“Of course, Don.” He swallows hard. “You can trust me.”
“Good man.” I clap his shoulder, then look at Gina. “Behave. I’ll see you soon.”
I walk back to my car, and I smile as she sputters in anger, her voice carrying over the distance. “You’re an asshole, Tommaso Santoro.”
I turn and face her. “I love you, too, Gina Caruso.”
Her face goes slack with shock, but I’m grinning.
Because that is what became crystal clear to me moments before. She’s mine, and Iwillfind a way to keep her. Not as my mistress or as some dirty little secret.
But as my queen.
Chapter 8
Gina
Aftermywalk,Davideescorted me back to the house. My father was coming down the stairs when we walked in. He berated me for my choice of clothing, ordered me to change and look my best for the city tour with Vincenzo, before disappearing into his office.
Davide didn’t ask where I had been with Tommaso; he only quietly warned me not to anger my father. It wasn’t a threat; I could see his genuine concern.
So, for the past few days, I’ve done my best to avoid my father and to watch my tongue whenever I’m around him. It greatly pleases both him and my mother to see that all the years of the private school and tuition have paid off, as I flawlessly put my training into practice. I’d catch him watching me with that calculating look, though. He’s up to something…I just don’t know what.
I haven’t seen Tommaso, but the upside to the quiet days at home is spending time with Mom. With just the two of us, I’ve been able to coax out the woman I remembered from when Iwas younger. I used to love baking with her, and we’ve spent this afternoon doing that. The biscotti, torcetti, and orange ricotta cake sit cooling on the island. But when my father walks in, Mom’s beaming smile falls, seeing his sour expression.
“We have staff to do this, Guila,” he snaps, and she jerks as if he struck her.
The sorrowful ache of just wanting myBabbofills me, however, my anger is greater, Davide’s warning be damned.
“Creating something you love and spending time bonding with your child isn’t something your staff can do,Dad.”
He slowly turns to me, anger etched over every inch of his face. He’s a stranger to me, this man who’s filled with such disdain and anger.
He stomps over to the island, facing me on the other side, but I refuse to wilt and back down. He slaps his palm against the marble slab, and my mom squeaks in fear. As he stares at me, seeing that I’m not flinching, his anger escalates into rage.
Then, without a word, he sweeps all the baked goods off the island and stomps and smashes them into the floor. He’s heaving with fury when he’s finished, and his face is flushed and red.
“Done with your childish tantrum, Father?” My voice is calm, but inside I’m shaking, uncertain what insanity is pushing me to taunt him. Still, I stand my ground.
Or I stand my ground as soon as I position myself in front of my mom. She’s trembling in fear behind me, gripping the belt of my dress.
“Gina, please,” she whispers, her voice shaking.
“Am I done?” he seethes. “Am. I. Done!” His shout echoes off the walls.
He moves to come around the island to where I am, and it takes everything in me not to flinch. But he stops and goes still when Davide holds a gun to the back of his head.
“I have orders from Don Santoro himself to paint the walls with your brains if you hurt her,” he warns coldly.
My father’s mouth opens and closes, as do his fists. “You work for me, you pissant.”
“Correction, I work for Don Santoro.” He pushes the gun harder into my father’s head. “As do you.”
“Stefano will not stand for this,” he spits.
“Stefano is not Don here. My orders are directly from Tommaso himself, the Don of this city. But that’s neither here nor there, Caruso.” Davide’s eyes flick to me before staring hard at the back of my father’s head. “Because hurting women and children is not something Tommaso or Stefano tolerate. Need I remind you of what both of them have done to the offenders in the past?”
Father pales and swallows. “I merely lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”
