SEVEN

," I mumbled as my eyes fluttered open. Arturo's hand rested against the curve of my waist, beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. I blinked a few times. Looked around. I had not been in his room - or his house - for years. A lot had happened since the last time I was here, yet nothing in the room itself had changed.

Arturo shifted beside me. "Are you disappointed about that?"

I considered. Part of me was glad that he was still here, since that meant we could talk about what the hell had happened yesterday. The other part, the part that was so ashamed of myself for succumbing to Arturo's allure that I pulled the bedsheets over my face, was disappointed. Maybe if he had gone to work early, I could have found a way to sneak out of the house and escape. Maybe, if I'd been lucky, I could have returned to England and forgotten that I'd ever made such a huge, embarrassing mistake.

"Last night shouldn't have happened," I said, retreating to my own side of the bed so that there was a safe distance between us.

"Why? Because you don't want to have to admit that you actually wanted me?"

"I didn't want you," I snapped.

"So you're saying I forced myself on you," Arturo sighed. I kept my gaze on the ceiling, ignoring the fact that he seemed even more sexy with messed up hair and a raspy voice.

"No," I hesitated. "Not exactly."

"Not at all, the way I remember it. I'm sure I can get one of my men to hack into the CCTV of the car park, though, if you need a reminder." Arturo retrieved his phone from the bedside table and began typing on it.

"Please don't."

"Then admit that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you." His voice was hard.

I gritted my teeth. He drove a hard bargain, but reliving last night through CCTV footage would be even more painful than simply knowing that it happened at all. "Fine. I wanted you. So what? Doesn't mean we're getting married. In fact, it doesn't even mean that I like you." I folded my arms.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Arturo didn't look away from his phone as he spoke, which irritated me even more.

"What?"

"I think you're acting crazy because you're scared of getting hurt again. Because the truth is that you want me right now, as we speak."

"You're delusional." I laughed in his face, jumping out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you."

Arturo followed me as I stormed into the hallway, immediately realising that I was lost. I couldn't remember the layout of his house, meaning that it took him only a second to reach me and grab my hand. "Florence, please."

I span around, preparing to tell him just how much I didn't want him, but my body collided with his and he wrapped his arms around me. I struggled for a minute against his toned body, but it was useless. "When you love somebody, those feelings never go away," he said quietly. My head was in line with his chest, so I could hear his voice vibrating as he spoke.

"I...you love me?"

"Is that so hard to believe, tesoro?"

(darling)

I swallowed hard. "This is a lot." Three years since Arturo and I had held each other. Three years of thinking he was dead. Three years, all washed away by one night. My cheeks burned at the memories of what he had done to me in that car. Of what we had done to each other.

"I know." His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "But I want us to work things out."

"I have a whole life..."

"Leave it behind. At least for a month, we can try to make this work. Call Henson, tell him you quit. You'll get another job in a second if you go back. You know you will."

As much as it terrified me, the prospect of dropping everything and running away was appealing. I liked my job back in London, and I enjoyed my life, but I didn't love it. Was that enough of a reason to leave it all behind?

"I'm confused," I admitted.

Arturo finally released me, taking a step back, and I hated the fact that I missed the warmth of his body. "Tell me you have no feelings for me, and I'll put you on a flight this afternoon, I swear it. Or tell me that you will stay."

"I want to, but...I can't just drop everything. The real world doesn't work like that."

"This is my world." Arturo held out his hand for me to take. "We don't play by the rules."

I opened my mouth to reply, but I was speechless. I just stared at his outstretched hand, the gold signet ring he always wore on his pinkie embellished with the Lucchese crest. It felt like literal alarm bells were going off in my head. Sirens were screaming, warning me against what I knew was ultimately a bad and dangerous idea.

And yet. What if I hadn't been from a rival family, all those years ago? What if I hadn't been a rat? Would we still be together now? Would it have worked?

No. I couldn't change the past. Thinking like that was dangerous, it would only lead to bad decisions.

"You're overthinking, Florence." He still hadn't dropped his hand.

"You're being ridiculous." I turned away so I didn't have to face Arturo anymore. Maybe if I stared at the wall I could think rationally. Like the sane, normal person I was before I met him. "We have so many problems. Betrayal and lies don't just go away because you wish they'd never happened."

"The same could be said for love."

"You've changed your tune."

"Florence." I could tell he was getting impatient now. "Stop being so difficult."

"Me, being difficult?" I scoffed. "Well you're insane."

"So you've said," he shrugged. "But at least I have the courage to go after what I want. Tell me, if all those lies never existed between us, would you have wanted it to work out? Would you still want to be with me now?"

"Well...all those lies did exist."

"That doesn't answer my question." I felt Arturo's hand on my shoulder as he span me around. There was no escaping his penetrating gaze now, no matter how hard I tried. "Tell me the truth."

"Yes," I snapped. "If none of that had happened."

"Do you wish you could fix it?"

He asked the question so quickly I answered without thinking. "Of course."

"Then let's fix it. Stay for a week, a month, and we'll work it out."

"This is insanely stupid," I replied, but I still took his hand. The logical, sane part of my self was screaming at me not to do this, but the other part was just as attracted to Arturo as ever.

He led me back into the bedroom and began getting dressed. "Marco is coming over for coffee."

"Can I keep your shirt on?" I asked hopefully.

"If he so much as looks at you, I will shoot him."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Will he even remember me?"

