Page 115 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“Oh, I did. Who do you think she called when you showed up at her door?”

Minchia! “Why didn’t you come get me?”

“Because you didn’t ring me. Which is very telling, no? You knew I would talk you out of going back to your mistress.”

“I didn’t gobackto Theresa. I slept on her sofa.”

He hummed in his throat, still scrolling on his damn mobile. “Why didn’t you go home?”

“Emma and I had a fight,” I mumbled. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad. Have you apologized yet?”

“No, because I have nothing to—”

My phone rang into the car’s speakers, interrupting us. Had my men found Viv?

Quickly, I pressed a button. “Pronto.”

“Don Buscetta, we have a problem.” It was Dino, my head of security at the mansion. He was breathing hard. “Don D’Agostino was just here and he . . .”

My entire body clenched. D’Agostino? In Palermo?

“He, what?” I growled when Dino trailed off. “Spit it out.”

“He demanded we let your wife go—”

“What?” Zani shouted. “You told him to fuck off, I hope. Tell me you didn’t open the gate, Dino.”

But I already knew they had. Emma was gone. I could feel it in my soul.

“We had no choice, Don Buscetta. Mi dispiace. But they had more men than us and more guns. I didn’t want to risk—”

Zani reached over and punched the button to disconnect the call, while I slammed my fist into the side of the driver's door. The air in the car turned heavy and I couldn’t breathe.

I told her to go. What did I expect?

More time. I’d expected more time before she left me.

I didn’t want to imagine that house without her. I wouldn’t smell Emma’s scent or hear her laughter, never kiss her or hold her. No more boxing lessons or gelato.

All the sweetness and softness? Gone.

But I’d pushed her away, told her to leave, so why would she stay? And she was related to the only two men in the world capable of extracting her after one phone call.

“What should we do?” Zani asked. “Send men to the airport? Stop the plane from taking off? We have to get her back.”

“No.” My voice sounded strangled, distant, even to my own ears.

“You can’t be serious. You’re going to let D’Agostino come to Palermo and steal your wife away?”

“He didn’t steal her. She called him.”

“Che cazzo! Is this because of your fight? What did you do?”

“I told her to leave.”

I didn’t regret it. After the way I acted it had been the right thing to do. She deserved better than a brute of a husband. Last night showed us both what would happen if she stayed. I wasn’t the soft and kindhearted man a woman like Emma needed.

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