Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Twenty

Francesca

Giulio appearedin my doorway after I had showered and dressed. “Cristo santo, Frankie. I was worried about you last night. Are you okay?”

He was dressed like a fashion model, expensive fabrics carelessly draped over his lean frame, his hair perfectly styled. His features were softer than Fausto’s, handsome in a more classical sense. His mother must have been beautiful, too.

I sighed and waved him in. “Barely. I was scared shitless.”

“I can believe it. That was a bad storm.” He shook his head and closed the door. “My father’s temper is a fearsome thing. He must have been very mad at you to leave you out there.”

I figured I could level with Giulio. “He asked me not to wear the black bikini during his meeting with Enzo.”

“And you wore it?” Giulio winced. “Bella, that was asking for trouble.”

“I know, and he later explained why. But I didn’t know any of that at the time. I should be able to wear what I want.”

“You don’t know many Italian men, do you?”

“There are plenty of Italian men in Toronto.”

“No, there are Italian-Canadian men. I mean, true Italian men. It is a much different thing. They can be very domineering.”

“You’re not like that.”

He gave me a wolfish grin. “Not with women, I’m not.”

I laughed. “You’re all assholes.”

“That’s true.” The smile dropped and he stared at me soberly. “Is he...? I mean to say, are you okay with this? With him?”

How to answer that? I had so many conflicting emotions. I wanted to go home, but I also craved Fausto’s body like air and water. And living here wasn’t so terrible. The castello and the estate were beautiful, and I was in Italy. Other than a lack of a phone and laptop—and Fausto’s refusal to let me leave—it was the perfect summer vacation.

I could see Giulio was truly worried, so I had to be honest. “I’m okay. For now. It’s weird telling you this, but I’m insanely attracted to your father. We’re having fun hooking up.”

“Fausto, fun? I don’t believe it.”

I bit my lip, remembering our little games. Fausto’s dirty mouth, my compliance, his rewards. It was a vicious cycle I was becoming addicted to. “I won’t traumatize you with the details, but yes. He’s intense and a total dick sometimes, but what we are doing together is fun. At least it was, until he had to go and ruin it last night.”

“I definitely do not want details,” he said, holding up a hand. “But I am glad you are happy.”

“He said he would let me go when we got bored of each other. Then I’ll go back to Toronto and start college.” Hopefully Columbia would still take me, as I’d already been admitted once. If not, I’d find another school in America, far away from my family and the ’Ndrangheta.

“He takes good care of each mantenuta. He bought Katarzyna a house on the water in Portofino.”

I blinked. “What? A house?”

“And a diamond bracelet.”

“Holy crap.” Talk about parting gifts. But I didn’t want jewelry or a vacation home. I wanted my freedom. To go to college, study, and live like a normal young person. My father hadn’t allowed any independence growing up, and I had hated it, using every chance I could find to sneak out.

Is that what Fausto thought, that I expected a payout when this was done? I was sleeping with him because I wanted to, and because he was a beast in bed. I didn’t need his money. My family was wealthy, too. I haven’t ever wanted for anything in my life.

Suddenly, the door opened and the devil himself walked in.

I couldn’t help but feel conflicted. He looked gorgeous, already put together in one of his designer three-piece suits. He’d shaved since I saw him last, his handsome face now smooth. But I was still angry with him, so my hormones needed to sit the fuck down.

“Do you mind?” I said, attempting to sound stern. “You’re supposed to ask if you can come in first.”

He jerked his chin at his son and Giulio immediately strode out, closing the door behind him. Fausto turned his attention to me, the edges of his mouth curling slightly. “I thought we covered that, dolcezza.”

“I’m still furious with you. What do you want?”

He stalked toward me and put one hand behind my head, the other on my hip. He surrounded me and I wanted so badly to lean into him. To kiss and touch him. As if he could read my thoughts, his nostrils flared as he stared down at me. “I come bearing gifts.”

The conversation about Katarzyna fresh in my mind, I recoiled. “I don’t want gifts. I want to go home.”

The lines around his eyes deepened, but he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “You will want this one. Reach into my left coat pocket.”

He was wrong. I didn’t want it, but I couldn’t tell him that without seeing it first. I reached into his coat pocket and a thin rectangle met my fingers. I gasped and pulled it out. “Oh, my God. A phone!” The relief I felt was overwhelming. I could call my sisters whenever I felt like it. My friends, too. I could watch cat videos and catch up on celebrity gossip.

“This pleases you, no?”

I would gladly take this gift, seeing as how it was one of life’s necessities. Like food. “Yes, it does. Thank you.” I couldn’t help it. I pushed up on my toes and kissed him on the mouth. He didn’t deepen it, and I was glad. I still hadn’t forgiven him.

“Prego. Now reach in the other coat pocket.”

I wasn’t sure I would like another gift, but curiosity got the better of me. I reached in and felt a small piece of plastic. “What is this?”

“Pull it out and see.”

