Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Eighteen

Fausto

She worethe fucking black bikini.

After I explicitly told her not to.

I was boiling with rage, seething inside. Enzo and his man ran their eyes all over Francesca’s body, ogling her like starving wolves when she’d sauntered through here. The small scraps of fabric did nothing to cover her ample tits and ass. She might as well have walked through naked.

Cazzo madre di Dio, I was going to paddle her ass raw when I had the chance.

Enzo made some remark that I barely heard through the fury ringing in my ears. How could I concentrate on this meeting knowing what she had done? We were supposed to all dine together once Enzo and I were done discussing our agreement. That clearly could not happen, as I’d likely stab anyone who dared look at her twice.

“We should finish,” I said abruptly. “The women are bored without us, no doubt.”

A splash and a giggle belied my words, and every muscle in my body clenched. Francesca would pay for this.

“I thought you wanted to discuss your son,” Enzo said.

We’d spent the first part of the meeting talking business, instead of the true purpose. A fact I was now regretting, as I wanted to be done. “Yes, I understand you have a younger sister.”

Enzo blinked. “She is only fifteen.”

“I understand. Giulio will wait.”

“These things might be common here in Siderno, Ravazzani, but we have evolved in Napoli. I do not adhere to the old ways, as you might have heard.”

“Old does not mean bad. Many of our traditions have lived on because they serve a purpose.”

“Like the merging of two families for political gain.”

“Precisely. Giulio is my only son and heir. Everything I have will belong to him one day.”

Enzo stroked his jaw. He would be a fool not to take this offer—and rumor held he was not a fool. Hot-headed, but not a fool. “What would I get in return?”

“I would partner with you on your computer venture.”

His right eye twitched, but he gave no other outward sign of displeasure. “We need no partner. In case you haven’t heard, that has become quite lucrative.”

“I can make it more lucrative. As well, perhaps some of my San Luca imports can be rerouted to Napoli.”

“I should hope so,” he had the balls to say. “All I am gaining is an alliance with the man who replaces you.”

Interesting way to talk about my son. “Your sister will become a Ravazzani.”

He brushed his trousers, smoothing the fabric with his fingers. “I’ll need to think about it. Violetta is my only sister and I hadn’t thought of betrothing her so soon.”

“I understand,” I said, though I really didn’t. This was the way things were handled in our world. D’Agostino was kidding himself if he believed otherwise. And he would not get a better offer than mine. “If you agree, we would betroth them and hold off on the ceremony until she is of age.”

“Generous of you,” Enzo said, though I sensed a hint of sarcasm. “I’ll consider it. Shall we join the women?”

“Of course.” I rose and strode toward the patio deck. At this point, it was no use telling Francesca to put her cover up back on, but I wanted to. I hated the idea of Enzo D’Agostino seeing what belonged to me.

It hadn’t bothered me with Katarzyna. In fact, she had paraded around topless during many of my business meetings on the yacht, and it had amused me to see the way the men coveted her.

This was not the case with Francesca.

I could not say why, but I didn’t want anyone seeing her bare flesh but me. She was mine.

Francesca and Mariella were in the pool, hanging onto the side and drinking. Mariella was exactly what one expected: thin, beautiful, and boring. Compared to her, Francesca was a radiant burst of sunlight, one that glimmered and sparkled. She was ripe and sexy, with no bony angles, and a body that was made for fucking.

Which was precisely why I didn’t want any other man seeing it. They would only be thinking about one thing.

I approached the pool and thrust my hands in my pockets. “Are you having a nice time, Francesca?”

Her barely-covered tits bobbed in the water as she reached for her full glass. “I am, Fausto. The best time.”

Was she drunk? I didn’t want her too inebriated for what I had planned. “That’s enough prosecco. You should eat something.”

She rolled her eyes. “So bossy. I already had some salami, Fausto.”

Then for some reason, she and Mariella broke out into a fit of hysterical giggles. Cristo santo. God save me from drunk women.

Marco walked up behind me. “A phone call, Rav,” he whispered. “Sounds important.”

I sighed and told him, “I’ll take it. No more prosecco for her. Make sure she eats something.” I excused myself to Enzo and went into my office on the yacht.

For the next fifteen minutes I was on the phone with one of my men who oversaw the incoming shipments at the Siderno port. A group of pirates had seized some of our product, which meant I needed to reach out to the pirates on my payroll to find out the persons responsible. My contact said he didn’t know but would look into it and report back to me.

Hanging up, I rubbed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I suddenly wished that this was all over. How had my day turned to shit so quickly?

