Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Twenty-Six

TIZIANO

Elio’s man is good, too fucking good. The passport wasn’t even questioned, not by Italian immigration or the United States. I walked off of the plane, straight to baggage claim, then to the locker where Gavino had a piece, cash, car keys, and a hotel key card with a room number waiting for me.

Good man.

I hadn’t even asked for the cash, keys, or hotel room, but fuck me, Vino is good.

Thinking about going straight to the hotel room, I decide that I can’t do that. There is one thing that I need to do before anything else and that’s to see Maci. I need to make sure that she’s okay, even if it means just looking at her for a moment.

Guiding my car toward a convenience store, I purchase a burner phone with cash and then call Gavino.

“I assume I know who this is,” he drawls.

“You would assume correctly.” I chuckle.

He doesn’t say anything immediately, then he lets out a sigh. “It’s late. Go to the hotel.”

“After I see her. Where is she?”

My demanding tone isn’t watered down. I’m pissed and tired. I want my fucking wife. He still doesn’t answer me right away and I want nothing more than to threaten him.

I am done with games, done with this shit. I am out for blood and as helpful and powerful as he is, I will go after him if he doesn’t give me a goddamn answer.

He clears his throat, and I imagine that he realizes that right now I’m a man on the edge. I’ve been a pussy for far too long, allowing other people to work around me and for me. That stops now. I am going to take care of shit myself even if Gavino doesn’t particularly care for the way that I do.

“Salvatore,” he states, but doesn’t say anything else.

“What about him?”

“That’s where you’ll find her.”

My heart squeezes inside of my chest. Salvatore. What the fuck is she doing at his place? With him. Anywhere near him? He’s a single man, no doubt due to settle down at any given moment, considering he’s my age.

“Do you want to expand on that?” I growl.

He chuckles. “Not particularly. You’ll figure it out. Meanwhile, you need a plan and whatever it is, I can’t help you with it. I’m being watched like a hawk, so are my men.”

“This your way of saying no cleanup?” he asks.

He lets out a sigh. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I told you to sit tight until this was done.”

“How long is that supposed to be, Vino?”

“I know how it is. Luciana and I were separated for a while too, I get it. But there is a reason for the process. For the way that we do things.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I let out a sigh as I drive down the busy interstate. I could tell him that he doesn’t understand. I could argue with him about details, but in the end, none of that matters.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with that, Vino.”

“Personal?” he guesses.

“Yeah, but that’s not really what this is about, either.”

“Explain.”

I think about telling him that it’s not his business, but in a way it is. I still plan on uniting the Bianchi famiglia with the Zanetti. Therefore, what happens with the Bianchis is his business. Even if it’s fucking personal, so goddamn personal that I want to scream.

“I should have taken care of him before now. I should have been man enough to do it before I was married or before I left for my honeymoon. I let my feelings get in the way and it fucked me in the end.”

There is a long moment of silence, then Gavino speaks. When he does, it’s a low rumble and I’m surprised by the rough tone in his voice.

“Not a single fucking person would ever fault you for not taking care of your father. He’s not a tyrant, he’s not a bad person, he’s misguided in his anger right now. He feels you betrayed him and instead of talking to you, instead of listening to reason, he led with his emotion.”

“He put out a hit on me in Italy. The Mazza famiglia tried to gun me down twice,” I state. “He took my wife from me as punishment and put a hit out on me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s already been taken care of, the rest is just logistics.”

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asks. “Don’t do this for me, for the empire. I will get what I want eventually one way or another.”

I can just picture the smile on his face, and I know that he will do exactly that. He will get what he wants, the way he wants it, even if he has to wait for the perfect opportunity.

“I know what I want, Vino. I’ve thought long and hard about this and I’m done playing this game. He started it and I’m going to finish it.”

“Whatever you need that I can provide. I’m here, as a friend, Tiziano.”

“You going to tell me why the fuck my wife is with Salvatore?” I demand.

He only laughs before he ends the call and I guide the car straight for Salvatore’s condo. I don’t know what the actual fuck is going on, but if Gavino isn’t willing to fucking tell me, then I’m going to find out for myself.

The drive isn’t too long, I am hyperfocused on what I’m going to find and how I can kill Salvatore for touching what’s mine, when she isn’t technically mine anymore. I had thought that Gavino would have put Maci up somewhere by herself, maybe with a guard, but Salvatore?

Fuck that goddamn shit.

She’s mine and not his.

Not anyone’s.

Mine.

MACI

I know that voice.Rushing around the corner, I come to a complete halt when I see that Tiziano has Salvatore pinned to the wall, his forearm pressing against his throat. Salvatore is trying to pull his arm away, but Tiziano has seemingly superhuman strength.

“Tiziano,” I shout when I notice that Salvatore’s face starts to turn purple.

