Page 138 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“He’s not violent.” Other than punching walls, which I didn’t approve of. “He would never hurt me.”

“How do you know that?”

I thought of how he’d held my face, helping me to breathe during my panic attack. How he’d stroked the inside of my wrist when trying to convince me to give our marriage a chance. He’d refused to take my virginity until I consented. And the way he’d taken punishments for his sister as a boy. Those were not the actions of a cruel man. “I just know. He’s very sweet and gentle with me.”

“Then what’s the problem? He clearly wants you. Was he terrible in bed?”

Only Gia would ask something so personal. “No,” I said, my skin turning hot. “That was definitely not it.”

“Looks and fucks like a god. Got it,” Gia said. “So, why are you acting so broken and sad?”

“Because life is about more than sex,” I snapped. “It’s about having a career that is more than a mob boss’s wife.”

“And he won’t let you?” Frankie asked. “I know Sicilians are a little behind the times, but—”

“No, he said I can do whatever I like. But . . .”

Gia squinted at me, reading me as only my twin can. “But you don’t believe him.”

“It’s not that, exactly. You both know what I dream of doing, what I’ve been working toward for years. How can I be a doctor and yet married to a man who kills and tortures for a living? It makes no sense.”

“Em,” Gia said with a sigh. “Life doesn’t always make sense. There are some things that can’t be explained, like the popularity of neon or puffy vests. God knows I never thought I’d end up shackled to a mob boss and stepmom to his two kids. But he makes me really happy and I love his kids.”

“And I certainly didn’t want this,” Frankie added. “Nor did I want it for either of you. It’s a hard life, one full of danger and risk. But I love Fausto and our family. I wouldn’t change any of it, no matter what happens down the road.”

“It’s not the same. Yes, you’re a fashion designer,” I said to Gia. “And Fausto let Frankie get her MBA and work for his legitimate businesses. But I want to be a doctor, which is completely against everything the mafia stands for.”

Frankie’s brow wrinkled as she studied me. “You think I agree with everything Fausto does, how he earns his money? Because I don’t, Emma. But I love him and that means accepting him as he is. And I have to live with my choice.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can live with it,” I said honestly.

“You accepted it with Papà,” Gia pointed out. “Growing up here, the big house and private school and riding lessons. Not to mention you’re the closest to him out of the three of us. You didn’t even move out when you had the chance. And Papà is as mobbed up as they come. So why is it okay for him, but not for Giacomo. What’s the difference?”

I stared at my cold tea. No good answer came to mind.

“You want logic, Em,” Frankie said. “But love isn’t logical. Sometimes it happens despite our best intentions. Don’t throw it away because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Right,” Gia added. “And you can look at it like you’re evening out the cosmic balance sheet. You’re out doing good while he’s out doing bad. Maybe some of your good deeds will save his soul when the time comes.”

I rubbed my eyes with my fingers. “You know I don’t believe in any of that stuff.”

“Then believe in yourself.” Frankie reached over to squeeze my arm. “You’re a smart and decent human being, Em. If anyone can balance out the evil in this world, it’s you. I think Giacomo needs you even more than you think.”

“I will fight for you, for our children, and I promise to love you harder with each breath I take until the day I die.”

The conviction in his voice left no doubts, but what did I want? I dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I couldn’t deal with this right now. Too much was happening. I had to focus on my father.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, setting down my mug. “It’s a lot right now and I’m still processing.”

“Fair enough,” Frankie said, “but don’t wait too long. These men have their pride, too.”

“Oh, God,” Gia groaned. “It’s true, Em. And once you fuck with his pride, he has to get it back. That’s when shit gets ugly.”

“Or really, really good,” Frankie muttered under her breath, and both my sisters laughed.

I put my mug in the sink and headed for the main stairs. Sometimes my sisters were no help at all.

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