Page 75 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

I lifted my head.

“Maddox.”

Confusion flickered across her face. My stomach tightened.

“The man who wrote the poem, Mamma. The one we were just talking about.”

She stared at me for a moment. Then her brow furrowed.

“What poem?”

The words hit like a gut-punch.

No. Not yet. I still needed her.

Tears fell off the end of my nose and dropped onto her chest. She frowned.

“Oh, tesoro. Why are you crying?”

The question was so innocent, as if she truly didn’t know. At that moment, I realised no grief was ever the same. Losing Maddox was a violent, breath-stealing grief that felt like it would never go away. But losing my mamma was softer; a slow ache that repeated itself time and again.

I forced a small smile onto my lips, despite the tears, because that’s what you did when you had to watch someone you loved slip away before your eyes.

“I’m okay, Mamma.”

“Sweet girl.” She brushed a curl from my face, then looked around the room. “Have I… have I been asleep?”

I inhaled, placing my head back on her chest. “A little.”

“Oh,” she yawned. “I’m tired.”

“Go to sleep, Mamma,” I whispered, lying beside her and pulling the cover up to her chin. “Get some rest.”

“When is Marco coming home?”

I closed my eyes tightly. “Soon. Sleep now.”

At some point, we both fell asleep. I dreamed of Maddox. I sat on his lap as we finished the jigsaw puzzle. We weren’t in the bunker, though. We were on wild moorlands, with the horse grazing ahead. His eyes sparkled in the bright sun.

“So this is freedom,” he whispered in my ear. I turned and kissed him.

I decided I’d sleep in her bed every night from then on, so we could both feel alone together. And every night, I’d tell her about Maddox, whether she remembered it or not.

Not My Monster

Iwalked into the kitchen the following morning and found Giovanni, Olivia, Sani and Aria sitting at the breakfast table. They all froze when they saw me, clearly surprised that I was out of bed this early. I headed to the coffee machine, stood with my back to them, and started making a cappuccino.

There was some muttering, then a scrape of the chair on the polished floors. I briefly closed my eyes and braced myself for what was about to happen. I couldn’t hide from them forever. I knew that. They were worried about me. And it was selfish of me not to see it, or to refuse to speak to them. But until now, I just… couldn’t.

“Morning,” Olivia said softly, hovering nearby but not close enough to crowd me. “Are you hungry? Lolita made fresh pastries.”

“I’ll have one. Grazie,” I answered quietly. You could hear a bloody pin drop in the silence that followed.

“Okay,” Liv tried to keep the glee out of her voice, but failed. “I’ll put one on a plate for you. Will you join us?”

Every instinct in me screamed no. To take the breakfast and coffee and disappear into my room so I could be alone, so I didn’t have to deal with their concerned stares or the uncomfortable small talk.

I inhaled and nodded.