Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Twenty-Four

Francesca

My bedroom lookedthe same but I felt completely different. Instead of the usual dread I experienced while inside these walls, I was relaxed. There were little touches of me everywhere, from the lipstick on the side table to the bra I’d flung onto a chair. It was familiar, and I realized I didn’t hate being here any longer.

Was that because of Fausto and Rome? Had I let his charm twist my mind into accepting this?

Or was I as dark inside as he believed?

Was he also experiencing this insane connection between us, the burning need for each other that felt too big, too important to be only lust?

I’d spent my life searching for something more, a way to find myself outside of my father’s orbit, as my mother had wanted. And I never felt more like myself than when I was with Fausto. It was like he was peeling away the unimportant layers and helping me learn who I was underneath. Not to mention I was discovering my gorgeous devil in a three-piece suit could be tender and sweet, as well.

Mine? Was I really thinking Fausto belonged to me?

My dick belongs to you, monella.

If that’s what he was offering, I would take it. Grinning to myself, I plugged in my phone to charge and noticed a voicemail. It was from a Toronto area code, but I didn’t recognize the number. Not many people had my new cell number. Was this one of my sisters?

I hit play.

“Frankie, this is your father. Call me right away, but wait until you are alone.” Papà had found my number? Gia or Emma must have given it to him.

Biting my lip, I called him back. He answered on the first ring. “Frankie. Are you alone?”

“Ciao, Papà. Yes, I’m alone.”

“Good.” I could hear him breathing hard, like he was angry. “I cannot believe you have dishonored this family and let him turn you into a whore. Are you so selfish as to not consider how your actions affect anyone else?”

My mouth dropped open and my stomach burned with embarrassment. Was he serious? “I am not a whore.”

“You were not pure. You gave your most precious gift, your only worth, to some stronzo here in Toronto. This boy was caught crawling out of your window.”

My only worth? Rage coiled in my throat and I had to swallow it down to speak. “I am more than just my virginity. I want to go to school—”

“You stupid girl,” he snapped. “You are worth nothing. You are disgraced, and your sisters will suffer for this. Who will marry them now?”

I hadn’t intended for this to affect Emma and Gia, but my sisters didn’t want mafia husbands either. We were all better off choosing our own husbands. “Plenty of men outside your business will marry them. Which is what they deserve—a life outside all of this. And I don’t care what I am worth to you. I never wanted to be used like a commodity, traded to some man for him to own.”

“That is exactly what happened, you foolish slut, except you’ve let him have you without marrying you. He’s made you his mistress, and everyone will soon learn of it.”

I’d never heard him speak such hurtful words, calling me stupid and a slut. I hadn’t ever thought he’d treat me with such little respect, but clearly he didn’t care about me or my happiness. Perhaps he never had. “It is a temporary thing. I am still planning to come home and go to school.” I would find a way. Somehow.

“There is no school for you, certainly not now.”

He couldn’t mean that. This was all I had talked about for years. “But you promised Mama.”

“I promised her I would send you for a semester of school. After that I planned to bring you home and find you a husband.”

A semester? What the hell?

I gripped the phone tightly, my entire body locking in horror. “How could you do that? All Mama wanted was for us to get an education before we married.”

“Your mother is dead, Frankie. I am your father and you should have done exactly what I said. Instead you disobeyed and dishonored me. Now I must cut you off from our family to try and save it.”

“Cut me off? What does that mean?”

“It means you are a stain on our family’s honor. The only way to repair it is to remove that stain. You are no longer my daughter.”

I dropped onto the bed, unable to believe what I was hearing. Tears stung the backs of my eyelids. “This is unbelievable. You are disowning me? Just because I slept with two men?”

“I could have overlooked the boy here. We could have taken care of him and no one ever would have known. But Ravazzani is too powerful. Everyone will learn of this shame. I cannot risk your sisters’ futures. They are the ones who matter now.”

Because I no longer mattered.

I struggled with how to respond. This was unreal. Was anything I believed true?

He snarled, “I hope you are happy with Ravazzani, Francesca. Because you are his problem now.” Then he hung up.

My father hung up on me.

I sat there, numb, my mind reeling from his fury and cruelty. I was disowned. What did that even mean? That I was no longer welcome to the Toronto house? Would he try to keep my sisters from me?

Oh, God.

I rocked slightly and covered my mouth with my hand. I’d fallen under Fausto’s spell like a complete fool and now I had no family. No place to go. Nothing. I was stuck here, alone.

Would I ever see Gia and Emma again?

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t cry, either. I felt shell-shocked, like everything had turned upside down and twisted inside out. My heart was racing, my lungs constricted, and the edges of the room blurred. I had to get out of here. I had to get outside, where I could get air.

