Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Francesca

I was just comingout of my old room when Giulio hurried along the hall, his head down. “Hey, G,” I called as I shut the door. “Did you want to—?”

He glanced up and I saw tears streaming down his face. “Not now, Frankie.”

When he tried to dodge around me to go into his room, I put my hand out to stop the door from closing. I slipped inside as he flopped on the bed, face first. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ll just take his side. You’re practically his wife.”

He had a fight with Fausto, obviously. “Except I’m not and never will be. So, what happened?”

Giulio whispered, “He found out, Frankie.”

I knew instantly what he was talking about. I dropped onto the mattress. “Oh, shit. How?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always been so careful.”

“What did he say?”

“That I have to break up with Paolo. If I don’t, he said he would have Paolo killed.”

What the fuck?I sucked in a breath, my hands reaching out to steady me on the bed. “Was he serious?”

“My father does not joke, not about murder. He was very serious.”

And this man was the father of my child?

Great choice, Frankie.

“Does he think breaking up with Paolo will turn you straight?”

Giulio gave a harsh humorless laugh. “If so, he will be very disappointed. He wants me to marry and have babies. When I take over as capo, he said he doesn’t care if I fuck men. But until then I cannot risk all he’s built.”

My skin turned hot as I considered this. Instead of doing the brave thing and supporting Giulio, he was forcing his son to live a lie so the family could save face. What a coward.

What an asshole.

I looked at Giulio, who’d never asked to be gay. He just was—and why couldn’t Fausto understand that? His son had struggled with this secret for so long because he knew the repercussions, and his father had proved him right.

Who cared if Giulio was gay? It was none of anyone’s business.

Fausto was being a shitty father and a shitty human being.

My heart raced as I stood. “I will go talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Giulio said. “He will see it as interfering.”

I didn’t care. If this was Fausto’s parenting style, then I needed to know it sooner rather than later. Because no way would I raise a child with a man who chose the mafia over his own flesh and blood.

I hugged Giulio and walked out. No doubt Fausto was in his office, probably gloating over ruining Giulio’s life. I marched down there, my ears buzzing with indignation. He would listen to me. Once he calmed down, he would see reason and reconsider.

I didn’t bother knocking. Instead, I threw open the door and stepped in. Marco and Fausto were in the middle of a conversation, but I didn’t care. This was too important. “A word, Fausto.”

My man leaned back in his chair. “Francesca, this is not a good time. Did you notice the door was closed?”

Was he patronizing me? “I will speak with you now. Alone.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the corners. He didn’t like when I gave him orders, but that was too bad.

He murmured a few words to Marco, who got up and walked past me on his way out. Marco hadn’t warmed up to me at all, even after learning I was having Fausto’s child. If anything, he’d been even colder.

I ignored him and focused on Fausto. When the door closed and we were alone, I asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You might want to rephrase that, dolcezza.”

“I don’t, actually. I just saw Giulio, crying in his room. He said you learned that he was gay.”

Fausto cocked his head and stared at me, his mouth flat. “Yes, I did. But I have to ask if you knew this about my son.”

I answered without thinking. “Yes, I knew. He told me—”

His hand crashed onto the top of the desk, startling me. Slowly, he rose out of his chair, the air disappearing from the room as he took up more space. “You knew my son was gay? He confided this to you and you...did what about it?”

Was he worried I had told others? “He asked me not to tell anyone. So I kept it to myself.”

His face turned hard and scary, his il Diavolo face. No doubt it was the expression he wore before he gutted someone like a fish.

Unwittingly, I took a step backward.

“You didn’t think to tell me this news?”

Oh. That was what he was mad about? “No. It wasn’t my place.”

“Wasn’t your place? Your place is at my side, doing what I say. I thought I could trust you.”

“This has nothing to do with trust. It’s Giulio’s life—and who cares who he sleeps with?”

“I care, actually. I have to care so that I may keep him safe. But at the moment I am more concerned with your dishonesty.”

