26. Stefania

Ireally start to ease into life in the oasis over the next week.

It's not perfect—that supposed work-from-home job hasn't materialized yet, and Davide's work hours remain erratic—but it's starting to feel like home. I'm even allowed to go for walks around the block as long as there are at least two guards watching over me at all times, which Elena says is pretty standard for the main family. I'm not exactly feeling like this is my ideal home and I still miss Philadelphia and my family like crazy, but at least I'm more used to living in a house that's basically just two giant rooms.

And things with Davide are… good. Inconsistent, but good. When he's around, he's extremely attentive. His hands are constantly on me, and all he wants to do is shower me with compliments and fuck me until I'm sore. Which is honestly kind of amazing, because not only does that man have a beautiful, magical dick that makes my brain turn to prickly slime, but he's also the greatest cuddler in the world.

Seriously. Davide Bianco, scarred and burned mafia enforcer, so fucked up from whatever trauma he's still trying to process that he can't handle walls, is really good at cuddling. It's like the guy comes inside of me and suddenly turns into a puppy dog, and it makes me suddenly believe in guardian angels, because someone's got to be putting in a good word with the big guy upstairs. Nobody's supposed to be this lucky.

I'm humming to myself one afternoon, messing around with a flower arrangement that I bought from a nearby florist and wondering if Davide's going to come sweeping into the house with a wild stare and a big old hard-on like usual, when there's a banging at my front door.

Which is probably not my husband.

I wipe my hands on a dish towel to dry them before hurrying over. Nobody gets into the oasis, not even delivery drivers or the postman—all that stuff gets dropped at the corner and the Bianco soldiers deliver it themselves. Which means whoever's knocking is either family or Famiglia.

Just about the last person I ever expect is standing on my stoop. Laura glares at me like she's about to yank a knife out from under her all-black ensemble and stab me to death in my own foyer. She's in a knee-length skirt, chunky black boots, and a tight black top with her hair styled down around her shoulders, sort of like a goth that got into all-natural medicine. I'm struck by how pretty she is—most of the time, Laura's busy giving me death looks and threatening me, which really distracts from her good looks.

"Uh, hey," I say, feeling completely off balance. "Davide's not here."

"There's some fucking girl asking for you at the end of the block. I'm pretty sure Matty's about to break her neck because she's straight up throwing a fit."

My eyes go wide and I shake my head, totally at a loss. "A girl's asking for me? I have no clue who you're talking about."

Laura rolls her eyes like I am the dumbest piece of shit on the entire planet. "Follow me before someone gets killed."

I look back over my shoulder, but I don't have anything better to do. This feels like some kind of trap, like Laura's going to lead me into her weirdo torture chamber and cut off all my toes and make me eat them, but I'm also kind of curious to find out what she's talking about.

Once I'm outside, I spot the commotion all the way at the far end of the block. There are about six Bianco enforcers standing around in a tight circle, and I'm guessing there's some girl in the middle of them, but I can't see who it is yet.

"Can I ask you something?" I say to Laura as we hurry toward the men.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't."

Well, that's not a no. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"I already told you that. I guess you're deaf now? Or your memory is broken?"

I take a breath to keep myself calm. "I understand you don't trust me, but seriously, what is it about me that's such an issue?"

Laura stops mid-stride. We're still a good distance from the crowd as she turns on me, hands on her hips, blocking my view of whatever's happening up ahead.

"Davide's important to me." She jabs a finger into my chest. "And you are still a stranger."

"I'm trying my best here," I say softly, hoping that she can understand how I'm in a terrible position too, just as bad as her brother, if not worse. "This isn't my home. You aren't my family. I'm barely keeping my head above water, and I really don't get what I did to make you despise me so much."

For a second, Laura's expression softens. There's a glimmer of something in her eyes, a recognition maybe, like she's suddenly seeing me as an actual person instead of a phantom monster. But she quickly shuts that shit down and whirls on her heel.

"How about you focus on fixing whatever this stupid mess is and don't worry about me, okay?" She marches off and I have to hurry to keep up.

As we approach, Matty breaks away from the group of enforcers and comes over, looking like he wants to dropkick me off a roof. "You better start explaining," he demands. I've never seen him like this before. Normally, the young guard is all smiles and jokes, but this is his dark side and it's actually kind of scary. Laura inserts herself between me and him and puts a hand on his chest.

"Don't forget who you're talking to," she says.

Which is a freaking miracle, because I think she's defending me right now.

Matty visibly composes himself. He rolls his neck and cracks a couple knuckles, and I take a step back to give him some space. Then he tries again.

"Some girl showed up looking for you ten minutes ago. She won't say who she is or where she came from, but she keeps on asking for you. She keeps saying, and I quote, ‘If you hurt my best friend, I am going to stomp on all of your balls until you sing like fucking choir boys.'"

My eyes go wide and my heart skips a beat. No, there's no way, but I recognize the cadence he just copied and that threat sounds extremely familiar, but it's impossible. I push past my sister-in-law, skirt around Matty, and throw myself into the middle of the group.

Giorgia's sitting on a stoop, her back straight, her arms crossed over her chest. Her face is bright red and her hair's a mess like she's been shouting her head off, which is totally possible. She's wearing yoga pants, a gray t-shirt, a leather jacket, and she's carrying a big black travel bag.

"Giorgia?" I say, because I'm still not sure it's actually her.

