23. Stefania

Iwake up without Davide and wonder if he's some kind of fever dream. It's like he keeps showing up out of nowhere, throwing down a bunch of hot and body-melting sex, then disappearing in the morning.

I'm frustrated. I haven't heard anything about a job, and I'm starting to get a little stir-crazy sitting around the house with nothing to do. I can't text my husband because he's always busy and I don't want to bother him with something trivial like, you know, my feelings, and so I end up resenting him and feeling annoyed with myself, while also wishing he were here right now to kiss me, fuck me, and call me all sorts of filthy names.

Which is a thing I like now, apparently.

I have a leisurely morning before I get dressed and step outside. I don't have a plan until I hit the sidewalk, look around, spot a few of the guards that keep the oasis safe, and start walking to the far end where the fake roadwork keeps cars away. It's a nice day; I stroll along, feeling good, at least until I notice someone hurrying after me.

"Mrs. Bianco, please hold on a second," he says as he reaches my side, breathing hard.

I glance over at the young man. I'd guess he's nineteen, maybe twenty, with a weak mustache, baggy jeans, and an oversized sweatshirt probably meant to hide the gun he's got tucked into a holder at his waistband, except he keeps adjusting himself and flashed the gun at me like three times already.

"My name's Stefania," I tell him and keep on walking, not slowing down. "I haven't seen you around before."

"I'm Matty," he says and keeps pace with me. "Please, ma'am, I mean, Mrs., uh, I mean?—"

"Stefania," I say again. "Are you new? I'm looking for a decent coffee shop. Anyone nearby?"

"You can't leave the family grounds," Matty says, sounding genuinely horrified. I should feel bad for him since he's clearly just some low-level soldier stuck on minor guard duty, but I'm too annoyed with my situation to take pity and turn around.

"Says who?" I ask, doing my best to sound sweet, but picking up the pace.

"Your husband. He made it very clear. I'm not to let you out of the oasis for any reason."

"How come it's called the oasis?" I ask, even though I know full well. I just want to keep him talking.

"Well, ma'am, I suppose it's because it's the only safe place in the whole city for you and your family, which is exactly why you can't leave."

I'm about twenty feet from the roadwork signs, twenty feet from freedom, twenty feet from the city I supposedly live in but haven't gotten to see much of yet. Sure, I've been driven around, I've gone to high-end shops with Elena and Freddie, but I haven't gone for a stinking walk since I married Davide, and I miss it. I always liked walking around Philly.

"Tell you what, Matty. I'm going to go ahead and ignore everything you're saying, and when my husband finds out about it, I'll make sure he understands that there was nothing you could do short of grabbing me and hauling me back. Which he would never, ever want you to do, since my husband is a jealous man and he'd hate it if someone touched me."

I have a feeling that last part is actually true, even though I'm making this up on the fly.

"Stefania," he says, sounding panicked. "You don't understand."

"No, you don't understand. I'm sick of sitting around inside. Get some more guys and follow me if you have to, but I'm going for a stupid walk, and I'm finding a coffee shop. I don't care if this is reckless and irresponsible. I'm a damn person and I want to be treated like one."

I reach the roadwork sign feeling pretty good about my speech. I'm a glorious few steps from freedom. The city practically vibrates with anticipation around me: normal people are walking along the other side of the road, a nice young couple, the bald guy and the girl in a cute dress, and I want to shout at them, hey fucklechucks, look at me, I'm a normal person too, except anyone that has to say they're normal probably isn't normal, and definitely normal people don't yell at strangers. But still, I'm elated, and I take another step forward, then another step.

That's when the truck comes to a screaming halt in the street. My mouth drops open and my hands fly up to my chest as my heart tries to cartwheel its way into the gutter.

"Your husband's already on the way," Matty says, sounding sheepish.

The truck door bangs open and Davide marches out. I take a few steps backwards, back over the invisible line into the oasis, but he keeps on coming until he's leaning over me with a snarl on his face.

"Why the fuck did my men call to tell me that my wife is causing trouble? Do you have any idea how busy I am today?"

I blink rapidly at him. Davide's forehead is sweaty like he's been working out and there's something red staining his shirt. He's not wearing a jacket, and his sleeves are rolled up, and more red stuff is under his fingernails. I've been around my brothers enough to recognize blood—and a lot of it.

"Where were you just now?" I ask very softly. A normal person might feel sick right now. A normal person might be disgusted that their husband is covered in blood. I want to find that nice young couple and beg them to understand. I was raised like this! I'm totally normal, I swear! But they'd just scream and run away.

Because the sight of a frenzied, bloody man doesn't make me bat an eye, which says a lot about my deeply scarred psyche.

"This wasn't about you," I say and make myself sound braver than I feel. "I needed some air."