Tiziano looks over to me, his eyes glittering with rage, his nostrils flared and his face has a tint of red to it that I’ve never seen before.

“Let him go,” I plead, keeping my voice low and even.

He shakes his head, then takes a step back. Salvatore’s knees buckle and he falls to the floor. I don’t run over to him to see if he’s okay. I couldn’t even if I tried. Tiziano has me frozen in my place, completely frozen as I watch him.

“What the fuck?” he rasps.

“How?”

He watches me, his eyes still glittering, his nostrils still flaring, but his face is its normal coloring again. I take a hesitant step toward him, then another. His torso jerks and he starts to close the distance between us.

When his arms wrap around me, I let out a relieved sigh. “Tiziano,” I whisper again.

He hums, holding me, his body warm and strong. Shifting back slightly, I still have my arms around his shoulders, afraid that if I let him go that he’ll disappear in front of me again. He looks down at me, watching me for a long moment.

“How are you here?” I ask.

He frowns, pushing off of me and taking a step back. “Why? Are you pissed I ended your little honeymoon-perfect life?”

“Excuse me?” I ask.

He arches a brow, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet wide. “It’s definitely not what you think,” Salvatore rasps behind him as he stands and walks into the living room.

He doesn’t make a move to be anywhere near me, but he’s close enough to protect me if he needs to and I hope even harder that he finds someone perfect for him. Tiziano’s gaze shifts over to Salvatore and I watch as his lip curls.

“You really gonna tell me that this doesn’t look like what I think? You’re sharing a goddamn house together, a living space. You gonna tell me next that when you fucked her it was an accident too?”

“Excuse me?” I ask a little louder.

Now the rage that Tiziano had is building up inside of me. I’m seconds away from telling him to get the fuck out, except I don’t want him to go anywhere. I’m afraid if he walks out the door that I’ll never see him again, but I’m fucking pissed the fuck off.

“You heard me,” he sneers.

Cruel.

That is the only word that I can think of to describe this man right now. Maybe I had been mistaken about him, maybe I had built up this vision of him in my head and it was all full of shit. Maybe I was just hoping and imagining and praying that he would be perfect for me when, in reality, he’s absolutely not.

“Think about what you’re saying, Tiz. I’ve known you my whole life. Maci’s been working in my office. She needed a job, and she needed protection from your goddamn father. Protection that she wouldn’t have needed had you just talked to him, or dealt with him, whatever needed to be done,” Salvatore growls.

Tiziano’s entire body jerks as if Salvatore has pummeled him with his fists. He shakes his head slowly. “You’re going to tell me how to run my famiglia?” Tiziano sneers. “Really?”

It’s Salvatore’s turn for his body to jerk with the verbal throw. I don’t know what he’s talking about. Salvatore has told me a little about his family and his past, but nothing that he’s said would warrant Tiziano saying something like that to him.

I don’t get in the middle of their verbal argument. They are like two dogs and if there’s one thing you learn when you live in a bad neighborhood, you never get in the middle of a dogfight. But I also can’t let them ruin their friendship, something that I know Salvatore cherishes when it comes to the few friends he has. I know without a doubt that Tiziano is one of them.

“Please, don’t argue. Tiziano, please, nothing has ever happened between me and Salvatore. He’s protecting me from your father, from a possible hit.”

Tiziano’s head whips over my direction and his eyes find mine. “Why would he do that? He gave you back, there’s no fucking way he would call out a hit on you.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I decide that the only way to end this is to tell him why his father would potentially put out a hit on me, at least the way that Salvatore explains it. Closing the short distance between us, I reach out and take Tiziano’s hand.

Tugging his hand close to me, I force his palm against my stomach and I try not to cry, but I completely and totally fail. Tears fill my eyes and fall down my cheeks. I watch him, waiting to see some kind of reaction, but there is nothing but confusion lacing his features.

I don’t know how Tiziano hasn’t noticed, but he’s totally oblivious. It’s not like my stomach can hide, either. I’m wearing a tight tank top and a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, my stomach isn’t huge, but it’s protruding and on display.

“Salvatore said Tussio would call a hit on me because I’m carrying your baby, Tiziano.”

He blinks once. Then he blinks again. And then he blinks a third time. His mouth moves, opening and closing a few times, but nothing comes out.

“Tiziano?” I ask on a breathy whisper.

His eyes shift down from mine to my stomach, they widen, then flick back up to meet my own.

“I think I need to sit down,” he breathes right before he passes out cold in the middle of Salvatore’s living room.

“Serves him right, the fuck. I’m going to have bruises on my neck from him,” Salvatore grumbles.

I know that I shouldn’t, but I do anyway, I let out a huge belly laugh. The first true laugh that I’ve had since I was dragged away from Tiziano in Italy. Everything is going to be okay. It has to be.