“Eloisa, that’s enough.”

Francesca flinched at the tone of Stefano’s voice. He was angry. Not his usual enraged but under-control anger; this was a smoldering, scary, very low voice that indicated he was extremely dangerous.

“I’m your mother . . .”

“Don’t.” His voice was a whip, lashing out with a viciousness Francesca hadn’t known him capable of. “You lost the right to call yourself my mother a long time ago. You never played that role, and now isn’t the time to start. You don’t know the first thing about my relationship with Francesca.”

He called his mother by her first name? Eloisa? Clearly there was a huge rift between mother and son. Stefano was a man who believed in protecting women. It was ingrained in him. At his very core. It shocked her that something had gone so wrong in their relationship that Stefano was disrespectful to his mother. She’d had a few clues. He hadn’t included her or his father in the meeting with his cousins when they’d asked her about Barry.

“I know that you’re running out of time and you saw a woman who was compatible with you and what you are. You know in another couple of years you’ll have to make a match of convenience, so you took the first thing that came your way because you just have to be in control.” Eloisa’s voice dripped with sarcasm. It also rang with honesty.

Francesca threw one hand out toward the wall to steady herself. What did that mean? A marriage of convenience? Why would Stefano have to marry anyone? That didn’t make sense. He could have his choice of any woman. He was gorgeous, had tons of money, as well as a million other reasons why a woman would want him. What did Eloisa mean? Compatible with you and what you are? What was Stefano that any woman wouldn’t be compatible with him?

“What I choose to do or with whom I do it isn’t your concern.”

Knots coiled tight in Francesca’s belly. Stefano wasn’t denying anything his mother had said. He was protesting her right to say it to him.

“This family is my business. I’ve given my entire life for it, and I won’t let your sex drive or your need to prove to me or your father that you’re the one in control, not us, ruin everything.”

“I’ve given my life to this family,” Stefano said, his voice dropping even lower.

His tone made Francesca shiver. She could actually feel the heat of his temper filling the room and drifting down the hall toward her. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see the walls bulge outward in an effort to contain his temper. She never, ever wanted him that angry with her.

“My sex drive is none of your business and it never will be. I am the one in control of the family, not you and don’t ever be stupid enough to test me on that, Eloisa. You didn’t listen to me when I told you what would happen if you sent Ettore into the tubes. I told you he was too young and far too sensitive for this kind of work, but you just had to pull rank on me because you didn’t want the family to know you didn’t know the first thing about your children and they were all there. The others told you. Ricco, Giovanni, Vittorio, hell, even Taviano and Emmanuelle. All of us. But you just had to prove your point. My baby brother. I was the one who held him in my arms. I was the one who got up at night to feed and change him. Not you. I picked him up when he cried and rocked him back to sleep.”

“He was weak,” Eloisa said in a small voice. “He needed to be a man. I tried to make him a man. You coddled him too much. You always did.”

“He was different, Eloisa, but you refused to see that because, God forbid, you and your husband couldn’t possibly produce a less-than-perfect child. Now Ettore’s just dead.”

Francesca’s heart broke for Stefano. There was genuine sorrow in his voice. The sorrow a parent would feel for the loss of a child. She took a step toward the living room, needing to comfort him.

“I’ve known Barry Anthon’s parents for some time, Stefano. He comes from good people,” Eloisa continued, as if they hadn’t just been discussing the loss of her son. “This deranged woman you call your fiancée accused Barry of murdering her sister—did you know that? It’s absolutely absurd. She’s got a police record. She’s a criminal as well as a mental patient. Give her money to go away. She’s not the only rider in the world. They’re out there. You just have to look around a little bit. Dio, Stefano, at least admit you wouldn’t have looked at her twice if she weren’t a rider. Be honest with yourself and with me.”

“That may be true, Eloisa,” Stefano said. “But I did look at her.”