Francesca stopped trying to pull her hand away. Her heart hurt for Stefano. Everyone expected him to take care of their problems. It was clear this wasn’t the first time Theresa had come to Stefano and Francesca was certain it wouldn’t be the last. He carried a terrible weight on his shoulders.

“Bruno is twenty-four years old, Theresa. No one can stop him from doing what he wants. I’ve talked to him.”

Theresa took a deep breath. “You haven’t made yourself clear.”

There was a long silence. The air was suddenly charged with tension. Most of that was coming from Stefano, but Theresa looked both scared and nervous.

“Are you certain you know what you’re asking me, Theresa?” Stefano’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. Gentle. Still, it was somehow very menacing.

The old lady nodded. “He has to know there are consequences. It is the only way. Nothing has worked.”

“There is no taking it back.”

“I understand.”

Francesca didn’t. She was missing something big. Huge. Whatever Signora Vitale was asking for, Stefano was reluctant to do. She moved closer to him, wanting to comfort him. She didn’t understand why, especially since his scary persona was back. As he sat there in his pin-striped suit with his expressionless mask and flat, cold eyes, she could understand why she’d first thought he was in the mafia. No Hollywood movie would ever find a better man to play the part.

Theresa held his eyes for a long time. Stefano lowered his long lashes as if weary beyond measure and then he lifted them. “Bambina, I’m sorry.” He leaned into Francesca and brushed a kiss over her forehead. At the same time, still holding her hand, he slid his index finger out and drew a soothing line along the scratch at her throat. “I had planned to walk you home, make certain you were safe, but I’m going to have to take care of this.”

“That’s all right. I can get home by myself.” Francesca could see the reluctance to leave her in his eyes. He really didn’t want to go and that made some small part of her very satisfied, even though the bigger part of her knew she was being a little delusional in thinking his concern could be anything but fear for her safety.

He shook his head as he lifted his hand to Berta and she came running. “Put this on my tab,” he said to the woman. He left two twenty-dollar bills on the table as he rose, a huge tip, and held out his hand to assist Theresa Vitale in rising. “My cousins will be waiting outside for you, Francesca. Please allow them to see you home.”

She smiled at him. “It’s unnecessary.”

“I disagree.”

His tone told her not to argue. His eyes and the hard look on his face told her the same. He was a scary man to defy, but she might have argued just on principle if she hadn’t seen him so vulnerable over his friend’s death. If she hadn’t figured out that he needed to protect everyone around him.

“All right then,” she conceded, not sounding very gracious. She’d enjoyed their talk together far more than she’d expected and she liked him much better than she had thought possible. Maybe too much. She’d certainly told him too much about herself. She was especially grateful that when she’d made that mistake, he hadn’t pried further. “Oh no. Stefano, your coat.”

He shrugged. “Did you get yourself a coat?”

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. He wouldn’t like that. He’d specifically told her to buy a coat. It was just that all the ones in the neighborhood were expensive. She wasn’t going to use his money for a coat. “I’m saving for one.”

“Francesca.” There was warning in his voice. “Look at me.”

“Go. You have things to do.”

His fingers caught her chin and tipped her face up to his. “Nothing is more important to me. Get. A. Fucking. Coat.”

It was difficult to look into his eyes and not give him anything he wanted, even when he swore the way he did. “Stefano.”

“Francesca.”

He actually growled her name. She didn’t think a person could make that particular sound, but he managed it. Everyone in the restaurant stared at them. Waiting. Horrified at her defiance. She knew they couldn’t possibly hear the exchange, but they could read body language and see that Stefano Ferraro was not happy with her.

He sighed. “Wear my coat home and be warm. I’ll come by later this evening and see you.”

Her heart plunged. He couldn’t possibly come to her apartment building. The place would fall down if he walked into it. She didn’t live in Ferraro territory. Joanna had explained the boundaries to her, and her apartment building definitely fell outside of it. Surely he didn’t mean he would come to her apartment?