this was what I had asked for—a legal agreement that offered security to me and my baby. I set down my roll and coffee to give the contract my full attention.

Thankfully, it was in English so I had no trouble following what Fausto was offering. It was a staggering amount of money to be set aside in a trust, plus stocks and even gold, but there were strings. I shook my head, frustration scalding the back of my neck. Was he looking for ways to piss me off? “So I collect only if I marry you? We aren’t getting married, Fausto.”

He slid a black ring box onto the desk.

My jaw fell open and my breath started coming sharp and fast, like my lungs were on fire. “What is that?”

“Open it.”

“I don’t want to open it.” I was terrified of what was inside.

Reaching, he flipped the ring box open. Of course it was gorgeous. A huge emerald-cut diamond sat in a platinum band, smaller stones flanking the sides. Was I sweating? I felt like I was sweating.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

Was he serious? “It’s . . . Wow, there are no words.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good. It’s stunning.”

“Va bene. It belonged to my mother.”

“So Lucia . . . ?”

He shook his head once. “She never wore this. She wanted a bigger stone.”

Bigger than this? Wow, that was some Real Housewives-level shit. “I-I still can’t accept it. I’m not ready to think about marriage.”

“Unfortunately, you must. The Guardia will try to wear you down. They will threaten your sisters or our child. You will never be fully protected until you are my wife. It gives you security.”

“And ties me to you for the rest of my life.”

“True, but take solace in the fact that men in my position don’t live very long.”

“Jesus, Fausto.” I rubbed my eyes and tried to ignore the way my stomach flopped at the idea of losing him. “That’s grim.”

“I’m a realist. Should something happen to me, say if I am sent to prison, then you would be protected and provided for. When I die, whether that’s tomorrow or twenty years from now, you get a large portion with the rest going to Giulio. I’m giving you nearly everything, Francesca.”

I didn’t know what to say. I think my brain was in shock, stuck on what this would mean if I agreed. “This is quite the proposal.”

His brows knitted and leaned back in his chair. “I decided on practical rather than romantic, after last night.”

Fair enough. “You said you would never marry again. What changed your mind?”

“You.”

“Because I asked for security in case things between us went up in flames?”

“That’s not why I want to marry you. I need you in ways I can’t begin to explain, and if this is what it takes to have you—all of you—then I will do it.”

Everything was starting to make sense. “Ah, so instead of showing me you’ve changed and giving me time to trust you again, you are moving forward at warp speed and proposing marriage. Just so I will say I belong to you.”

“You do belong to me. And if you agree to this”—he gestured to the paper in my hand—“then I belong to you, as well.”

I stared at the wall and tried to think. This was all too much. Was he right about the Guardia? Would they try to use my sisters or my child against me? I knew without a doubt they would. Hell, Agent Rinaldo had already tried.

Is this what you want for your child? A lifetime of wondering when his or her father will be arrested? Blood and murder and drugs?

But marriage meant forever. It meant becoming Mrs. Fausto Ravazzani, staying in Siderno until one of us died.

No way.

Except realistically, what had I thought was going to happen? Fausto would never let his son or daughter go, and neither would I. Was I picturing some joint custody situation, where I lived in Siderno and our child spent every other weekend at the castello? That was ludicrous—and dangerous.

The safest place for our child was here, at the castello, protected by Fausto’s men. Not to mention that I’d been kidnapped once already—twice, if you counted Fausto in Toronto. I really couldn’t handle a third time.

Fuck me. Was the best choice to say yes?

I stared at the paper in my hand, thinking it over. Yet the word would not come. I was still too mad and too hurt. He’d broken my heart, and I hadn’t finished stitching the pieces back together.

Swallowing hard, I put the paper on the desk. “I need to think about this.”

He dragged a hand over his mouth, probably to hold in a string of Italian curses. Finally, he said, “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t decide on something this major in an instant. I need to think. I mean, I always pictured having my family at my wedding. My sisters . . .” I couldn’t finish that thought without bursting into tears, so I just took a breath instead. “I appreciate this, I do, but I’m still trying to adjust to the idea of having a child, let alone the child of an Italian mafia king.”

“King?” One dark eyebrow shot up arrogantly.

“This is not funny. I’m totally overwhelmed, Fausto.”

“I am trying to help you, Francesca. Let me take care of you.”

“If you want to help, give me some time.” Head spinning, I stood up to go. I needed more coffee and food. This was too heavy of a conversation for an empty stomach.

“Wait,” he said. I stopped but didn’t look at him. Was he going to try to seduce me into giving an answer?

