Francesca #2
I tapped the screen of my phone and looked at our message box. The last message he’d sent me was On my way, baby.
And earlier today, he’d called me Frankie.
I typed out a message. Can we talk? Then I deleted it.
Can you come over? I deleted it.
I think we need to talk. I deleted that too.
Then three dots popped up from him.
“Oh shit.” I cupped my mouth, wondering if he’d seen my dots appear and disappear over and over this entire time.
You got something to say to me?
I heard his authoritative voice in my head as I read it. The anger and the aggression he sometimes showed when he was in a foul mood. It caught me off guard so much that I froze on the spot.
Then fucking say it.
There were two different versions of him, the one that acted like I didn’t exist…and then this one. The one that was probably pissed off that this estrangement had gone on for so long. I think we should talk.
I can be there in fifteen minutes.
He was nearby at this hour? It’s late, so we can talk tomorrow.
We’re talking now.
I felt like I’d poked an enormous grizzly bear…and maybe I should have left it alone.
Fifteen minutes later, headlights appeared, and he parked his Range Rover at the front of my house.
I was a ball of nerves now. Cold and clammy, the way I’d been in the car with him.
He didn’t knock, just let himself into the house wearing the same clothes he’d had on earlier. With squared shoulders and the intensity of a king about to claim the lands of his enemy in his name, he moved to the dining table—looking at me for the first time in days.
Looking at me like no time had passed since that moment at the new house.
He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. With his big arm, he pushed the wine bottle, my glass, and the dirty plate to the side, like he didn’t want a single object between us.
Then he folded his arms on the table and stared at me.
He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
I’d somehow forgotten how intense he could be.
He continued to stare at me like I was in the driver’s seat of this conversation. “What do you want to say to me?”
“Um…” Now we were face-to-face, and I lost my footing. “I guess I wanted to explain about the other day, that I was scared—”
“I know you were scared—and I was the one who scared you.” I shifted in my seat. “I acknowledge that I’ve come on strong since the beginning. I acknowledge that I’m a lot to handle. But I won’t apologize for what I said—because I fucking meant it. Meant every damn word.”
I took a slow breath, feeling uneasy all over again.
“But after seeing the way my words affected you, I knew I’d crossed a line. So I decided to prove to you that I could let you go.” His voice grew quiet. “If that’s what you wanted.”
The next breath I took wasn’t so heavy.
Now he stared at me like he wanted me to talk.
“This has been moving so fast…”
“I think it’s moving the way it’s supposed to.”
“And that doesn’t scare you?”
He cocked his head slightly. “Do I look scared, baby?”
“You said you’ve never been serious with anyone before.”
“So?”
“It’s a big step—”
“Not with you,” he said as he stared me down. “It feels right with you.”
My eyes flicked back and forth between his. It was hard to believe that this gorgeous man was obsessed with me. He could literally have anyone he wanted, a girl ten years younger than him, but he wanted to be with me.
“Tell me your reservations.”
“Well, I talked to my brother…about what happened with Luigi in the warehouse.”
He continued to stare at me.
“I wasn’t even there, and I was scared of you.”
“You never have to be scared of me, Francesca. I may be intense and erratic and a bit melodramatic at times, but I’m harmless—at least to you.”
“I just realized in that moment the road I was on. Realized the terms and conditions of the contract I was about to verbally sign if I didn’t walk away.
My brother said he’s never seen a guy move the way you do.
You describe yourself as manic and psychotic.
And then you said you would never let me go if I wanted to leave. I just…needed to take a step back.”
He continued to watch me, his eyes showing no signs of anger.
“I feel like this is the first time that I’m really seeing you.”
He was as still as a statue, just listening to me with a stoic expression, eyes piercing my face.
“That I understand what I’m getting myself into.
” That I would be the woman of the most violent criminal kingpin I’d ever heard of.
A man who’d worked for Cosa Nostra all his life before he’d joined us as a fuck-you to his previous employer.
A man who was always ten steps ahead of his enemies.
A man who described himself as crazy. “I can’t lie to you… It’s scary.”
He continued to stare at me.
“And that’s not even considering what will happen with my father.”
“He won’t be a problem.”
“Just because he likes you working for him doesn’t mean—”
“He won’t be a problem,” he repeated.
“I know I’m thinking way into the future right now—”