Standing, I went back outside to the pool deck—and stopped in my tracks. Francesca was laying on her stomach on a chaise, the ties of her suit top hanging loose. Enzo and Mariella were cuddling on a nearby lounge, but Enzo’s eyes were locked on Francesca’s ass.

My hands shook and I had to shove them in my pockets to keep from punching the wall. It was incredibly dangerous to tempt a man like Enzo D’Agostino. And what of the crew or D’Agostino’s guard? Had she no respect for me at all?

Figlio un cane.

“I’m afraid I must cut our day short,” I announced tightly. “There is something that needs my attention.” Punishing Francesca, but they need not know that. “Perhaps we can do this again soon, D’Agostino.”

Francesca struggled to tie the strings of her top and I wanted to roar with frustration. I wanted to go over there and throw a towel around her so no one ever saw her but me. I wanted to fuck her until she followed orders.

Enzo stood and helped Mariella to her feet. “We’d like that, Ravazzani. Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be in touch about that other matter.”

He shook my hand then I kissed both of Mariella’s cheeks. “Thank you both for coming. Marco will assist you back into your boat.”

Francesca was now on her feet, the triangles of her top slightly askew. She rushed to hug Mariella. “Ciao, Mariella. It was nice spending the day with you.”

“Ciao, Francesca. I hope I see you again someday.”

Do not count on it.I would not trust Francesca at another meeting for a long time. Perhaps ever.

Everyone left but I never took my eyes off Francesca. I was too angry to even speak. It was like when she had stabbed me with the pen, but worse. That had been a personal injury to just me. Today was an insult to me and my business, the very family.

As she stood facing me, her defiance wilted bit by bit the longer I stared at her. Finally, she bit her lip. “I know you’re mad because I wore the bikini.”

I remained silent, still trying to get a grip on my temper.

“I like this suit! Why shouldn’t I be able to wear it?” She glanced down at herself. “I look hot in this suit, Fausto.”

When I continued to stand there, she blurted, “I’m sorry, all right? I shouldn’t have worn it. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Disobeying me, not a big deal? She was mine, my responsibility. Everything she did as my mantenutareflected on me. Did she think I invited just any woman to the yacht during sensitive business meetings?

“Please, don’t be mad. I said I was sorry.”

I dragged in a breath and let it go slowly. “Are you sorry?”

Lines formed between her brows as she slammed them together. “I just said I was.”

“If you are sorry—truly sorry—you will go to my suite, lay on my bed with your ass in the air and wait for me.”

“Fausto—”

“This is your only chance to prove it, Francesca. Because if you are truly sorry, that will lessen your punishment. Allora, are you truly sorry?”

The slim column of her throat worked as she swallowed. “Yes, I am truly sorry.”

“Then you know what to do, no?”

* * *

Francesca

I walkedto the master suite like a prisoner going to the gallows. Fausto was livid. In fact, I think he might be angrier than the night I stabbed him with the pen. He looked like he wanted to strangle me.

Fear slid down my spine, causing my skin to break out in a cold sweat.

Would he hurt me?

No, he wouldn’t. I knew it in my bones. He might spank me, but we would both enjoy that. No doubt he would tease me until I admitted I belonged to him. I just needed to comply with whatever orders he gave to prove my apology and then he would forgive me. Hopefully that involved some naked time.

The bed was perfectly smooth, not a crease on the gray duvet. I slid onto the mattress and folded my legs under my hips, shoving my ass in the air. The buzz from the prosecco had faded as soon as I caught sight of Fausto’s furious expression on the patio deck. Too bad I hadn’t allowed myself one more glass. Then I might not be so nervous for whatever he had in mind.

I waited there for a long time, what felt like hours. My legs started to cramp and I thought about moving to shake them out, but then I heard his footsteps. I held my breath.

The bed dipped and his scent teased my nose. He didn’t touch me, nor did he speak.

Another few seconds and I cracked. “Fausto—”

“Do not speak, Francesca. When I am done speaking you may explain yourself, capisce?”

I pressed my lips together and waited, feeling like a small child who had disappointed a parent. I didn’t like it. Why was he so angry? Why was he humiliating me like this?

“That man was Enzo D’Agostino. He is the head of the Napoli ’ndrina, a powerful but tenuous ally of mine. We were at war for many years, and my father brokered peace after both sides suffered terrible losses, including losing two of my uncles and six cousins. Enzo has recently become capo, and he is known for his unpredictability. His hot-headed temper.”

