Page 26 of Mafia Priest

“If I could kill Lombardi for the pain he’s caused my family more than once—I would,” she declares. “But since rats don’t have nine lives, this will have to suffice.”

Taking careful aim, she shoots out first Lombardi’s right kneecap, then his left. His howls of pain echo off the rafters. No one comes to his aid.

“This is for you, Daddy.”

Smiling, my wife puts a bullet in Lombardi’s brain.

Twelve

Bianca

I holdcourt in the first pew as each man approaches and kisses my ring. The ceremony is tedious—too many insist on expressing their outrage at learning Papa’s death was an inside job. Yes, eliminating Lombardi was vengeance for Papa, but that wasn’t who I dedicated his death to—my first hit carried out with my own hands. But I don’t correct their misperception. Salvatore being my daddy must remain a secret if I’m to establish my authority.

As the cathedral empties, I long to beg him to fuck me here and now, but of course, I can’t. I’m the donna. No longer princessa butregina, I have an image to uphold.

Toying with my rosary, I suffer through more fond reminiscences of Papa. But as the polished beads slide through my fingers, my head is filled with thoughts of Daddy. He stands on the altar, keeping a watchful eye on me as he chats with his brothers, not trusting my guards to protect me.

But finally, it’s just my inner circle. All eyes are on me. They have been all day. I’ve enjoyed the attention, but I grow tired of it now. “Leave us.”

Robby coughs. “Uh, sure thing. But what about the bodies, boss?”

“I said,leave us.”

Salvatore chuckles as Robby turns red and backs away, but he doesn’t speak until we’re alone. “He has a point. We were so busy planning the rest, we neglected to account for cleanup—both the bodies and the bloodstains in some of these pews.”

“You may have.” I stand and walk over to my husband. “ButIdidn’t.”

“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do tell, love.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lowers his head until our lips nearly touch. “First, you’re going to help me get out of this bloody wedding dress.” I run my tongue along his lower lip. “Andthenyou’re going to fuck me on this altar.”

“I’m liking your plan so far.” Gripping my ass, he pulls me closer, letting me feel exactlyhowmuch he approves. “But that doesn’t address the coverup. Although we could have a crew of cleaners dump them in the river.”

I shake my head. “You vowed you’d set the world on fire for me. The world is a bit much, but this cathedral? This monument to Nonno’s hubris? Burn it to the ground.”

One year later…

Salvatore

Seabirds circleas gentle waves kiss the sunbaked sand of our private beach. I slide another strawberry between Bianca’s luscious lips, and she moans with delight.

“If you don’t slow down with the strawberries, love, the baby will be born with red hair,” I tease despite being happy to indulge my angel’s cravings—particularly when my cock seems to be what she craves the most.

Pregnancy has made my already highly sexual wife insatiable. Not that I’m complaining. Although she has been working too hard lately, which is why I insisted we visit our villa in Palermo before she’s too far along to fly.

“Oh, you know you’ll love her even if she has green hair and horns. You’re going to be an amazing dad, even if you’ll spoil her rotten.”

“You don’t know what kind of dad I’ll be,” I reply, not hiding my doubts from my wife. We keep no secrets now. “It’s not like I had any good role models growing up.”

“Shut up. You’re going to be anexcellentfather, and you know it. You’re nothing like him. Although speaking of…” Bianca bites her lip. “There’s still time for your sister to come stay with us before we take Elise back to the convent.”

“No,” I reply, voice flat.

“Rena deserves to know she has a family,” my wife insists, the gentle reproach in her voice cutting like a knife.

For the thousandth time, I regret taking Bianca to that damn convent. She only spent a few weeks there but took an immediate liking to Rena. Ever since then, she’s tried to persuade me to develop a relationship with the half-sister who doesn’t know I exist. It’s the closest we’ve come to an actual argument. I adore Bianca utterly, but this is one subject on which she’s simplywrong.

“We’ve been over this,” I say, frustrated. “She’s safer not knowing.”

---