dirty mind games

FRANCESCA

“ANTONIO, CAN WE talk?”

I’m standing behind him, watching his reflection in the mirror. He’s buttoning up his suit, fixing his collar.

“About what?” he asks.

I want to smack him. I don’t, though, because I want to have a real conversation with him. And he wouldn’t let me hit him anyway.

“About what I did,” I say.

“But you didn’t do anything.” He picks up his watch from the counter and puts it on.

Wait, what?

I stiffen. I don’t know what to say. Why is he making this so complicated? Did I do something or not?

“About what I hid.” It comes out more like a question.

“What about it?” He turns around and leans against the vanity, arms crossed over his chest. I can see his torso through his unbuttoned collar.

His hair is wet and slicked back. His white shirt, tucked into his black slacks, clings to him. He looks good, but I’m getting off track.

I can see my reflection in the mirror. My skin is pale, not from fear, but anxiety. I’m not as scared of him as I used to be. I’m just worried.

“Well…” I rub my hands together. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

He raises a brow. “No.”

“Why?” I ask, surprised.

“Because you made your choice. Francesca, you are the Donna. You need to learn from your own mistakes,” he says.

“Why are you so calm about this? Father would’ve—”

“I’m not your father,” he snaps. “Stop comparing me to him.”

For a moment, I see anger in his eyes. So much fury that I want to take a step back. A moment of silence passes before I speak again.

“Why are you…?” I trail off.

He raises his eyebrows, silently telling—no, ordering—me to continue.

“Why are you doing this, Antonio?”

“Doing what?” His tone is calculating, cold.

“This!” I wave my hands around, suddenly angry. “Acting as if nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened. We had a conversation and you revealed something you shouldn’t have,” he says.

“I broke the code, didn’t I?” I grind out.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“But I was thinking of it!” I yell, not caring if the walls are soundproof or not. Judging by his uncaring expression, they probably are.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally says as he picks up his watch and turns around, showing me his back. “I think you need rest.”

“I don’t need any more rest! I’ve slept for hours!”

“Francesca.” He sighs as he tilts his head to the side and gives me a sideways glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Am I dreaming?

Would I look stupid if I pinched myself?

“I am not dreaming. I know what I did and what happened. We fought the other day! And I want to talk about it so we can go back to normal.”

He narrows his eyes at me as if he has better things to do than convince me about our fight. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve fallen for it. “We didn’t fight,” he says.

“We argued.” I change my words. “Actually, we did fight. You pushed me into a wall. This wound on my hand isn’t just for show either.”

He sighs as he starts putting on his watch. He raises his eyes to mine in the mirror, brow furrowed. “Why don’t you go and sit downstairs with the others?”

“A-Anto—okay, fine! Be like that.” I snap before walking out. I don’t care if I’m being rude. I’m annoyed by this ridiculous game of his.

I’m trying to solve our issues and he doesn’t care.

My heels clack against the tile floor as I march down. Chatter echoes through the halls. I follow the voices and reach the dining room.

Everyone falls silent once I walk in, making me feel extremely awkward.

A few faces are strangers to me and few are recognizable. Amalia smiles at me softly. ~Nonna~ sits beside ~Nonno~, who is seated at the head.

I recognize Pietro and Alessandro. There are two other women and two men with three children.

Maybe I should’ve just come with Antonio.

“Where is Antonio, Francesca?” the Godfather asks.

“Up—” A hand wraps around my waist softly. I immediately glance back in surprise. He towers over me. “Right here,” I correct.

He pulls me with him to his seat opposite the Godfather. I see Pietro glance at us before his jaw clenches. Gianna puts a hand on his thigh but removes it once he sends her a harsh glare.

I look away when the Don pulls out the chair for me. For a moment, I’m surprised. Is this his version of PDA?

I sit down. The Godfather’s lips quirk up while ~Nonna~ sends me a small smile.

“We were all waiting for you but then figured you weren’t going to come,” one of the strangers says. “Won’t you introduce us to the lovely Donna?”

Antonio’s grip on my thigh tightens under the table. “No,” he says.

