vulnerability

FRANCESCA

ONE MOMENT WE'RE just chatting, the next he's all over me.

We don't even make it to the bed. Instead, he lifts me up and presses me against the wall.

“Did you lock the door?” I manage to ask, my words coming out in a breathless moan between kisses.

He releases my lower lip from a lingering suck, letting it pop free. “No one’s going to walk in,” he assures me, his lips trailing kisses down my jaw and lower.

I draw in a deep breath, tilting my head back.

“Please lock the door,” I mumble, even though the thought is starting to slip away.

He pauses, pulling back to look at me. I know how I must appear, with my lips bruised red and my eyes heavy with desire.

But he's no different. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed.

He gently sets me down before walking over to lock the door. I watch him, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his white shirt.

When he turns around, he catches me checking him out. A small smirk plays on his lips as I bite my lower lip, my cheeks flushing.

He loosens his red tie and unbuttons a few buttons on his shirt. I lick my lips in anticipation, and when he takes too long to return to me, I beckon him with my fingers.

His smirk widens, his eyes sparkling with surprise. I can't help but let a broad smile spread across my face.

He's back on me in an instant. My legs wrap tightly around his waist and my hands fall to his chest. I let my fingers wander beneath his shirt, exploring the hard muscles that are supporting my weight.

He grips my thighs tightly before pressing his lips to mine.

I gasp when he suddenly pushes his body against mine, causing my heat to grind against him. I'm already sensitive, and his hold on me only intensifies the sensation.

He's teasing me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it.

One of his hands wraps around my thigh, hoisting my leg higher on his waist, while his other hand pulls my hair back before settling on the side of my neck.

His lips trail down my neck and I let out a ragged breath, gripping his shoulders for support.

I moan when he finds my sweet spot.

Antonio chuckles, a husky sound that sends tingles through my body, making butterflies flutter in my stomach. He helps me pull off my sweater, and I shiver at the sudden coolness.

I catch him staring at my breasts, hidden behind my bra. He looks like he wants to touch them but doesn't. Instead, he looks up at me and waits, leaving me confused and self-conscious.

“I’m sorry,” he says. My eyes widen in surprise. Before I can ask why, he continues, “for touching you without your consent.”

I blink, taken aback. “What?”

“When we first had sex, I never asked if you were okay with it. I just assumed you were,” he admits, resting his head on my shoulder.

I furrow my brow, confused by his sudden confession. “I didn’t say no.”

“You didn’t say yes either, ~bambola~.”

I don't know how to respond to that. “Wives don’t get that choice, Antonio. Not where we come from.”

He moves so his forehead is touching mine. “But they should. What I did was wrong. I took advantage of you, and that makes me no different from your father.”

His words hit me hard. I never thought Antonio, the boss of all this, would ever say something like that. I can hardly believe that the Don believes wives should have a choice.

“Father is a horrible, disgusting man who never cared about me,” I say. “He never treated Mother or my sister with the respect they deserve.

“I’ve seen how you are with your brothers, and I know how you treat me. There’s a big difference between Father and you. I’m not blind.”

“I…I don’t know,” he stammers, looking into my eyes.

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach when I see the vulnerability in his eyes. For a moment, I feel like I'm looking at an innocent, lost boy.

He's not crying, but there's a look on his face that tells me he's not okay with this. He hates this. There's vulnerability. There's…fear?

And then there's an emotion I know all too well: desperation.

“You need to talk to me,” I urge him, cupping his face to meet his gaze. “Please don’t keep it all inside.” The thought of him bottling up his feelings scares me. He's starting to open up.

I don’t want to push him, but I know I need to help him through this. His vulnerability is not a good sign.

“I can’t.” He suddenly pulls back. “I’m sorry.” He sets me down and bends to pick up my sweater from the floor, handing it to me.

But before he can leave, I grab his wrist. “Antonio, don’t leave like this,” I plead. His unusual behavior is truly frightening.

He pulls me in for a soft kiss that lasts only a few seconds. “There’s a dress in the closet. It’s for the party. If you want, you can wear it.”

And then he's gone.

***

The dress is stunning.

Everything he picks out is stunning. The dress is long and backless, a strappy red number that hugs my figure. It has a plunging v-neck, which surprises me.

