Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Fourteen

Fausto

Work was a waste of time.I couldn’t concentrate, my mind still stuck on Francesca. I hadn’t slept last night, even after jacking off in the shower. This morning I made myself come again after what happened in the dining room, standing in the bathroom and furiously stroking myself. My cock would chafe if I kept this up.

I had to fuck her soon.

She would have let me last night. Or this morning. But I wanted her ready for it. She hadn’t liked giving in to me in the dining room, but it was a lesson she had to learn. As my mantenuta, she was at my disposal, our relationship at my whim. I’d never had a mistress who lived with me before, but I figured that only made things more convenient. I could have Francesca whenever I wanted, no waiting required.

“Are you paying attention, Rav?”

Marco’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Yes.”

We were on a conference call, but our side was muted. The discussion about what to do with the Avellinos now that D'Agostino died was droning on. Most of the upper-ranking bosses of the provincia were on the call, where we always talked in code, but my opinion carried the most weight. The Ravazzanis had issues with the Avellinos in the past and I stood to lose the most if the peace fell apart.

They were discussing the Avellino’s newest venture, computer fraud. Apparently, the eldest son had set it up and the family was raking in money hand over fist. I could hear the jealousy from the other capos over the phone line.

“Isn’t there a sister?” I asked Marco. “Eleven or twelve years of age?”

“She is fifteen,” Marco answered. “What are you thinking?”

“We could betroth her to Giulio now that I’ve decided to end his arrangement with Francesca. Merge the future of the two families.”

“A lot could happen in three years, though.”

“So, marry them now? He could wait until she was of age to consummate it.”

“Sure, but how do you know she isn’t already spoken for?”

“I don’t, but I could convince Enzo D'Agostino to see things my way.”

“Every other capo is probably thinking the same,” Marco noted, tilting his head to the phone.

“Probably, but none of them have access like we do.” He knew I meant access to the drugs that came in through our ports.

“True. So should I reach out?”

“Yes. Ask Enzo to the yacht with his woman. I’ll bring Francesca and we’ll make a day of it.”

Marco’s brows lifted. “So Francesca has agreed to be your mantenuta. That was fast.”

Marco thought I should have punished Francesca after her escape attempt. He hadn’t been happy that I let her off so easily. While he didn’t say it outright, he clearly thought I was soft when it came to her—and capos could not afford to be soft. Ever.

“We are still negotiating her role, but yes. She’ll accept the position.” Based on her reaction to me in the dining room, I believed there was very little I couldn’t get Francesca to agree to. I pushed out of my chair but didn’t reach for my suit jacket. “Set it up and text me. I’m going outside for the rest of the day.”

My cousin’s jaw fell open. “You are leaving this call? And what about the rest of today’s work? You never take off like this.”

“I am today. Finish up for me on the call. My decision has already been made, but tell them we are thinking over the next course of action. No one needs to know about the D'Agostino girl.”

I reached the door, but Marco wasn’t done with me yet, apparently. “You are going outside to find her.”

The sun was high up in the sky and it was a glorious day, not a cloud in sight. I knew Francesca would be either in the vineyards or with the animals. I wanted to taste the sun on her skin and see the Siderno dirt beneath her feet. “Try not to be too jealous, cugino.”

“Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo,” he cursed behind me as I left.

I chuckled and headed to the rear of the castello. Giulio’s car was still not in the drive, and I wondered if he’d come home last night. I sent Marco a text, asking about the information on Giulio’s girl. I needed to know who my son was spending time with, especially after leaving the drop early the other night. Then I put my phone away and walked the path I’d traveled hundreds of times, over the land that had belonged to my ancestors. I loved every bit of it.

My wife hadn’t cared for the estate. She’d preferred shopping in Milan and Rome to staying in Siderno. When she was in town, she liked showing herself off at the beach instead of “playing the farmer” here on the grounds. I hadn’t minded. We hadn’t loved each other and slept together infrequently after Giulio was born. I wanted more kids and assumed we had time. Then she’d been killed, and all my efforts went into raising my son.

Giulio didn’t seem to care much for the land, either. He had played outside as a young boy, but now showed little interest in the businesses on the estate. Of late, he preferred the clubs and posh lifestyle in the city. Someday I would need to train him on how to oversee all this. It would become his responsibility when I died.

“Signore Ravazzani,” one of the workers said, tipping his cap at me.

“Buona sera, Adelmo. Have you seen the signorina?”

“Sí. I saw the signorina a quarter of an hour ago by the stables.”

“Grazie. How is your wife’s foot?”

“It is better, signore. The infection has cleared up and she’s back on her feet.”

“I am glad to hear it. Let me know if she needs anything else.”

“Thank you for sending the doctor, signore. We are so grateful to you and your family.”

I clapped him on the back. “No need to thank me. Unless she wants to send over some sfogliatella. Do not tell Zia, but your wife makes the best I’ve ever tasted.”

Adelmo nodded, his smile wide. “Of course, Signore Ravazzani. It would be our pleasure. I’m headed home for riposo anyhow.”

