an office conversation

FRANCESCA

“I DON’T THINK that’s a good idea,” I tell him, shrugging.

My husband’s eyebrows shoot up, but he’s not mocking me. He’s just surprised by my disagreement. He’s not used to it.

“Why?” he asks when I don’t elaborate.

I lean against his desk, watching him sit on the rolling chair in front of me. His white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and he’s holding a glass of whiskey, tilted slightly.

His black waistcoat and slacks are spotless and neat, and his hair is still damp from his morning shower. He doesn’t like to blow-dry.

He raises his eyebrows. I don’t look away. There’s no point in pretending I don’t appreciate his physique. Why should I act embarrassed? I know he always stares at me too.

“I just think it’s too risky to have a stranger in our house right now. The Bianchis had the nerve to kill Raffaello. Who knows what else they’re capable of?” I say.

He stares at me for a moment, thinking. What’s going through his mind?

“Sending you out of the house is risky too,” he says, setting his drink on the wooden table of his office.

It’s been a while since I’ve ventured to the third floor. His office is spacious and neat, with books tucked into a large, fancy bookcase behind his desk. Most of them are about law.

I cross my arms and his eyes instantly drop to my chest. His gaze darkens. I feel a smirk tug at my lips.

“Protecting our family is my priority,” I say. I mean it. Antonio, Alessia, Costanzo, Dante, and Omero are my priorities.

The day I married Antonio was the day his family became mine. I would fiercely protect them even if it meant risking my own life. His siblings have done nothing wrong to me.

He seems pleased by my answer. “I’ll have the doctor come to the warehouse. You won’t go there alone.

“There will be no negotiations on that,” he says, and I know nothing will change his mind. I don’t need it to, either.

“I was actually going to say the opposite. I want protection.” I place my hand on my stomach. “I don’t know if you care or not, but I’m not going to let anything happen to our child.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You think I don’t care?”

I shrug. “You haven’t shown any fatherly traits so far.”

“Fatherly traits?” he hisses. “It’s not even born.”

Fury surges through my veins. “It?” I snap.

“Well, do you know their gender?” he snaps back.

I bite my lip to hold back a retort that would surely piss him off. I don’t want to fight. Things are already hard and I want to support him, not add more to his burden.

“No,” I say, annoyed. “But I don’t want anyone calling my child it. I don’t like it.”

He nods. “~Our~ child. I’ll keep that in mind. When should I call the doctor over?”

“In a couple of days.”

He nods again. “I’ll let Stefano know.”

I hesitate. “Why should I trust Stefano?”

Antonio looks up from the papers he’s reading. “Stefano is a loyal soldier. His family has served us for years and Stefano was recommended by Silvio.”

I’m surprised that he remembers Silvio. “Silvio was a good man. He never treated me badly,” I say.

Antonio nods, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It’s a shame that he was killed in that attack. The Family is making sure his family stays safe.”

“It’s good of you to do that,” I say.

My husband smirks. “That’s the difference between the government and us. They don’t give a crap about their men. We, despite our brutality, stick together.

“Take you for example. I’ve been a total jerk to you—excuse my language—and yet you’re still ready to forgive me. You don’t even love me. And even if I ever abuse you, you still won’t ever betray me.

“You’ll be mad and maybe never even talk to me again but you won’t stab me in the back. Loyalty runs in our veins, ~bambola~.”

I freeze. “You don’t know that. I hate you,” I mutter.

He shakes his head. “You don’t, Francesca. You can’t. Your morals won’t allow you to hate me. This facade of resentment that you’re showing toward me is just that—a facade.

“You want to forgive me, don’t you? You want to forget.”

I hate how right he is. I hate it so much. “I won’t have this conversation with you,” I tell him calmly. “And I’m going to fire Carina.”

He chuckles at my abrupt topic change. “Your choice, ~bambola~. You run the house,” he says, fiddling with his pen as he leans back in his leather chair. It’s his favorite pen. I always see it with him.

“You won’t ask why?” I ask.

I suddenly remember the principal whom I’d gotten fired with just a few words. Antonio hadn’t even asked the reason. He trusted me then and now he trusts me again.

Is it my ego coming between us now? Shouldn’t I forgive him like all women are supposed to do in the mob? Then what’s changed?

I could’ve easily moved on and ignored what he did in the past. Why can’t I do it anymore? Why do I crave the genuine apology that he still hasn’t given me?

Antonio may be all about actions, but some things need words too.

“No,” he tells me. “You’re the one who completes this family. You’re the one who sets the rules in this house.”

I look into his eyes, trying to figure out if he’s joking. But all I see is sincerity. “Okay,” I finally manage to say.

He nods. “Have you thought about the house chores?”

I know a cleaning crew comes every week. They’ve been doing it for years. The only other chores are cooking and the stuff Carina usually handles.

I can handle that.

“I know my way around the kitchen. Arianna and I had to take classes since we were twelve,” I tell him, a smile playing on my lips.

Suddenly, a hollow feeling settles in my chest. “Antonio, what happened to Mother and Arianna?”

He shrugs. “I don’t meddle in their family matters. It’s not my place.”

“Family matters? What did Father do to Mother?” I step closer to him, my voice a hiss.

He looks at me calmly. “She’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A wave of relief washes over me. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

When he doesn’t answer, fear prickles my skin. “I’d never be able to face Arianna again if anything happens to Mother. She has to be okay,” I whisper.

He nods. “Arianna won’t get off easily, but she’s not our concern anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly, I’m not sure I want to know. “She ran away. Just leave her alone.”

Antonio chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Who says I’m doing anything? I have nothing to do with her now. She’s not part of the Family anymore. She’s not my problem.

“I won’t fight for her if something happens. No revenge will be taken because she left of her own free will.”

No. There has to be a catch. “She ran away. Isn’t that breaking the code? You don’t seem like someone who lets things go.”

“Arianna will live.”

“Are you going to torture her?”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Of course not. Like I said, she’s not my concern.”

“Is Romeo going to hurt her?” I ask, my voice tight.

He narrows his eyes at me but doesn’t call me out on my tone. “Physically, no. Emotionally? I don’t care. Every relationship has problems.”

He winces slightly at his last words. It’s barely noticeable.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I know I won’t get anything more out of him. “And Mother?”

“What about her?” he asks.

“Can I see her?”

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Sending you to the warehouse is already a risk.”

“I know,” I say. “But I can’t live my life in fear.”

He tenses. “There’s nothing for you to be scared of. I’ll protect you till my last breath.” His gaze softens. He takes my hand and runs his thumb over my wrist.

“Antonio,” I mumble.

“I know,” he says simply. “You need time.”

I nod. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He pulls my head down and places a tentative kiss on my forehead before I leave. The gesture warms my heart.

I glance at him one last time, only to find him staring right back at me, his eyes intense and dark with a hint of softness lurking behind them.