I worried the entire time he was away.
When Fausto was set to return, I paced in the entryway while Nesto leaned against the wall, watching me. He hadn’t left my side during my husband’s absence, except when I used the bathroom. I knew this was to keep me safe, but I would much rather have Fausto’s gaze on me.
After scolding me for scuffing the entryway tile, Zia dragged me to the kitchen for chicken in lemon sauce and a side of roasted eggplant. She had a tartufo for dessert, which reminded me of Giulio and our dinner way back when I was first in Siderno. I started tearing up.
Zia shook her head at me. “He is better off. He’s a good boy but he never liked this life, not like he should in order to lead. Your son will take over when it’s time.”
This was a conversation for another day. No way was I deciding my child’s fate like that. I didn’t care what Fausto said—our children would make their own decisions.
“It’s the hormones,” I told her. “I cry all the time.” Lately, it was true. Losing my close friend and Fausto’s shooting had turned me into a weepy mess.
“Basta,” Zia said. “You must remain strong. You are La Donna.”
“La Donna?”
“Sì, Donna Ravazzani,” she said. “You are Don Ravazzani’s wife.”
I looked at Nesto for confirmation. He nodded once. “It is what we call you, especially after Don Ravazzani was injured.”
La Donna. Holy shit.
I hadn’t expected that.
“These last few weeks, you have stepped into your role,” Zia said with a nod. “You make us all very proud.”
I bit my lip to hide my smile. They were proud of me? No one had ever said that to me before, other than Fausto. “I will do my best. I never thought this was how my life would turn out.”
Zia shook a wooden spoon at me. “He needs you. Never forget it.”
And God, I needed him.
The front door opened and closed. I started to get up, but Zia hissed at me. “You stay. Let him come and find you. These men, they are hunters, capisce?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Was this really her advice?
I waited, trying to appear calm as the ticking of the cane grew louder. Then my man appeared, his face weary but gorgeous. I started to grin—until I saw the blood on his suit.
Jumping up, I blurted, “What the fuck happened to you?”
He held up his free hand. “I am fine, amore.” Then nodded at Nesto, who quickly disappeared into the hallway.
Zia went over and Fausto bent to kiss her cheek. “The blood is dry,” he said. “I didn’t track any into the house, I promise.”
She patted his face. “Good boy. Now go, be nice to your wife. She’s been very worried.”
Zia left the kitchen and Fausto came over, his gaze soft as it raked me from head to toe. “Mia bella moglie,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to mine. “I like this t-shirt.”
I looked down. The shock of seeing him covered in blood made me forget what I had on. Oh. It was my new “Baby Mama” t-shirt. It was a little big, but I would soon grow into it.
I very carefully wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “I am your baby mama, paparino.”
His good hand slid to my ass, which he squeezed. “Best decision of my life was knocking you up, dolcezza.”
I eased back to stare at him. Something about the way he said it . . . .
“Did you get me pregnant on purpose?”
The edge of his sexy mouth lifted. “I’ll never tell.”
“I swear to God, Fausto. If I find out you were using me to breed more Ravazzani babies—”
“You’ll what?” His brow arched. “Come right here on the spot? You know the idea of it gets you hot.”
Fuck, he was right. “You’re annoying.”
He just laughed. “Because I know you so well? You’d better get used to it. Now, help me upstairs. I want to wash the blood off and lie down with you.”
“Does this mean I get to help you in the shower again?” This was quickly becoming my new favorite pastime.
“Of course. This is a wife’s job, no?”
“I thought my job was to suck your dick?”
“Soon, baby. Very soon. Dai, andiamo. Help me get cleaned up.”
As we went up the stairs, I asked, “Are you going to tell me whose blood this is?”
“No.”
“Did you kill someone at your mafia conference?”
“Yes.”
I would like to say it didn’t turn me on . . . but that would’ve been a lie. “Was it Enzo?”
“No.” He was breathing hard by the time he took the last step. “Cazzo, I am exhausted.”
When we entered our bedroom, he pointed to the bed. “What’s this?”
Two t-shirts were waiting on the mattress. “A gift for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, so close your eyes.”
He shook his head but humored me. I held up the first shirt. “Okay, you can look.” When his lids opened, I said, “This one is for you.”
It was a white t-shirt with black letters that said, I’M THE BOSS.
“Damn right I am,” Fausto said.
“But wait.” I lifted the tiny onesie. “This is for our son.”
The block letters read, LOL, OK.
His lips twitched like he wanted to laugh. “You think this is very clever, don’t you?”
“Yes, because it is. Admit it, they’re perfect.”
Giving me the soft smile he reserved just for me, Fausto limped over and kissed me on the mouth. “I love them. I love you.”
“So, are you going to tell me what happened today?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Slowly, he began removing his jacket. “Because there is a code of silence, an unspoken rule that we don’t discuss what happens there.”
“But it’s me. We’re supposed to tell each other everything. And I’m La Donna.”
He threw me a surprised glance as he tossed his jacket onto the bed. “Who told you this?”
“Zia. Wasn’t I supposed to know?”
The frown he wore was deep. “It makes you a target.”
He grunted, struggling with his shirt, and I began to help. “I’m already a target. Our life, remember.”
“My job is to protect you and our children. Promise me you’ll not take any unnecessary risks, especially while Enzo is still breathing.”
“I won’t—as long as you do the same.”
Putting a hand on my jaw, he tilted my face toward his. The look he gave me was full of adoration and reverence, and I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. He whispered, “My piccola monella, don’t you know that everything I do is for you? I will cheat and steal and kill for you. I will burn down the entire world to keep you safe.”
“I don’t need any of that. I just need you here, growing old with me.”
“And that’s exactly what you’ll get, even when you tire of me.”
“Never.” I pressed up on my toes and kissed him quickly. “I’ll never get tired of you.”
“Liar.”
I removed his shirt and smoothed my hands over his strong, warm shoulders. “What are you going to do about Enzo?”
“Kill him.”
“When?”
“He’s been hard to find, but I’m working on it.”
He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, and my eyes glazed over with memories and longing. Chuckling, Fausto shook his head, knowing exactly what I was thinking.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t help it. You’ve conditioned me. Your pants come off and I lose my train of thought.”
“You are going to be the death of me, dolcezza.”
I took his hand and led him to the bathroom. “But you’ll love every second of it.”