It was a credit card, the exclusive black color. I stared at it like it was a snake. “I don’t need this. I have my own money, Fausto.”

“I know you do, but I would like to spoil you today. Giulio will take you to Rome this afternoon. Buy anything you like. Then I’ll see you tonight.”

Rome? Oh, my God. I’ve always wanted to see Rome. How did Fausto do this to me? It was like he plucked every thought inside my brain and used it against me.

But taking his credit card meant I was signing on as his full-fledged mistress, didn’t it? I wasn’t certain I was ready for that step, especially after last night. “I will go to Rome but I will use the money I brought in my satchel.”

His thumb rubbed back and forth across my neck, causing tingles all along my spine. “Use my credit card. Let me do this for you to ease my conscience, okay?”

“Fausto....” I couldn’t even finish the thought. My resistance was melting in the face of his sweetness. Was there really harm in accepting his generosity this one time?

“Please. Just today.”

I closed my eyes and gave in. “Fine, but just today. And fair warning, I will spend until I’m no longer angry at you. I hope you have a high limit on this card.”

He bent to kiss me, softly on the lips first then along my jaw. I arched against him, like a needy cat starved for his touch. His lips reached my ear. “That card has no limit, la mia piccola monella. Do your worst, then forgive me and let me fuck you tonight.”

The walls of my pussy contracted, the greedy bitch. “We’ll see,” I breathed, desperately clinging to my dignity.

He stepped back and released me slowly. “Have fun, bellissima. Feel free to text me pictures. My number is in your phone.”

“That was presumptuous,” I said smartly. “How did you save it? Il Diavolo?”

Fausto’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Il Trombamico. It’s what all the kids say these days.”

“I’m afraid to ask what that means.”

“Fuck buddy,” he answered.

“I think I’ll change it to stronzo. What am I in your phone? Piccola monella?”

“No, you are La Bella Figa.”

I frowned. “Beautiful...fig?”

Fausto bent to whisper in my ear. “Beautiful pussy.”

I don’t know why I found that so hot, but I did. I swallowed hard and tried not to let him see how I felt. “How will you keep all your bella figas straight in your contact list?”

“There is just una bella figa, Francesca.”

He let that statement sit between us for a long second, and I have to admit that I was relieved. At least in the short term, he was mine, too.

He stepped back, releasing me and heading for the door. “Now, go and spend my money. Buy something sexy I can tear off of you later.”

* * *

“Dio santo!More gelato?”

I ignored Giulio as I accepted my pistachio gelato. “Grazie. He’s paying,” I hitched a thumb in Giulio’s direction, a small bit of revenge for mocking me.

Giulio handed some of our bags to one of the guards and dug out his wallet. “I have never seen one so tiny eat so much. Where does it go?”

“To my boobs and ass, obviously.”

I held up my gelato and snapped a selfie, then posted it to my social media. Gia and Emma had been commenting on my photos all day, and I was so happy to connect—even virtually—with my sisters. Giulio refused to get in any of my photos, saying it wasn’t a good idea for him to be seen online. I wasn’t sure if that was because of the Italian police or his boyfriend. Whatever the reason, I respected his wishes.

“Where to now, G?” I licked the creamy goodness off the spoon. “I don’t know how many more dresses and shoes I can buy.”

“We are going around the corner next. You’ll see.”

A man riding a sleek compact motorcycle buzzed by us. “Do you think Fausto would let me buy a Ducati?” I’d always wanted one but my father refused, saying they were too dangerous.

“I think he would never permit you to ride it. He was very angry when I bought my Ferrari. He would rather I was driven around by the guards in one of the protected vehicles he uses.”

“I’m not surprised. You are the only heir.”

“Do not remind me.”

“What did you tell him about marrying Enzo D’Agostino’s sister?”

He sighed, a pinched expression flashing over his handsome features. “I said she was a child. But he reminded me that the wedding wouldn’t take place until she was of age, so that at least buys me some time.”

“That sucks. Maybe something will happen and you won’t have to marry her.”

“My father will only find someone else. It is inevitable and not surprising for a man in my position.”

“Will you be happy?”

“Does it matter?”

I glanced back at the guards following us. They were close, but not within earshot. “Of course, it matters,” I murmured. “Hiding and lying your whole life? That sounds miserable.”

“I have had years and years to come to terms with my future. And all men I know cheat on their wives. I will just need to be more discreet.”

“All married men you know cheat on their wives?”

“Except Zio Marco. He is the only one.”

“When your father was married, do you think he cheated on your mother?”

“Without a doubt. They were not happy together, but even if they had been, I doubt Fausto would have remained faithful.”

“Why?”

“Because a man in his position, in our world, it is a sign of strength, of manliness, to have more than one woman.”

My stomach cramped around the gelato. I hated that the mafia bred misogyny and infidelity. It was toxic masculinity on steroids.

I elbowed Giulio. “What about more than one man?”

His olive skin colored slightly. His voice was quiet. “No, we are exclusive. I would kill anyone who touched him.”

