Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Francesca

When I came downstairsfor breakfast, I found Zia in the kitchen. Fausto had retreated to his office an hour ago, and Giulio was probably still sleeping.

“Buongiorno, la nipote,” she said, giving me a sly smile from the range.

What did that word mean? Pregnant mistress? Stupid woman who forgot about her birth control shot and let a mafia king impregnate her?

With Zia, it was hard to say. The crafty old woman.

I went and kissed her cheek. “Buongiorno, Zia.”

When I tried to make a cup of espresso, she smacked my hand. “La caffeina fa male al bambino.”

“Ouch, Zia. I need coffee.” I pointed at the espresso maker. “Per favore?” I put my hands together like I was praying and shook them, pleading. I might die if she didn’t let me have coffee.

“No. Fausto’s bambino.” She pointed at my stomach, as if I needed a reminder.

Pouting, I dropped onto a stool. “How did you know?” When she frowned, I thought about the Italian I’d learned. “Come...sapere...bambino?” “Sapere” was the verb “to know” but they couldn’t expect me to start conjugating this soon.

Zia came closer and lifted my chin with one of her bony fingers. She tilted my face this way and that. “La tua pelle bellissima.”

When she went back to the stove, I used my translation app and learned “pelle” was skin. Huh.

I still couldn’t believe I was pregnant. I was going to have a baby. Fausto’s baby. I felt too young to be a mother. I wasn’t even nineteen. I barely knew how to take care of myself, let alone someone else.

Let me be happy enough for both of us until I can convince you.

Of course, Fausto was happy about this. He didn’t have to do the hard part, which was to grow and then push a watermelon out of his vagina. Plus, he had all the money in the world to hire nannies and tutors, and pay for private schools. I could leave the child here in Italy and return to Canada.

My hand slipped to my belly. Could I do that? Move away and leave my child here in Italy?

I remember the twins after Mama died, how confused and sad they’d been, the nightmares and tantrums that had followed in the months after the funeral. Papà had been no help whatsoever, so I did whatever I could to give them stability and care. To make sure they felt loved.

The answer to my current dilemma was obvious. I couldn’t do it. I would never want this baby thinking I had abandoned them. No matter what happened with Fausto, I would raise this child.

I needed to think about the conditions of our agreement. Once he agreed and signed off on them, then I could relax a little over my future.

Zia put two cornetti and juice in front of me and gestured that I should eat.

I was starving, so I didn’t argue.

Giulio came in the back door, whistling, dressed in last night’s clothes. “Someone got laid,” I murmured through a mouthful of cornetto.

He smirked and went to kiss Zia’s cheeks. She began speaking in rapid Italian, clearly cross with him. Then she gestured to me. “What is she saying?” I asked.

He exchanged a few words with Zia, then said, “She is berating me for staying out all night. Saying the bambino needs calm and stability in the house, not a boy out at parties and coming home at all hours.”

My stomach sank and the cornetto turned to dust in my mouth. Thanks to Fausto’s sperm, my days of parties and staying out all night were over, clearly.

Giulio sat next to me. “Do not look so sad, la matrigna.”

Zia chuckled and I cast a suspicious glance at him. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what does that mean?”

His smile was playful and slick. “Stepmother.”

I shoved his shoulder. “Fuck off. That is not even funny.”

“He will marry you, Frankie. Mark my words.”

“No, he won’t. He told me that it’s not unusual for mistresses to have babies in his world.”

Giulio pursed his lips and said something to Zia, who nodded several times as she answered. “What?” I asked.

“Zia agrees with me. He will marry you eventually.”

Had no one even considered what I wanted? “Maybe I don’t want to marry him. Maybe I want to take my child back to Toronto.”

“He will never allow that to happen, bella.”

Fausto had said as much, but maybe he’d change his mind. Once the diapers and late-night feedings started, he’d probably be glad to get rid of me and the baby. “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t. You love us both.”

I drank my juice and tried not to react. Love Fausto? No way. I couldn’t. It would be awful, loving him when he didn’t love me in return. Eventually he’d take another mistress and that would kill me. I was the jealous type. No way would I be able to share him with anyone else.

You’re jealous because you love him.

Ugh.

Zia set an espresso in front of Giulio and I eyed it hungrily. Did they make decaf espresso? I would need to research that ASAP.

