Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Twenty-Four

TIZIANO

“The price on your head is hefty,” Di Stefano announces.

He’s standing in the middle of our small apartment and the power oozes from him. He is indeed a Boss, more so than my own father and definitely me, too. I hope one day to be like him. I admire him. He’s calm, level, and clearheaded, and he’s fucking smart.

“I’m sure that it is.”

“Your father has gone against our rules. Putting a price on a Made Man’s head without approval from any one of the other famiglias,” he begins to explain. “Not only that, he did it in my goddamn territory.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that my father has done what he has. He agreed with taking out Rossi so that Gavino could take over the Zanetti famiglia. Why would it shock me that he would do the same fucking shit to me?

Granted, I betrayed my father, betrayed the Bianchi famiglia, but I didn’t do it purely out of selfishness, only partially. Gavino is building an empire, a strong one, one that will not be fucked with.

There is no reason why I shouldn’t align with him. Giving up a small bit of control to be part of something like that, it’s smart. It’s better than being taken out and taken over, which I have a feeling is what Gavino plans on doing to my father.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“The Mazzas will have your head, at least they’ll try,” he explains.

I wait, wondering what that means for me. I don’t want the other men to be in danger because of me, because of my father. I continue to watch him, waiting to see what his solution will be. I can’t go back to New York, my father no doubt has his own men ready to kill on sight, even if the order hasn’t officially gone through the proper channels.

“You’ll stay here, but I’m moving you.”

“To where?” I demand, almost in a panic.

I want to stay here. I am comfortable with this crew. I actually fucking like them and if I could take them back home with me when I leave, I fucking would. Though doing that could cause problems with Di Stefano, and although I’m no pussy, I have no desire to get on his bad side.

“Rome. I have some contacts there. We need you out of the area. I don’t know when the Mazzas are going to strike or how. They’re stupid, but they’re dangerously stupid.”

“That’s the worst kind of group, a stupid one,” I mutter.

Di Stefano chuckles. “You’re absolutely correct. I’m going to have you work security at a hotel and club in Rome. It will keep you sheltered and you can live in a suite at the hotel that we keep for famiglia.”

If I were single. It would be fucking perfect. I don’t say that though. He’s offering me a sweet fucking deal and a chance to live long enough to get back home to my wife, or rather, ex-wife at this point.

“Elio will join you,” Di Stefano announces.

I blink, surprised by his demand. I don’t ask him a single thing because I’m glad. Instead, I let out a sigh of relief that at least I’ll know someone. Actually, Elio has started to become a friend more than a boss. I’m happy to have him join me.

“When this is done, you’ll come back to your crew,” Di Stefano announces. “We need to get this hit taken off the table and the Mazzas ended in this area. We’ve let them run around freely for far too long.”

“We got this,” Aldo states. “Let us deal with them.”

Di Stefano’s lips curve up into a grin. “Duran, Calvino, you good with that?”

Calvino snorts. “Being in charge of taking down the Mazzas? I’m very good with that.”

“New missions. Don’t worry about your trades. This is your focus. Get rid of those thorns in my side.”

Di Stefano doesn’t wait for anyone else to reply. He turns and walks away. I watch him go and can’t help but smile. This man knows how to run a famiglia and I hope that I can be half as good as he is when it’s my turn.

“Let’s pack our shit. Last night together. We’re drinking and playing cards,” Elio announces.

That’s what we do the rest of the evening. We drink, we play poker, and we laugh. It’s one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. These men are my friends. They aren’t just coworkers, they aren’t just Made Men. They are friends. I didn’t know that I needed that—friends. Not until I moved here.

Until I was forced to live here.

The next day we load up in Elio’s car and head out of town and toward Rome. He keeps one eye on his rearview mirror the entire time. I do as well, making sure that nobody follows us. Elio takes back roads, desolate two-lane ones just to be sure and about an hour into the trip, it’s obvious that we are on our own.

“If you thought the women were beautiful back there, you haven’t seen beauty,” Elio says as soon as we cross over into Rome.

I don’t tell him that I have my own beauty in New York. Instead, I turn to look at him and arch a brow. He grins.

“Gorgeous women. Best in Italy.”

Shaking my head, I don’t say anything else. He chuckles as he drives the car toward the hotel. I have a feeling that Elio is going to make this an experience, if nothing else, and I’m kind of here for it. I wish I could be elsewhere, but since I can’t, I’m going to make the best of my time here.

MACI

Rolling over in bed,I lie on my side and stare at the open bathroom door, willing myself to get up, puke, and pee. I have to do both, but I’m not sure which one is going to happen first. I thought that this morning sickness part was supposed to lessen as the weeks went by, but I’m nearing my second trimester and it’s still awful.

