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She shakes her head. “Sort of mine, but even when we’re together you hardly tell me anything.”
I stare into her eyes for a few silent seconds. “What do you want me to do, Francesca?”
“Promise that you’ll never speak to Vica again.”
“Okay.”
“That was too quick.”
I sigh. “I don’t need to think about it. If it makes you happy, why not.”
She nods. “And let’s get to know each other better,” she says with a giggle. “Like your favorite food. Your favorite color. I want to know everything about you.”
I smile at her innocent enthusiasm. It is almost childlike. She is uncorrupted by life. As much as I’d love to stay in the shower and watch her warm up to me, or talk about all our favorite things, saving her family is the most important thing on my list right now.
“I want to, but can we do that when I return?” I ask, stroking her face gently. “I have urgent matters to attend to this morning.”
“Okay, when you return,” she agrees shyly. “Come home soon.”
Come home soon. It hits deep. I would have loved to have that on record and play it all day.
“I will,piccolina.” I kiss her cheek. “Take care.”
I step out of the shower, leaving puddles on the tiles.
“You’re just gonna leave?”
I turn, and my mouth falls open at the sight of my bride gently rubbing on her nipples. My cock springs to life, and her gaze drops to my crotch.
“Stop it, Francesca. I have to be at work.” My voice sounds thick and unnatural.
“Okay,” she says, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. “I guess I’ll just have to take care of my problems myself.”
I turn to go, but when she releases a sexy moan, I know it’s impossible.
“Okay, I think I might have five minutes to spare,” I say, peeling off my soaking clothes and rejoining her in the shower.
She laughs and melts into my arms.
One hour later, I’m in my car heading to the meeting with my cousins and Zio Marco when Franco Barbieri calls. At my command, Vance moves the call to my earbuds.
“Good morning, Don Barone,” Franco greets. He sounds flustered.
“I’m moving you and your family to a safe house in the Bronx before the day ends. Someone will come by later and tell you exactly what to pack and how it will be done,” I tell him.
“Thank you,” he breathes. “There was an attack last night at the club, but I escaped unscathed.”
I frown. “And what about Francesca’s mother?”
“She’s fine.”
“What about the other thing?” Franco asks.
“What other thing?”
My voice has turned to ice, but the old fool blunders in anyway. “Have you told my granddaughter the real reason you married her?”
“Franco, how about I tell you this other thing?”