He pressed something into my free hand. “Here.”

It was the ring box.

I tried to give it back. “Fausto—”

“Keep it.” He curled my fingers around it and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “When you put it on I’ll know your answer is yes.”

God, this man. He understood me better than anyone. Saying the word, actually agreeing to something I knew was bad for me, would not come easily. I nodded and slipped the box into my pocket, where it sat heavily.

Just like my future.

Over the next three days I dragged my tired ass to the vineyards to help with the harvest. It was nice to be outside, working in the dirt again. Emilia hadn’t returned—she was doing something for Fausto at work—but I did convince Giulio to come with me once. He spent most of the time bitching about how the dirt and grapes would ruin his new custom sneakers.

I didn’t mind the time alone. I had a very big decision hanging over my head, but the choice had basically been made the moment I decided to keep the baby.

Still, I couldn’t put the ring on.

Fausto didn’t push it. Nor did he try to have sex with me again. In fact, I was back in his bed, except he was never there. The only time I saw him was at dinner with Zia and Giulio. I hated to admit it, but I missed him. Yes, I’d asked for space but I hadn’t expected him to really give it to me. Fausto liked getting his own way and he also liked to push my buttons. I wasn’t used to this patient side of him.

You do belong to me. And if you agree to this then I belong to you, as well.

When I told Giulio about Fausto’s proposal, I cried—and they weren’t happy tears. Giulio’s face had softened, his eyes understanding and kind. “I get this,” he’d said, hugging me hard. “You’ve been through a lot. My father, he loves you. Marriage is inevitable, but sometimes the inevitable is a hard pill to swallow.”

Exactly. God knew that Giulio understood my dilemma. If anyone could relate to having one’s choices stripped away, it was him.

There were no answers, so I avoided the castello and stayed outside as much as possible. I clipped clusters of grapes, inhaled the salty Calabrian air, and pretended everything was okay.

The women around me began to whisper, tittering like schoolgirls, and I glanced up. Fausto was coming up the row, looking every inch the wealthy Italian businessman in a three-piece suit as he headed straight for me. My stomach fluttered. What did he want? Was he going to press me for an answer?

I’m not ready.

He nodded to the women, offering greetings and charming smiles, and thanking them for their hard work. I watched unabashedly, admiring the view. I figured I’d more than earned the right by putting up with his controlling ass.

When he reached me, he frowned. “Where is your hat?”

Really? I turned my attention back to the vines. “Hello, Fausto. Nice to see you, too.”

Sighing, he took the small clippers from my hand. “Come with me.”

“Is there a please in there somewhere?”

“Please,” Fausto said, surprising me.

We gave my basket and shears to Vincenzo, then Fausto’s hand wrapped around mine. The villagers stared as we passed, but the estate workers ignored us. I guess they were used to seeing Fausto drag me around.

When we reached the path to the castello, I yanked my hand out of his grip. That was enough touching for one day. My heart was already racing, his nearness conjuring wicked thoughts—like how much I wanted to pull him into the stables and peel that suit off his body.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why did you come and get me?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

My chest squeezed, excitement and nerves at war inside me. Instead of asking about the surprise, I blurted the question that had been on my mind. “Where have you been sleeping?”

He stopped abruptly and stared down at me, his brows raised. “You asked for time. I am giving you time.”

“I didn’t mean to kick you out of your room.”

A familiar twist of his lips sent a bolt of heat through my veins. “I see,” he said, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “You have been missing me.”

“Only when I get cold.”

“Liar.”

I turned and started for the castello, my boots kicking up dust as I walked. He caught up easily. “Put on the ring and I’ll come back to our bed.”

Our bed. I shouldn’t like the sound of that, but it made me feel all squishy inside. “We’ll see. I’m still thinking about it,” I lied.

He didn’t say anything more. As we came up the small hill that led to the house, I noticed two figures sitting in chairs on the patio. They stood up as Fausto and I approached. Two girls, both in t-shirts and jean shorts. They were the same height and looked almost identical.

The air left my lungs and I stopped, frozen. No, it couldn’t be. How . . . ?

Oh, my God.

“Oh, my God,” I repeated, out loud this time. “Are those . . . ? You brought my sisters here?”

Fausto’s hand swept down my back and settled on my hip. His mouth near my ear, he whispered, “Surprise, amore.”

Tears flooded my eyes before I could stop them, emotion swamping me. My sisters were here. In Siderno. I couldn’t believe it.

