Page 162 of Dirty Mafia Torment

I don’t hide my arrival. This isn’t about secrecy. This is me making a statement.

When Fina steps onto the porch, I stop breathing.

Bare feet. Tousled hair. Eyes still heavy from sleep. She’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen and has never looked more beautiful.

I expect fire, anger, rejection. But she just watches me as I climb the stairs toward her.

Did she believe I wouldn’t come for her? Did she think I’d give up?

Well, I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.

We look at each other like it’s the first time.

I open my mouth, because I’ve waited fucking forever to say it: I love you.

A crow of a rooster breaks the quiet, and in a flurry of flapping wings and evil intent, the feathered hellion charges across the yard.

I jab a finger at it. “Nail me with a spur, and I’ll take you out.”

It arches its head back, crows once more, and then runs off in search of an easier target.

Fina clutches her stomach, and laughter pours out of her.

The sound cracks me wide open. “Glad it knows who’s boss.”

“The look on its face…”

“Yeah, I’m more interested in the look on your face.”

That sobers her. “We’re not fucking.”

“Not what I meant, babe.” I wait for her to correct the nickname.

She rolls her eyes. “Come inside. I’ll make coffee.”

I follow her into the farmhouse and kitchen, noticing she’s lost weight.

That’s going to stop. Fina’s going to feast on food and love, and grow plump with the baby I fill her womb with.

She measures out spoonfuls of coffee grounds, then adds water to a stovetop coffee maker and ignites the flame while I lean against the kitchen table,soaking her in.

I hear her inhale before she faces me, eyes glistening with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I give it to her, raw and honest. “This isn’t an excuse, just an explanation. I was messed up. Period. I spent years avoiding the Life, sneering at the famiglie and convincing myself I was more clever and more deadly than they were. My father stayed patient with me until Rome. You remember, during our ride to Las Vegas, I mentioned that trip? It went badly. Everyone—my father, my brother, the Twelve at the time—saw me freeze and mistook it for weakness. My therapist calls it my trigger moment, and it was. I pushed back harder against the Life when deep down all I wanted was to be the son my father raised me to be. You got caught in the crosshairs. You, and Alessia.”

“You proposed to her?” she quietly asks, but the weight of her question’s heavy.

“More proposition than proposal, which we approached my father with. I did it because I was trying to help her, trying to do right by someone—if not you or even myself. Not only did my father shoot me down, I was neutralized and dragged off into rehab.”

“Do you love her?”

My lips curl. “Yeah.”

Fina hisses.

“Like a sister, even a mom. You will, too, once I formally introduce you.”

Fina bites her lip, considering what I’ve told her.