Page 13 of Bianca's Choice

7

Bianca

It’s been over six hours since Stefano left, slamming the door behind him. He’s never been gone this long and I’m starting to worry. Hell, I was worried an hour after he left.

I call Mrs. Russo needing to know if she’s heard anything.

“Hello?”

“Oh good, you’re up. I thought you might be asleep.”

“Of course, I’m up dear. I don’t sleep until my husband is home, safe in his bed.”

Yeah, I know the feeling. “Have you heard from them?”

“I’m sorry. When there’s stuff going on my boys go silent until business has been taken care of.”

“Right.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll give you a call, okay?”

“Thanks Mrs. Russo. I’m sure everything is fine, he’s just never been gone this long before and I’m starting to worry.”

“You love him, it’s only natural.”

“I don’t… I mean, I … we just met a few weeks ago.”

“Mia cara, my dear, I see the way you look at my son when no one is watching. How you hang on every word when he’s speaking. You might not want to admit it to yourself, but you love him.”

“This isn’t what you think it is Mrs. Russo. I’m not right for your son.”

“Why, because of how he met you?” She asks.

“He told you?” I gasp, feeling more than embarrassed that she knows.

She laughs. “Things in the family don’t stay a secret for long. I might not agree with how it all went down, but I understand why you did what you had to do, just as he did what he had to do.”

“What did he have to do?” I ask.

“That is something you need to talk to him about. Just give him a chance to explain.”

“I will.”

“Good, now I see Antonio walking in. Stefano should be home soon. Good luck, mia cara,” she says before hanging up.

It’s an hour later by the time Stefano walks in. At this point I’m pissed and worried at the same time but as soon as I see a busted nose and a black eye, none of it matters.

I jump up from the couch and go to him, inspecting his face. “What happened?” I demand.

“I had to teach some fuckers a lesson.” He growls, not looking at me.

Grabbing his chin, I turn his face and make him look at me. “Did you?”

“Yeah, tesoro, I did,” He says, softening his voice.

“Good, go sit on the couch.”

Walking into the kitchen I fill a plastic baggy with ice and wrap it in a clean kitchen towel before coming back to him and pressing it against his face.

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