The stranger blinks. His brow furrows and his lips purse, but he doesn’t say anything. His wife, I assume, freezes. Her skin turns pale.

But nothing happens. He silently stuffs his mouth with food.

“Francesca,” the Godfather calls out to me. “This is Gino and his wife Lisa. Raffaello’s younger brother.”

He gestures toward the stranger. “That’s Salvestro and Stella, his wife, and my daughter. They’re the old consigliere and underboss.”

Salvestro gives me a nod and Gino simply looks away. I don’t really mind. I’m not going to have to spend time with them anyway.

I turn my attention to the two women. The one sitting next to Gino, Lisa, has curly black hair and very pale skin. Salvestro’s wife, Stella, is a brunette, just like me.

A maid enters the room and serves us pork chops. They’re sizzling and I’m eager to dig in. It’s a bummer that I have to act ladylike to maintain Antonio’s reputation.

Everyone eats in silence. The only one who dares to speak is Alessandro. “~La Nostra Pace~ is in two days,” he announces. “The Bianchis and Lambardis will be there.”

“Will Vincent Bianchi be there?” my husband asks.

Alessandro nods. “~Si~. But he wasn’t the one who requested the meeting.”

“Then who?” Pietro asks.

Alessandro turns to my husband. “Carmelo Bianchi.”

From what I can gather, Carmelo—the former don of the Bianchi Family—has a family that has run away and he’s looking for them. They could be in our territory in America.

So, Antonio wants to find them first to gain the upper hand. But he hasn’t caught them yet, and now the Bianchis are requesting a meeting, likely at the ~La Nostra Pace~ party.

The Mafia is a Family with five different families inside. Families fight, but in the end, they stick together and do business with each other. They compromise.

This party is to ensure that the compromise lasts, I figure.

My husband nods. “I’ll handle it.”

I swallow. I’m not sure if I like his way of handling things because it usually involves someone dying.

***

“Let’s go shopping!”

“No,” I respond flatly.

“Pweeeeeeeease,” Amalia pleads again.

I giggle. “No. The Don would be mad.”

Amalia shrugs. “Then you handle him. You’re the Donna. Come on!”

I consider it for a moment before shaking my head. He’s already disappointed in me.

“Okay, fine!” she sighs. “I won’t go either.”

“Just go with Gianna,” I suggest, folding the bedsheets.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what’s up with her. When she found out I was pregnant, she wasn’t happy. So I can’t really go shopping with her.”

“How many months are you?” I ask her.

“Three.” She instantly places a hand on her stomach.

I glance at the door. It’s closed. “Are you happy?” I whisper.

Her eyes meet mine. She purses her lips. “I’m as happy as I can be. You’ve only been married for a month. You get used to it.”

I ponder her words for a moment before sitting next to her on the bed. “Aren’t you scared sometimes?”

“Scared of what?” she asks.

I give her a look. “I don’t know. Just in general, I guess. Or about your child and its future.”

She smiles. “Want me to be honest?”

I nod.

“I’m selfish. I’m very, very selfish because even though I know that my child is going to live a life full of misery, I’m still going to give birth,” she admits.

“Why?” I ask.

She’s silent for a moment before answering with a guilty look on her face. “Because I love Alessandro more than I love my child.

“Giving birth will secure his position. It would give him more power in the family. I can’t take that away from him, and I’ve always wanted to be a mother anyway.”

“What if it’s a girl?” I ask.

She shrugs. “When I asked him that, he said he didn’t care. He just wanted a child. In fact, he’s more excited than I am.” She smiles.

I grin. “That’s great!”

“Why? You planning to get pregnant?” she teases.

I chuckle. “No. Not yet. I barely know my husband. What would I do with a child?”

She shrugs again. “True. But will you come with me to shop? Please.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll ask the Don. We need security to come and all the chores need to be done before we leave,” I agree.

“Okay!” she chirps happily.

I force a smile. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I never planned to get pregnant. I’m not ready and I don’t think I ever will be.

However, the absence of my period suggests otherwise.