the positive response

FRANCESCA

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

I’m really pregnant.

Antonio’s eyes follow me as I step out of the bathroom, three sticks clutched in my hand. All of them are positive.

“It’s positive?” he asks, his chest still bare from our night together, gray sweatpants slung low on his hips.

I nod. “Are you happy?” I ask, my voice trembling with the weight of his answer.

He shrugs. “Are you?”

“I want to be a mother,” I tell him. I’m thrilled at the thought of bringing a life into this world, but I’m terrified of the world that life will have to live in.

He motions for me to come closer. I take his hand and straddle him on the bed.

“But are you happy?” he asks again.

I smile. “I am. But are you?”

“You know if it’s a boy, he’ll be my heir,” he says, avoiding my gaze. He’s not happy.

“You don’t want him to be your heir?” I ask, confused. Isn’t that what he should want? A son to carry on his legacy?

He leans back, propping himself up on his hands. “I want my son to rule. I just don’t want him to grow up like I did.”

I cup his face, understanding what he means. The childhoods of mob children aren’t exactly storybook material. I should know.

“Hey, look at me, baby. We won’t be perfect parents, but we’ll do our best. We’ll give him the best life we can.”

“And what if it’s a girl?” he asks.

“She’ll be raised like a princess to be a queen,” I answer simply.

He pulls me down onto him as he lies back on the bed. “I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about our child.”

“I think it’s going to be a boy,” I say.

He shakes his head, frowning. “A girl.”

“Boy,” I insist.

“Girl.” He’s not backing down. I didn’t expect him to.

“Want to bet?” I ask, grinning.

His lips curve into a breathtaking smile. My heart skips a beat. “Sure,” he agrees.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“You,” he says instantly.

I raise my eyebrows. “But you already have me.”

“There’s never enough of you.”

I laugh. “You’re getting pretty romantic these days.”

He shrugs.

“You’re not going to ask what I want if you lose?” I ask.

“I don’t lose.”

I gape at him. “You don’t even know the gender of our child, and it’s in my body!”

“My gut feeling is never wrong,” he defends.

I glare at him. “Whatever.”

“But still, what do you want?”

I bite my lip, glancing down at his lips. “What I want is something you’ll find out when I win.”

I brush my lips against his. He cups my face and I press my lips to his. It’s a slow, sweet kiss.

I try to lead it and he lets me, until he gets bored and pushes his tongue into my mouth.

He moans softly when I trail my hand over his abs. “S-stop,” he says.

My eyes widen. “What?”

He groans. “Get off me if you don’t want this to continue.”

I feel a sudden rush of giddiness. I give him a quick kiss on the forehead and get up. “I think you need a shower. A cold one, at that.”

He rolls his eyes and sits up, not bothering to hide his arousal.

“Or I could use your mouth,” he grumbles, sounding annoyed.

“I’ve never done that before.” I bite my lower lip.

His head whips around to look at me so fast I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself. “Francesca, you need to get out, like right now.”

I frown, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He stares at me for a moment. “Are you doing this on purpose or are you just naturally oblivious?”

“Oblivious? About what? What did I do?”

He closes his eyes, looking exasperated. “How about I go take a shower and you sit here and think about what you just said?”

I nod, pretending to be confused. “That sounds like a good idea.”

He’s out of the room before I can blink, and I burst into laughter. “My God,” I mutter to myself. If this is what our relationship is going to be like, I don’t mind where we are.

He’s in a good mood, and so am I. This morning, he asked me to take the pregnancy test, and thankfully, the results were the same.

I can see the joy in his eyes and the relief in his shoulders. He really wants a child, but he’s worried about their future. But worry is better than rejection.

I chuckle to myself. When Antonio leaves for work, I decide to go find Fabio and ask him if he’s found anything on that boy named Matteo.

If it was something important, he would’ve told me right away. Maybe I’m just overthinking things.

That’s a lie, and I know it. Alessia has a boyfriend. The poor girl doesn’t even know that if that information gets out, she’ll be shamed by everyone’s old-fashioned mentality.

The boy will probably be chased out of the country or left somewhere to die, depending on how far they went. I shudder at the thought.