Most of the estate staff returned home between the hours of one and four o’clock during these hot summer months for a riposo. Then they would return and work until after sundown.

“Give her my regards,” I said as I walked away.

The stables were not far from the barn and the farm animals. I was surprised Francesca wasn’t in the vineyards, as she seemed to enjoy plants more than most people. Except for the lambs, I didn’t hear of her often on this side of the estate.

I could see Zia in the gardens, tending to her aubergine and lettuce. She grew much of what we ate in the castello, and though I worried about her in the heat, she loved being outside. I didn’t call out, however, as I didn’t want to explain why I wasn’t in my office.

That was no one’s business but mine. And soon to be Francesca’s.

I found her leaning against the wooden fence of the paddock, watching as a groom exercised one of the stallions. The sun had warmed her skin to a golden color, and my mouth watered. She still wore the tiny top and skin-tight shorts, and I could only imagine the thoughts of the men on the estate as they watched her today. Probably the same thoughts I’d been having about her since breakfast.

I leaned close to her ear. “Ciao, bellissima.”

She started, her body jolting into the fence. “What the fuck, Fausto? Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

I wanted to spank her ass for ordering me around with that filthy mouth, but I figured that could wait until we were alone. There were too many eyes, even at one o’clock. “Are you having a nice day?”

“Do you ride?” she asked instead of answering my question.

“Yes. Do you?”

“I used to. My sister Gia was always more into horses than Emma and I.”

“Do you miss your sisters?”

She sighed and placed her chin atop her hands on the railing. “I do, but they are closer to each other. They’re twins,” she explained as if I didn’t already know. “It’s like they can communicate without talking.”

“I’ve heard some twins can do that.”

“Giulio let me call them on his phone yesterday and I loved hearing their voices.”

I blinked at this revelation. I hadn’t meant to cut her off from her family forever, but giving her a phone so soon was a risk. Still, a sliver of guilt worked its way under my ribs. “I will let you call them whenever you like, dolcezza.”

She turned, put her back to the fence, and faced me. The tip of her nose had turned pink. She bit her lip as she stared up at me. “I want a phone, Fausto.”

I couldn’t resist. I leaned down and took her mouth, needing to sample her lips. They were warm and soft, and I thrust my tongue inside, eager to taste every bit of her in this moment. I wanted her sighs and moans, her adoration and her tears. I wanted to own her, body and soul.

My hands found her hips and I let my fingers rest on the sun-kissed skin above her waistband, her tits pushing against my chest. When she rose on her toes to get closer, I cupped her ass with both hands and lifted her up. Long legs wrapped around my hips and I rested her against the fence as I continued to eat at her mouth. Fuck, she tasted so good, like wine and olives. Salty and sweet, exactly like her. I angled my head, trying to get deeper, sweeping my tongue over hers.

I was already hard, my body primed for her the instant our mouths touched. It would be so easy to drag her shorts down her legs and sink inside her body. Fuck, I wanted that. Could I make her beg for my cock and have her not regret it yet?

Her arms twined around my neck, her little whimpers driving me crazy. She was the hottest, most responsive piece of ass I’d ever had—and we hadn’t even fucked yet. I swear, she was going to kill me.

She drew back, her fingers threading through my hair. “I think we should find an empty stall so I can suck your cock, capo.”

I froze, every muscle clenching. Was she serious? Or was she trying to gain the upper hand with me? Something about the bold offer, so out of character for her, struck me as false.

But God, I wanted it. Despite the reason for her request, I still craved having her lips wrapped around my cock, sucking me down. I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. Soon. I had to remain strong. I needed to win over her mind as well as her body.

I stepped back and lowered her to the ground. With little regard for who might see, I slapped her ass. Hard. “Later, monella. I want to show you something first.”

* * *

Francesca

Fausto was suspiciously charming.

Over the next hour, he took me around the estate grounds, pointing out various places and trees, showing me where he’d played as a boy, and I tried not to fall under his spell. I couldn’t allow him to worm his way under my skin. I was still angry with him for what happened in the dining room this morning, not to mention horrified by my wanton behavior. How easily I’d given in to him, with just a few strokes of his magic fingers….

I had to gain the upper hand with him. The only way I could do that was through sex. I had no other leverage—and he knew it. So if I had to give a few blow jobs, I would if it meant getting a phone or finding a way to escape.

Though I hadn’t been entirely lying. I did want to suck his cock. I don’t care what it said about me, but I liked giving blow jobs. I was good at it—at least David had said so—and it made me feel powerful. I’d spent enough time rubbing up against Fausto’s crotch in the last twenty-four hours so I had a pretty good idea of what he was packing...and I needed to see it. Touch it. Taste it.

God, I was hopeless.

A kidnapped mafia princess who could only think about getting into the pants of her kidnapper. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? I learned about it in school last year, how some captives could become enamored of their captors. Has my brain already twisted that far?

He treated me like a doll, not like a person with a mind of her own. He’d degraded me, made me come three times, and asserted his dominance over me at every turn. So why did I find that so fucking hot?

Because you are messed up, Frankie.

