Page 109 of Mafia Mistress

Why? Why did the universe hate me so much? What had I ever done wrong in life to deserve this? Kidnapped and brought here, engaged then not. Seduced by stupid vineyards and stupid Fausto. And now the worst has happened.

A baby.

“If I run away, maybe he’ll never know,” I choked out through my tears.

“You have to tell him.”

I shook my head no against his shoulder. I didn’t need to tell him. I could run away, have the baby, and give it up for adoption. He would never know.

Giulio tilted my chin so he could see my face. “Frankie, if you don’t tell him, I will. He’s my father.”

“But you’re my friend. Bros before hos.”

“I’m not sure any of that applies in this case.” He kissed my forehead. “I think this is a good thing. It is fate. You were destined to come here and give me a baby brother or baby sister.”

“Oh, my God.” I rolled into a tight ball and started rocking. I was having Giulio’s half-brother or half-sister. How fucked up was that?

And like an idiot I had called him for help. Of course he’d want me to stick around and have the baby. Another Ravazzani boy would take the pressure off him to have his own children.

But any boy child raised here, my child, would be in the mafia. And a girl wouldn’t fare any better. She would be married off at an absurdly young age to a man she didn’t know, and he would probably be in the mafia.

No, no, no. This was not happening.

I cried harder. I wanted to die. This was the end of everything as I knew it.

I heard Giulio put his phone down, but I paid no attention. Maybe Fausto didn’t want a baby any more than I did. After all, he was almost middle aged. The diapers and late-night feedings were long in his past. If he learned I was pregnant, he’d probably send me back to Toronto. Then I could decide whether to have this baby or not.

“You can do this, Frankie,” Giulio said. “Any child would be lucky to have you as a mother. And I think this will be good for my father. I can tell he cares about you very much.”

That made me feel worse. Fausto didn’t love me. I was a puttanella, a convenient hole. Eventually he’d tire of me—just like he tired of Katarzyna—and send me and the child away. I’d always be the woman who was stupid enough to let the head of the Calabrian mafia knock her up. And my son or daughter would pay the price.

How could I bring a child into this fucked up situation?

Tears began falling in earnest again, and I could hardly catch my breath. Giulio’s shirt was a mess, but I didn’t care. He handed me tissues occasionally but I was crying too hard to stop.

“What is going on?” Fausto’s voice echoed in the tiny washroom. “Francesca, why are you crying?”

I couldn’t even look at him. I wanted to both throw myself in his arms and strangle him with my bare hands. This was all his fault. He’d kidnapped me and prevented me from getting another birth control shot. Then he’d filled me with his super sperm and impregnated me.

Giulio and his father began speaking rapid Italian that I didn’t even try to understand. I no longer cared. This whole country sucked. I hated everyone and everything in it.

Giulio started to get up, but I grabbed his arm. “Don’t go. Please.”

He gave me a half smile. “It’s going to be fine, Frankie. I promise. This is fate.”

Traitor.

For all I knew he’d texted his father to come in here.

I let him go like he was burning my hand. “Nothing is fine. Nothing will ever be fine again.”

Standing, he exchanged a look with his father and then walked out. Fausto peeked at the two pregnancy tests. “And this is what has you crying?”

“Yes, Fausto,” I snapped. “That is generally what happens when someone who doesn’t want to get pregnant gets pregnant.”

“You had to know it was a possibility, no?”

Anger flared to life in my chest, the burning hatred replacing the sadness. “Something about being kidnapped, drugged, almost forced to marry your son, brought to a country where I don’t speak the language, and seduced by you made me forget that I was overdue for my shot. How silly of me! Yep, stupid, stupid Francesca.” I dropped my head in my hands. “Fuck you, Fausto.”

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