a game of faith

FRANCESCA

I’M WAITING FOR him to emerge after I shoot a quick text to Sophia. She’s asked me to come over early so we can hang out.

When he finally appears, his face doesn’t betray any emotion. It’s as blank as it was before.

“Why are you still here?” he asks, his voice icy. He’s shirtless, a towel wrapped around his waist. It’s as if he didn’t expect me to still be there.

He might come off as harsh, but he’s kinder than most people. At least, to me. And I kind of like it.

And why didn’t he use the door connected to the closet? I didn’t need to see him half-naked. I have places to be!

“Um, I was waiting for you. You seemed tense when you came in.”

He spins around, his eyes as hard as before. “You were waiting for me?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, uh, I should go now then. Silvio must be waiting.” I know without even asking that he’s sent Silvio with me.

Silvio is one of the most trusted bodyguards in the Family and has been my personal guard for years.

His eyes scan over me but he doesn’t say anything. The dress I’m wearing is a bit shorter than usual but it’s one of my favorites and it’s very casual and new.

I have a soft spot for dresses and this one was a birthday gift from Sophia. I wanted to wear it for her. I can take a spanking for that later. Well, I know it’ll be much more than just a spanking.

I wait for him to make a comment or voice any resistance, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it downstairs safely.

He doesn’t chase after me and beat me up, telling me it was all a joke and that I should wear clothes that don’t show an ounce of skin or that I’m not allowed to go in the first place.

Dante, Costanzo, and Omero are in the game room. I can hear them all the way from here, especially Costanzo and his colorful language.

I swear that guy can’t say a sentence without dropping either “fuck” or “fuck you” and especially “fuck me.”

I find Silvio waiting by the two large double doors. I smile at him. He’s not unattractive but he’s not my type either.

He has too many tattoos for my taste and he’s too muscular. His towering height adds to his intimidating presence and his stone-cold face reminds me of a statue.

He’s harder to read than anyone but I still feel safe around him. He respects me.

Silvio is a rare blond in the Family and wouldn’t often be mistaken as Italian. But that’s not possible, because no one can join ~Nostra Vita~ without at least being half Italian.

It’s a major rule in every Italian family that everyone follows. Silvio is a made man. That much I know for sure.

How he climbed the ranks so quickly is a mystery, because he’s so young, barely even in his thirties.

“Good evening, Silvio.” I’m happy to see him. After my wedding, I didn’t get to see him and it felt like I’d lost my shadow.

He’s like the brother I never had, but silent and stalker-ish. The kind of brother who could beat up the boyfriend his sister couldn’t. If only everything was that normal in my life.

He nods at me before opening the doors and leading me toward an SUV. All the cars are the same and I’m not the least bit surprised when three cars follow us.

I watch as the large mansion gets smaller and smaller until it blends with the forest trees. We live in a secluded area surrounded by forests. I’m not surprised.

It hides the screams and terror of people in agony. What can I say, my husband takes pleasure in killing.

Silvio is the one driving. He already knows the address somehow, but I don’t really care. It’s obvious he knows where she lives.

Antonio Giordano is a big name and he could always pull some strings to do a background check on a mere girl. Antonio probably knew about Sophia before we were even best friends.

Anyone I’ve talked to would have been checked by Father or him.

The car ride isn’t long at all. On the way there, I can see the way to my old house. I don’t want to see it. It brings back the memories that I’ve buried deep down.

Shortly after, we park outside Sophia’s middle-class house. It’s a detached two-story house with a garden in the front.

Compared to the mansion, this looks tiny. But it feels more like a home than any of the hundred properties we own.

It’s my first time here. Silvio quickly rounds the car before I can move. He opens my door like a gentleman but is careful not to touch me. He’s about to follow me before I stop him.

“I’ll manage from here,” I tell him, but he looks far from ready to comply. But then he just shuts his mouth and stays.

“I’ll be right outside, Mrs. Giordano.” It feels nice to be called that, surprisingly. It makes me feel like I’ve finally gotten rid of Father, but who am I kidding?

He will always be a part of me, like blood. I am his blood after all.

“Thank you.” I give him a genuine smile before walking up the porch. I turn around and wait for him to get back in the car before ringing the doorbell.

The car windows are tinted. No one can see him. They’d probably think I drove and my other bodyguards had their cars hidden.

I don’t even have to wait. The door is pulled open by my favorite blonde friend, Sophia Magritte. She pulls me in for a bone-crushing hug before quickly checking me for any injuries.

She knows something is off with my family. After all, she comes from a cop family. It’s risky. “Franci, thank God you’re okay. Come in.”

I see her glance back at the SUV before she pulls me inside.

Her house is cozy. When I walk inside, the staircase is on the right and a living room. On the left there’s a hall that leads to the dining room and kitchen.

“Mom! Franci’s here!” Sophia yells, her voice echoing through the house. I’m barely through the door before she’s grabbing my arm, pulling me upstairs. I manage to hide my wince as she tugs me along.

I can’t help but smile at her. Everything feels the same as it always has. She’s still my best friend, and I’m still hers.

At least someone still needs me.

A flash of Antonio’s ruggedly handsome face crosses my mind. I remember how boyish he looked when he was clean-shaven, his bangs falling over his eyes during our session.

He seemed so much younger, so much more innocent, with the flush that colored his cheeks. I find myself wondering if we could ever have a relationship where I could look forward to seeing him.

I want a family that I can call my own. I want children that I can raise without the constant fear of losing them.

“Hey, you good?” Sophia’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I nod, but I can tell she’s not convinced. She’s always been too smart for her own good. “Of course, Soph. How are you?” I ask.

The upstairs of the house is small, with three bedrooms and a bathroom. Despite the cramped quarters, I’ve always liked it. It feels cozy, like everyone is always together.

“Gosh, you are so formal. But I’m good. I should be asking you that. Where the fuck were you?”

We end up in her room, the last one in the hall. The walls are painted a vibrant purple, and a gray twin bed sits in the middle of the room. The room is cluttered with family photos and messy sheets.

I want this. I want her life.

“My phone broke. Don’t worry.” I try to reassure her, but she just narrows her eyes at me. She’s not buying it.

“I know I’m coming off as too intrusive and I should mind my own business, but I can’t because I feel like you’re in some major trouble and I’m here to help.

“I need you to know that you can tell me anything and I’d be there for you.” She holds my hand, her grip gentle.

Sophia Magritte is one of the most loyal people I know. She’s a rare gem in a world full of fakes, and I’m lucky to have her.

She knows how to keep secrets, and she’s trustworthy. But telling her would mean breaking ~omertà~, and I can’t do that. Antonio wouldn’t like it.

“I know, Soph.” I give her a genuine grin. “But it’s kind of hard contacting you now. My father is giving me some responsibilities, and I don’t have much time.”

I can’t tell her I’m married. It would break her heart that I didn’t invite her. I don’t want her to die either, and I don’t want her to know I’m “Doll,” married to the notorious Don.

“Okay.” I let out a sigh of relief, my shoulders sagging. “By the way, you are glowing.” She smirks, raising her eyebrows, and I instantly know I’m screwed.