Page 56 of Mafia Target

He snapped his jaw shut, so I prompted, “What?”

A rattled, pained breath left his lungs. “I honestly thought he was going to have me killed.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“It was, but then he decided I was just gay for Paolo. That if he got rid of Paolo, I would turn straight.”

A bark of laughter escaped my throat before I could stop it. “Scusa,” I said, collecting myself. “But that is so stupid.”

“It’s his generation, I guess.” He picked up the knife and continued working on our dinner. “Frankie tried to talk him out of it, but he sent Paolo away. Wouldn’t tell me where.”

“Then what?”

“He told me I would settle down with a nice Italian woman and make Ravazzani babies.”

Now I was beginning to understand why Giulio had distanced himself from Fausto. He had spent a long time in his father’s shadow, under his father’s thumb. No wonder he craved independence.

“Everything changed when he was shot, though.”

My head snapped up at Giulio’s words. This was actually one topic from his past that I didn’t wish to discuss. Not yet, at least. I had no regrets—killing Fausto Ravazzani had been another job to me. It wasn’t personal. None of them were. But I knew Giulio wouldn’t be forgiving of the role I’d played in the D’Agostino/Ravazzani war.

“Fausto almost died,” Giulio continued. “One of D’Agostino’s men tried to take him out from a rooftop in Siderno, and the experience changed my father. When he recovered he let me choose whether I wanted to stay or go be with Paolo.”

This was nothing short of astounding. I’d wondered how this all came to pass, because gay men didn’t live long in the Italian mafia. The fact that Giulio had been given permission to leave was unheard of. “Did you consider staying?”

“Not even for a minute. I loved Paolo. I wanted to be with him more than anything else.” He turned to the range and flicked on the gas burner. “Besides, I had a glimpse of my future as the don when he was in the hospital. It was awful.”

Eager for the change in topic, I asked, “Why?”

“I wasn’t prepared for the vast number of businesses he’s involved in. Like, a horse farm in Kentucky? A hedge fund in Vancouver?” He shook his head. “I was overwhelmed. And everyone panicked over his condition. I had to reassure all these people that he was fine, when he really wasn’t.”

“Did your enemies try to gain advantage?”

“Yes, every time I turned around. It was like being a CEO and a general at the same time. I think I slept three or four hours a night. It was a nightmare.”

“But you must have done a good job, because nothing suffered for it.”

“I suppose. Still, I was relieved when he came back.”

I hadn’t considered how Fausto’s injury would’ve affected Giulio’s role as the heir. I was shocked to hear he hadn’t been better prepared to step in.

Giulio carried the plate of raw chicken to the stove. “It all worked out for the best. He has Raffaele, who is so like him it’s scary. Rafe will make a great don one day.”

I scowled at Giulio’s back. Would Ravazzani think one son was just as good as another? I doubted it.

“Rafe is better,” Giulio continued, like he was trying to convince me. Or himself. “He’s exactly what Fausto needs. A son who will marry and have Ravazzani babies and carry on the family tradition.”

Again, I wasn’t certain his father would agree with this. Giulio seemed convinced that his sexuality made him less capable as a leader. But what mattered in the ’Ndrangheta was money. As long as a don continued to bring in millions, no one would dare to cross him—even if he was gay. And children could be adopted.

“Your father could have a stroke or a heart attack tomorrow,” I reminded him. “What happens then? Rafe is too young.”

“There are others who could step in until Rafe came of age.”

But none as qualified as Giulio, the first-born son. I don’t know why this bothered me, but I didn’t like to see him discount his worth because he slept with men. It was no one’s business, and it certainly didn’t change his abilities to lead. He’d made millions on his own over the last four years. Didn’t that prove he was capable? Who cared whether those old men approved of his lifestyle or not?

But what did I know about family responsibilities and legacies? I had no right to judge Giulio for his choices.

I stared at his naked back, the patterns of ink. Words and symbols drawn over sleek muscles. My mouth watered just looking at him. “I bet you had women throwing themselves at you all the time.”

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