Why was there no damn air in here?

I lunged for the door knob and pulled. The corridor stretched out in front of me and I stumbled as fast as I could toward the stairs. I didn’t stop, flying down the steps until I reached the first floor. Moving blindly, I hurried toward the kitchen and the back door.

Except I ended up going in the wrong direction. When I looked up, I was standing at Fausto’s office door.

I waited there, staring at the ornate wood and wondering why I was perpetually drawn to him. Was I so intent on self-sabotage? Did I hate myself and my family so much?

Before I could turn away, the door opened. His brows were pinched in confusion. “Francesca, what is it?”

I looked up at him, unable to even form words. The hurt and fear strangled my tongue and robbed me of breath.

Whatever he saw on my face caused him to tug me inside. I didn’t even bother to fight, just let him lead me to his desk chair, where he sat and pulled me onto his lap. I leaned into his warmth and tried to get a handle on my emotions. How was I going to survive this?

He stroked my back with one hand. “Dimmi.”

His laptop was open, a complicated spreadsheet on the screen. The numbers all blurred together as I stared at them, my eyes filling with water. Still, I tried to force out the words, needing to purge them from my heart. “My father….”

I couldn’t even say it.

Fausto’s hand stilled. “Your father, what?”

“He found out about us and disowned me.”

Tension radiated off his body, and I knew he was angry without even looking at him. “What did he say? Tell me every word.”

I took a deep breath and recited the entire conversation, including the names Papà had called me. Not seeing Fausto’s face as I spoke made it easier. Then I didn’t have to see the truth in his eyes, that what Papà had said was a fact. That I was shameful and a disgrace. A foolish slut.

When I finished, he didn’t speak. His hand continued to stroke my back, his strong body cradling me like I was important. Like I mattered to him. I knew I didn’t, but at this moment I needed the lies. I’d never felt more alone, as if I had absolutely nothing and no one.

So yes, I’d take whatever kindness I could.

The tears came then, pouring from my lids to soak his shirt. I held onto him tightly, clinging for all I was worth, grateful that at least I had this.

At some point I think the door opened, but I wasn’t paying attention. I just cried and thought about how I’d never see my sisters again.

“I am sorry, dolcezza,” he said when I quieted. “I am not sorry you are here with me, but I am sorry that your father has hurt you.”

“My life is ruined,” I whispered shakily. “I’ll never go to university. I’ll never see Emma and Gia again. I’m totally alone.”

“This is not true. You wanted a life outside of your father’s world, and now you’ve been given it. You’re not foolish or stupid. You’re very clever. I am certain you’ll find a way to see your sisters again.”

He made it sound so easy. But then, to a man like him, everything was easy. I shook my head. “I cannot see how. He’ll keep them from me, then marry them off to men who will keep them from me.”

“You forget that you now have a very powerful man in your life who can do almost anything. I can help you.”

“How?” I nearly screeched. “You are here and they are in Toronto. Plus, you know nothing can supersede a husband or father in this life. If they want to keep me away from Emma and Gia then they will.”

“Trust me, no? I will help you with your sisters. And if you want to go to school, take classes online. Plenty of students attend virtually these days.”

Right, sure. What an easy solution! “With what money? He will cut me off. Not to mention that school was supposed to start in two weeks. I don’t even have a laptop.”

“I will give you the money and you’ll have a laptop by tonight.”

I leaned back to see his handsome face. The light in his blue eyes was soft and tender, and I let myself get swept away by the affection there. “You would do that for me?”

The edge of his mouth hitched. “Francesca, I like taking care of you. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

“But it’s expensive.”

“I have the money. Let me pay for your classes and books.”

Could I do this? Could I allow Fausto to pay for my school? I considered it, thinking through everything that could go wrong. “What happens if we stop sleeping together? Then I won’t be able to continue. That would almost be worse.”

“Then I’ll set aside the full amount into a trust that only you can access.”

I studied his expression, but he looked completely serious. Good lord, that was a lot of money. If I accepted it, did that mean I really was a whore? I hadn’t wanted a big payout at the end of this relationship, like his other mistresses, but what choice did I have?

Be your own woman, Francesca. Don’t make my mistakes.

My mother’s words haunted me. The only way to do that was to get an education and make a life for myself outside of the mafia.

I was proud, but not stupid. “Okay, but I will pay you back. Every euro.”

“Can you not consider it a gift?”

“No. Then I’d feel like I was in it only for the money.”

His eyes narrowed. “The position of mantenuta is important here, Francesca. You have more access to me than anyone, even Marco. Everyone knows this and will treat you with respect or they will answer to me.”