He wants me to wear something like this? Doesn't that break all the rules?

But honestly, I'm thrilled. I've always wanted to show off my body. Not for the attention of others, but because I know it will make me feel good and confident.

I'll feel like the Donna.

This reminds me of Sara, the woman I judged for dressing so provocatively. She didn't have a choice. But I do. Antonio is giving me a choice.

I shouldn’t be thinking of her in that way. It’s not fair to blame her for getting on the wrong side of the Godfather. She did what she had to do for her family. She wasn’t “asking for it.”

I choose to wear the dress Antonio gifted me. Not just because it’s prettier, but because he gave it to me. I want him to know that I appreciate it.

After putting away the clothes, I decide to go find him. I step out of the room and look around the hall.

“Are you looking for the Don, Donna?” A voice comes from behind me. It’s not Fabio, which puts me on edge.

The man is new. His Italian-American accent tells me he came with us from America. He’s dressed in all black, topped with a leather jacket.

Despite his clothing, I can see the outline of his gun. I’m sure he has more. He has a buzz cut and a small scar across his lips.

His nose is slightly crooked, a sign it’s been broken multiple times. But the big question is: who is he?

I raise an eyebrow at the stranger, my senses on high alert. “Who are you?” I ask, sounding more rude than I intended.

His gaze stays steady on my face. “Stefano Marino, Donna; your new bodyguard.”

I keep my expression neutral. “Where’s Fabio, Stefano?”

“Last I heard, he was discharged from duty,” he says, his lips tight.

I nod. I’m not surprised. This is another reason why I didn’t tell Antonio about the note. I knew the moment he found out that Fabio missed the FBI contacting me, it wouldn’t end well.

I don’t want to find out exactly what happened to Fabio, especially not from a bodyguard. It would show my lack of knowledge and obliviousness.

It would give him the impression that I could be manipulated. I don’t know him and I’m not about to trust him.

“Where’s the Don?” I change the subject.

He motions for me to follow him. We silently walk down the stairs. Then he leads me to a hallway that leads to another staircase. Basement, I guess.

It’s vast. There are no windows, but everything is elegant. White pod lights brighten the hall. It’s like a mini home.

“Last I saw him, he was going down here,” Stefano tells me.

“Thank you,” I say.

He gives me a small smile. “Of course.” And then he leaves.

I walk to the door that has the most noise coming from it and knock. When no one replies, I push it open. The first thing I see is him.

Sweat beads on his chest and slides downward. His hair is wet and he’s breathless, but that doesn’t stop him.

The other man grunts in pain as Antonio lands a punch at his gut before brutally slamming his face into his knee. But his opponent recovers quickly.

He moves swiftly and tackles Antonio by the waist. It doesn’t take long for Antonio to knee him again. They both fall. It’s a bloody fight. But I can’t look away.

I hate fights, but watching the way his muscles tense and how he analyzes his opponent in front of him makes it exotic somehow. I didn’t even know that was possible. Am I okay?

It all happens so fast. One second, Alessandro is on Antonio and the next, they’re flipped over with my husband’s elbow over the man’s neck.

Antonio grins as he stands up in victory before offering a hand to Alessandro and helping him up. They both breathe heavily. I’m exhausted just by watching them.

“Not bad,” my husband says after a moment.

They haven’t noticed me yet so that gives me time to watch and analyze what’s going on. “Again?” Alessandro asks.

“You seem to be awfully fond of losing today,” Antonio comments, straightening up a bit. He looks at the consigliere questioningly.

Alessandro shrugs. “You seemed like you needed to blow off some steam.” Antonio is silent so Alessandro continues with a light chuckle. “If Pietro was here, he’d tell you to go to your wife.”

Antonio raises an eyebrow. “I don’t like Pietro and my wife in the same sentence.”

Alessandro snickers. “Pietro may be a dick, but he knows his limits, man, no need to get hyped. Plus, I trust ~cognata~ not to do that.”

“You don’t even know her,” my husband says. It’s weird how they’re talking about me in the middle of a fight. I’m glad I’m standing in the shadows, stupidly eavesdropping.

Alessandro gets into a fighting stance and Antonio follows.

