a family outing

FRANCESCA

“DO THEY NOT love me or something?” Alessia asks me, shoving a piece of pasta into her mouth.

I chuckle lightly. “Of course they do,” I lie. “They just don’t know how to show it.” Love isn’t a word Mafia men are comfortable with.

They enjoy having lovers, but they don’t like to give love back. It’s pretty selfish, actually.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles.

I give her a surprised look. “Why would I lie? They’re your brothers. They love you.”

“I haven’t been with them all my life. I don’t understand why they took me in after mom died…” She swallows hard.

I know she’s still struggling with her mother’s death and trying to move on. “My stepdad was willing to take me in and honestly, I was quite happy with that.”

I want to tell her it’s probably because her stepdad is a cop (she told me when we went shopping) that she isn’t with him, but that would lead to more questions and I’m not in the mood to answer any.

“Maybe they thought it was best if you lived with them,” I answer, picking up a glass of water.

“They? What about you?” she asks again.

I take a sip of the cold water to buy some time. Setting the cup down, I reply with a shrug. “Me too, silly. Of course I want you with us.”

Pretending to be enthusiastic is almost second nature to me now. I’m so used to it that it doesn’t even feel fake anymore.

Alessia beams. “That means a lot to me, Franci. Thank you.”

I nod, feeling like a fraud. I don’t want her here because being with us means ruining her life. It won’t be long before the Family finds a suitable match for her and gets her engaged, just like me.

I want her to live her life on her own terms, not her husband’s. I want to protect her.

“Good evening, Antonio,” someone says abruptly. I turn around to see a tall Italian man with a charming smile. He winks at us playfully.

“Romeo,” my husband greets him, gesturing toward the seat opposite him. Our table is a large rectangle. The Don sits at the head while Costanzo and Dante sit on his right.

Omero, Alessia, and I sit on his left. I’m right beside him. Dante has a smirk on his face, and Costanzo does a weird handshake with the stranger. Omero, just like Antonio, only nods in greeting.

Who is Romeo? I’ve never heard of him before. Is that his real name?

“Who’s that?” Alessia whispers to me.

Antonio answers her. “This is Romeo Vitale. A close…friend,” he tells Alessia, but I see his eyes skim over me. I furrow my brow. What does this have to do with me?

Romeo throws me a large smile that seems friendly but also a bit mean. “I have heard a lot about you, Mrs. Giordano,” he says with a heavy accent.

I give him a forced smile, my eyes quickly skimming toward my husband. He doesn’t look annoyed. He looks indifferent and that gives me a sense of peace.

I don’t know how to reply to that but from the way he looks away, I know he doesn’t expect me to either. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

“Romeo will be joining us today,” Antonio announces out of the blue.

Like many Italians, Romeo has an olive complexion with chocolate-brown eyes and dark, layered brown hair, a few strands messily falling in his face while the others are roughly shoved back.

He’s tall as well, probably as tall as Antonio, and he doesn’t dress to impress. I can tell. But he looks good nevertheless. He has a dark, joker vibe with his tattered brown biker jacket and black v-neck underneath.

I don’t stare at him for long. It’s not appropriate, especially for the Donna. I know my boundaries very well and it’s taboo for me to flirt with someone. Even accidentally.

A question suddenly pops into my head. Why would Antonio invite a stranger who is most likely a criminal to join a dinner with his oblivious sister?

Unless he just doesn’t care. He doesn’t seem like one to let things slide casually.

“Alessia, are you done eating?” Antonio asks her when he sees her just playing with her food.

Alessia looks at me before timidly shrugging at him.

“Would you like Costanzo to take you on a drive?”

She looks at me again and I don’t know what to do other than give her an encouraging nod.

“Okay,” she says.

“Costa, make sure no one comes in,” he tells his brother in Italian.

Antonio almost smiles—almost. I see the small twitch of his lips before it quickly disappears. He leans back casually. I can see in Costanzo’s face that he’d do anything to stay, but he also doesn’t want to disobey his brother.

Now there are only five of us left. The scene is very odd. We all sit in a private area of an elite restaurant in designer clothes while Romeo sits with his rugged clothes as if he was too busy to give a crap.

Maybe he is. But I have to admit it’s a smart getup.

In the Mafia, men who wear prestigious suits show off their wealth. They’re the gangsters who are worth more. It’s basically daring the feds to follow them.

Antonio has to wear suits, obviously. He’s a don, but I notice that his suits aren’t that expensive. His collection is mostly filled with Armani. It’s smart.

The cops would just think he’s a minor player in the Family.

“She take the bait?” Romeo instantly asks once Alessia and Costanzo are gone.

I wonder why Antonio didn’t ask me to take her. I shouldn’t be involved in this. Those are the rules. Costanzo should’ve been here instead.

His hand falls on my thigh. “Yes.”

Romeo’s face is a mask, unreadable. He glances my way, then exchanges a look with Antonio that leaves me puzzled.

Are they talking about me? I hope not.

“She got caught,” Antonio says, his hand tracing circles on my dress before slipping underneath. A shiver runs through me as his fingers brush against my thigh.

“Why the fuck am I just hearing about this?” Romeo’s voice is a low growl.

I try to keep my face blank, to show him he doesn’t scare me. But Romeo isn’t a pretty sight when he’s angry. Right now, he’s like a ticking bomb.

A man who can talk to Antonio like that isn’t some small-time thug.

Romeo is dangerous. I can tell. Most people wouldn’t see it, but I know enough to understand that Romeo is not someone to mess with.

His smile is chilling if you look closely. He’s a player, but not the kind who breaks hearts for fun. He’s the kind who shatters souls.

“Watch it,” Dante warns.

Romeo shoots him a look that would make anyone’s blood run cold. Dante doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t say anything else either. Romeo’s warning is clear, and Dante gets the message.

Meanwhile, my darling husband is busy teasing me, his hand moving tantalizingly close to my heat, then pulling away. I know he’s doing it on purpose. He must be.

I draw in a shaky breath as he starts to drum his fingers against my inner thigh, then suddenly pulls away, leaving me cold. I would glare at him if I didn’t mind being obvious.

I don’t, so I settle for nudging him with my leg. It’s a bold move, but it works. I get a reaction.

Antonio breaks the staring contest with a smirk on his lips. The way he looks at me, I know it’s because of me. “You’ve had cops on your tail for months. You’ve been inconsistent.”

His words are meant to be comforting, but his voice is anything but. Antonio isn’t angry yet, but I can tell it won’t be long before things get ugly.

Suddenly, I want to be anywhere but here.

Romeo starts smiling again. He looks too normal for anyone’s good. “Just make sure she’s there. I’ll handle the rest.”

One thing I notice from their interaction is that Romeo doesn’t treat Antonio like he’s the boss. That makes me think Romeo doesn’t work for Antonio.

They’re probably allies—very loyal ones if Antonio tolerates such disrespect from Romeo. They seem like best friends, even though Romeo looks a bit younger, around my age.

The Don looks at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You have my word, Romeo.”

“And you have mine, Antonio. She won’t be harmed. She’ll be my wife.”