Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Twenty-One

Francesca

Today has been perfect.Before shopping, Giulio had taken me to see the Coliseum, Papal Basilica, and Trevi Fountain. But more than the tourist locations, he’d shown me his favorite spots—the charming side streets and gardens, the fruit stands and cafés. It was better than any tour I could have asked for.

“You come here a lot, don’t you?” I asked as we strolled.

“As much as I can. It’s easier here than in Siderno. Here we can blend in.”

“But you still have to be careful.”

“Yes. My father’s reach is vast and our enemies are everywhere. There is no truly safe place for me.”

“I’m sorry, G.”

“Things are changing, slowly. Perhaps the next generation of our brotherhood won’t judge a man for his preferences.”

I doubted it, but didn’t say it. Progress in the mafia never matched progress in the real world. From what I had seen, the mafia was still stuck in the nineteenth century.

Giulio pointed to a four-story cream stone building with black shutters on every window. A bakery occupied the ground level, the smell of coffee and bread filling the air. “We’ll stop here.”

At the door, he punched in a code on a keypad and the lock opened. I followed inside. “Where are we?”

“Technically this apartment belongs to my father, but he never comes here so I use it.”

Fausto had a Roman fuck pad? Of course, he did. Why was I even surprised? My feelings were a bit hurt that I hadn’t heard a word from him since I sent that video. Was he angry that I’d gotten myself off? From romance novels, I knew some domineering men didn’t like their women to come without them.

If that was the case, then that was too damn bad. I was my own person and I wasn’t about to stop masturbating when I felt like it just because I was sleeping with him.

We climbed the marble stairs, the guards following us, until we reached the top floor, where Giulio entered another code and held his thumb on some sort of scanner.

The Ravazzanis took their safety seriously.

We walked in and my jaw fell open. The apartment was gorgeous, light and airy, with huge rooms and, like the castello and yacht, tastefully decorated. The double-height living room opened directly onto a balcony, so I immediately went outside and marveled at the views.

It seemed like all of Rome stretched out before me, with brown tiled roofs and domed church bells every way I turned. A marble dining table with iron chairs awaited, and planters filled with lavender ran the length of the balcony. Unable to help myself, I bent to inhale the clean scent. This place was unreal. Why didn’t Fausto use it?

“Would you like a tour?” Giulio came up beside me. “Or do you just want to stand here a little longer?”

“I think I could stand here forever. It’s absolutely gorgeous.” We both stared out at the buildings. “When I thought of Rome, this right here was exactly what I pictured.”

“It is beautiful, no? I love the combination of the old and the new.”

“Me, too.”

“Signore Ravazzani,” a voice behind us said.

Giulio and I turned at the same time to find a guard standing in the doorway. “Sí, Paolo?”

They exchanged rapid Italian I couldn’t understand, so I turned back toward the city. Why didn’t Fausto ever come here? It was too beautiful a spot not to be appreciated.

“Frankie, this is Paolo.” Giulio nudged my arm until I turned around.

“Ciao, Paolo,” I said quickly. The guard had been with us all day, so I wasn’t certain why we were just being introduced now.

“No, you don’t understand,” Giulio said, his voice low and soft. “This is Paolo, il mio ragazzo.”

His boyfriend.

“Oh, my goodness.” Hurrying toward the other man, I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Frankie.”

He blushed slightly, his expression turning sheepish as we shook. “Ciao, Frankie.”

“He’s embarrassed because you saw his dick at the club,” Giulio put in, his tone amused. “I told him that you were too busy admiring mine to even look at his.”

I held up my palms. “It was a blur of dicks, to be honest. I don’t really remember either.” I also didn’t remember Paolo. I guess I hadn’t been looking at their faces at that moment.

Giulio translated and Paolo smiled, his large shoulders relaxing slightly. He was handsome, in a rough and tumble sort of way. I could see him strangling a man with his bare hands, which were the size of hams. Was Paolo hoping to get Giulio alone?

I sent a nervous glance into the apartment, but Giulio said, “No one else is here. The other guards are downstairs.”

“Let me guess. Fausto owns the entire building.”

Giulio grinned and leaned against the stone surrounding the balcony. “Sí, certo.”

“Would you two like to be alone?”

Giulio shook his head. “No, Paolo needs to go sit with the guards downstairs. Otherwise, it attracts attention.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Give me a moment, bella.” Giulio strode purposely toward Paolo and cupped the bigger man’s jaw. Giulio pressed his mouth to Paolo’s and began devouring him with a kiss, so I turned away to give them privacy. They whispered in Italian for a moment and then Giulio returned to the edge of the balcony.

“You two are cute together,” I said.

“I worry for him. If we are caught, he will suffer more than I will.”

“So don’t get caught.”

“Of course. It is so easy. Why didn’t I think of that?” His phone pinged and he glanced at it. “What should we do now? We could make bellinis.”

“Do you have the ingredients?”