But when she spots me, she leaps to her feet, throws her bag to the side, and wraps her arms around me as she screams my name and sobs against my shoulder. I'm so bewildered that all I can do is hug her back while a bunch of extremely annoyed and dangerous mafia thugs watch with varying expressions ranging from amused to ready-to-murder.

"They kept saying you weren't here, but I knew you were. I mean how the hell are they keeping me from a public fucking space, you nitwit cocksuckers, but oh my god, Stefania, you're alive, you're okay, I was so freaking worried about you." She talks a million miles an hour and I can only hear every other word, but from what I gather, she flew in this morning and planned on surprising me at my house right up until the guards nabbed her and wouldn't let her through.

"It's okay, everyone," I say once Giorgia's too busy hyperventilating to speak over me. "I know her. It's totally fine."

Matty looks both chagrined and deeply annoyed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bianco, it doesn't work that way. She has to be approved?—"

"Mrs. Bianco?" Giorgia squeals and now she's crying. "Oh my god, it's true? You're really married? This wasn't some elaborate prank? Stefania, what the fuck is going on?"

I pat Giorgia's back as she howls in hysterics. It's the most absurd display I've ever seen from her and that's saying something—she's prone to overly emotional outbursts, it's actually part of why I love her. The girl can't hide what she's thinking no matter how hard she tries. But right now, she's a little overwhelmed, and it's not helping her case.

I'm ready to fight a bunch of men three times my size when Laura inserts herself again.

"It's fine, Matthew. I'll vouch for her."

He looks supremely uncertain, and I don't blame him, because I'm gaping at her like she just said I love ponies and petting puppy dogs.

"I don't know—" Matty starts, but Laura cuts him off.

"Are you going to stand there and tell a blood member of the Bianco family that I can't vouch for someone in my own fucking home? Are you really that fucking stupid, Matthew? Because I'd love an excuse to jab my fist down your thick throat until you puke up blood, you dumb shitface."

"Wow," one of the enforcers says and I swear they all take a step back, even though Laura's like a hundred pounds and five-foot-two.

"I like her," Giorgia says through her tears.

"Let's not rush to judgment," I whisper to her.

Matty groans and rubs his face. "Fine," he says, clearly unhappy but also not willing to get his guts punched from the inside. "But if this shit goes bad, you're on the hook, Laura." He spins around and addresses the gathered crowd. "Everyone back to your fucking posts. Stop staring and move, you pricks."

The scene breaks up. Laura glares as the guys amble off, talking among themselves, several throwing her confused looks, and at least one of them looking like a lovesick teenager. I guess she has her charms, but for real, that's like falling for a horny viper.

"Thank you," I tell her, but Laura's already storming off.

"Don't make me regret this," she tosses over her shoulder and flips me off as she returns to her house.

Which leaves me alone with a hiccupping Giorgia. At least she's not bawling and screaming anymore, but she's still clinging to me like there's an iceberg coming and I'm the only floating door in sight.

"Hey, girl," she says, sounding sheepish. "I guess I found you."

I whirl on her, suddenly pissed off. "A phone call would've been nice. Do you have any clue how much trouble you're in right now?"

"Well, how was I supposed to know you live on the Fort Knox of freaking city blocks? I just wanted to come make sure you're alive, that's all!"

I compose myself, because while her methodology was flawed, her intentions were pure. "How'd you even figure out where I live?"

The question makes her grimace slightly and her smile is chagrined, which means she fucked up big time. "I logged into your Ikea account and looked at your most recent orders. Don't get mad! Remember you let me use it that one time because you had that fancy unique discount code and I really needed a new bedframe after my dickweed ex broke it and not even during sex?"

I groan and close my eyes. "I remember."

"Well, you ordered some furniture, and you had it sent to an address on this block, so?—"

I open my eyes and stare at the sky. "You booked a flight and came to surprise me."

"Exactly. I'm so sorry. I should've called or texted, but I was afraid that if I did, then maybe he'd get in the way." She moves closer, her voice going soft. "Was he one of those guys just now?"

"No, Davide's not home." Luckily for us since I'm not sure how my husband would've reacted. "What were you thinking, Giorgia?"

"I was worried about my best friend, okay! And honestly, I was feeling guilty as fuck after our last conversation, and this whole marriage thing is bizarre and so weird, and I just had to come out and make sure that you weren't like kidnapped or abused or whatever. And I miss you."

She's blinking rapidly and about to cry, but I'm feeling a big old lump in my throat too.

Because she cared enough to drop everything. She flew out here armed with nothing more than a hunch and an address, all because she's my best friend and she wanted to make sure I was okay. That's a hell of a lot more than my family has done so far; I can't even remember the last time any of them called.

I pull her into a tight hug. My homesickness comes back with a vengeance, and maybe this visit is going to undo some of the progress I've made recently, but to hell with that.

"I missed you too," I say, squeezing her hard. "You're so insane and I really don't love the invasion of privacy, but I love you, okay?"

"I love you even more. I'm sorry I'm insane. I just had to know if you're okay." She wipes her eyes and leans back to look at me. "You're okay, right?"

"I'm okay." I smile so she knows I'm not faking it. "I'm really okay."

"Good." She lets out a breath. "Well, I'll be seeing you."

I laugh, grab her bag, and take her by the hand. "Come on, let me show you my house. Fair warning, it's weird." I tug her along, leading her down the block.

"Weird, how? Your husband's into, like, sex dungeon shit?"

"Not that I know of. No, it's more that we have an open floor plan. Like… extremely open."

"Interesting." Her eyebrows raise. "And intriguing."

"Come on, crazy." I slip my arm through hers. "We have a lot to discuss."