Page 124 of Mafia Mistress

“Cazzata,” he slurred, straightening. “You care about your pride, your precious ’ndrina. Nothing else matters but tradition and money.”

His face looked terrible. Red-rimmed eyes that were glassy and devoid of his usual vivacity. His skin was sunken, like he’d lost weight. I hated seeing him like this, broken and angry, even if I knew it was for the best. “That isn’t true. You’ll see one day when you have your own children.”

“I can’t wait. Maybe they will hate me as much as I hate you.”

My chest twisted, but I remained silent. I knew I was right. He just needed time to heal and start a different chapter in his life. Then he would find happiness.

“You should be pleased, Papà. I went with the boys to the strip club tonight. I paid for several lap dances so a strange woman could shove her huge tits in my face while I pretended to love it. Just like you.”

I hadn’t been to a strip club in ages, not since I was still a soldier, but he wouldn’t know that. “That isn’t necessary, Giulio.”

“Of course, it is. I should get used to tits and pussy, so I can get it up when my wife wants me to fuck her. Isn’t that right?”

I glanced around, not wanting us to be overheard even though it was the middle of the night. These were the first words he’d spoken to me in three weeks, and they were bitter and angry. I hated this rift between us. In eighteen years we had never disagreed like this. “You’re drunk. You should go up to bed.”

“Sure. Send us all away. That makes it easy for you, doesn’t it, il Diavolo?”

I ground my back teeth as heat washed over me. This was too much. I would not tolerate such disrespect from my son.

I advanced on him but he did not back down, not even when I grabbed his shoulder roughly. “You need to watch what you say to me. I am your father and your capo.”

He shrugged me off. “As if I could ever forget when you are always reminding me. I’ve dreamed a thousand times about escaping from here, going to live somewhere you can’t find me. Somewhere I can be happy.”

I blinked, unable to believe what I was hearing. He’d considered running away? “Don’t be foolish,” I snapped, livid that my only son would even think about leaving. And panicked that he might actually do it. “Think about what you will soon have. All of this will be yours.”

“I don’t want it! Not if I have to live a lie to get it.”

“Basta! I told you, you can do what you like after you are settled and have children.”

“Why not give all this to your other child? The one Francesca is having.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll not entrust my legacy to the bastard of a whore.”

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at me like I had just stomped on a puppy. “Cristo santo. You are every bit as heartless as she said. No wonder why she cries all the time.”

The daily reports had left out that bit of information and I didn’t like hearing it. My stomach cramped, and an ache settled between my shoulder blades. “I know that you are visiting her almost every day.”

Giulio walked unsteadily toward the stairs. “We have a lot in common, Frankie and I. Not many people understand what it’s like to have your life destroyed by il Diavolo.”

I watched him stumble up the steps, my mind reeling from my son’s hurt and anger. Never had he said such terrible things to me. He wouldn’t have dared before.

He no longer cares about the consequences.

It didn’t matter. I didn’t reconsider my decisions, ever. Once they were made, I never retracted them. To do so made me look weak. Ineffectual. My father had drilled this into my head time and time again as he aged. When he passed on and I took over, I vowed to rule the same way.

And it had worked. The Ravazzani ’ndrinawas the most powerful in Italy. We controlled the money, guns and drugs for most of Europe, the Middle East and Central America. We were feared and respected across the globe.

So I couldn’t let myself care that Giulio was angry or that Francesca cried every day.

I had an empire to run. There was no room for weakness.

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