He made a sound that said I was an idiot for even suggesting he didn’t. “We freeze the white peaches, so they are always on hand. Come on. I’ll show you.”

“Can we drink them out here?”

“Is there another way to drink them in Rome but on a gorgeous terrace such as this? Then we will get ready for dinner.”

I followed him inside. “Where are we going for dinner?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“That sounds fun.” We entered a modern kitchen with marble countertops and white cabinets. A huge island rested in the middle, with stools on one side. I dropped onto a stool and took my phone out of my back pocket. I checked for a text, but Fausto had left me on read, the asshole.

“Missing someone?” Giulio teased, nodding at my phone.

“Baciami il culo.” Kiss my ass. I had been busy translating today on my new phone when not buying clothes.

Giulio laughed as he went to the freezer. “We will make a true Italian of you yet, bella.”

Soon Giulio blended peaches into puree and poured it into a pitcher with prosecco. He told me where to find two flutes and then we were back on the terrace, watching the sun drop in the sky over Rome as we sipped bellinis. “I don’t hate this,” I said, swallowing more of the cocktail. “I could do this forever.”

“Ask my father to give you this apartment when you part, and perhaps you can.”

“Ew, gross.”

“What is gross?”

“I don’t want him to give me gifts or pay me off. Even though Enzo D’Agostino called me a puttanella, I’m not.”

Giulio’s face darkened and he grew serious. Scary serious. “Che palle! Did he say this to your face?”

“No, he said it to your father, who laughed.”

“I will have a word with him. He should have put D’Agostino in his place.”

“Perhaps as D’Agostino’s brother-in-law, you can put him in his place.”

“Do not remind me. But my father should not tolerate such disrespect.”

“That is what I told him.”

Giulio looked confused. “What did he say?”

“That he was too angry over the black bikini to even hear what D’Agostino said.”

“I bet this was true. He’s very protective of you. Another man seeing all your gorgeous skin must have driven him crazy.”

“You saw me in that bikini.”

“Which was why my father arranged that trip with Katarzyna in the first place. He thought you and I were fucking on the boat.”

Fausto, jealous over other men? Ridiculous. He was gorgeous, powerful and wealthy, and had a big dick. What other man could possibly compare? Not that I would ever tell him as much.

“What’s up there?” I pointed to an upper terrace.

“That is part of the master suite. There is a jacuzzi and more seating.”

Wow. “You Italians really know how to live.”

Giulio lifted his glass. “Indeed we do, bella. So, why would you ever want to leave?”

As I sipped the cocktail, the Roman sun warming my face, I had to agree. This was about as close to perfection as I could imagine.

But perfection never lasted. Losing my mother at such a young age had taught me that. You had to appreciate what you had in the moment, because who knew when it would disappear? This summer, I was in Italy and I had a smoking hot boyfriend who was incredibly wealthy. For now, that was enough.

* * *

One thingI learned since staying here was that Italians like to eat dinner late. It was almost nine o’clock when Giulio and I left the apartment. He still wouldn’t tell me where we were going, but he did insist on picking out my outfit.

He chose the red lace La Perla bodysuit and a red wrap-around dress we had purchased today. “You should always wear red,” he said with a smirk.

“Why?”

“Because of your coloring, bella. And I have a feeling my father will like it.”

Giulio held my arm down the stairs. While I loved the black heels he paired with the outfit—Louboutins with a scalloped edge along the sides and a sky-high heel—they did not allow for going up and down stairs easily. Still, I adored them. They made my legs look long and I reached Giulio’s height with them on.

Three guards followed us, including Paolo. It must have been strange for him to follow his boyfriend as Giulio escorted a woman out to dinner. I wondered if they would find a way to be together tonight when we returned to Siderno.

We didn’t go far. The restaurant was directly across the street from the apartment, a small trattoria that looked charming from the outside. Giulio held open the door and I went in. The restaurant was empty, the tables and chairs completely vacant. Was this place even open?

A woman emerged from the back. She had silver hair that was cut into a sleek bob. “Buonasera, signore, signorina. Follow me, please.”

I trailed her toward the rear of the restaurant and out a small door. A stone patio stretched out in front of me, twinkling lights strung overhead, illuminating the lone table on the stone patio.

And the man waiting there.

I couldn’t move, my feet rooted to the ground, as Fausto stood and buttoned his jacket, looking more delicious than any of the gelato I’d eaten today. I gaped at him as he came toward me. “You’re here.”

He slid a hand onto my hip and cradled my jaw with the other. I was coming to learn this was his favorite way to hold me, not that I was complaining. His mouth touched mine in a soft kiss full of promise. “Ciao, dolcezza.”

“I can’t believe it.” I skimmed my hands up his chest until I could wrap them around his neck. He smelled like his fancy Italian soap, a combination of lemon and bergamot. “When did you get here?”

“Not long ago.” He moved a hand lower to cup my ass, bringing our hips together. “I left just after you sent me that video.”

Oh. I bit my lip. “That explains why you never responded.”

