a deep conversation

FRANCESCA

I CAN'T TALK to Antonio during the flight. He's deep in conversation with Alessandro, Pietro, and some of their other men.

Gianna and Amalia sit with me, but they don’t say a word. Like me, they’re in the dark, knowing only that the Bianchi Family is responsible for the death of our Family’s former Don.

We’re walking a tightrope between peace and war. The tension is palpable, hanging in the air like a clenched fist.

When the flight lands, more men approach us. I recognize a few from our wedding. These are Antonio’s captains, the ones who manage the smaller states in our territory.

They exchange a few words with Antonio before they leave. Soon, we’re on our way home too.

I jump when Antonio wraps an arm around my waist as we reach the manor. He leans down. “Stay in the manor and don’t leave the house without supervision.”

I nod. I wasn’t planning to anyway. “What’s going on?” I ask.

Antonio’s body tenses. “It seems the Bianchis have killed Father.”

“Are you sure it was them? We just talked to Vincent a couple days ago,” I point out.

“He had their symbol on him,” he says. “Come.”

Dante, Costanzo, and Omero stand the moment we walk into the mansion.

“Where’s Ruby?” Antonio asks.

“In the basement,” Dante answers instantly.

“Who’s Ruby?” I ask.

“Raffaello’s new girlfriend,” Costanzo answers.

I look at Costanzo and he’s dead serious. It tells me how grave the situation is.

“Where’s Alessia?” I ask before they can leave.

“In her room,” Costanzo answers.

I nod, parting from my husband. Antonio gives me a light peck on the forehead before walking away, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

The moment the men are out of sight, I walk up to Alessia’s room and knock.

“You’re home?!” she chirps excitedly.

She doesn’t know anything. How can she not suspect anything?

I pull her into a tight hug. Her blonde hair is wet from a shower. The smile she gives me is filled with childlike innocence.

“How are you?” I ask her as I sit down on the couch in her room. I grab the towel on her bed and make her sit down beside me so I can start drying her hair.

“Don’t wash your hair at night. You’ll catch a cold.”

Alessia nods. “I know, but Costanzo threw juice at me.”

I chuckle, but it’s a sad sound.

“Are you okay?” She turns around.

I tilt her head away so she can’t see my face. “Absolutely fine. Are you?”

She nods happily. “I don’t know. I’m just very happy today.”

“Something happen at school?” I ask casually.

She freezes and if I hadn’t been touching her then, I wouldn’t have noticed. Then she shakes her head. “No. It’s just like that.”

I decide not to pry. She’s a teenager, and at this age she’s bound to have some hormone imbalances and mood swings.

It’s no wonder she can’t sense the tense atmosphere downstairs.

“How was your week alone with the boys?” I pat her hair softly.

“Dante, Costanzo, and Omero actually aren’t that bad. Antonio intimidates me a lot though. He just has that mobster vibe going on which freaks me out.

“But the others are kinda cool. Omero scares me too. Costanzo swears a lot and Dante just can’t get his nose out of the newspaper.

“But they took me out when I asked them to so I guess we’re cool,” she rants.

I smile. I’m glad that she’s finally getting along, but I worry that this kindness toward her may be manipulation.

I know many men who act kind so they can make me agree to something. A marriage proposal perhaps? Antonio couldn’t possibly be thinking of that.

He himself got married late in terms of the ~Nostra Vita~.

“How was your trip to Italy? Are you and my brother cool again?” she asks.

Were we? I don’t think so. “Yes, we are. I told you. It was just a silly fight.”

She nods, pleased. “That’s good.”

***

I wait for Antonio to come to our room so I can talk to him. Things are happening too fast and I need to know how bad it is.

He comes in with blood on his shirt. I gasp but he barely pays me any heed. He slams the door to the bathroom shut and then I hear the shower running.

How much did Raffaello’s death affect him? I hadn’t even known that he cared about him.