“Possessive and monogamous. Who would have guessed such a thing was possible for a Ravazzani?”

He gave me a dazzling grin then pointed to the right. “Over here.”

Rome had the most amazing boutiques and shops. Spending Fausto’s money had been easier than I thought, probably because Giulio encouraged me at every turn. I tried not to dwell on the whole mistress thing too much. Fausto had kidnapped me and wouldn’t let me leave, so it seemed only fair that I purchase things just this once to make me feel more at home.

“There it is,” Giulio said, crossing the quaint cobblestone street. “Let’s go.”

La Perla resided in a charming yellow building on the corner, decorated with gold accents around the windows and doors. The storefront managed to look both expensive and rustic. I tugged on Giulio’s arm to make him stop. “Wait, are you sure you want to do this? Watch me buy lingerie to wear in front of your father?”

“It’s better than buying it to wear in front of me. And are you forgetting that I have impeccable taste?”

He really did. Giulio had selected most of the outfits I had purchased today. Italians had the best fashion sense of anyone in the world.

“Also,” Giulio continued, “except for last night, my father has been relaxed since you two started up. It is nice to see. Refreshing. Even some of the guards have commented on it. I think you are good for him.”

I bit my lip, ridiculously pleased by that statement. No doubt Fausto’s mood was a result of having a new and shiny toy to play with, but he was my toy, too. I tossed my paper cup into a bin and took Giulio’s arm. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if this gets awkward.”

Inside, Giulio spoke rapid Italian with the saleswomen. Soon I was in a dressing room, being told to take my clothes off. “But I haven’t picked anything out,” I told him.

“They will bring the things back and you try them on.” He studied my face, putting a finger under my chin to tilt my head this way and that. “You should wear red, I think. Italian men love red lingerie, and it will look hot on you.”

Back home, I had a few pieces of fancy lingerie, but David hadn’t seemed to care what I wore. Fausto, on the other hand, struck me as the kind of man who would like it when a woman paraded around in front of him, dolled up in silk and lace.

Actually, I liked the sound of that, too.

The saleswomen began bringing me bras and panties, camisoles and silk pajamas. Some red, but some white and black, too. There was a black lace corset that was to die for. I didn’t try on any of the panties, just selected the ones I liked. When a red lace bodysuit was added to my stack, I paused and stared at it like I was a heart-eyed emoji. It was delicate and sexy, with a little bit of stretch. The underwires and padded cups would thrust my tits sky high.

I had to try it on.

When I adjusted the straps and had it the way I wanted, I turned to the mirror. Oh, I liked it. I looked like a naughty pinup girl. Would Fausto like it, too? Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to find out.

Whipping out my new phone, I held my arm up high, getting the best angle of my boobs, then snapped a picture. I texted it to Trombamico without any text.

I hadn’t even set my phone down when a reply came in.

Cazzo

Your tits in that thing make my dick hard

Buy four of those

No—five

Smiling, I took off the bodysuit and hung it up. I looked at the other things Giulio had sent back. Perhaps Fausto could help me decide.

I began trying on pieces and sending him photos. He responded quickly and succinctly, telling me what he was going to do to me in each of the outfits. The thong and bustier were for when he wanted to spank my ass. The sheer slip dress with embroidered tulle was for when he wanted me to sit on his face. The black lace pushup bra was for when I sucked on his cock. The silk nightgown was for grinding his cock into my ass from behind.

The more he texted, the hornier I became. I was breathing hard, my heart racing, standing alone in a dressing room. It was like he was touching me, though he was still back in Siderno.

I decided to torture him.

Placing my phone on the small stool in the dressing room, I angled the camera so it could see most of my body. I was wearing a simple violet bra embroidered with lace and no panties. Then I started recording.

Looking into the camera, I slid my hands over my chest and cleavage, cupping my breasts. The image reflected back at me was a wanton creature, a seductress with long blond hair and sultry lips. I barely looked like myself.

Feeling braver, I slipped my hands down my belly, coasting my hips, until I reached my pussy. Closing my eyes, I let my fingers skim my seam, gasping when I brushed my clitoris. I was soaked and the touch felt unbelievably good, like I would die if it stopped.

I eased my legs apart, giving my fingers more room to explore. I tried to put on a show at first, but it soon became about my pleasure instead. The pads of my fingers circled my clit, working it as I panted, my body coiling with hunger. At some point I didn’t care who would see this—I just needed to make myself come.

I bit my lip to keep from moaning, keeping as silent as I could manage as I stroked myself. The lust doubled and tripled, my toes curling into the plush carpet, my fingers coated with my wetness. I wished Fausto was in the room with me, his hot glare devouring me while he gave me orders in his sexy Italian voice….

The orgasm slammed into me, my back arching as I trembled and shook. Light and heat exploded, carrying me off on a wave of bliss that went on and on. When it finally subsided, I gave the camera a dreamy smile and blew it a kiss. Then I stopped the video and hit send.