“So you’re saying it’s not just about the money.”

“Exactly. It’s about power, as are most things in this world. And you have a lot of it. Haven’t you realized that yet?”

No, I hadn’t. It didn’t feel like it when my father hurled hateful insults at me and I would never see my sisters again. “Isn’t it also about orgasms?”

He pressed his mouth to mine and gave me a deep kiss that made me dizzy. “It’s especially about orgasms.”

That I could handle.

I leaned my forehead against his cheek and inhaled his familiar comforting scent. “Thank you, baby. I will pay you back and whatever you can do about my sisters would be very much appreciated.”

His lips found my forehead. “See? Now was that so difficult? I like to make you happy.”

I was coming to believe it, and I had to admit this felt good. He understood me better than anyone and had gone out of his way to stay with me in Rome. More than anything else right now, I needed to forget all the shame and hurt in my heart. I didn’t want to think about the future, my family, or what anyone was saying about me.

This man could make me forget.

I kissed his throat. “Is it too early to drag you upstairs so I can have my wicked way with you?”

He caressed my thigh, in no hurry to break our connection. “Why don’t you sit here and keep me company while I catch up on work and calls? Then I’ll take you upstairs and fuck you.”

* * *

Over the next three weeks,life settled into a normal pattern—or as normal as could be expected when one was a mafia don’s girlfriend. Yes, girlfriend. I had convinced myself that Fausto was my boyfriend, because that was preferable to the real situation, that I was his mistress. Everyone knew the truth, however. The only person I was fooling was myself.

Most days, my inner lie worked. Everyone on the estate treated me with kindness and respect. Whatever I asked for was granted, and I felt like part of the family. The only person who hadn’t quite warmed up to me was Marco, and I found that troubling, considering his closeness to Fausto. Marco’s attitude remained polite but cold towards me. I told myself I didn’t care, but the question of why dug under my skin like a splinter.

My classes started next week and I couldn’t wait. I found a college with a good agricultural program that had online classes, and as promised, Fausto gave me the money in a trust and bought me a laptop. Meanwhile, on my phone I set up a secret account that allowed me to chat with my sisters every day. I showed them the vineyards and the castle. Gia thought I was the luckiest woman alive, but Emma was more concerned with my happiness. Did Fausto treat me well? Was I safe? Did I mind not being married?

The truth was I didn’t care about marriage. I knew what it meant to be a mafia wife, waiting at home with dinner on the table for a man who cheated on me every chance he got. My mother had given up her career, her whole life, for my father. Then she’d died from cancer in her mid-thirties, regretting the choices she’d made. I never wanted that. I wanted independence and a career of my own. No mafia husband would ever allow that, which meant I had to make my way outside my father’s world.

Besides, this fling with Fausto was a short-term arrangement. Whenever the fire between us burned out, he would let me go and I would start a life in Toronto or New York. I would think fondly of this as the summer I studied abroad in Italy and dated a sexy older man who had more money than God. And who was incredibly talented in bed.

Like, how was that a bad thing?

I wouldn’t think about my father and his hurtful words. Instead I kept busy. Except for my daily Italian lesson, I spent my time outside, mostly with Vincenzo. He taught me more and more about the grapes and the vines. How to care for the plants and the soil. It was better than any hands-on college course I could have taken. Vincenzo loved the outdoors as much as I did, and I peppered him with questions all day long, taking note of his answers in a journal Fausto bought me.

The evenings belonged to Fausto. Unless work demanded his attention, he ate dinner with me, Zia and Giulio. After that, he and I went up to his suite and he fucked me desperately, wringing every drop of pleasure from my body before we collapsed into bed. There was no shame between us and I loved the little games we played. I learned so much about myself, like what I found arousing, and quite a bit about Fausto, as well. He liked me bratty, a little bit resistant, and a lot naughty.

I was more than happy to comply.

Today I was in the outdoor garden with Zia. Fausto’s aunt had offered to teach me about vegetables. She didn’t speak much English and my Italian was only so-so, but we were muddling through. The August sun was overbearing, even this early in the day. It never seemed to bother Zia, though.

Zia’s garden was laid out with carefully defined beds and a network of trellises. There were climbing beans, tomatoes, herbs, eggplants, potatoes, artichokes, onions, and more. She handled each plant with care. She reminded me of my mom, giving each leaf and bloom careful attention, pouring her love all the way down into the roots and dirt. It made my heart ache with bittersweet memories.

“Viene qua, viene qua,” Zia said, waving me over. When I came closer, she showed me the tiny green bug crawling on the leaf. “Un afide. Molto male.”

I recognized the aphid, a species of insect which were bad for gardens. “What now?”