“Never has a man wrapped up his work so rapidly to get to his woman as I did this afternoon.”

His woman. I liked the sound of that. Probably too much.

I looked over my shoulder. “Did you—” No one was there. “Wait, where did Giulio go?”

“Where does any young man go in Rome after his father tells him to go away?”

“You told Giulio to go away? That’s not very nice.”

Fausto trailed his lips over my jaw and down my neck, my skin pebbling everywhere. God, he was here five minutes and my panties were already soaked.

“I want you to myself tonight,” he whispered. “I plan to take my time while I punish you for teasing me.”

I knew his punishment would really be a reward. “Did you like watching me masturbate, capo?”

He growled deep in his chest. “I came twice while watching it over and over today. You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen.”

“I will happily do it for you live any time you like.”

“Not to worry. I will have you do that soon. But not tonight. Tonight I plan to fuck you until you can’t take any more.”

He kissed me then, not the gentle greeting of a moment ago, but an attack on my mouth. He devoured me, robbing me of breath while he thrust his tongue deep inside to tangle with mine. I sagged against him, caught up in the give and take between us, the frenzy that had pushed us together in the first place. I needed him desperately. My head was spinning with chemicals and endorphins, a purely physical reaction that only this man had ever caused within me.

“Cazzo, Francesca,” he said when we broke apart. “I want to strip you naked and fuck you right here on the stone and dirt.”

“The apartment is across the street,” I panted, clinging to him.

“Later. First I want to spoil you with the best food in Roma. Come, let’s sit.” He took my hand and led me to the small table. Wine had already been poured and a small candle sat in the middle. Fausto helped me into my seat and then took his own.

Leaning in, he said, “Sei mozzafiato. I like you in red.”

Something occurred to me. “Did you tell Giulio to have me wear this?”

“My son has been keeping me updated throughout the day. Did you think I wasn’t interested?”

I picked up my wine glass. “I thought you were busy.”

“I was, but I am never too busy for you. Especially when I know what you are wearing underneath that dress.”

“Maybe I won’t let you see it,” I teased.

His lips curved in the most sinfully arrogant way. “I could order you to strip right here and deep throat my dick and we both know you would do it gladly.”

I tried not to choke on my wine as I swallowed. God, that sounded hot.

Fausto chuckled at my reaction and relaxed in his chair just as the woman from earlier returned, a plate in each hand. One was parma ham and the other fried anchovies, which I’d never had before but were surprisingly delicious.

“Tell me what you think of Roma,” Fausto asked as he poured more wine. “Giulio said you liked the apartment.”

“I love the apartment. I don’t know why you don’t use it more often.”

“It is not easy for me to leave the castello.”

Right, I’d forgotten. Mob boss. “So why come today?”

“Because I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”

I bit my lip and focused on my plate, trying to hide how happy that made me.

Fausto refused to let me. With a finger, he lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “I have never, not once, neglected my duties for a woman before today. But seeing you here, so beautiful while drinking wine with me in one of my favorite restaurants...how could I ever regret it?”

I loved that I affected him as much as he affected me. I nuzzled his palm like a cat. “I am very, very glad you came.”

He pushed his finger past my lips and onto my tongue. Locking eyes with him, I sucked hard, swirling my tongue around the digit. He watched, his gaze growing dark. “Remember that when I fuck your three holes tonight.”

I let his finger fall from my mouth. “Three? Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want all of you, places you never let that stronzo have. I want you to feel me everywhere until there’s no room for anyone else.”

The woman returned with our next course, leaving me to contemplate his words. How did he know just what to say to both turn me on and make my heart swell? It was as if Fausto had a window into my brain.

We ate spaghetti with crispy pork cheek and zucchini, as well as fettuccini with pecorino cheese and pepper. There were veal meatballs on the side. “This is too much food,” I said.

“You don’t have to eat it all. Just try a little bit of each. The meatballs are the best in the city.”

After tasting them, I concurred. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Every time I am in Roma. I own the restaurant.”

“What?” My voice rose two octaves. “You do?”

“I do own some legitimate businesses, you know. And it’s run by the widow of one of my men killed about five years ago. I helped her get started.”

Fausto, benevolent? The layers to this man never ceased to fascinate me. He was like the ground. The more you dug, the more things you found underneath.

We finished with tiramisu and crème caramel. And espresso, of course. Fausto asked for a splash of sambuca in his, but I took mine plain with lots of sugar. I was still getting used to the bitter taste.

The whole day had been perfect. From shopping and bellinis, to dinner with Fausto. “Thank you,” I told him simply, knowing he would understand.

His expression softened. “I will give you the world if you let me, piccolina. But I am glad you had a nice time. Does this mean you have forgiven me for last night?”

Had the storm on the yacht been only last night? It seemed like weeks ago. And as much as I wanted to torture him, I couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“Thank fuck.” He threw his napkin on the table and pushed back. “Because I need you now, Francesca. I’m so full of come for you that I am practically choking on it. Let’s go.”