Without another word, I took off toward the patio. I sprinted, a huge smile on my face the whole time. Emma and Gia started forward, wearing matching grins, and we crashed together in an unholy mess of arms and tears. “Holy shit,” I breathed. “I can’t believe you’re both here.”

“Neither can we!” Emma said.

Gia added, “It was fucking wild, Frankie. One minute we’re in class, and the next minute we’re on a private plane to Italy.”

I eased back to see their faces. “I can’t believe Papà let you come.”

“Your boyfriend has some serious pull,” Gia said. “Whatever he said had everyone scrambling to do his bidding.”

Not sure boyfriend was the right word, but I would have to ask Fausto about this later. Right now I needed to wrap my head around the fact that my sisters were here. I held onto their hands, unwilling to let them go in case they disappeared. “I’m so happy to see you both. You have no idea.”

“Same,” Gia said. “Plus I’m missing a calculus quiz and an English Lit paper.”

“You’ll have to make those up when you get back,” Emma reminded her.

I heard footsteps on the gravel before I felt his presence at my back. He slipped a hand onto my hip and I suddenly craved the feel of his warm body next to mine. I shamelessly leaned into him, not caring if my sisters saw.

“Perhaps you’d care to show your sisters around the estate, dolcezza.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head, his masculine scent filling my nose. “I will see you at dinner.”

Releasing me, he strode toward the door that led inside, his broad shoulders stretching the fine fabric of his suit. My insides squeezed and I needed . . . I didn’t know what I needed but I had all this emotion inside me, and my only thought was to stop him. When he opened the door and went inside, I held a finger up to my sisters. “One second. I’ll be right back.”

I darted through the door and into the cool house. Grabbing the tails of his suit coat, I pulled him to a stop. His brows lowered in confusion as he glanced over his shoulder at me, but I didn’t speak. Instead, I pushed him toward the wall, uncaring of the guard that stood a few feet away.

Fausto’s back hit the stone and he gave a soft grunt. I lunged for him, throwing myself at his chest and capturing his lips with mine, and he let me lead for a few seconds. Then he took over with a hand on my nape, holding me, while his tongue licked its way into my mouth. My toes curled inside my shoes. He devoured me, and if I’d ever doubted how much this man wanted me, this kiss obliterated it. The way his muscles trembled, the press of his fingertips into my skin . . . It was like he wanted to consume me.

And I’d never wanted so badly to be consumed.

Finally, he pulled back and pressed our foreheads together. “You like your surprise?” he said softly through heavy breaths.

“I do. Very much. Thank you, Fausto.”

“I like to see you happy. ” He eased me back then slapped my ass, hard. “Go, enjoy them. I will see you at dinner.”

I gave him one last quick kiss and let him go, practically skipping as I went back outside. My sisters were sitting in the chairs and talking excitedly, finishing each other’s sentences as they often did. I lowered myself in an empty chair, hoping I didn’t appear like I’d been tongue-fucking Fausto a moment ago.

Gia smirked. “Your lips are swollen. You look like you’ve had a collagen treatment.”

“You look beautiful,” Emma said. “Being pregnant agrees with you.”

“Only in the last week or so. Before that, I looked like shit. I do not recommend pregnancy, you guys.”

“Noted,” Gia said. “But the getting pregnant part must’ve been fun.”

Yes, it had been. Too fun, in fact.

“You’ll have a little baby soon,” Emma said, her eyes growing soft. “Do you know what you’re having yet?”

I shook my head. “No, and I don’t want to know, either. There’s too much at stake, and thinking about this baby’s future is already doing my head in.”

They both nodded. My sisters knew this world, knew what my child would endure, the kind of life ahead. Emma said, “Well, what names are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. Choosing a name feels too . . . real.”

Gia smirked, her voice dry. “Because the ultrasounds and vomiting didn’t make it seem real?”

“Stop,” Emma told her twin. “Let Frankie come to terms with it in her own time. I want to see the castello and the estate.”

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired from the trip?” I asked them.

“No way. I slept on the plane. I feel amazing,” Gia said. “We should go clubbing tonight.”

I knew Fausto would never allow that. “Slow down. How about we go harvest grapes instead?”

“Fun!” Emma said at the same time that Gia groaned.

Laughing, I stood up. “It is fun, actually. And you’ll get to see the estate.”

“Can we drink wine after?” Gia asked.

“Of course,” I said. “Well, you two can drink wine. I’ll keep you company.”

“This is going to be the best trip!” Emma exclaimed as she rose.

“I know. I’m so glad you’re here.” I grabbed their hands and pulled them toward the path, happier than I’d ever been since arriving in this country.