“I never lied to you!” I shouted.

“Who do you belong to, Francesca?” Fausto prowled toward me in measured steps.

“Fausto, this isn’t about our sex games.”

He continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Who has put his child in your belly? Who should you remain loyal to above all others?”

“Are you listening? This is not about you and me. This is about your son. About what kind of father you are!”

He stood close, his skin flush as he sneered down at me. “Wrong. This is about the puttanella I’ve had sleeping in my bed who was betraying me the entire time.”

Before I could even plan it, my hand came up and aimed for his cheek. Unfortunately, he caught my wrist before I could strike him. I tried to free myself from his grip, to no avail. “I am not a whore, you dick. Let me go!”

He released me like I was on fire. “You were very much my whore—and a good one at that. You made me think you were mine, that you actually cared. What a fool I was. Marco kept saying I could not trust you, and he was right.”

“Fuck you—and fuck Marco. I never asked for this!”

“Didn’t you? You were so eager you were nearly gagging for it, like when you begged to suck my cock in the stables. And now I know why. When you learned my son was gay, you set your sights on me. A bigger payout, right?”

Jesus, hearing those words nearly destroyed me. My chest felt shredded by a thousand tiny cuts, each breath a struggle. Yes, we had played games and I had let him degrade me, but I never actually thought he believed it. I never thought he believed me a gold-digging whore.

And now I was carrying his child? What an idiot I was.

“You are an asshole.”

“And you are a fucking liar. I cannot ever trust you again.” Roaring, he picked up a glass paperweight from his desk and threw it against the wall, where it smashed into a picture. I covered my head as glass shattered everywhere, the broken frame falling to the ground.

Then I held up my hands and backed away from him. “You’re crazy. Don’t fucking come near me ever again.”

His chest heaved, and his mouth twisted into something sinister, his eyes so cold and cruel that I winced. “You need not worry about that. I would never sleep with someone who betrayed me like this. Marco!” he bellowed.

Marco couldn’t have been far, because the door instantly opened. “Sí, Rav?”

He continued in English, obviously wanting me to understand. “Take her upstairs and watch as she packs a bag. Then drive her to the beach house. She is no longer welcome here.”

I stood there, reeling. He was sending me away? Again? More punishment at the hands of Fausto Ravazzani. Was he hoping there would be a tsunami this time?

This was the final straw. He’d done this too many times and I would never forgive him. “You bastard,” I hissed. “Do not come apologizing to me when you realize what a mistake you’ve made. Because it will be too late.”

“I never change my mind, not after someone betrays me. You are dead to me, Francesca Mancini.”

First my father, now Fausto? Shit, why did that hurt so badly? I grabbed my chest, certain it would crack open and spill out all over the fancy eastern carpets. “Good. Now I can go back to Toronto!”

He walked back to his desk and started sorting through papers, dismissing me like a servant. “After the birth, you’ll be free to leave.”

“I will not let you have my child. You’re a terrible father, and I’d rather raise them alone.”

“Unfortunately, that will not happen. The child is mine and will be raised here. Marco.” He waved his cousin forward. “Get her out of my sight.”

A ball of misery lodged in my throat, burning, but I would not let him see me cry. Why would I want to stay here anyway? He’d called me a whore and said I had betrayed him.

Because you love him.

Yes, I did and what a fool I was, falling for such a terrible man. I deserved to be alone and heartbroken.

“Oh, and remove my phone from her,” he added. “She takes nothing I bought for her.”

Just when I thought I couldn’t hurt any more, he carved out more of my chest. He thinks I’m a gold digger. That I was a whore who was in it for the yacht and clothes and jewelry.

Fuck. Him.

I ripped the phone from my back pocket and threw it against the wall, where it cracked open and fell. “You are going to regret this, Fausto Ravazzani. I am the best thing that has ever happened to you. And it will be too late when you realize it.”