It was the same reason I snuck out to find David and gladly offered up my virginity. I had a darkness inside me, a desperate need for excitement and danger. Fausto had somehow recognized it in me and was using it to his advantage.

“Where did you go, Francesca?”

I looked up at him, his beautiful face radiant in the warm Italian sun. The estate workers were on their afternoon break, leaving us completely alone. My heart raced, every bit of me alive in his presence, yet I felt at peace, too.

It was comfortable between us, walking with our hands clasped through the rows of grape vines back toward the castello. He’d taken me to a small stream where he played as a boy. We skipped a few rocks together, though mine never went as far as his.

“Why did you decide to break my engagement to Giulio?”

He chuckled and fingered a grape leaf. “You are just asking that now?”

Bastard. I pressed my lips together, knowing he was right. I should have asked it last night before I let him strip me naked and lick my pussy, but I lost the ability to think around him. “That is not an answer.”

He flicked his fingers dismissively, a move I was coming to learn was the Italian version of shrugging a shoulder. “Because I decided I wanted you.”

“Why?”

“Because you make my dick hard and I get what I want. There was nothing keeping us from exploring what it is we feel for the other except for the engagement. And there are many Italian girls who can marry my son. So….”

God, the absolute ego of this man. “How do you know what I feel for you?”

He smirked, his lips curled in male satisfaction. “You eye-fucked me on the yacht when I came out in my trunks. Your breath hitches every time I get close. Should I tell you how wet your pussy gets when I touch you?”

No, he needn’t bother. I was well aware.

“If I’m not marrying Giulio, then let me go back to Toronto.”

“Not yet.”

I cast him a hard glare. “My father won’t like you keeping me here for no reason.”

“You have a very specific reason for being here and that is to take care of my needs. If your father wished a different life for you, then he should have ensured you remained a virgin.”

Jerking my hand out of his grasp, I stopped in my tracks and gaped at him. I didn’t even know which part of that was more horrifying. “Fuck you, Fausto. I will not become your mistress.”

I could see the anger brewing behind his light eyes, the tightening of his jaw. He stalked toward me until he was looming over me, blocking out the sun. “How many times have I made you come in the last twenty hours?”

I lifted my jaw, not about to answer such a stupid question. “That doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t. Three times, Francesca. You haven’t put up a fight or even tried to stop me. Three times you’ve offered up that pussy because you wanted me to touch you.”

“You left me no choice!”

He lifted his hand and traced the outline of my hard nipple with his thumb. The halter top didn’t need a bra, which meant my nipples were obvious to everyone, including Fausto. “I haven’t forced you. I think you like what I do to you. I think you like the darkness as much as I do.”

I closed my eyes. Damn this man’s perceptiveness.

His thumb continued to stroke my nipple and I swayed toward him. Electric sparks raced through my body, and wetness pooled between my thighs.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “See how good it will be between us? I will take such good care of you.”

“I don’t want to be your mistress,” I breathed, grasping at anything to keep me from reaching for him.

“We want to fuck each other. Who cares what the label is?”

“I do.” I stepped back and slapped his hand away. “It matters to me.”

He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, all traces of teasing wiped from his expression. This was the man who’d kidnapped me, who’d studied me like a piece of meat in my father’s study. “You were given to me as repayment on a debt owed. I can return you and declare that debt unpaid. Perhaps take one of your sisters in exchange. Or, I could kill your father for giving me a woman who has fucked half of Toronto. It’s your choice.”

I sucked in a huge gust of air, outrage smacking into every cell and pore like I’d run into a wall. The absolute nerve! How dare he drag me for having one sexual partner? “I slept with one man! One, you asshole! How many women have you slept with, hmm? In case you haven’t been told, this is the twenty-first century, not the ye olden days. Women are allowed to have sex before marriage.”

His mouth curved. The bastard actually looked...pleased by my outburst, which made no fucking sense. I threw up my hands. “God, I hate you. I will never stop trying to escape you. No matter what happens, I will leave here. Somehow, some way, I will get away from you.”

In a flash, his hand shot up to cup the back of my neck, holding me still. His face drew closer until he was inches from my mouth. “It pleases me to learn that only one man dared put his cock inside you before me. It pleases me very much.”

I put a hand on his chest, already feeling my anger fade into something far more dangerous. Why did his possessiveness turn me on? “You’re a barbarian.”

“Very much so. Which is why I am the most powerful man in Italy. You would be wise never to forget it.”

“How can I when you never stop bragging about it?”

“Cristo santo, that mouth.” He dragged a thumb over my lips, making me shiver. “I wonder if you are ready to get what you asked for earlier.”

The stables. His cock in my mouth.

“I’m not in the mood any more,” I lied, even as my pussy clenched in excitement.

“Cazzata,” he whispered. “If I unzipped my pants, you’d drop to your knees in the dirt right here.”

I hated that I found the visual totally appealing. He must have read it on my face, too, because he grinned, his gaze turning soft and adoring. “Yes, I think you might.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Yes, but you like it rough and mean, just like I do.” He stepped back but grabbed my hand. “Come on, dolcezza. Let’s see if I’m right.”