Page 17 of Mafia Priest

“Oh, I understand perfectly. You’re asking me to trade one strong, controlling man for another. And while part of me craves that, it isn’t what I want 24-7 for the rest of my life.” Sitting up straighter, I look him in the eye. “SexuallyI may want you to be my daddy, but I’m sick of having my life planned out for me.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, angel. You asked for my help.”

“What Iwantis to be more than a pawn, more than a prop in violent men’s schemes. Is that too much to ask? To be included in decisions that involve me?”

“You’re not a pawn, not to me.” The arm around me tightens. “You’re why I wake up every day. Why I stumble through rituals I don’t believe in, fake a conviction I don’t feel. You’re the fucking center of my world.”

A warm glow fills me. Haven’t I always wanted this? To feel like I mattered? But now I realize my ambitions were too small.

I want more than to be the center of Salvatore’s world. I want to controlmine.

“You say that, but youaretreating me like a pawn. Dragging me off to some convent. Making plans that affectmewithout asking. Not answering my questions when I’ve told youeverything.”

I think briefly of Mama’s suicide note, but I shove the thought aside. I’ve told him allmysecrets, and he’s told me none of his—not even the ones involving me.

He sighs. “I had every intention of discussing this with you. I just didn’t anticipate that you’d be hiding under your grandfather’s desk like a fucking child before I’d get a chance.”

“I didn’t think anyone would come in here. Nonno always naps before dinner. When I heard voices outside, I hid.”

“That explains why you were hiding. But you talk about honesty, angel—why were you in here in the first place?”

I hesitate, scared to be so vulnerable. But he has a point…

“When Frankie told me you’d been a capo and I realized you’d kept such a major part of yourself from me, I… I felt so alone, like there was no one to talk to.” Swallowing hard, I glance at the portrait. “And when I’m overwhelmed, it makes me feel better to be near Mama.”

He strokes my cheek, turning me toward him, brushing his lips over mine but not deepening the kiss. “You’re never alone, Bianca. You have me. If you want me that is.”

“Of course I want you. But I wantallof you, not just the parts you think I can handle. What are you so afraid to tell me?”

He laughs, but it’s joyless. “Where do you want me to begin?”

“Wherever you need to,” I say, voice soft. “Trust goes both ways.”

He shakes his head. “You know, I grew up in a house like this one. But because I was a boy, the expectations were different.” He caresses my leg, stopping just below the hem of my skirt. “I committed unspeakable acts in the name of family. I did things that can’t be forgiven—not by God, and sure as hell not by someone like you.”

Despite myself, I shiver at his touch. “Yet you’re here, not in Philadelphia,” I observe, too aware of his hand on my knee. “Pretending to be a priest.”

“I wasn’t fucking pretending until I met you.” His voice breaks. “The priesthood was my shot at redemption. But you undo all my good intentions. Just by existing. The things you tempt me to do…”

“Is that why you want to ship me off to a convent? To avoid temptation?” I struggle to keep my voice calm, afraid to ask the real question.Is that why you’re abandoning me?

“Did you miss the part where I promised I’d accompany you?” He pushes up my skirt, exposing the pink lace of my underwear. “I intend to fuck you in every room of that goddamn convent. Hardly what I’d call avoiding temptation.”

I start to tug my skirt down, and he grabs my wrist. “This pussy belongs to me, princess. You confirmed that last night. Don’t try to take it back. I don’t know what the hell this is, but there’s no walking away from it.”

With my free hand, I reach for my skirt again, and he grabs that wrist, too, pinning my arms to my sides. I squeeze my thighs together, ashamed by how wet his words make me. But this goes deeper than arousal. Because he’s right. There’s no going back, no unringing that bell. I’m his.

“You know what this is,” I whisper, afraid to say it first, afraid he’ll tell me I’m wrong.

“If you meanlove, princess, of course I love you.” His grip on my wrists tightens. “You haunt my cathedral like a spirit lost on her way to heaven—or a succubus sent from hell. You torment me in that damn confessional, sitting so close, totally fucking off-limits. Day after day, your innocence has nearly been my downfall, and I suspect it will be yet. I’d break every vow I ever made, commit any sin you asked. I’d set the fucking world on fire to make you happy.”

My face heats. I believe him. And yet…

“Are you sure you’re talking about love and not obsession?”

“Is there a difference? Truly?”

“I love you, too. I have for a long time. But…” I struggle to arrange my jumbled thoughts. “Love without vulnerability and honesty isn’t love. It’s codependence. If you love me so much—why can’t we just take Elise and run?”

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