There’s a knock on the door and I don’t even have enough energy to call out to whoever is on the other side. I already know who it is, though. There is only one other person in this whole apartment.

Salvatore knocks on the door again as he pushes it open. I can’t even lift my head to look over at him. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to make me look over at him or even talk to him. Instead, he walks over to me and sinks down on his haunches in front of me.

Salvatore lifts his hand, reaching up, he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re toast, bella.”

“I keep waiting for the sickness to stop,” I breathe.

“I’m calling the doc, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“It’s normal, I’m sure,” I whisper. “I’ll be okay. It’s not your responsibility to take care of me.”

His lips curve up in a smirk. “You’re famiglia,” he says as if that explains everything.

“Yes, but this goes beyond all of that.”

“Does it?”

I nod my head slightly. “It does.”

He hums, leaning forward, and touches his lips to my forehead before he stands. “I have some food for you. Do you think you can make it to the kitchen?”

The thought of food causes my stomach to roll, but at the same time, I’m starving. Forcing myself to sit up, I moan as I lift my hand to my forehead.

“Maybe,” I grumble.

He laughs but doesn’t make a move to leave my room. Looking over to him, I realize how handsome he is. I shouldn’t think that about him, not when I want nothing but my husband to come back—my Tiziano.

There is a silent moment where we watch one another. “You don’t want more, do you?” I ask, keeping my voice soft.

He clears his throat but doesn’t speak right away. “I admit, I’m lonely, but I have my own issues to work out and I’m not ready for a wife.”

“What about a wife and a baby?” I ask with a laugh.

“If you needed me to be your husband for protection, I would.”

“But?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.

“You want your actual husband, and I am not a man to stand in the way of that. That baby deserves to have its father, especially when his father left against his will and no doubt would much rather be here than in another country.”

Tears fill my eyes and fall down my cheeks. I no longer feel nauseous, I just feel sad and a bit sorry for myself. He’s absolutely correct. I feel in my heart of hearts that Tiziano would rather be here with me than anywhere else.

We had plans.

An entire lifetime planned before it was ripped away from us.

“How do we get him back?” I ask, my lips trembling.

Salvatore grins. “See, you couldn’t be with anyone else, bella. Your heart is in Italy. Don’t you worry, we’ll get him back here where he belongs.”

“Be patient, right?” I ask.

His lips curve up into a grin. “Exactly.” He watches me for a moment, then lifts his hand and makes a motion to follow him. “Come, breakfast, then you can have the day off. Rest.”

“I shouldn’t,” I say.

He ignores me and walks away from me. I don’t bother yelling out to him, instead, I rush to the bathroom to take care of business, and unfortunately throw up. Making my way into the kitchen, I am shocked to see a full breakfast plated at the small kitchen table.

“Salvatore,” I breathe.

He’s sitting across from where my plate is set, his own food in front of him and a cup of coffee. There is orange juice in front of my plate as my drink. I’ve been living here for a few weeks and this is the first time he’s even been home at breakfast time, let alone made me anything.

“What’s this?” I ask as I sink down into the chair across from him.

There are eggs, a bagel, fruit, and sausage on the plate. It looks amazing, but since it’s the first time he’s ever done anything like this, I am seriously confused. He doesn’t say anything right away. In fact, he’s looking at his phone, scrolling.

I reach for the bagel, moaning as the warm bread hits my tongue. It’s amazing. I’m starving and I feel like shit, but hunger takes over and I can think of nothing more than shoveling everything in my mouth all at the same time.

“I noticed yesterday at work you looked tired, run down, and skinny. Figured you needed a good meal,” Salvatore announced.

Clearing my throat, I chew the food in my mouth and swallow before I speak. “Is that all?” I ask.

He lifts his gaze to meet mine and he watches me for a moment. “No, not really.”

“What then?” I breathe.

He watches me for another moment, leaning back in his chair, his coffee mug in his hand, but he doesn’t bring it to his lips to take a drink, he just holds it as he watches me. I wait, wondering what the hell is going through his head.

“I thought we should get to know one another a bit since we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future.”

“Get to know each other?” I ask.

He nods his head. “Yeah. We know virtually nothing about one another. I mean, I know what your file says and you know about me from work. But that doesn’t really say much, does it?”

Licking my lips, I nod my head. He’s right. I know how he likes his coffee, how he’s a mess and files nothing. I know he works most of his day locked in his office in solitude. But his personal life? I know nothing at all.

We spend the rest of the morning eating breakfast and talking. We don’t tell each other anything too personal. I do learn that he had a sister who passed away, his parents are no longer alive, and just like me, he’s alone in the world in his own way. Surrounded by famiglia, but personally alone. I can relate to him, and he can relate to me, maybe that’s why this seems to work so far. We can relate to one another.