“Cugino,” he said impatiently, not even looking up.

Marco touched my arm. “Signorina Mancini.”

“Don’t touch me.” I jerked away from him and walked out, my head high. I would walk out like a queen, even though Fausto had treated me like dirt.

And he could drop dead.

* * *

Fausto

Everyonein my household hated me.

It had been two weeks, and Giulio still wouldn’t speak to me, his eyes full of sadness and heartbreak. Zia was furious that I’d sent Francesca away. I couldn’t tell her why, except to say that Francesca had betrayed me. Zia replied that it was nonsense, that Francesca was in love with me and I had ruined it with my temper.

I didn’t have the heart to correct her.

Even Marco seemed to tiptoe around me, acting like I was a volcano that might erupt at any moment.

Perhaps I was a bit on edge, but wasn’t I allowed? I was the most important man in Calabria, perhaps all of Italy, and I had a secretly gay son and a gold-digging traitor pregnant with my child. I increased the speed on my treadmill and my legs began to burn. I’d already logged one hour running, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep going.

But I couldn’t stop until I was exhausted. It was the only way I could sleep.

I had removed all traces of her from the house. I forbade anyone to speak her name—a rule only Zia flaunted. I stopped eating dinner with my family, taking my meals in my office instead. And I worked around the clock. The cells in the dungeon were now full of men who needed to be taught a lesson, and though I didn’t normally participate in these matters, I was more than happy to get my hands dirty these days. Only when blood ran down the drain in rivers could I forget her face, her laughter. Her soft cries when she came. The way she clung to me, even in her sleep.

Cazzo, I had been such a fool for her.

A notification popped up on my phone. I turned off the treadmill and hopped down, my chest heaving as sweat ran down my body. It was my daily report on Francesca.

There were cameras at the beach house, but I refused to watch the footage. Instead, I had guards observing her at all times, keeping her safe, and they were instructed to report back to me daily with her activities.

Awoke at eight thirty.

Sucked on ginger candies until eleven, then had coffee.

This was not surprising, as the morning sickness had started a few days ago. The ginger candies had been a gift from my son, who visited Francesca almost daily.

Took her vitamins, then went for a walk on the beach.

Read on the terrace in the afternoon.

My son had gifted her with a tablet, too.

Groceries were delivered.

Good. I made certain she had a decent selection of food for when she felt well enough to eat. I might hate her, but I didn’t want the baby to starve.

Giulio arrived. He had a glass of wine and some fruit. She had sparkling water and pasta.

My son was a good man. Better than me, certainly. And she had shown her loyalty to him—not me—so let him entertain her.

I kept reading.

After Giulio left, she video chatted with her sisters.

Went to bed at nine.

Each report was similar. Dry bullet points of a life lived as my prisoner. But I would not feel sorry for her. In my world, loyalty was everything. She had known a secret that could destroy all I had built, could get people killed, yet she hadn’t shared it with me. This after I had taken her into my bed, showered her with affection and gifts. The mother of my child.

And deception was how she repaid me.

So, no. I would not feel guilty. Francesca would stay there, stewing in her mistakes, until the baby was born. Then I would take my child away from her and she could go wherever she wanted. I no longer cared.

I took a cold shower. My cock remained limp, which was what I preferred. When I got myself off lately, memories of her crept in, making me want impossible things. It was better not to tempt myself.

My bed awaited, but I wasn’t tired. I was wide awake, as usual. I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and went down to my office, determined to be productive.

Behind my desk, I slipped on my glasses and opened my laptop. There was plenty of legitimate work to oversee, so I started there, going through reports and stock transactions. Years ago, Toni had bought a large amount of digital currency, and it was making us a lot of money. Everything my cousin touched turned profitable. He really was a whiz.

The camera app beckoned me. With one click, I could see her. Watch her sleep. Was she comfortable?

I told myself I did not care. She would not break me. I was not a weak man, and she would learn her place.