“You trust her so I trust her, man. You wouldn’t have let her listen in and see the Bianchi family pics otherwise.” Alessandro throws a punch. “But I still don’t get why you let her.”

Antonio dodges it. “She’s my wife, dude. I won’t disrespect her in front of Pietro by asking her to leave. And if anything were to happen, then she’d know what’s going on.”

Alessandro freezes. “You mean put her in charge?”

Antonio obviously takes advantage of his surprise and makes him trip before locking him down with his knee. “Exactly,” he answers with a smug look.

“Nice.” Alessandro tries to push him off but Antonio won’t budge.

I step out of the shadows. Their eyes instantly snap to me. Alessandro recovers quickly and pushes Antonio’s knee off, which makes him lose balance.

Antonio quickly figures out his next move and slams Alessandro right back down.

“~Cazzo~! Why’d you fucking have to hit so hard, man?” he yells.

“The enemy isn’t going to cradle your neck. Bitch, get up,” Antonio replies before pulling him back up.

Alessandro glares at my husband before looking toward me. The look in Alessandro’s eyes softens.

I meet the eyes of my husband, who stares back at me, unsure. For the first time I realize that he doesn’t know what to do.

I can see Alessandro glancing between both of us, probably wondering whether he should leave.

I make the choice to ease the tension. “~Fratello~, could you give us a moment?” I ask, my gaze locked on Antonio.

“Of course… ~Sorella~,” he responds.

A small smile tugs at my lips. I tear my eyes away from Antonio to look at his friend. I’ve never had a brother, so being called sister feels special, even if I did call him brother first.

Alessandro gives me a nod as he passes, pausing to glance back at Antonio, who’s still standing in the wrestling ring. He leans in close to me.

“I’ll make sure we’re not disturbed, ~Sorella~,” he whispers.

My cheeks warm. “Thank you, ~Fratello~,” I say, meaning every word.

He nods, a small smile on his face, and leaves. The door clicks shut behind him.

Antonio descends from the ring, grabbing his towel and water bottle. He wipes away sweat and blood, then takes a long drink.

The air grows tense, just as I knew it would. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s definitely there.

I know it’s only a matter of time before things get awkward. There’s such a fine line between comfort and discomfort.

“So…” I start, but my words die in my throat as he pours the rest of the water over his head, his body gleaming. I don’t think he’s even aware of the effect he has on me.

I bite my lip as he turns away, then remember why I’m here. “Antonio, I think I’m pregnant.”

He freezes. His back muscles tense, then he crushes the bottle and tosses it into a nearby trash can. “How long?” he asks, his voice giving nothing away.

He doesn’t turn to face me.

My heart flutters with fear. “I don’t know.”

“I haven’t touched you in two weeks.” I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. “So you must be two weeks along.”

“Antonio, I’m not sure,” I say. “But I’ve missed my period and I thought we should get a test.”

I want him to turn around. I want to see his face. I want to know what he’s thinking.

“What if I am really pregnant?” I ask, voicing the question that’s been nagging at me.

He shrugs. “Then you’re pregnant.”

I glare at his back. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

He spins around. His eyes blaze as he strides toward me. “What do you want me to say?”

I stand my ground. I won’t back down. I’m done playing his games. If he has a problem, he needs to tell me so I know what to expect from this relationship.

Can this even be called a relationship?

He stops in front of me, breathing hard. “I love children,” he says suddenly. I catch my breath.

“I love their innocence; their naivety in the face of this cruel world. It makes me want to shatter that innocence, just like mine was shattered.”

“Why?” I ask.

This man is unpredictable. I’m not prepared for him to twist my words to suit his needs. He’s the Don.

He’s a master manipulator. It wouldn’t surprise me if he twisted my words to his advantage.

He takes a moment to consider his answer. It’s as if he’s deciding whether to tell me or not.

I place my hand on his arm, a silent plea for him to just say it. The suspense is making me nervous.

“I don’t want him to end up like me,” he murmurs, his hands sliding around my waist to pull me close. So close that if I tilt my head up, our lips would touch.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I whisper.

He laughs, a dark sound. “You know exactly how it’s going to be, ~bambola~. Face it like a woman and stop lying to yourself.”