INICIAR SESIÓNMariaAcross the ballroom, Maria looked over just as Donatello laughed quietly with another couple. It was such a rare expression on his face, one she had always wanted to draw from him herself.He was easily the most handsome man in the room, she thought sadly, his dark hair falling over his forehead as it always did, his broad shoulders straining beneath the expensive jacket. For once, he didn't have his trench coat, she thought, smiling. When he smiled, he looked so different…Her chest tightened in longing.Wistfully, she watched her handsome, older husband, relaxed and happy, moving with a looseness she never saw at home.“Why are you looking at your husband like that?” Mandy demanded, and Maria turned to her friend and dimpled.Donatello chose to look across at her then.When their eyes met, Maria looked away.DonatelloWhile Maria was talking to an older Donna, a respected older associate of the Godfather’s, approached Donatello. The old man, Don Luis Moretti, beamed.“Your w
MariaDon Vittorio was a shrewd old man; he had long suspected that his son was cold and unloving in how he treated his little family. But now, as Matteo informed him, eyes glistening with joy, the Godfather sat up slowly.“Nonno Vittorio, do you know, Pappa listened to me when I told him what I want to be when I grow up!”The old man’s face was guarded, and he shot me a swift look as I sat sedately, peeling and coring apples.I did not meet his eyes, just listened to my son’s excitement.“He even allows Roman to sit by his side when he is working!” Matteo went on, rapturous with adoration. Roman, standing by his grandfather, looked at his brother with curiosity.Later, the old man asked me, his eyes studying my face.“What did the little one say this afternoon…?”I looked up and met his gaze steadily.“It is true,” I said quietly. His features softened.“You are a loyal, beautiful person, child,” he said softly, and I smiled tremulously. Vittorio sighed and continued,” Donatello is l
DonatelloGradually, Maria became someone he found himself turning to without quite realising it.One night, he returned home wet, exhausted, and in a murderous mood. He had ordered the execution of a man whose loyalty he'd once trusted, and the betrayal still burned beneath his skin.Maria had waited up for him.She asked no questions as she helped him out of his trench coat.“The boys are asleep,” she said softly. “Let me know when you wish to eat, husband.”Her quiet acceptance eased something in him.Carmen would have pressed him for details, demanding to know what had happened and why. Maria didn't pry into his business or offer empty assurances. She simply made room for his silence.When he eventually sat down to dinner, she served him without fuss and settled beside him.She didn't try to soothe him. She didn't need to.Within minutes, the tension in his shoulders began to ease. The anger remained, but it no longer consumed him. Even the memory of the blood on his hands seemed
DonatelloHe had slowly begun to notice his wife and his little family.It began when he realised how much Maria did for their sons.One afternoon, he came home unexpectedly from a visit to Las Vegas, where he owned a chain of clubs. When he walked into the family sitting room, he found Maria helping Matteo with his reading while Roman slept against her shoulder.His first thought was that she looked tired. His eyes slid over his wife's beautiful face, then over her lush body.He took in the half-finished cup of tea beside her, gone cold.Donatello turned around and growled,“Bring my wife a hot cup of tea.”Maria’s eyes swung up, startled. The pink staining her cheeks made her look seductive, and his body reacted at once.But the Don turned to Matteo and snapped,“Learn to do your reading on your own, son.”Donatello did not explain why.Meeting Maria’s startled gaze, he said crisply,“You look exhausted. Get some rest.”It was an observation, not a declaration of concern, thought Ma
MariaIn the weeks following the gala, Donatello took a greater interest in the small details of family life. He came home for dinner more often, asked Matteo how he had spent the day, held Roman, and bounced him on his knee more than once. Earlier, my Mafia Don would leave abruptly after dinner, without a look or a word to us, and head straight to the study, where he remained closeted for hours. Now Donatello lingered at the table long after the meal was over. He even began noticing when I looked tired.Of course, his concern usually took the form of a curt instruction to get some rest.Donatello was no warmer, no more demonstrative than before. Yet, little by little, he seemed less inclined to keep himself apart from the three of us.I noticed the change, of course. But I simply did not know what to make of it.The first time he turned up was on a rainy evening. The children and I were in the living room, relaxed and laughing. I was on the floor, laughing at something Roman had done
MariaThat night, we slept the way we always did, in separate corners of the enormous bed; but when I woke, I was curled on Donatello’s broad chest, his heavy arm wrapped around my waist.I lay still for a while, studying his face, the hard planes of his high cheekbones, the wide mouth, the heavy lids and bushy brows. I wanted to reach out and touch his stubbled jaw, but then his eyes flew open, and Donatello growled, his wide mouth curling into a mocking smile.“Wife. You are staring.”I blushed to the tips of my roots.“I …I was…” I began wriggling, but his heavy arm kept me pinned to his body.We stared at each other; for the first time, I thought, my husband was actually looking at me. Then the phone on the nightstand began to jangle, and he swore, shifting.Free now, I hastily slid out of bed. It was one of his Capos, and I knew Donatello was going to be busy for some time. I headed to the kitchen within five minutes and began to prepare breakfast. Carmen came in just as I had f







