Page 87 of Princess of the Mafia

Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Of course she would run to her family. They were always her fucking priority.

I gave a tight nod and strode off to my ride but Stefano grabbed my arm.

“What?” I sneered.

“You’re not in a state to ride your wheels brother. Let me do it.” I shrugged him off. Like fuck would I stay put. “Come in the car and call Di Matteo in the meantime.”

Yeah. I should do that. Question is whether he would tell me if she ran to him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

LORENZO

The front door closed, and Benedetta’s voice filled the entrance hall. Together with another I had combed every corner of my fucking city for. Malicious fury rushed through my body. Instantly, I forgot the unease that had been coasting through my veins.

I gripped the kitchen island and shifted my gaze to the ceiling. Held on for dear life and willed myself not to stalk into the hallway and squeeze out her life between my hands. I searched the whole of fucking New York, and she just walked in like she’d been on a picnic or something. Their excited voices stung me like damn alcohol on a gunshot wound. I couldn’t make sense of it. There was too much Martello blood rushing in my head that had taken hold of my common sense. Too long in the oven? What fucking oven?

Benedetta’s coughing fit riled up the aggravation riding on the back of my neck. “Beddra Matri! Did the kitchen catch fire?”

I fisted my hands into balls and took a hot breath. I tried for nonchalance. “Where the fuck have you been?” Couldn’t say it worked since it fell harsh and hard on the damn room.

Benedetta came into view, waving at the smoke around me. “This stuff will kill you one day.” If my wife doesn’t. “Daria and I were at my place and—”

I respected my Mamma’s childhood friend. Might not have shown it all the time. But I did. A lot. “Shut the fuck up.” My wife’s gasp seared my back.

Benedetta stilled, and confusion marred her forehead. “I don’t know—”

“Out. Now.”

She threw a worried glance over my shoulder. To my runaway wife, I guessed. Except she hadn’t run. Or she had changed her mind and come back. She had me upside down, inside out, and I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Made me yell at Mamma’s best friend.

“Figlio mio—”

Red in my vision. “I swear to God, if you—”

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to you later, Benedetta.” My wife’s soft voice ran up my spine like a nasty rash I couldn’t scratch.

Benedetta sighed and dumped the box in her hand on the kitchen island with a loud thud. “You better be nice to her, or your Mamma will be rolling in her grave.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. Mamma would have fucking loved my wife. She would have probably taken her side over mine. Just because that was Mamma. Looking out for the weaker side.

Benedetta took too fucking long. She grumbled and cursed, and a second before I thought my patience was going to explode, like fireworks sizzling in the air, the thud of the front door closing reverberated in the silent room.

There was an itch burning the back of my neck, and it screamed the name Daria. I couldn’t do it anymore. I swung my gaze ninety degrees, and it bolted straight to my wife. I didn’t know what Benedetta was complaining about because no smoke haze hid her from me.

Her forehead was marred like she was trying to figure out a mathematical equation or probably wondering why she hadn’t run. A split second later, she came to a decision, straightened up her shoulders, and sauntered over to me, like a fucking siren. Each step she took throttled my dark mood up, one mercury line at a time.

“You’re so damn rude,” she puffed out as she reached for the box on the island.

My right hand shot out and whipped her around.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“Geez.” She tried to swat my hand. My hold was too tight. I knew that. But I wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. When she realized that she let out a heavy sigh. “She told you. I went to Benedetta’s. I cooked there.”

Yeah right. She didn’t cook. But I let it slip. “You snuck out under my men to go to her?”

“Well, no.” She chewed her lip. “I walked around…” She walked around? Alone? In the middle of fucking New York?“Then I went to her.”

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