Page 51 of Mafia Mistress

Was I wrong? Did he feel a romantic attachment to her? I had to tread carefully. My instinct told me Giulio didn’t think of Francesca in that manner, but there was a slim chance I had misjudged the situation.

I snorted as I stared out at the dark vineyards. I haven’t misjudged a situation since I was fourteen, which is how I’ve stayed alive so long. No, everything told me the two of them were not attracted to each other and that she was attracted to me.

I’d soon find out.

Just as I was about to go shower, I heard Giulio’s Ferrari pull into the drive. Anticipation churned in my gut. I couldn’t see them from my windows, but I could hear the sound of their laughter on their way inside, then the front door slammed.

Giulio came to me immediately. He was a good son and I was damn proud of him. He followed directions and stuck to his word. He’s never let me down, except for the other night. I hoped he learned his lesson. The brotherhood had to come first, always.

He dropped into a chair across from my desk, so I took my seat as well. “Have a nice time?”

His lips twitched. “You’re going to ask, so just ask, Papà.”

He was a smart boy, my son. “Before I do, I want to make sure you aren’t attached to her. That you won’t harbor resentment.”

“No resentment. No attachment. I was marrying her because you ordered it.”

“You don’t want her.” It seemed unfathomable to me, but I had to press. I had to be sure.

He shrugged, as if it made no difference to him. “I would have married her, but I don’t have those kinds of feelings toward her.”

It was as I had suspected. “Good. I’ll find you another wife. An Italian woman who won’t give you any trouble. One who knows this life.”

“Whatever you say, Papà. Are we done? I have to run out for a little bit.”

This had seemed too easy. “You won’t mind if I take her as my mantenuta?”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “No, I won’t mind—but I don’t think she will agree.”

“We’ll see.”

“She’s very stubborn and still eager to escape. I don’t think she’ll come willingly.”

“I am aware of all this—and again, we shall see.”

My son stood and thrust his hands into his pockets. He seemed to be contemplating his next words. “Allora…just don’t hurt her, Papà. She’s a good person, with a good heart. She’s in a country where she hardly speaks the language and is basically a prisoner here. Have patience with her.”

Part of me wanted to lash out at him—I’d never hurt a woman in my life—but I understood. My son had a good heart, as well. When he was six, he rescued a baby bird and kept it alive until the creature had been healed enough to fly away. In boarding school, he fought to defend kids who couldn’t defend themselves. It made sense he’d look out for Francesca, too.

“I won’t hurt her. She is safe with me, sul mio onore.” I rarely swore on my honor, so he knew how serious I was about this.

He nodded and turned to walk to the door. “Oh, I heard she spied on you the other night in the dungeon. That must have been a shock.”

“She told you?”

“Yes. She thought you killed Sergio and Rocco.”

“I know.”

His brows climbed up his forehead. “You didn’t tell her the truth?”

“Why would I, when the lie serves my purposes?”

“You want her frightened.” Instead of answering, I sipped my wine to hide my smile. Giulio dragged a hand across his jaw. “I don’t know whether to applaud you or pity you.”

“Neither. I’ll handle Francesca.”

Giulio held up his palms. “I’ll stay out of it. Now, if you don’t need anything, I’ll head over to the club.”

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