I wait for him to come out and eventually he does after what feels like hours. I think he’ll finally come to bed, but he doesn’t. He grabs his phone and makes a few calls. One stands out to me in particular.

“Get every single detail about the attack on the Donna when she was coming from Sophia Magritte’s house.

“Every single detail. You won’t like the consequences if I find out you meddled with them,” he tells the other person on the line.

I blanch. What does this have to do with me?

Antonio is composed again. He doesn’t swear like he did when he lost his cool in Italy. He runs a hand through his wet hair as his eyes glare down at his phone.

“The attack on you that day was because someone contacted Mya to help them take you out,” he says.

I shiver. “Do you know who?”

He sighs. “All investigations lead to the Lambardi Family, but now I think that it was just a facade.”

I think about it for a moment. “You think it was the Bianchis?”

He nods before a sinister smile makes its way to his lips. The small yellow light illuminating the room casts shadows on his face. “Mya played us all.”

I blink, taken aback by his words. “So, what’s next?”

He shrugs. “We need to be sure it was the Bianchi Family, not the Lambardi.”

“And if it wasn’t the Bianchi Family?”

He meets my gaze. “That’s unlikely. They have the perfect motive. Carmelo’s secret family must’ve been in our territory during your attack. It has to be them.”

I press my lips together. “But why was Vincent so calm during ~La Nostra Pace~? He couldn’t have been pretending the whole time.”

Antonio shrugs again. “Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. It doesn’t matter. A Bianchi killed Father, so now they’re going to pay.”

“But what if it wasn’t them, Antonio? What if we’re being misled? Just because the Bianchi’s symbol was on your father’s face doesn’t mean they killed him.

“Why would they make it so obvious? Someone else could’ve drawn it,” I argue. Something doesn’t add up.

Anger flashes in his eyes as he moves toward me. I back up on the bed, but he follows. He climbs onto the bed and pushes me down.

I let out a yelp as I land on the bed. He leans over me, his lips just above mine. I swallow hard, trying to look anywhere but his lips.

“They did it,” he growls.

I narrow my eyes. “How can you be so—?”

“Because Father raped Carmelo Bianchi’s daughter!” he shouts.

I freeze. “W-what?”

Antonio’s forehead rests against mine as he closes his eyes. “While we were in Italy, Father somehow got his hands on Valentina Bianchi.

“He thought she was just some girl named Olivia and satisfied his sick desires with her. He didn’t find out who she was until after he killed her.

“Ruby spilled the truth with one punch,” he tells me.

This is bad. This is really bad! Raffaello raped a child! She looked no older than fourteen in the picture.

But I still need answers. I cup his cheek. “How does this relate to the attack on me? That happened long before all this. How did they know their family was here in our territory?

“Someone must’ve tipped them off. They could’ve contacted us, but they just attacked? It doesn’t make sense.” I need to calm him down. I need to distract him.

In his anger, he could make rash decisions that would harm our family and the Family.

He licks his lips. “Bianchi must’ve found out his family was in our territory. He probably thought we were holding them hostage. Mobsters have big egos.

“Vincent would never admit that his family ran away. The attack on you wasn’t meant to kill you. It was probably a warning.

“But when Raffaello killed their princess, he confirmed that we were holding them hostage, whether it was true or not. The whole meeting was a performance for the Bianchis.

“They wanted to catch us off guard. It was a distraction.” He chuckles, but it’s a dark sound. “And they fucking succeeded.”

He moves off me and I suddenly feel cold. I sit up and place my hand on his back. He leans into my touch as I hug him from behind.

“What happens now?” I ask.

He covers my hand with his. “We get revenge.”

“Why?” I ask immediately.

His grip on my hand tightens. “What do you mean, why?”

I shift so I can look at him. “But it was our fault. We started it. Raffaello raped their daughter, Antonio.”

He glares at me and I almost flinch. “Vincent shouldn’t have left his family unprotected. They trespassed into our territory without permission.

“If you’re telling me to back off after that, then my answer is—no.”

