Page 121 of Mafia Mistress

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the corners. He didn’t like when I gave him orders, but that was too bad.

He murmured a few words to Marco, who got up and walked past me on his way out. Marco hadn’t warmed up to me at all, even after learning I was having Fausto’s child. If anything, he’d been even colder.

I ignored him and focused on Fausto. When the door closed and we were alone, I asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You might want to rephrase that, dolcezza.”

“I don’t, actually. I just saw Giulio, crying in his room. He said you learned that he was gay.”

Fausto cocked his head and stared at me, his mouth flat. “Yes, I did. But I have to ask if you knew this about my son.”

I answered without thinking. “Yes, I knew. He told me—”

His hand crashed onto the top of the desk, startling me. Slowly, he rose out of his chair, the air disappearing from the room as he took up more space. “You knew my son was gay? He confided this to you and you...did what about it?”

Was he worried I had told others? “He asked me not to tell anyone. So I kept it to myself.”

His face turned hard and scary, his il Diavolo face. No doubt it was the expression he wore before he gutted someone like a fish.

Unwittingly, I took a step backward.

“You didn’t think to tell me this news?”

Oh. That was what he was mad about? “No. It wasn’t my place.”

“Wasn’t your place? Your place is at my side, doing what I say. I thought I could trust you.”

“This has nothing to do with trust. It’s Giulio’s life—and who cares who he sleeps with?”

“I care, actually. I have to care so that I may keep him safe. But at the moment I am more concerned with your dishonesty.”

“I never lied to you!” I shouted.

“Who do you belong to, Francesca?” Fausto prowled toward me in measured steps.

“Fausto, this isn’t about our sex games.”

He continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Who has put his child in your belly? Who should you remain loyal to above all others?”

“Are you listening? This is not about you and me. This is about your son. About what kind of father you are!”

He stood close, his skin flush as he sneered down at me. “Wrong. This is about the puttanella I’ve had sleeping in my bed who was betraying me the entire time.”

Before I could even plan it, my hand came up and aimed for his cheek. Unfortunately, he caught my wrist before I could strike him. I tried to free myself from his grip, to no avail. “I am not a whore, you dick. Let me go!”

He released me like I was on fire. “You were very much my whore—and a good one at that. You made me think you were mine, that you actually cared. What a fool I was. Marco kept saying I could not trust you, and he was right.”

“Fuck you—and fuck Marco. I never asked for this!”

“Didn’t you? You were so eager you were nearly gagging for it, like when you begged to suck my cock in the stables. And now I know why. When you learned my son was gay, you set your sights on me. A bigger payout, right?”

Jesus, hearing those words nearly destroyed me. My chest felt shredded by a thousand tiny cuts, each breath a struggle. Yes, we had played games and I had let him degrade me, but I never actually thought he believed it. I never thought he believed me a gold-digging whore.

And now I was carrying his child? What an idiot I was.

“You are an asshole.”

“And you are a fucking liar. I cannot ever trust you again.” Roaring, he picked up a glass paperweight from his desk and threw it against the wall, where it smashed into a picture. I covered my head as glass shattered everywhere, the broken frame falling to the ground.

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