The motherly concern in her tone makes my throat tighten. I don't deserve her concern. I don't deserve Francesca either, but I took her anyway. "Please, leave, Dinora. Don't make me tell you again."
She wants to argue, but it's been a long time since I was a little boy needing his tears wiped away. She retrieves her coat, giving me a silent pat on the hand as she passes by.
My phone rings five minutes later – Luca.
"Everything is fine."
"Bullshit. Dinora called me."
"Fucking hell," I mutter. "I can't talk about this right now. You've got more important things to deal with."
"Carlo-"
I end the call and shut my phone off, allowing misery to swallow me whole.
***
"I'm not in the mood for company," I tell Faro when he enters the penthouse three hours later.
He raises his eyebrows at the demolished coffee table before glancing at the perfectly intact piano. "Too fucking bad. I've got some video to show you." He holds out his phone, and I accept it with dread, wondering if this is proof of her adultery. "Some kid at the concert was recording and noticed this asshole shoving people."
A tall man, a shaggy beard, roughly leading Francesca through the concert crowd. "That's Ronan Donnelly!"
"Yes, it is." Faro's voice is full of malice.
I want to click my goddamn heels together and dance on the demolished coffee table. Her brother was the other man. She didn't betray me. At least notthatway.
"She wasn't with him long but maybe long enough to hatch some conspiracy against you or our famiglia."
"She wanted to see her brother," I reply, distractedly. I watch the looping footage over and over. She looks frightened and unsure as Ronan leads her toward those bushes where I found her.
"She lied, Carlo. She manipulated me to take her there so she could meet a fucking rat."
"Her brother wasn't the rat."
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
"Consider your words carefully before you lump my wife into that proverb, Faro." He's angry over being tricked, knowing he fucked up. Not as badly as I have but still. "Is she settled at the hotel?"
"She is. Do you want me to bring her back here?"
I want him to. Fuck, I want her here beside me so badly I can't stand it.
But I hold my tongue.
Today has made it very clear how much power Francesca has over me. Not physical power but emotional power, something I’ve never given much consideration. After my behavior during my engagement to Sofia, I deserved that pain, but it also alarms and appalls me. A Don can't be vulnerable. I must fortify the walls guarding my monstrous heart. If you ignore a temptation long enough, it goes away, right?
"No, my orders stand. Keep her there."
42
Francesca
Saturday night and Midtown Manhattan hums with life, but the last few days in this enormous hotel suite have been very lonely.
I’d grown accustomed to a degree of isolation after Da’s betrayal. But having school and my new little sisters torn away from me, being denied the comfort of my piano and Dinora’s motherly presence on top of losing my husband’s delicious touch at night and our quiet pillow talk is a very cruel punishment. Even if I’m to blame. At least Mom, Alessio, Caterina and Gia arrived yesterday, along with Armando to give me some reprieve.
A sharp rap on the suite’s primary bedroom door tells me it’s showtime. Despite the unorthodox circumstances of our marriage, today’s wedding reception is being treated traditionally - the finest hotel ballroom, the best caterers, booze and musicians, and the most scrumptious wedding cake, no expenses spared.
