jealousy

FRANCESCA

“ALESSANDRO ISN’T missing. He’s gone home,” Dante tells us as soon as we step outside.

I cock my head to the side.

“What do you mean?” my husband asks.

The Bianchis have left and we’re just about to leave too.

“Pietro,” Dante grumbles.

~Of course, he’s done something.~

“He raised his hand to Alessia.”

I gasp. “Is she okay?”

Dante shrugs at me. “She’s scared, but not hurt. She needs you.”

I grab my husband’s arm. “Let’s go!”

Alessia is innocent. She doesn’t deserve this, and she certainly doesn’t deserve what I’ve done to her. I’ve betrayed her. The least I can do now is comfort her.

Despite my determination to protect her, I’m ashamed of what I’ve done. All I ever wanted for her was a safe life filled with happiness and peaceful dreams.

Instead, I’ve sacrificed her for the good of the Family. Now, the only way to stop her wedding is if Dante’s marriage fails, something I would never wish on him.

I’ve brought this guilt on myself, not realizing the intense shame I would feel afterward.

No matter how much I try to convince myself that this is because she claims to love Valerio Bianchi, or Matteo, I know the real reason is practical. The Family comes first, ~always~.

Antonio pulls back. “Why did Pietro feel the need to tame Alessia?”

I don’t like the word he uses for the girl, especially in front of other men.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I realize. “What if Alessandro is betray—?”

“No, Alessandro would never do that.”

The confidence in my husband’s voice shocks me. Where was this trust when he tested me?

~This isn’t about you, Franci.~ And, indeed, it isn’t.

“We’re going home.” Antonio pulls me toward a dark SUV with a firm grip as if my words have somehow offended him. If so, let him be offended.

I yank my arm away once we’re out of sight. “This will come back to bite you in the ass, Antonio,” I mutter under my breath.

Antonio snorts, opening the door for me. “Watch your words.”

“You watch your behavior,” I mumble under my breath, stepping into the car.

He notices, of course, and gives me a dirty look. “Enlighten me then. What’s wrong with my behavior?” he spits out sarcastically.

I sit in the car, adjusting my dress and crossing my arms over my chest. He sighs in disappointment at my obvious tantrum and waits for the men to come closer.

“Fabio, Dante, my wife and I need a moment. Come in another car.”

I look away as Fabio speaks. “Don, it isn’t saf—”

Antonio cuts him off with a hiss. “I didn’t ask you.”

“He’s right. It’s not safe.” I look up at his form dominating the air outside the car, looming over me with his hand gripping the door tightly.

The look in his eyes would make many tremble, but I know how to tell the difference between a rage-filled gaze and a gaze full of mere annoyance, and I know I’m on safe ground right now.

He stares down at me with hard eyes, daring me to continue.

I simply blink at him warmly.

He looks away.

“Enrico will accompany us. Fabio and Dante, come with the other men.” He holds out his hand for me while giving orders to his brother and our two bodyguards.

I tilt my head, placing my cold hands on his warm, rough skin, and step out of the car, stumbling over my own feet and clutching onto him for stability.

“Sorry…” I trail off, noticing the small distance between us. My lips part as I watch him through a haze of unfiltered desire, wondering what it would be like to have him over me again.

He hides the beauty of any part of him I’m fond of. It’s tantalizing, leaving me speechless and desperate for more.

I want to possess this man, to bask in his soul until he can’t bear to leave me unsatisfied.

To love him without demands and to have that love returned is everything I need, and more than I could ever want.

He licks his lips, his arm pulling my warm body closer to his. I clutch his jacket and look down, trying to hide the blush on my cheeks with my hair.

A cough separates us. I step back, meeting Dante’s playful eyes that are, for once, not buried in his favorite section of a newspaper.

The section filled with global mass murders and the grand art of how to commit murder. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took notes.

“I apologize for interrupting your ~very~ lovely moment, ~fratello~, but we need to leave immediately. Pietro needs his ass kicked and Alessandro needs to be found,” Dante comments.

He rubs his jaw toward the end as his tone turns sharper. “Your whole administration has gone bonkers.”

I lick my lips, refusing to meet the eyes of my brother-in-law, embarrassed at getting caught eyeing his older brother.

“I’ll deal with Pietro,” Antonio states. “All of you, stay out of it. This is between the underboss and me, and it’s about time he knew his limits.”

He wraps an arm around my waist and gently pushes me toward the back seat. “Enrico, get in the car.”

Pietro isn’t just getting on my nerves, but on everyone’s. I wonder why Antonio still keeps him around. Is it because he’s the underboss?

Or is there a bigger reason for it? But then I realize that this isn’t my area and I should mind my own business. Let them deal with it.

