Killer Curves by Wilde Roxie

Author:Wilde, Roxie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Francesca

Some people lose their appetite in times of stress.

I’ve never been one of those people.

Somehow, even after the party, the drive, and a soul-wrenching cry in the bathroom, I still managed to put away an entire bowl of Mrs. Romano’s rigatoni.

The lingering scent of garlic, onions, and tomatoes was comforting in its familiarity. Giorno and I were holed up in the spare bedroom he’d converted into a temporary command center. An assortment of burner phones sat lined up on the desk in front of me. For all his warnings and exaggerated shuddering, Maria Romano had been nothing less than warm and doting. She’d brushed aside Giorno’s attempts at explanation and insisted on enveloping me in the kind of Italian rib-crushing hugs that normally aren’t my thing. Tonight it was welcome.

Despite my teasing, I was grateful to be out of the dress and comfortably ensconced in one of Giorno’s oversized dress shirts. There’d been an inexplicable stab of guilt over how familiar and comfortable it felt. Dio had always favored fitted, tailored shirts, even in his casualwear. His style had suited him, but it meant I’d never been able to wear his shirts. Everything about Giorno felt big and safe. It made me want to bury my head in his chest and let him hold me until this nightmare was over, and I was irrationally angry at him for it.

My head throbbed like a bad tooth. Every phone call I made, every text message I read. A thousand injuries, over and over again. I lost count of how many times I told the story. I gave orders and organized people and calmed scared soldados until my voice was hoarse.

None of it brought my father back to life.

Stefano Moretti. The Wolf. Executed in cold blood. Cristian was still missing.

My family had been torn apart.

“Frankie, you gotta try and get some rest.”

Giorno’s smooth voice cut through my turbulent thoughts. He was right, and that irritated me all over again.

“I’m fine.” I rubbed the heel of my hand across tired, gritty eyes. There was eyeliner and mascara smudged across my skin when I pulled away.

“Frankie.” This time there was more finality in it. Apparently, I’d begun to test Giorno Romano’s seemingly limitless patience. He came over to where I sat, steering me up out of the chair and over to where he’d already turned the comforter down on the big queen bed. I had no idea what time it was anymore, but it looked like sunlight was peeking around the curtains he’d taken the time to pull shut.

I didn't fight him this time. I was too exhausted, too worn down. Crawling in between the covers, I kept a cell phone under the pillow, checking to ensure the ringer was turned up.

“I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

I reached out for Giorno’s hand as he turned, capturing him just before he left the bedside.

“Stay?”

Neither of us moved for a heartbeat.

“Just until I fall asleep?”

He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress gently. He was graceful in a way that belied his size, almost delicate.

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