the promise of death

FRANCESCA

He tenses up and immediately moves away from me. I sit up, crossing my legs.

A yelp escapes me as he grabs my hair, pulling me closer. His eyes are ablaze with anger. I try to push him away, placing my hand on his chest, but he doesn’t move.

“Is that what you really want?” he growls.

I meet his furious gaze, keeping my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “Yes, Antonio. That’s exactly what I want.”

He sneers. “What if I say no?”

“Nothing,” I respond, bitterness seeping into my voice. “That’s why I want my freedom. I’m done playing games.”

He looks at me, but I don’t back down. I hold his gaze, staring into his dark eyes. If I wasn’t watching him so closely, I might have missed the subtle change in his expression.

A hollow feeling washes over me. I hate this manipulative side of him.

I take a shaky breath.

His grip on me loosens, and he gently cups my cheeks. I lean into his touch, his eyes tracking my every move. “Do you really want to leave me?” he asks, curiosity in his voice.

I don’t answer, but my silence speaks volumes.

My husband smiles. My breath catches. God, he’s so beautiful. “I’ll let you go if you answer my question honestly.”

My heart pounds in my chest. It’s not fear coursing through me, but excitement and anticipation for what comes next.

His thumb brushes roughly over my bottom lip and I suppress a moan. How is this turning me on? I need help.

His gaze darkens at my reaction. “Why did you choose to die at my hands?”

I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off with a harsh glare. “The truth, Francesca. I might not be as forgiving as I was last time.

“There won’t be a choice next time,” he says, but his words feel hollow. It’s an empty threat.

“I…” I start, but falter. How can I tell him?

He waits for me to speak, pulling me closer by my hair when I remain silent. “Speak, ~bambola~.”

I tilt my head back, swallowing hard. “It felt like betrayal,” I whisper.

Understanding flashes in his eyes, but I continue. I feel a sudden urge to confess. The weight in my heart feels suffocating.

“If I killed myself, I would’ve been running away from the Family.

“I would’ve felt like a traitor, but if you killed me, I would’ve died knowing I stood by my family till the end and…” I trail off.

He narrows his eyes at me. He knows what I’m about to say. He just wants to hear it.

I meet his gaze. “And I never wanted you to forget me.”

He grins, a sinister edge to his smile. “The guilt,” he says. “You wanted to haunt me even after death.”

I can’t help but smile. There’s something beautiful about the truth. It’s peaceful, serene.

He rests his forehead against mine. “You don’t want freedom, ~bambola~. You want me. You want us. You want love,” he says. His hand drops to my waist, pulling me closer. “You want control.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to tell him I don’t need his love. I want to deny it all, but I don’t want to lie.

Am I as cruel and selfish as him if I don’t want to leave? Freedom is within my grasp, and I know he would give it to me.

Antonio always keeps his word. If he says something, he does it. He’s given me his word. Honor means everything to him.

“I crave control,” I admit. I’m a fool for making myself vulnerable again, but I can’t help it. There’s something about him that’s pulling me back in.

He’s like a magnet, and I can’t resist the pull. If this is manipulation, it’s working.

“Then you’ll have control, and that will be your freedom.”

“Could I leave you whenever I want?” I test him.

He doesn’t react. His fingers trail down my spine, my thin nightie offering no protection. Goosebumps rise on my skin. “Could I leave you whenever I want?” he counters.

I bite my lip. We both know the answer. “You could,” I say. “But you won’t.”

“That’s how it is. I don’t want to replace you and I won’t as long as you’re by my side. There will be no other woman in my life but you.

“No one will ever take your place, Francesca,” he says softly, the hardness in his face melting away.

My heart pounds in my chest. I can almost hear it. “Do you promise?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I promise on my life. If I ever falter, I’ll face the consequences like a man of honor.”

My breath catches. “No,” I whisper. “No. You won’t face the penalty. Take back your words.”

He pulls me closer. “An honorable man doesn’t go back on his word, and an honorable woman doesn’t abandon her family.”

“I need time,” I say. “I need to trust you again.”

“Take all the time you need, ~bambola~, as long as you find your way back to me,” he says.

I furrow my brow. “Find my way back?”

He nods. “I’ll wait for you,” he says, then kisses my forehead, peels me off his body, and stands up.

His back muscles ripple as he stands and turns to face me. Our eyes lock for a moment before he nods and walks out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The door shuts with a soft click and a shiver runs down my spine. His words echo in my mind, making sense but not easing the bitterness I feel for his actions.

Should I really be holding onto this grudge?

I peek through the tiny gap in the curtains. The night is dark and late, but sleep eludes me. I let out a sigh. Things are spiraling out of control. A war brewing within the ~Nostra Vita~ is the last thing we need right now.

If the ~Nostra Vita~ weakens, Chicago or Boston won’t hesitate to strike. If they join forces, it’ll be a catastrophe.

The ~Nostra Vita~, based in New York, is split among five Families. The Godfather of the Giordano Family is the unofficial leader, but from what I’ve heard, he prefers to stay out of the limelight.

He leaves the dirty work to Antonio. I find myself grateful for Raffaello’s death. If he had become the Godfather, the ~Nostra Vita~ would have been doomed.

I rest my hand on my stomach. My baby can’t be born in the middle of a war, can it? I won’t let it die. The mere thought of losing my child is unbearable.

I need to talk to Antonio. I can’t lose my baby, and I can’t lose him to a war he didn’t start but is now forced to fight.

Soon, the mob will stop caring about who’s to blame. Or maybe it’s already too late. Antonio may be a sinner, but he’s innocent in this.

He had no part in the death of the Bianchi princess, and I won’t let myself lose him in this twisted game of chess.

The Bianchis have made their move. Now it’s our turn.