She reached for a spray bottle on the ground and began spraying the liquid on the plants. “Soap. Water. Il pepe di Caienna.”

“Cayenne pepper?” Zia nodded and I wrote this down. Fascinating.

She imitated a choking, gasping sound and sure enough the aphid stopped moving.

We walked along, looking for more aphids and checking on her plants. She told me when each vegetable would be ready to harvest, and let me eat a tomato right off the vine. I swear, it was the best tomato I’d ever put in my mouth.

When we passed a trellis full of pea pods, she pulled one off and handed it to me. “Fa bene al bambino.”

I blinked. Wasn’t bambino….? Did she mean me? Wishful thinking for her nephew, no doubt. I smiled and shook my head as I accepted the pea pod. “No bambino, Zia.”

“Sí, bambino.” She gestured with both hands toward my belly. “Fausto’s bambino.”

I nearly choked on a pea. Most old women were obsessed with babies, and she considered Fausto a son. However, there was no way I was having Fausto’s baby. I answered the best way I knew how. “Molto molto no bambino.”

She just smiled and tapped her temple. What did that mean?

“Ah, my two favorite women out in my Italian sun. What could be better?”

I turned and saw Fausto edging toward us. He was dressed shockingly down for the daytime, wearing jeans and a simple gray t-shirt. Was he not working this morning? By the time I got up, he’d already dressed and left for his office. The sun caressed his golden muscular skin, like he was a Roman god sent straight from heaven.

He kissed Zia’s cheeks first, then got close to me. “Dolcezza, you are never more beautiful than when you are outside on my land.” Bending, he pulled me close and gave me a deep, lingering kiss on the mouth. “Mmm, terre e sole.”

Land and sun. He loved to smell my skin when I came in from outside.

“Now, you must stop eye-fucking me,” he murmured, “or you won’t get your surprise.”

Thankfully Zia had wandered away, busy in another part of her garden. I slid my hands over his chest. “I can’t help it. I’ve never seen you in jeans and a t-shirt. Very sexy, paparino.”

He squeezed a buttock. “Behave. I cannot walk around the workers with a hard dick and still maintain their respect.”

“Maybe they’d respect you more, if they could see what you’re packing.”

Rolling his eyes, he dragged me out of the garden. He spoke to Zia over his shoulder, probably telling her he was taking me somewhere, so I waved good-bye. Fausto wrapped his arm around my waist and tucked me into his side. We headed toward the southwestern part of the estate, away from the vineyards and toward the farmland. “Any guesses as to your surprise?”

“Are we going to clear out the stables again for an early riposo?”

“Hmm. Maybe after. I have very fond memories of that day.”

The first time I had deep throated his cock. “Me, too. Can I take a selfie with you? Please? I like the casual mafia boss look. I won’t post it anywhere. It’ll be just for me.” He always refused to be in pictures with me, much as Giulio had in Rome.

“No photos, Francesca. I can’t risk it ending up online or someone hacking your phone.”

“Are you saying the Italian government doesn’t know who you are?”

“Of course, they do. But that doesn’t mean I want to remind them.”

We went into the stables. This time, he didn’t order everyone out. Instead, he led me to a stall in the back. On the wall was a brass plate that read La Piccola Monella. “You’re moving me out to the stables?” I joked.

“Not yet,” he smirked and slapped my ass. “Look inside.”

I peeked into the stall and a huge brown head appeared. It was a chestnut-colored horse with a patch of white on its face. She nuzzled toward me, curious. I reached out and stroked her muzzle. “Hello, girl.” She shifted and bobbed her head, like she was saying hello, too. I laughed.

“I think she likes you,” Fausto said, his chest at my back. “Not that I ever doubted it. You are far kinder to animals than you are to me.”

“I was very kind to you last night. Twice, in fact.” I continued to pet the horse. “She’s beautiful, Fausto.”

“I am glad you think so. She belongs to you.”

I cast a glance over my shoulder. His brown gaze smoldered with heat and affection, a look I was coming to know well. “You bought me a horse?”

“Sí. I took the honor of naming her, though.”

“So I can ride whenever I like?” I liked to walk the estate, but that could be exhausting. Plus, I missed riding. We had grown up taking lessons as girls.

“Of course. You must wear a helmet, however.”

My paparino. Always looking out for me. I bit my lip as happiness coursed through my chest. “I promise. May I go now?”

“Yes, as long as I may come with you.”

Now the casual clothes made sense. He’d planned time away from work to take me riding. Grinning, I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him like that aphid on the leaf. “Of course. Grazie, Fausto. This is the very best surprise.”

He held me under my ass and kissed my mouth. “I’m glad you are happy. Let me have both horses saddled and then we’ll go.”