Minutes later, I heard a thump and a bang out in the house. Not a gunshot, but like someone was stumbling into furniture. I took off my glasses and went out to investigate.

Giulio was in the entryway, picking his phone up off the tile. He swayed and cursed, and I could smell the whiskey from where I stood.

Sighing, I put my hands on my hips. “Do you need help?”

He started at the sound of my voice, but didn’t look at me. “Do not pretend like you care.”

Still angry, then. “Figlio mio, there is no one I care about more than you.”

“Cazzata,” he slurred, straightening. “You care about your pride, your precious ’ndrina. Nothing else matters but tradition and money.”

His face looked terrible. Red-rimmed eyes that were glassy and devoid of his usual vivacity. His skin was sunken, like he’d lost weight. I hated seeing him like this, broken and angry, even if I knew it was for the best. “That isn’t true. You’ll see one day when you have your own children.”

“I can’t wait. Maybe they will hate me as much as I hate you.”

My chest twisted, but I remained silent. I knew I was right. He just needed time to heal and start a different chapter in his life. Then he would find happiness.

“You should be pleased, Papà. I went with the boys to the strip club tonight. I paid for several lap dances so a strange woman could shove her huge tits in my face while I pretended to love it. Just like you.”

I hadn’t been to a strip club in ages, not since I was still a soldier, but he wouldn’t know that. “That isn’t necessary, Giulio.”

“Of course, it is. I should get used to tits and pussy, so I can get it up when my wife wants me to fuck her. Isn’t that right?”

I glanced around, not wanting us to be overheard even though it was the middle of the night. These were the first words he’d spoken to me in three weeks, and they were bitter and angry. I hated this rift between us. In eighteen years we had never disagreed like this. “You’re drunk. You should go up to bed.”

“Sure. Send us all away. That makes it easy for you, doesn’t it, il Diavolo?”

I ground my back teeth as heat washed over me. This was too much. I would not tolerate such disrespect from my son.

I advanced on him but he did not back down, not even when I grabbed his shoulder roughly. “You need to watch what you say to me. I am your father and your capo.”

He shrugged me off. “As if I could ever forget when you are always reminding me. I’ve dreamed a thousand times about escaping from here, going to live somewhere you can’t find me. Somewhere I can be happy.”

I blinked, unable to believe what I was hearing. He’d considered running away? “Don’t be foolish,” I snapped, livid that my only son would even think about leaving. And panicked that he might actually do it. “Think about what you will soon have. All of this will be yours.”

“I don’t want it! Not if I have to live a lie to get it.”

“Basta! I told you, you can do what you like after you are settled and have children.”

“Why not give all this to your other child? The one Francesca is having.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll not entrust my legacy to the bastard of a whore.”

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at me like I had just stomped on a puppy. “Cristo santo. You are every bit as heartless as she said. No wonder why she cries all the time.”

The daily reports had left out that bit of information and I didn’t like hearing it. My stomach cramped, and an ache settled between my shoulder blades. “I know that you are visiting her almost every day.”

Giulio walked unsteadily toward the stairs. “We have a lot in common, Frankie and I. Not many people understand what it’s like to have your life destroyed by il Diavolo.”

I watched him stumble up the steps, my mind reeling from my son’s hurt and anger. Never had he said such terrible things to me. He wouldn’t have dared before.

He no longer cares about the consequences.

It didn’t matter. I didn’t reconsider my decisions, ever. Once they were made, I never retracted them. To do so made me look weak. Ineffectual. My father had drilled this into my head time and time again as he aged. When he passed on and I took over, I vowed to rule the same way.

And it had worked. The Ravazzani ’ndrinawas the most powerful in Italy. We controlled the money, guns and drugs for most of Europe, the Middle East and Central America. We were feared and respected across the globe.

So I couldn’t let myself care that Giulio was angry or that Francesca cried every day.

I had an empire to run. There was no room for weakness.