a long drive

FRANCESCA

Antonio looks at me, his eyes questioning. I just give him a shrug.

I tug on his arm a little, coaxing him to lean down. I don’t want his men, who are all ears, to overhear. He bends down and even though I’m in heels, I have to tiptoe a bit.

I’m not exactly short—standing at about five foot eight—but he’s just towering.

“I want to go for a drive,” I whisper into his ear.

He looks at me like I’m the most puzzling creature on earth. “~Bambola~, we’re not walking home.”

I blink. As he starts to pull away, I grab his hand. “No, I-I meant, like—never mind.”

He just shrugs. I want to gawk at him but I hold back, not wanting to do so in front of everyone. Is he pretending to be clueless or is he genuinely clueless? I can never tell with him.

I get my answer when we step outside and he orders his men to hand over the keys to his Mercedes.

“~Resta a distanza~,” he instructs one of his bodyguards.

“~Si, Don~.”

I slide into the car as he heads to the driver’s seat.

Soon, we’re zooming down the roads. In the rearview mirror, I can see the black SUVs tailing us, keeping a watchful eye.

Antonio is at the wheel. He’s taken off his gray blazer. His shirt is neatly tucked into his gray trousers and his sleeves are stylishly rolled up to his elbows.

I watch him drive. One hand is on the steering wheel and the other is loosening his tie.

“Antonio?” I call out.

As expected, he hums in response.

“How old are you?” I ask, realizing that I don’t actually know.

“Five years older than you,” he replies.

He could’ve just told me he was around twenty-nine.

~He’s too young to be the don.~

~The old don was useless anyway~.

“What’s your favorite color?” I prod him further.

“Black and red,” he answers instantly.

I furrow my brow. “No, I meant your favorite color—not the colors that define us.”

He doesn’t answer so I don’t push. We speed through a yellow light. I naively think that the bodyguards will stop, but they speed through as well, causing four cars to crash.

“Oh, my God,” I mutter.

“What?” He immediately tenses, his hand reaching for his gun tucked under his waistband.

“No, nothing. Stefano and the others sped through a red light and the cars crashed,” I explain, so he doesn’t think we’re in danger.

After a moment of silence, he speaks. “You see, Francesca, a king doesn’t follow anyone, but everyone follows the king. Hence, the projection of boundaries.

“I broke a rule so they all broke the rule. I say my favorite color and they’ll all start interpreting it as the Family colors.”

“But I won’t tell anyone,” I mumble. “I know the Giordano colors are red and black. I just want to know your opinion.”

He doesn’t answer until we drive onto a bridge and stop. “Out.”

I blink at his sudden change of mood, but do as I’m told. He steps out with me. I leave my purse and phone inside the car.

My heels click against the pavement as I walk toward him. “Antonio, where are we?”

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to the edge of the bridge. I’m glad there’s a small fence that prevents anyone from falling. Unless they stood on it.

“You see all these acres of land.” He nods toward the dense forest below us. It’s a lot of empty land with a lot of trees. I spot a brown creature with antlers darting around.

“There’s a deer there!” I exclaim, surprised.

“Yeah,” he says. “And all this is ours, Francesca.”

I gape at him. “Really?” That’s a huge piece of land. I can’t even see where it ends. It’s that vast. “What are we going to do here?”

He wraps an arm around my hips and pulls me closer. My hands fall on his chest as my body smacks into him. He leans his head down to my ear.

“Business,” he whispers before nipping at my earlobe.

I let out a ragged breath as I flatten my hands on his chest. “Antonio…” I tilt my head subconsciously to give him more access. He kisses my throat with an open mouth before moving away.

I look at him through a blurry haze of desire. There’s something in his eyes that I can’t pinpoint. They’ve turned darker and more predatory. Something suddenly feels off.

My brown hair is tousled by the wind, flying into my face, mouth, and eyes distractingly. I blink in annoyance as I look away from my husband to handle my hair.

I have to close my eyes for a moment as I turn around so the wind would push my hair back, rather than forward, and then I gather it behind my ears and put it in a low bun.

I don’t notice until it’s too late. I don’t notice, but I should have.

Forgetting about my hair all of a sudden, I whip around to look at my husband as soon as I hear the ~click~ of a gun being cocked, only to face its barrel.

I immediately step back in surprise. My heart pounds with fear, and I feel dizzy. I’m frozen. I can’t speak.

I can’t see anything other than him and the gun pointing at me. Antonio stares right into my eyes as his lips curl into a small, cruel smirk.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.

“You couldn’t possibly think I’d let a traitor go,” he says, tilting his head a little.

I look around for help, but there’s no one around. Not a single soul. Below us is a vast forest, and around us is no one. Not a single car passes by.

There he is, my husband, gun in hand, ready to end my life. The world around me feels too small, too tight. I need to get away.

“I didn’t betray you,” I manage to say, my voice stronger than I feel. I’m not like Arianna, who would tell him to go to hell without a second thought.

I can’t do that. It doesn’t feel right. And I know he wouldn’t think twice about pulling the trigger. My life is in his hands.

“You have two options,” he says, ignoring my words. “One: I shoot you. If you survive, you live, but on my terms.

“Two: you jump. If you survive the fall, I promise to let you go.” He grins. “Your choice, Doll.”

This can’t be real. Antonio wouldn’t do this. He can’t. I don’t want to believe it.

Betrayal. That’s all I feel when I realize this is a game. It’s all a lie. It doesn’t matter that he’s the Don, or that he’s my husband.

He slept with me. He made love to me. He gave me hope. He played me, and I was naive enough to trust him.

How could I think he was different? He’s a master manipulator, and I fell for it. I walked right into his trap.

He knows it. I know it. There’s no real choice here. Just the illusion of one. Death waits on either side.

“Was this all a lie?”

He doesn’t even blink. “This is the Mafia, Doll. I can’t let things slide.”

“Was this all a lie?” I ask again, more forcefully. It feels like my heart is being ripped out and squeezed.

He shrugs. “I can’t have a Donna with traitorous thoughts. The Family comes first. Always.” He doesn’t answer my question.

I stare at him. He looks indifferent. This was all a game to him from the start, and I let him play me.

“You have two options, Doll. Jump off the cliff and I let you go, or stay and I shoot you,” he says again, more forcefully. “You have a choice.”

I look down from the bridge and suddenly feel sick. Then I look back at my husband, who seems so determined to get rid of me.

I have to make a decision. I don’t want to die. I didn’t come this far just to die like this.

I’m the Donna, for God’s sake. If I can’t handle my relationship, how can I rule? Is that even why I’m here? Or is it just about survival?

Either way, I refuse to die like this. The only way to survive is to use my words, not strength. I can’t outrun a bullet. I can’t beat him.

“You’re going to kill me for something I didn’t do,” I say, raising my voice over the wind. “Without a reason?”

He doesn’t answer. His gaze hardens and his grip on the gun tightens.

“Don’t make me choose for you, Francesca,” he growls.

I step away from the bridge and move closer to him, so close that the barrel of his gun touches my forehead.

“I’ve made my choice,” I whisper.

There’s no surprise in his eyes, no guilt. Nothing to suggest he cares. Was it all just a game? Did he really not care?

He raises an eyebrow.

“If I die, it’ll be by the hand of the one I love most.” My voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes around us.

My fingers tremble as he steps back and lowers his gun, pointing it at my stomach.

“Why?” he asks, his eyes narrowing. Has he forgotten that I might be pregnant?

I bite my lip until it bleeds. I take a shaky breath and answer. “Because you told me not to submit to anyone else. Not even death.”

And then he pulls the trigger.