I hope it doesn’t come to that, because then even I won’t be able to save her from her family’s wrath.

Finding Fabio isn’t hard. He’s standing in the dining room, as stoic as ever. Fabio is one of Antonio’s most trusted men, just like Alessandro, Pietro, and his brothers.

Winning over a mob boss isn't a walk in the park, but I have a feeling Fabio has managed it.

His eyes hold a certain loyalty. Like Silvio, Fabio is a good man. I've never seen him eyeing women with a lustful gaze. He's always respectful, a quality that's hard to come by in our mob world.

I quickly adjust my dress, making sure I'm presentable enough to be in the presence of a man who isn't family.

It's not the smartest move to meet a man alone like this, even if it's in my own house. But I trust Fabio, and he trusts me. As long as Antonio has faith in me, I have nothing to fear.

“Good morning,” I greet him, a smile on my face.

Fabio tenses at the sound of my voice. His face is unreadable, and he's clutching an envelope in his hand. I furrow my brow, my good mood evaporating instantly.

“What did you find?” I ask him, my voice barely above a whisper.

Fabio meets my gaze. “The Don needs to know about this. I couldn’t dig up much on Matteo. It's like he's hiding behind a fake identity.

A month ago, there was no Matteo Jackson living on Spades Street.” Fabio hands me the envelope.

“Inside is his picture. All I could find is that he lives with his mother, Brenda, and sister, Olivia, in a rundown apartment.

“He’s sixteen years old, and the strange thing is he stopped going to school just last week.

“No one has seen him or his sister. There's a rumor that his sister was kidnapped, but I can't confirm that. I couldn’t find much else, and for that, I apologize, Donna.”

“What do you think?” I ask. “Could he be a threat?”

“I think there's something fishy here that needs a deeper look. Matteo’s built like he spends a lot of time working out.

“When I followed him, I could tell he knew he was being watched. He's got sharp instincts, and I have no doubt he can hold his own in a fight.”

Fabio sighs, choosing his next words carefully. “It's not my place to question you about this, but I have to tell the Don,” Fabio clarifies.

I nod. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell him myself. I think it’ll be better if he hears it from me.”

I don’t hesitate to open the envelope, and once I do, I feel the blood drain from my face. But before I can say anything, Dante walks in with his newspaper. Seeing us alone, he tenses up.

“What’s wrong?” Dante asks, glancing from my face to the pictures in my hands. “May I?” he asks, giving Fabio a look.

Fabio stays silent, and I appreciate his loyalty to me.

“D-Dante, I-I,” I stutter. I can't show him the pictures. As long as Angelina is in our territory, this can't get out.

“Are you okay, ~cognata~?” Dante's voice is filled with concern. “Fabio, what happened?”

Dante would have lunged at Fabio if I hadn't stepped in. “Fabio, please leave.”

Fabio doesn't hesitate and leaves.

Dante and I stare at each other for a moment. It's awkward. Even though my brothers-in-law and I interact often, we’ve never had a full conversation alone. They're always formal.

“I’ll get breakfast ready, Dante.” I clutch the photos tightly.

~Please don’t tell Antonio.~

Or maybe I should tell him. What am I doing? Matteo isn't just Alessia’s boyfriend, he's Valentina’s brother. He's Vincent Bianchi’s half-brother and he's here, in our territory.

Why is he still here? Is he planning an ambush? Why is he messing with Alessia? And how come Costanzo and Omero didn’t notice him at school?

Or did they know and keep it a secret? Did Antonio already know? I don’t think so.

I can't risk it. If I try to save Angelina, then I'm putting us all in danger, and Angelina isn’t my responsibility. She knew the risks when she came here.

Antonio trusts me, and now it's my turn to trust him. What if it's all connected? What if Angelina is here to distract us and something bigger is going on?

“Actually, Dante, where is Antonio? I need to talk to him,” I ask.

Dante raises his eyebrows. “He’s at the warehouse, with her.”

I know by “her,” he means Angelina. “Can you take me to him? This is very important.”

Dante furrows his brows. “May I ask what's so important? Toni said he didn’t want to be disturbed during the interrogation.”