At this, Arturo chuckled. "He will definitely remember you, cara mia. You were quite a pain in the ass for us all, at the end."

(my dear)

"Good to know I'm remembered fondly," I replied sarcastically, following down the stairs.

When we reached the kitchen, Arturo leaned against the counter while I slid onto the stool beside him. Immediately his hand snaked around my waist.

"It's good to see you, fiore," Marco greeted.

"And you," I said, though I wasn't sure it was true. Yes, seeing Marco again was pleasant. He'd always been good to me. But being around Arturo, being back in his house? I still wasn't so sure it was a good idea. At all.

"It has been a long time, no?"

"Three years."

Marco nodded. "Very long time."

Arturo sauntered over to the coffee machine and picked up the freshly brewed mug. "Do you want one?"

I nodded and received the cup gratefully. "You know, I would really have preferred tea. If somebody had let me do the shopping properly, I would have had some." I took a sip to hide my teasing smile.

"You took him shopping?" Marco choked on his coffee from a bout of laughter. "Him," he poked the other man in the ribs, "as in, Arturo Lucchese? Shopping?"

"Yep," I smiled proudly.

Marco shook his head. "She has you wrapped around her finger already, Don."

Arturo simply rolled his eyes and stood beside me again. It felt strange, being so close to someone after months of celibacy. "Are you working today?" I wondered, stifling a yawn.

"Si, fiore." Marco finished off his coffee and stood.

"You should rest today," Arturo mumbled, tilting my head up. "We had a...tiring night." If my cheeks had not already been blazing, they certainly were when Arturo smirked and Marco chuckled lightly. "Sofia will be in the house to keep you company."

"What time will you be home?"

"When I am finished."

He kissed me on the lips and then they were gone.

It felt odd, being alone in Arturo's house again. I paced over to the window and looked out. The SUV was just pulling down the dirt track with Arturo and Marco inside it; in a few seconds it disappeared behind the line of pine trees.

Were a few words enough to resolve what we had been through? Because that's all we'd said, really. Paper thin explanations to cover what we felt inside. It didn't feel like enough to be left alone in his house. It didn't feel enough to sleep in his bed, yet I had.

Three years ago, Arturo had physically hurt me. Slammed my head into the floor. Put a gun in my mouth. Almost pulled the trigger. There was no protection for me - none for anyone. How safe, then, was I? And that wasn't the only unfinished question left between us: I had betrayed him. Lied to him. Slaughtered his trust. Could he really look at me the same? Knowing that I had lied to him - knowing I was a Genovese?

At some point these things would come out. And knowing us, they would explode out. I wasn't ready for that to happen, but a part of me needed it to.

Although there was still little in the kitchen due to mine and Arturo's failed shopping escapade, I decided to make breakfast. I could scrape together just enough eggs and bread for two people, if Sofia even wanted any.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Sofia? I'm making breakfast." No reply. "Do you want some?" I stilled. Listened. Still no answer. "Does scrambled eggs sound okay?"

Utter silence.

I began walking up the stairs, nervous now that something had happened. Arturo had said she was in - but why, then, was she not responding? Paranoia gripped me. Had someone else got into the house? Were they waiting to kill me too?

"Sofia?" I asked again, more softly this time. At first I heard nothing. Not from her bedroom. Then, a quiet, stifled sound. Like a sob, perhaps. From the bathroom. I took a step closer. "Sofia, is everything okay?"

Another sob, then a crash, and a curse. Dropping something. Or throwing it.

"Sofia." I knocked gently on the bathroom door.

It swung half open and was slammed quickly shut. "Go away!" Rapid scrambling on the other side of the door. "Fuck, why are there no locks in this house!"

I managed to get my foot in and then I pushed. I had no right, but I did. Call it instinct - I knew I needed to get in that room. At last Sofia stopped pushing back and I stumbled inside at the sudden loss of force on the other side of the door. I took a moment to compose myself.

Sofia stood with her back to me. She was breathing heavily, trying to hold back tears. I could tell from the way her breathing sounded strangled, like someone had poured sand down her throat.

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Sofia."

"Get out."

"What's wrong?" I tried to pull her gently but she was not pliable. It was as though she had become rooted to the floor, like a tree.

She shook her head. "Florence, get out."

"No." My authoritativeness surprised even myself.

"Get out, before you get dragged into something you can't handle." Her accent became thicker with emotion. Her head was half turned, now - I could see her tanned skin and her hazel eye. One eye, focused ahead. She did not turn so I could see all of her.

I let go of her shoulder and let out a breath. "You'd be surprised what I can handle."

"Not this. Not something you shouldn't have to deal with." She was stubborn, just like her brother.

"Look...I want to help." My voice softened. "Please let me."

"Cagna nobile."

(Nosey bitch)

I didn't need to know what she said to know that it was meant to hurt me. Her voice dripped with malice so sharp and acidic that I swear I could hear Arturo in her words. Still, I stood my ground. Something was upsetting her. "I know what it feels like to be alone and scared, Sofia."

Her head turned just a fraction more towards me. I could see the fear in her eyes, and my heart ached for her. "I...I can't."

"You can," I encouraged, "you can tell me."

She let out a sharp noise half way between a sob and a sigh. Turned around. Faced me with watery brown eyes, like coffee. There were bruises all over her body, some dark purple, some yellow. And in her shaking hands, a stick.

A pregnancy test.