He shifted restlessly, like he was too mad to sit still. “I want to merge some of our business interests, but more importantly, I also want his younger sister to marry my son. This was a critical meeting today, one I had to cut short because you did not do what I asked.”

Oh, shit.

How was I supposed to know? He said the man was no friend, but he hadn’t shared any of this backstory.

“All I asked was that you not wear this suit. Simple, no? You had others to choose from, suits not so revealing of your tits and ass. Yet, you disobeyed me, even after I told you this was a test. Were you trying to fail?”

I clenched my hands and blurted, “No, of course not. I told you, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Yes, but what I haven’t heard is why you wanted to disobey me. Why did you wish to defy me, after all that’s happened today?”

After admitting I belonged to him.

“I don’t know. I really like this suit, I suppose.”

“No, I do not accept that. Tell me why.”

I still hadn’t seen his face and it was starting to annoy me. “Can I sit up?”

“Not until you tell me why you wore this suit. Was it to tempt me? To distract me? To distract my guests?”

“No! I wasn’t thinking about any of that.”

“Then what were you thinking, Francesca?”

He hadn’t called me “dolcezza” or “piccola monella” once since emerging from his meeting, only Francesca. I missed playful Fausto, the one who kissed and teased me. “I don’t know.”

“I do not believe you. A conversation happened in your mind where you went against my wishes. Tell me what it was.”

This was ridiculous. I could tell he wasn’t going to drop it. But saying it out loud would make me sound immature and silly.

So I turned the tables back on him.

I sat up and glared at him. “I heard Enzo refer to me as a puttanella when I walked through your meeting and you laughed. You didn’t stand up for me at all.”

“Francesca, I do not explain myself to you. That is not how this works.”

“Wrong. Just because we are sleeping together does not mean you can treat me like trash.”

“And how is giving you orgasms and bringing you on my yacht treating you like trash?”

“He called me a slut, Fausto!”

Something fierce and frightening shone in his eyes as he closed in, his voice low and tight. “You are a slut, Francesca. My slut. But if you must know, I wasn’t listening to Enzo because I was too angry over your choice of bathing suit. He could have called you anything, said anything about my mother, and I would have reacted inappropriately. Because I was too fucking furious,” he ended on a roar, and I shrank back.

Shit. He was beyond mad.

Fausto took a deep breath, like he was struggling to compose himself. When he spoke, it was at normal volume. “Allora, I’ll ask one more time. Tell me why you disobeyed my one order for today?”

I swallowed, unable to take any more. “Because I don’t like being told what I can and cannot wear.”

Fausto nodded, as if this was what he expected. “Thank you for admitting it. I think we can both agree this won’t ever happen again. If I give you an order, I expect you to obey it, Francesca.”

He stared at me, waiting for a reaction. I blurted, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Rising, he put his hands into his trouser pockets. “I am glad to hear it. But I am still going to punish you.”

“Why?” I lifted my hands and let them fall on my bare thighs. “I said I was sorry. There’s no need to drag this out.” Must he be so dramatic?

“I told you today was a test, Francesca, and you failed. Now my meeting was cut short and Enzo D’Agostino has an inkling of how possessive I am over you. Instead of a casual afternoon, we’ve given more information than we received. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I pushed my loose hair behind my ears. “Just tell me what the punishment is and let’s get it over with. Then we’ll go back to the castello.”

“You are not going back to the castello. You are staying here tonight.”

I didn’t like the way that sounded. “We’re staying here?”

“I am still too angry, and I will never touch you in a mood such as this. As much as I want to spank that ass—and I want to very badly—I will never hit you out of anger. Your punishment is to stay here alone tonight.”

My jaw dropped open. Was he serious? “You are leaving me here on your yacht? What, so I can billionaire lifestyle myself to death?”

“Enjoy it, then. I hope you and your bikini have a wonderful night. The crew is at your disposal and will give you anything you need.” He turned and started for the door.

“Wait, that’s it? You’re leaving? Just like that?”

“Yes, Francesca, just like that.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps this separation will be necessary for both of us.”

What did that mean? Was he reconsidering our arrangement? Well, if so that was fine with me. He could put my ass on a plane and return me to Toronto.

So if I didn’t care, then why did my chest suddenly feel hollowed out?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not above begging for him to reconsider. “Fausto, stay. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

The resolution in his expression didn’t change at all. His features remained hard and implacable, the capo feared by all southern Italy. “I’ll send Marco for you in the morning.”

And with that, he walked out the door. I was still sitting there, dumbfounded, when I heard the helicopter’s rotors start turning. They were leaving me here.

Instead of banishing me to the dungeon, he’d banished me here.