He expects an answer and I don’t want to insult him by refusing. Dante has always treated me with respect, and I know he's not trying to disrespect me now.

He's being cautious, and he has every right to be. It's not unusual, being a mob wife.

“Trust me, please. I think it's best if only Antonio knows.”

Dante nods slowly. “All right.”

And then we're on our way. This time, when we reach the warehouse, Dante accompanies me inside. It's a different warehouse, in a much sketchier location.

I notice Stefano's absence the moment I walk in. I feel a pang of guilt for what I did, but then I remember that Stefano's actions were a betrayal, even if he meant no harm.

What if things had gone wrong? He should've let Angelina in without a gun at least.

“I told Toni that you're here,” Dante says as he leads me to the living room.

There aren't many men here. I recognize a few of them from Antonio’s trusted circle.

“Dante, I’d like to see the interrogation,” I whisper.

Dante looks torn between listening to me and following the custom of keeping women away from crime. He knows bringing me here is already pushing boundaries.

Finally, he gives a nod and guides me through a door. Immediately, I spot Angelina, handcuffed and seated on a chair, with Antonio on the other side of the table.

They can’t see us, but we have a clear view of them from behind the glass.

Pietro and Alessandro are in the room with us, arms crossed. Alessandro gives me a nod while Pietro’s gaze lingers on my face a bit longer than usual before he looks away, his expression hard.

I don’t let it bother me. My gut instinct is usually spot on, and it tells me Pietro is harmless. Even if he and my husband don’t always see eye to eye, they’re both loyal.

“Why come here, Angelina? Why risk your life?” Antonio asks her in the other room. My attention immediately shifts to my husband, who looks striking in the black shirt I picked out for him.

Angelina shrugs. Her guard is up, unlike when she met me. “Ask the Donna, Don Giordano.”

Antonio remains silent, letting the tension build. Finally, Angelina cracks and looks away. Antonio seizes the opportunity. “Does your husband know that you are here?”

Angelina presses her lips together—a clear sign of her fear.

Antonio catches on. She’s starting to break. “He doesn’t, does he? But he surely must’ve noticed your absence by now.”

“Let me go. Vincent won’t give you anything,” she says.

“I think you underestimate the influence you have over your husband.” Antonio pulls out a cigarette.

Angelina coughs. “Vincent would never betray his Family for me.”

“You’ve changed a lot since the day you got married,” Antonio counters.

My brows furrow. Antonio knows Angelina?

Dante notices my confusion and leans in closer. “Angelina’s father was a member of the Giordano Family. When Vincent visited once, he saw her and asked for her hand in marriage.

“Toni agreed and their marriage solidified our agreement to remain neutral.”

I don’t ask why I wasn’t told. Women are usually kept out of these matters. I feel like a clueless fool among them. For a moment, I regret coming here, but what I have to tell Antonio is too important.

Now I understand why Angelina felt somewhat at ease coming here. Despite living a sheltered, normal life, she’s still connected to the mob. Distantly, but still.

She has connections in the Giordano Family. But she’s foolish to think that Antonio would care if she was the daughter of one of his associates.

“People change,” Angelina says softly, drawing my attention back to the interrogation.

“You’re right. They do, Angelina,” my husband agrees. “Anyway, I have no intention of harming you. You married for the sake of the Family and the Family owes you.”

I raise my eyebrows, curious to see if Angelina will fall for Antonio’s lies.

And she does. “Really? You would let me go?”

Antonio nods. “Of course, Angelina. You are not my enemy. If what you told my wife is true, then we are not enemies at all. You have nothing to fear.”

Suddenly, she turns pale. “H-how do I know that I’m not being b-baited?”

Antonio licks his lips and casually unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt.

“I have no reason to lie, Angelina. I know that you are not my enemy. If you don’t believe me, then I will personally deliver you to Vincent. If you allow me, that is.”

Angelina looks so hopeful that it makes me feel guilty. Antonio is not someone who lets people go once they cross him.

Angelina trespassed on our territory and she’s going to pay for it. Hopefully, that’s not the case and Antonio has another motive for giving her the hope of freedom.

But as far as I know, Angelina is far from safe now, because Antonio is finally about to checkmate one of his opponents—Vincent Bianchi.