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Behind the scenes. Just like I run the fucking Famiglia behind the scenes. I can’t say I haven’t considered it. Having her in bed each night would be heaven, but seeing them play husband and wife, and have children, would be unbearable. No way.

“That won’t work,” I admit to myself and my brothers. “She wants to be a mother more than anything else. I’d be a distraction, a barrier to her happiness. No, she needs to marry him and learn to love him. Have his babies. That’s why I need your help. Matty, I need you to talk to Elio and get him to understand that for this to work he needs to work on his relationship with her. He needs to build trust. Massimo, you need to be there for Francesca. She will be hurt. Comfort her, agree that I’m an arsehole. Push her towards Elio.”

Matty nods, but Massimo glares at me. “You’re going to break her fucking heart. I’ll agree that you’re an arsehole all right. You don’t understand what you’ve done! It’s always been you for her. She has adored you since she was a kid. You should have stayed the fuck away because this is going to kill her.”

My own heart feels like it is shattering. Even though my feelings for her were purely platonic before she returned from England, I’ve cared about her for her entire life. My little darlin’. And now? I’ll kill anyone who harms a hair on her head and worshipping her body feels as vital as breathing.

But this way is best for theFamiglia. It is best for her. I just have to find a way to survive.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Francesca

I thought the way Elio treated me was bad, but it was nothing compared to what his sister has done. From him I expect nothing less than selfishness and disloyalty, but her? No.

It has been a week since we slept together for the second time and I awoke in her room alone again. I was disappointed and wished that she would have woken me to say goodbye, but I didn’t for a second doubt that we would talk later in the day.

The rose-tinted glasses I have worn since I was old enough to think Giovanna Marino was a mixture of superhero and goddess, have left me vulnerable to the fact that she is as capable as her brother of using and discarding women.

At least Elio never pretended to be anything different. He told me explicitly that he didn’t love me right before we had sex. Giovanna sucked me in. She gave me a taste of what I have craved for so long. I felt safe with her, protected.

My eyes roll every time I think of the warmth I felt when she called me baby or my darlin’. How naive and stupid was I that I thought that meant she cared at all for me?

Wherever she has been sleeping this week, she has probably been whispering the same sweet words into another woman’s ear.

My cheeks redden with the humiliation I can’t shake. The feeling that I am pathetic. All I am worth is a political marriage. My mother can’t see me past her self-obsession and he sees me as a pawn in his miniature game of thrones. My half-brother fucking kidnapped me, for goodness sake.

The fact remains that the only person who I have ever truly felt loved by is Massimo and he has been lying to me too. He spends more time with Bluey than he does with me now anyway and I feel our special bond slipping away.

I’m glad I have Sammy, but our friendship is still new. We bond over work dramas, the gym members who hit on us, and all the normal bullshit. We hang out, but she doesn’t know all the inner workings of my complicated life.

The past week I have been a zombie. I don’t want to speak with anyone. I have stayed at the Marino house because being near my parents would only make me more miserable, but I haven’t seen Giovanna.

I snuck into her room the first night in the wee hours of the morning and she wasn’t there. Her bed was still as I had made it that morning.

The second day I text her.

Francesca: Hey? Is everything ok?

But I didn't get a response. That was when I knew that she was avoiding me. There was no alarm in the rest of the family that she was missing or out of touch. It was just me she avoided.

Massi tried to comfort me. He called his sister all sorts of names and was on my side. But he kept pushing me back towards Elio. His solution to my heartbreak was for me to throw myself into my sham marriage.

“You’re only saying that because it’s what theFamigliawants!” I screamed at him. “When did you stop giving a shit about me!”

The guilt on his face told me I was right. He was working toward an agenda, not caring about his oldest friend.

Interestingly, Elio has been nice this week. His cheerfulness has been a reprieve from all the angst. He took me out for brunch on the third day and although it was nice, his hand on my lower back as we walked through the cafe felt wrong.

He is the only one who seems to get how shit it is to have your life at total mercy to what theFamigliadictates. We have bonded over our mutual hatred of the control being exerted over us.

Now, it’s six nights since I last saw Giovanna and I’ve sent several texts which have all received no response. Miserable, I sneak into her room again. I can’t sleep and pathetically, I think maybe if she still isn’t there, I could just sleep in her bed. Maybe her scent on her pillows will help me drift off.

I pad barefoot down the hallway wearing one of Massimo’s massive t-shirts and slip into Giovanna’s room. I pause, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark room before tip-toeing toward the bed.

A dark form lies entangled in the blankets. She is home. She’s here and she didn’t reply to a single text or check I am ok.

I want to throw things at her sleeping body. Wake her up with my hurt screams. But instead, I walk around to the other side of the bed and slip under the covers. I crawl over to her and turn around so my back is to her. I rest my head gently on the bicep of her outstretched arm and she instinctively pulls me in close, curling her body around mine. I loathe how good it feels. My eyes fill with tears and my heart with self-hatred.