Actually, I knew nothing about being pregnant. I would have to research all of it ASAP. Weren’t there special vitamins and doctor’s appointments?

Oh, God. I put my head in my hands. How had I let this happen?

“How did he take the news, by the way?”

I looked up at Giulio. “He’s thrilled.”

Giulio grinned. “I knew it.” He exchanged words with Zia, then filled me in. “Zia is not surprised, either. She said he will right the wrongs of his past with you.”

Great. Just what I wanted.

I never got to see the little changes in her, the signs of my son growing in her body.

Hard to feel sorry for him when he was off fucking another woman during Lucia’s pregnancy.

My phone lit up and I saw Gia’s name on the screen. Why was my sister calling me from Toronto at—I glanced at the time and did the math—three thirty in the morning? “Scusci,” I said and swiped to accept the call as I stood up. “Gia? Why are you up so late?”

When I started to leave, Zia pressed my uneaten cornetto in my hand. “Per il bambino.”

I rolled my eyes but took the pastry. “Grazie,” I told her and then walked outside to the terrace. A stone table with an umbrella was already set up, casting shade in the morning heat.

“Are you there, Frankie?” Gia was speaking quietly.

“I’m here. What is going on? Why are you calling me so late?”

“Are you really Fausto Ravazzani’s goomah?”

Suddenly, I lost my appetite. I set the cornetto on the table. “How did you hear?”

“Papà is losing his mind. I heard him yelling about it with Uncle Reggie. He is pissed.” She paused. “It’s really true? You’re his mistress?”

There was no use lying about it now. And I hadn’t even told her the worst part. “Yes, and brace yourself, Gia. It gets worse.”

“Oh, my God. Spill it.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Holy shit! But you’ve only been there barely two months. That was fast.”

Yes, because of Fausto’s stupid virility. “I forgot about my shot. Normally the doctor’s office calls to remind me to make an appointment, but I left my phone in Toronto. With everything that happened, it just totally slipped my mind.”

“You’re having a baby. I can hardly believe it. I’m going to be an aunt!”

Hearing her excitement, I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “This is not a good thing. This is a nightmare, actually.”

“Frankie, if you had married his son, you’d probably be having a baby anyway. That’s the way these stupid mafia marriages work. They like to keep us uneducated and pregnant.”

A knot lodged in my throat. I didn’t want that future. I wanted to go to college and live like a normal young woman. Have fun and go to parties. Get drunk and hook up with random guys. My eyes started burning, tears gathering behind my lids. “Gia, what am I going to do?”

“Oh, sis. I’m sorry. He didn’t...force you, did he?”

“Definitely not. I wanted to sleep with him. I just didn’t mean to get pregnant.”

“Well, what did he say about it?”

“He’s beyond happy. Apparently, it’s common here for mistresses to have babies. No one has batted an eye so far.” At least Giulio and Zia hadn’t. Who knew what everyone else would say?

“Papà will seriously flip out if he learns of a baby.”

“You can’t tell him. Please, Gia. You can tell Em, but don’t mention this to anyone else.”

“I won’t. He’s already pissed because you are a quote ‘whore,’ sleeping with a man you aren’t married to. He’s been screaming that you’ve brought shame to the Mancini family, whatever the fuck that means.”

I could almost hear him ranting, calling me a disappointment. “I’m sorry. I know this might affect you and Em, too, since you’re still unmarried and living at home.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t want an Italian husband. I hope no one in this stupid ’ndrina wants to marry me when the time comes.”

I sighed and traced the edge of the stone table with my fingertip. “I’ve made a complete mess of my life.”

“You said you liked it there, so maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“I liked it here when I considered it a summer abroad. Now it’s the rest of my life.”

“Well, Em will tell you this is fate, but I will say it’s shitty luck. We’ll find a way to help you escape, if that’s what you want.”

If only.

“He’d just hunt me down. There’s no escaping this, Gigi,” I said, using her childhood nickname.

“Well, he better take good care of you or I will hire someone to beat his ass.”

I laughed. “Gotcha. I’ll be sure to let him know. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Frankie. Talk soon, okay?”

“Okay. Give my love to Em.”

When we hung up, I started crying, silent tears streaming down my face. I missed my sisters. This nightmare would be so much easier if I had them here with me….

Then I remembered the conditions I needed to write for Fausto. I was definitely adding “bring my sisters to Siderno” to the list.

