a late night conversation

FRANCESCA

HE LIFTS AN eyebrow, making me second-guess my choice of words. Embarrassment starts to crawl up my neck and I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “I mean I need to tell you something.”

He gives a nod, signaling me to continue as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt, hiding his muscles. I kind of prefer him without clothes.

~Get a grip, Franci!~

“My friend Sophia called and I answered,” I begin. I know that if I look into his eyes, I’ll start shaking. I don’t want to see the death sentence in his eyes after I spill this news.

“I ignored her calls at first but then I accidentally answered and found out her dad’s a cop. She’s threatening to have him investigate me if I don’t agree to have dinner with them.

“Or, at least, meet with her and reassure her that everything’s fine. She doesn’t know about this or us.”

A spike of fear shoots through me when I see him reach up, but I relax when he just adjusts his shirt.

When he doesn’t respond, I muster up the courage to look up, only to find him taking off his watch with a completely indifferent expression. He’s not mad? He doesn’t even seem to care.

I wait for him to speak. He finally does after tossing his watch aside. “Do you want to go?” He asks, looking at me.

I quickly shake my head. “No,” I lie. He probably wants me to say that.

I don’t even have time to move away when his hand shoots up and grabs my hair, pulling me incredibly close. I hold my breath, knowing that if I move even slightly, our lips would touch.

I really don’t want that right now. My body collides with his chest as I grab onto him for balance. One of my hands instinctively grabs his wrist, trying to pull his hand away.

I stare at him in fear but he doesn’t seem to care. “You don’t lie to me, Doll.” His voice is deep and controlled. It’s the kind of voice that commands everyone, and I’m no exception.

I swallow and quickly nod before verbally responding. “Yes, Do-Antonio.”

“You didn’t answer my question correctly.” He raises an eyebrow, daring me to lie again. I don’t. I’m not that stupid.

“Yes. I do want to go,” I mumble. He loosens his grip on my hair but doesn’t let go. Thankfully, the pain starts to fade a bit.

“Meet her tomorrow at eight. I’ll have our men escort you.” He releases me before heading to the bathroom. A shaky breath escapes me.

I didn’t expect anything different but it still hurts. At least he’s better than Father so far.

I quickly grab my nightie (which is far too short for my liking) before heading to bed and pulling the blankets over me in a futile attempt to protect myself.

I know it’s pointless if he really wants to have his way with me, but it gives me a sense of security. I feel less…exposed.

I’m surprised that he’s actually letting me go. He’s allowing me to meet her. He’s not going to kill her or forbid me from saying goodbye.

Despite his harshness just minutes ago, I feel grateful. A man like him allowing me to meet my friends is a big deal.

It’s not the most normal thing in the world, but in the Giordano Mafia Family, it’s a significant gesture to give a woman some freedom.

Old friends have never been allowed for women. We’re seen as the weak ones who could be influenced to snitch. But despite that, Antonio is allowing me, even knowing that Sophia’s father is a cop.

He trusts me and I’m not going to break that trust. Ever.

***

The next day doesn’t pass any differently. I have breakfast with the brothers. They leave for either school or work and I spend my day in the library.

I haven’t forgotten to check the top floor. I have, and the place is more intimidating than any other place I’ve ever been to. I feel like a mouse in a lion’s den.

Though the place is neat and tidy, there’s a claustrophobic edge to it. It’s not filled with big windows and the lights are dim. The room gives off dangerous vibes. The curtains are all closed.

I apply my makeup. It’s light because I’m going to Sophia’s house and I don’t want her to suspect anything, so I dress the way I usually do.

The dress is pretty. It falls a few inches below my mid-thigh and has short sleeves with a modest v-neck. It’s tight at the top before it flares out a bit at the bottom.

The floral design and black heels complete the look with my light makeup. I look like the rich girl I am.

Since I’m going to an FBI agent’s house, I quickly use foundation to cover up my tattoo—a triangle with a circle overlapping it and a black rose in the middle—behind my ear. It’s the Family symbol.

The symbol doesn’t reveal one’s rank but it tells others to back off if shown. Everyone knows what it means and no one wants to mess with the mob, especially not the Giordano Family.

We’re notorious for trafficking and racketeering. The police want us caught more than any other family and I honestly don’t blame them.

This reputation wasn’t built by Antonio. He just added fuel to the fire. It was built by Rafaello and his unhealthy obsession with women. He used to kidnap them before selling them off.

From the rumors I’ve heard, Antonio managed to divert the police’s attention from the mob for a while—long enough for him to hide all the evidence before the cases on Raffaello even began.

Despite not experiencing it firsthand, I’m all too familiar with rape, and the memories almost make me sick. They’re too real and horrifying.

The door slams open, making me jump in fright.

A frightened gasp escapes my lips at the sight of my husband. His eyes are narrowed into a glare and his shirt is bloody. I recognize the signs and know immediately what to do.

When he starts discarding his clothes, I quickly pick them up to cover the red trails before bundling them together so that the blood won’t touch me.

He’s mad, I can tell. The bathroom door slams shut with a bang, and the sound of the shower starting up echoes through the room. I’m torn, unsure if I should stick around or leave. I’m already late for dinner.

Does he want me to stay?