Chapter 19 Francesca
Francesca
The sun is rising over the Manhattan skyline when I wake with a horrible taste in my mouth, a pounding headache and a very tender pussy. Shit. Mom will be freaking out, and Alessio will be pissed, but I’m too exhausted to move.
I cringe, remembering the last time I stirred in the wee hours of the morning. I’d had another nightmare about that day. Carlo had stroked my back and pressed soft kisses to my neck. “You’re safe, Francesca. No one will harm you.”
I hated feeling vulnerable, but I clung to Carlo and his assurances like a child. At least he didn’t ask me about the dream.
Later, I dreamt of him murmuring in my ear – “Did you really believe I'd ever let you go?"
The space beside me is empty now. How long has he been up?
He’s left the bedroom door ajar, and I can hear sounds coming from the kitchen below.
Is he making me breakfast? Doesn’t matter.
The night I promised him is over. I’m leaving for the airport in a couple of hours where I'll return to Las Vegas, and the Trio's future Don can find himself some other girl to marry.
Sitting up, I see the smear of dried blood on the white silk sheet. Jesus. Here lies proof of my lost virginity, I think, wryly.
My humor vanishes the next moment when I hear the elevator and then his voice drifting up the stairs. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Father.”
Father? Is Carlo’s dad here? I start to panic.
“Faro, you’ll be our second witness. Did you pick up that package for me?”
Faro? Second witness? Is he conducting Trio business down there? Has he forgotten I’m up here?
Then, I really panic when I hear who he addresses next. “Signora Donnelly, I must beg your pardon for the impropriety of the situation – I am entirely to blame – but, when Francesca and I got to talking last night, I simply couldn’t wait another two weeks to marry your daughter.”
WHAT?!