Page 99 of Mafia Mistress

I dropped onto the bed, unable to believe what I was hearing. Tears stung the backs of my eyelids. “This is unbelievable. You are disowning me? Just because I slept with two men?”

“I could have overlooked the boy here. We could have taken care of him and no one ever would have known. But Ravazzani is too powerful. Everyone will learn of this shame. I cannot risk your sisters’ futures. They are the ones who matter now.”

Because I no longer mattered.

I struggled with how to respond. This was unreal. Was anything I believed true?

He snarled, “I hope you are happy with Ravazzani, Francesca. Because you are his problem now.” Then he hung up.

My father hung up on me.

I sat there, numb, my mind reeling from his fury and cruelty. I was disowned. What did that even mean? That I was no longer welcome to the Toronto house? Would he try to keep my sisters from me?

Oh, God.

I rocked slightly and covered my mouth with my hand. I’d fallen under Fausto’s spell like a complete fool and now I had no family. No place to go. Nothing. I was stuck here, alone.

Would I ever see Gia and Emma again?

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t cry, either. I felt shell-shocked, like everything had turned upside down and twisted inside out. My heart was racing, my lungs constricted, and the edges of the room blurred. I had to get out of here. I had to get outside, where I could get air.

Why was there no damn air in here?

I lunged for the door knob and pulled. The corridor stretched out in front of me and I stumbled as fast as I could toward the stairs. I didn’t stop, flying down the steps until I reached the first floor. Moving blindly, I hurried toward the kitchen and the back door.

Except I ended up going in the wrong direction. When I looked up, I was standing at Fausto’s office door.

I waited there, staring at the ornate wood and wondering why I was perpetually drawn to him. Was I so intent on self-sabotage? Did I hate myself and my family so much?

Before I could turn away, the door opened. His brows were pinched in confusion. “Francesca, what is it?”

I looked up at him, unable to even form words. The hurt and fear strangled my tongue and robbed me of breath.

Whatever he saw on my face caused him to tug me inside. I didn’t even bother to fight, just let him lead me to his desk chair, where he sat and pulled me onto his lap. I leaned into his warmth and tried to get a handle on my emotions. How was I going to survive this?

He stroked my back with one hand. “Dimmi.”

His laptop was open, a complicated spreadsheet on the screen. The numbers all blurred together as I stared at them, my eyes filling with water. Still, I tried to force out the words, needing to purge them from my heart. “My father….”

I couldn’t even say it.

Fausto’s hand stilled. “Your father, what?”

“He found out about us and disowned me.”

Tension radiated off his body, and I knew he was angry without even looking at him. “What did he say? Tell me every word.”

I took a deep breath and recited the entire conversation, including the names Papà had called me. Not seeing Fausto’s face as I spoke made it easier. Then I didn’t have to see the truth in his eyes, that what Papà had said was a fact. That I was shameful and a disgrace. A foolish slut.

When I finished, he didn’t speak. His hand continued to stroke my back, his strong body cradling me like I was important. Like I mattered to him. I knew I didn’t, but at this moment I needed the lies. I’d never felt more alone, as if I had absolutely nothing and no one.

So yes, I’d take whatever kindness I could.

The tears came then, pouring from my lids to soak his shirt. I held onto him tightly, clinging for all I was worth, grateful that at least I had this.

At some point I think the door opened, but I wasn’t paying attention. I just cried and thought about how I’d never see my sisters again.

“I am sorry, dolcezza,” he said when I quieted. “I am not sorry you are here with me, but I am sorry that your father has hurt you.”

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