They’re the men. They know the mob better than I ever will, not that I’m the least bit interested. It’s a pain in the ass.

Fabio leaves. Enrico, to give us a moment, settles himself on the leather seat and closes the door. My eyes meet my husband’s, who has already pinned me down under his scrutinizing gaze.

His dark hair dances in the wind and I fight the urge to smooth it down.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say. “My question was fair.”

“It was,” he concedes. “But your timing was off. I want to trust my consigliere before I start feeling hostile towards him.

“He’s smart and he knows what’s best for him.” Antonio walks away, leaving me alone by the car.

“And what if he doesn’t?” I call out, turning to watch his broad back leaning against the car trunk.

He lights a cigarette, the smoke swirling around him like a shadow. He reaches out a hand to me.

I sigh, walk over to him, and reluctantly place my hand in his. He grabs my fingers and pulls me close.

I look up into his dark eyes. He smirks at me, takes a drag from his cigarette, and blows the smoke in my face.

I wrinkle my nose at the smell.

“Then there’s a reason for penalties,” he says, his voice low. He pulls my hand to his neck and wraps his arm around my waist.

He licks his lips and takes another puff from his cigarette.

I shake my head, stunned.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning against the car trunk and twirling the cigarette between his fingers.

He pulls me closer.

I try to pull away.

He holds me tighter.

I give him a look of mild annoyance. “Your brother is waiting to leave.”

He shrugs. “Probably reading the news.”

“Your brother is obsessed with that,” I comment.

He smiles. “He loves investigating, finding clues—all that stuff through reading.”

“So, like a forensic cop?”

He rolls his eyes. “The feds are dogs. My Dante will never be part of that shit.”

“Okay, okay. So what does he do then?” I ask, tilting my head up to look at him.

He looks down at me, his eyes flicking to my lips. “Law,” he murmurs.

I lick my lips. “Isn’t that your favorite too?”

His eyes snap back to mine, his momentary lust forgotten.

“I saw the law books in your office,” I explain.

He nods. “It’s not my favorite. It’s my career. Well, in the normal world, at least.”

I step back. “You’re a lawyer?” The thought that he could have gone to university and lived a life outside the mob never crossed my mind.

“Yes, now stop changing the subject. What’s wrong?” he insists. I can’t win with this man. It’s infuriating at times.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to sound weak in front of him.

He looks at me, confused. “Are you jealous?”

“Excuse me?” I snap. “Why would I be jealous? What makes you think I’m jealous?” I clear my throat. I’m making it too obvious.

He shrugs. “If something’s bothering you, then it’s my job to fix it. But I can’t do that unless I know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“Wow, so I’m your job now?”

He grabs my arm, dropping his cigarette. “Don’t put words in my mouth. What’s wrong with you?”

I look away, stubborn. I’m just embarrassing myself, but he doesn’t know how much it hurts to see someone I’ve put on a pedestal trust someone else more than me.

He never doubted his consigliere or made him take a simple test. How is that fair? He gave the man the benefit of the doubt, so why didn’t he do the same for me?

“Nothing. There are more important things, like where Alessandro is right now.” He opens his mouth to defend his favorite person.

“I’m not doubting him, Antonio! He could really be in trouble and believe it or not, I meant it when I called him brother.” I turn to walk away.

“So this is the real issue?” he asks.

I stop.

“You’re jealous of Sandro?” He phrases it like a question, but we both know it’s not. “Francesca, it’s not like that. I’ve known my consigliere for years.”

I feel him step closer until his chest is against my back. He gently holds my shoulders and his breath tickles my ear.

“We grew up together. I went from looking up to him to leading him. He understands me as well as I understand him.”

I close my eyes, feeling pathetic. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t the right time.”

He rests his head on top of mine. “I meant what I said, Francesca. If something’s bothering you, then it’s my job to know.

“No one knows better than you that if I don’t care, I won’t ask.”

“You care about me,” I say, smiling. How does he always manage to make me feel so special with just words? It’s not fair.

“I do,” he admits. “And it’s time I accepted it. I’m trying to understand ~your~ insecurities, ~your~ anger, ~your~ jealousy, ~your~ emotions, all of which are justified.

“I brought this on you, on us. I crushed your spirits and I won’t let you pick them up alone anymore. That’s a husband’s promise.

“Lies and manipulation in marriage will only burden me more. Marriage is supposed to be peaceful. It’s supposed to be a sanctuary that only some are lucky to have.

“I’ve neglected it too many times.” I look up and he smiles at me, turning me around in his arms until I’m facing him. “And I plan to change that, ~bambola.~”