I cup his cheeks. “Their innocent daughter was raped. You can see that as punishment for the Bianchis. It was a slap in their faces.”

The words taste bitter, but it’s the only way to stop him. If this doesn’t end now, it will be chaos. Everything will just get worse.

He pushes me down and leans over me, his hand on my throat. “~Bambola~, I really like you, but you’re testing my patience.

“They shouldn’t have killed Father without talking to me first. They killed a made man in the Giordano Family. Letting them go unpunished would make us look weak.

“If they had come to me first, I would’ve punished Raffaello myself,” he hisses before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. How’s your pregnancy going?”

I stare at him for a moment before realizing he’s serious. I already know too much.

“There haven’t been any changes, but I’m only a few weeks in. I’ll need to see a doctor soon for a check-up.”

He nods before leaning down to kiss me.

“No,” I refuse. “I don’t want to.” What if he discards me once he’s done?

“How long is this going to go on? You’re my wife,” he says calmly, still on top of me.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Exactly. I am your wife, so this is going to go on until you give me the respect I deserve.”

“How?”

“What do you mean, how?” I bristle with anger.

He props himself up on his elbows. “How else am I supposed to show you respect?”

“How else?” I hiss. “When have you ever shown me the respect I deserve?” That’s not true. He’s never humiliated me in front of others.

He looks confused. “The respect you deserve? When haven’t I? I’m more lenient with you than any other mafioso would be with their wives.

“You should be dead because of what you did, but here you are, beneath me.”

“Then do it!” I shout back.

He growls, “I can’t! I would’ve if I could.”

“Lies,” I retort, even though my heart skips a beat at his words. “You’re just lying like you always do. You’re playing with me and my feelings.”

I’ve already been scared to death by him. There’s nothing left for him to scare me with.

I know what it’s like to fear death, and I can’t imagine anything scarier.

“Listen to me, Francesca,” he says in a low whisper. “I’ve never played with your emotions, and I’ve never stirred up your emotions either.”

~Stirred up emotions?~

“What do you mean ‘stirred up emotions’?” I ask, afraid of his answer.

He looks away. I grab his chin and force his eyes back to mine. “What do you mean, Antonio?”

He stares at me for a moment, thinking. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps.

I glare at him. “I don’t care! What did you mean?”

He glares back. “You won’t like what you hear.”

“Try me.”

He looks away, fuming. “I’m not good at feeling.”

“What do you mean?”

He closes his eyes tight, as if he’s physically stopping himself from lashing out at me. “I mean I have trouble feeling. Anxiety. Anger. Guilt. Empathy.”

“Love,” I say, understanding.

“Love,” he repeats, looking straight into my eyes.

I swallow hard. I hate him so much, and I hate myself even more for wanting him.

“Is it impossible?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

He rests his forehead against mine. “No. I just can’t form an emotional bond too quickly. That makes my decisions more logical, but I can feel.”

“What do you feel for me?” I ask, my heart pounding.

“Pride,” he whispers. “Adoration. Desire.”

“Pride?” I question.

“You are my pride, Francesca,” he says, his dark eyes meeting my hazel ones.

I shudder. “Then why did you test me?”

He gently cups my cheek. “Because if I hadn’t, I would never have been able to trust you. I would never have been able to feel for you.

“I would never have been able to move on. I don’t forget, Francesca, but I wanted to forget what happened and I tried. I really did until I couldn’t. I had to do it for me to move on.”

“Was it worth risking me?” I ask.

“I didn’t know you had feelings for me. If I had, I would’ve tried harder. You matter to me.”

I blink in confusion. His words sound sincere. But is he just acting? How can I trust him?

“You may have earned my trust, but you’ve lost mine.”

“And I’ll do anything to get it back,” he says fiercely.

“Anything?” I ask. “Do you promise?”

He looks down at me. “I promise.”

This is my chance. This is the only way. I take a deep breath before saying my next words. “Then give me my freedom, Antonio.”