* * *

Fausto

I spentthe next few days setting up things for Francesca.

She presented me with a list of things she needed right away, like an obstetrician. The doctor, rumored to be the best in Calabria, would see her beginning next week. In the meantime, they recommended prenatal vitamins, which I had Marco pick up at the pharmacy.

Francesca’s list also included healthy foods, pasteurized cheese, and decaf espresso. Comfortable clothes and lotion for her belly. Pregnancy books and morning sickness relief.

I bought it all and rushed the delivery. Whatever my piccolina needed, she would have it.

She seemed to come to terms with having the baby. I knew she was working on her list of conditions for our legal agreement, which I would have drawn up and signed. There wasn’t anything I would refuse her, as long as it kept her happy.

I very much looked forward to the cravings and back rubs. Feeling my child move inside her womb. Seeing her tits grow larger as they readied to produce milk.

I was the luckiest man in Italy.

Of course, I had asked about sex during pregnancy, and the doctor reassured me it was totally safe for the baby. So I continued to fuck my beautiful girl every night in our bed, keeping her well satisfied.

Marco entered my office without knocking. “Rav, you’re going to want to see this.”

I didn’t take my eyes off my laptop. “Did your wife have one of these pregnancy pillows? It says they help with sleep.”

He glanced over my shoulder at the screen. “Don’t buy that one. Buy the one that hugs the whole body. It fits on both sides.”

“Ah.” I clicked on the one he recommended. The reviews called it the Ferrari of body pillows. Excellent. I added it to the shopping cart, then glanced up. “What do I need to see?”

He held out a flash drive. “It’s the camera we put outside the VIP emergency exit at the club.”

My stomach in knots, I took the small drive and put it into my laptop. When it mounted, I double clicked the video file and it began playing.

“Go to the three-minute mark,” Marco instructed.

I moved the player forward until I saw Giulio come outside the exit door. A man followed, the same man who I’d seen touch Giulio’s back. When the door closed behind them, Giulio grabbed the other man and shoved him against the wall, then attacked his mouth by kissing him.

I froze. My son was kissing another man.

“Che cazzo?” I whispered. The tips of my ears burned and I pounded my fist on the desk. Still I didn’t take my eyes off the screen. I had to know.

I was not homophobic. I’d seen men together before, and I was very unhappy when the last gay member of my ’ndrina had been killed by his cousin.

But we did not interfere in these things. The men in our world considered homosexuality shameful. A sign of weakness and an embarrassment for the family. And it was left to the family to handle it.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Giulio just liked kissing other men, but he still fucked women.

Praying this was so, I continued to watch.

When my son sank to his knees, his hands going to unfasten the man’s trousers, I shut my laptop.

Neither Marco nor I spoke. The silence said volumes between us. We both knew how bad this was for the ’ndrina—and for me personally.

Giulio was supposed to be my heir. To take over everything after I died. He was my only son—and he was gay. There had never been a gay man in a place of prominence in our organization. It was pointless. He would never have been respected enough by the other men to effectively lead.

“Rav, I’m sorry.”

I nodded once, but I couldn’t speak as my mind raced. How did this happen? What had I done wrong? All my plans for him were now ruined. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered this information and used it against him. Or me.

“He’s kept this a secret for a long time,” my cousin said. “Maybe it’ll stay a secret.”

“Not a chance. Eventually someone always talks. An ex-boyfriend, an ex-lover. Someone.”

Marco dropped into the chair across from my desk. “No one else knows. I destroyed the original video and I took the camera down. You have the only copy.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We could get rid of the soldier. Maybe Giulio is only attracted to this particular man.”

My cousin winced. “Rav, you know that isn’t how it works.”

Did I? Dio cane, I didn't know anything at the moment. I felt numb. “Do you think he loves this man?” Marco pressed his lips together, hesitating, and I had my answer. “Cazzo Madre di Dio!”

“This is not a fling. They are serious. Hey, at least he’s not sleeping around.”

“Sí, sí. Thank God for that.”

“I meant that he isn’t taking risks. The more people who know, the more dangerous it is for him.”

I picked up my phone and texted my son.

My office. Immediately.

“What are you going to do?” Marco asked again.

“I need to talk to him. Tell him to give up this man. After he has married and given me grandchildren, then he can continue his secret affairs.”

“Is that really what you want for him?”