"Get it inside the boundaries of the oasis. Do not make my men risk their lives and yours because you want some air." He grabs my arm and I try to jerk away, but his grip is iron. I expect him to yank me back to the house, but instead he takes me to his truck and pulls me in after him.

Matty stands by, looking smug. The little fucker.

"You know, some women like the whole possessive-caveman routine, but I'm not one of them."

He grunts in my face as he buckles me in. Safety first and all. His hands graze my body as he does it, and I feel a sharp tingle in my stomach as I recall everything we did the night before and what he can do with those fingers, despite the way they smell like copper and iron.

"Liar," he says, his mouth lingering near my neck. I want him to bite it. I want him to kiss my lips and swell them. Instead, he gets behind the wheel and drives.

"What were you doing just now?" I ask him, flustered and annoyed. I don't like the way I get all needy at the slightest hint of him coming close enough to touch.

"There was a problem with a shipment, but we're solving it." He stares straight ahead through the windshield. "Your family's involved."

I sit up straight. I've barely heard from my asshole brothers since coming out here and I still haven't made up with Giorgia. I'm homesick and desperate for any information about them.

"What happened? Is everyone okay?"

"They're all fine. A shipment of guns came up short, but I suspect it was Uncle Luciano. Which is actually very bad, because it means he's got a way of listening to us, or at least he's watching a lot closer than I expected."

I shift in my seat and look down at my lap. "My brother wouldn't betray you guys. If that's what you're thinking."

"I don't think he would," Davide says and his tone is gentler, which I appreciate, because I am sitting here wondering if Carlo would dangle me like bait to lull the Bianco Famiglia into complacency and if Renzo would approve it. "There's a very long and very ugly feud that goes back to my childhood with Uncle Luciano. This all goes back to him."

I suck on my teeth and look out the window. The city I wanted to explore slowly rolls past. "Why do you call him that? Uncle? Nobody else does, at least I haven't heard them. They all refer to him by his last name."

He stares straight ahead and his face is completely calm. "Uncle Luciano and my father were best friends. They grew up together, and I grew up with Uncle Luciano around for every birthday, every Christmas. He never had kids of his own and I guess he wanted to treat us like his own children, and we really loved him for it. Everyone else has forgotten that, but I haven't."

I turn slightly to stare at him, looking for an emotion to make me understand what he's thinking, but his face is totally passive. I can't imagine what must have happened to turn a man who was like an uncle to him into a hated enemy the way he is now, but it must have been horrible. Those kinds of relationships, they aren't easily broken and ruined in the mafia world, because they're so precious and important. Crime families run on relationships and loyalty, and if Santoro broke that trust?—

I can only imagine how much it must've hurt him.

"I shouldn't have tried to leave the oasis," I say and put my hand on his leg. I want to make him feel better, because even if he's not showing it, he must be hurting. "I'm being selfish."

"You're not selfish," he says and lets out a long breath. He covers my hand with his own and laces his fingers through mine. "You're alone in a strange place and you're stuck in a house that isn't your own. Your life is back in Philadelphia, but you're stuck here, and you're not even allowed to go for a walk. I can't hold it against you."

"Well, since we're in agreement—" I say and grin at him. He squeezes my hand and his lips quirk very slightly, loosening his painfully neutral exterior.

"Just because I understand doesn't mean you were right to do it. I already agreed to find you a job you can do from home, but maybe I need to make that a priority."

More guilt hits me. "I just wanted to find a coffee shop."

"And I just wanted a wife that could follow simple instructions, especially when those instructions are there to keep her safe."

"I guess nobody gets what they want then."

He smirks and pulls my hand, yanking me toward him as he stops at a stop sign and turns to crush my mouth with his. I'm surprised by the kiss, but I lean into it, craving his tongue and his taste. I whimper into his mouth and want more, because I'm greedy for him, and stupid for the way he can make me feel.

"I was cold this morning," I whisper after he breaks apart the kiss. We're still stopped in the street. "I know you have to work, but tell me before you leave next time. I don't care if you have to wake me up."

"I can do that," he agrees and touches my cheek with his other hand. "I'll also make your new job a priority."

I kiss him one more time before he starts driving again. We stop a few minutes later, and I realize we're on the other side of the oasis. He must've driven a large loop around the block.

Matty's standing nearby, looking around innocently like nothing's happening.

I get out and watch the truck disappear around the corner before I turn and glare at the young guard. "Don't you dare say anything."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Stefania." But his grin says enough.

I point at him. "You can call me ma'am now, dick."

"Yes, ma'am."

I march past him and back to the house. Once inside, I stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, and touch a streak of red on my cheek, and notice more red on my hands where I was touching Davide.

Some stranger's blood. It would bother me, but I just wash it away with soap and water, making the sink turn pink. I'm normal. I'm totally normal. I'm so normal, I should get a little yappy white dog.