“What is my other choice?” I hissed. “Kill him? I cannot do that either.”

Marco held up his palms. “No one is suggesting that. But you’re having another child. If it’s a boy, then Giulio could move away. Live a life outside the ’ndrina—”

“No,” I snapped. “I am not disowning my son and forcing him to live in exile. He will give up this man and get married.”

Marco clearly didn’t approve but he kept silent. Which was wise, considering I had already decided how this would be handled. I would not be talked out of it.

Giulio was home, so I wasn’t surprised when a knock sounded seconds later. I told him to come in and then my son strode into the room. I still remembered holding him as a baby, his chubby fingers wrapped around mine as he learned to walk. I had been the one to break the news to him about his mother, had consoled him and dried his tears. I gave him his first gun and taught him how to shoot it. I was there to induct him into the ’Ndrangheta. Everything I had done for the last eighteen years had been for him.

He would do this one thing for me.

“Sit down,” I barked and pointed at the empty seat next to Marco.

My cousin started to stand, but I told him to stay. He was often the voice of reason when my temper got the better of me.

I folded my hands and tried to remain calm. “I will ask you this once and only once. And I expect the truth, Giulio.”

A flash of fear went through my son’s gaze, but he tried to smile through it. “Of course, Papà. I would never lie to you.”

“Are you gay?”

He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to be breathing, as he stared at me. After a few very long seconds, he swallowed. “You wouldn’t ask if you didn’t already know the answer.”

“Still, I want to hear you say it. To my face.”

His chin lifted, the Ravazzani pride and courage surfacing. “Yes, I am gay.”

I pounded a fist onto the desk again and closed my eyes. I had known it, but hearing him admit it twisted the knife in my chest a little more. “How long?” I rasped. “How long have you known?”

“Since always. There’s never been a time when I didn’t know.”

Unbelievable. He’d hidden this from me his entire life. It felt like a betrayal of the worst kind, as if everything I’d known had been flipped upside down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Giulio’s eyes bulged. “Are you joking? Because I knew you’d act like this.” He gestured toward me.

“If I had known, I could have protected you. I could have made other plans. I never would have—”

“You mean you would have sent me away. You never would have made me your heir.”

Yes, that was exactly what I meant.

I stabbed at the desktop with my finger. “You cannot possibly blame me for that. You know what happens to gay men in our world. I’d rather you were alive and somewhere else than here and dead. But now it’s too late.”

His face lost its color but he didn’t look away. Resignation settled in his expression. “What are you going to do?”

“I do not want this life for you. I want you married, with children. Whatever you want to do once you have raised your children and become capo is up to you. But first you must give up this man and get married.”

“Or?”

“There is no fucking or, Giulio,” I snapped. “You will do this for me, as your father and capo. It is a direct order.”

Swiftly, his face turned red. “Why can’t I secretly see him? I’ll get married and have children, I swear. But I want to see him on the side.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Giulio stood and dragged his hands through his hair. “You had a mantenuta when you were married. Every married man in the ’ndrina does—”

Marco cleared his throat pointedly. Giulio sighed. “Fine, everyone but Zio Marco has a mantenuta. What difference does it make if mine is a man?”

“Because it matters!” I shouted. “If someone finds out, they’ll either kill you or both of us. This jeopardizes everything I have ever done!”

“I don’t care! I love him!”

It felt like a blow to my heart, a knife cut deep in my chest. “You would put this man over the ’ndrina?” I paused and took a breath. “Over me?”

“Papà,” he said in that petulant childish voice I’d heard many times over the years. “Do not make me choose.”

“You must, because if you don’t give him up I will have him killed, Giulio.”

His eyes grew glassy with unshed tears and hopelessness. “Papà, no. I am begging you.”

I hated this. I didn’t like hurting him, but being capo meant making hard decisions—even when it came to your own family.

I hardened my resolve in the face of his misery. “If you want to save him, you will do as I say. You can never speak to him again. And you will marry the woman I choose and get her pregnant with your babies.”

His hand shook as he covered his mouth, staring at me as if he’d never seen me before. As if he hadn’t known I was capable of such cruelty. And that was because I had sheltered him from the worst of why they called me il Diavolo.

But I would not shelter him any longer. It was time for my boy to grow up and understand the world of men. “It is your choice, figlio mio.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll break it off and I won’t see him again. You have my word.”

“Good boy. You are excused.”