Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Nine

Francesca

I stayed awayfrom the castle for the rest of the day.

Instead I spent the hours with Vincenzo, learning about grapes and wine. I did ask about the borders of the estate, but he said they weren’t walkable, that I would need a car to reach them. Apparently Ravazzani owned quite a lot of land, damn him.

I told myself I kept outside to find a way to escape, but that was a lie. My encounter with the elder Ravazzani in the ballroom had left me shaken...and aroused. He’d been so angry, yet so unbelievably hot as he cornered me, his large body caging me in as he’d tried to intimidate me. Except his touch had been gentle, while his gaze burned with an intensity that flicked a switch inside me, making me ache and soaking my panties. There was a moment where I could have sworn the attraction was mutual, but that was insane. Wasn’t it?

It had to be. I was here to marry his son. And I was anything but sweet around Fausto. He hated me.

But I was woman enough to admit I was attracted to him. It was the way he moved, the way he talked, his gorgeous face and strong body. How he wore his suits. The thick dark hair and lush lips. His hot and cold personality. Everything about him, actually.

Older men didn’t normally do it for me, but Fausto Ravazzani was the exception, it seemed.

He is my kidnapper. What’s wrong with me?

Not so much a kidnapper, considering my father had given me to Ravazzani as payment on a debt. More like a jailer. Still, Fausto needed to let me go. I didn’t want to marry Giulio—and Giulio definitely didn’t want to marry me.

All of this made me more determined to find a way to escape.

Hat in hand, I strolled toward the castle after dusk. The cool night air caused my skin to pebble, and I longed for a sweater. Just as I rounded the corner, two cars raced into the drive.

Not wanting to be seen, I darted behind a tree as the castle’s front door opened. Ravazzani emerged, his fit body clad in just trousers and shirtsleeves, which he’d rolled up high on his forearms. The lights of the house illuminated the firm set of his mouth as he came down the stone steps. This was angry Fausto, which was only slightly less hotter than annoyed Fausto. I could barely tear my eyes away from him.

Three men got out of each car, though the youngest two guests appeared reluctant. They were shoved forward by the older men, and the group followed Ravazzani toward the side of the house. Toward the door to the dungeon.

Holy shit.Trepidation hollowed out my stomach. Was he planning to hurt someone down there?

They all disappeared and I bit my lip. I had no desire to enter the dungeon ever again, but maybe I needed to hear more of Ravazzani’s cruelty and ruthlessness to remind myself of why I could not be attracted to him. The man was a cold-blooded killer. A sociopath. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about licking him from head to toe.

Yes, this was what I needed.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I edged quietly through the bushes until I reached the door. I took my time on the latch, moving slowly so as to not make a sound. When the door opened enough for me to squeeze through, I slipped in and paused on the landing, cracking the door with my foot so I could still see outside.

They were quiet for a few minutes. I suspected Ravazzani was letting his prey sweat it out, building the fear. It seemed like his style. When he finally spoke, it was in slow, measured Italian, but one word was in English. Cocaine.

Had someone stolen from Ravazzani? Double crossed him? Something had definitely gone wrong or they wouldn’t all be in the dungeon.

Whoever he was accusing repeatedly denied it, saying “no” over and over again. Ravazzani grew angrier. “Mi prendi per scemo, Sergio?” he shouted.

A fist smacked against flesh, twice. Then again.

From there, it was a series of pleas, grunts, and moans as the beatings continued. Was Ravazzani doing the hitting or did he delegate the job to one of his men? I pictured him, sleeves rolled high and muscles bunching as he delivered punch after punch, sweat rolling down his face. Instead of repulsing me, it made my heart race and sent heat twisting through my belly.

I was a terrible person.

I chewed the edge of a fingernail and tried to focus on the violence, the wrongness of whatever was happening below, but it didn’t work. I was getting more turned on the longer I stayed here.

A snap echoed followed by a yelp, and I knew a bone had been broken. A finger?

One of the men began sobbing at that point. “Mi dispiace, Don Fausto,” he shouted, his voice racked with pain. Then it sounded like he was begging.

The tone of Ravazzani’s voice changed then. It went from angry to resigned, almost paternal. “Va bene. Dimmi, Rocco.” Tell me.

Rocco began speaking, his voice hitching occasionally, probably from the pain. I couldn’t understand the words, though. Was he explaining why he took the cocaine?

Ravazzani responded, which prompted both Rocco and Sergio to plead some more. Ugh, what were they saying?

I only caught the word, “esempio,” which I think was example. Damn, I really needed to improve my Italian.

Two shots rang out into the empty space. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, stifling my gasp. Oh, my God. He just killed two people down there. Murdered both Sergio and Rocco.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want to be a witness to an actual crime.

I bolted from my spot on the landing, letting the door close behind me as I raced for the castle. Fear clogged my throat. My only thought was to reach the relative safety of my room and lock the door. I would skip dinner and come down for food after everyone had gone to bed.

Or maybe I’d never leave my room again.

The kitchen was dark when I entered, my feet moving quickly across the tiled floor. All of a sudden, arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me to a halt. I struggled, but the hands only tightened as I was pulled into a strong warm chest.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, piccola monella?”

Ravazzani. Shit. Did he know I’d been listening? I licked my lips and tried to keep my voice even. “My room.”

He felt like a wall behind me. A tall muscular wall that had just murdered two people.

I began trembling, emotions rioting inside me. He was brutal and beautiful, like those jungle cats on the nature channel I sometimes watched, and I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream and run away. But there was a darkness within me, too, some part of my soul that relished violence and power, and found it exciting. That shameful side was drawn to this man. I found him fascinating and sexy as fuck.

Again, what was wrong with me?

His rough hand clamped around my throat, holding me tightly. Instead of scaring me, his touch caused slashes of heat to race down my spine and settle between my legs. He surrounded me, his strength on magnificent display, and my body softened as fear shifted to need and hunger. Could he feel my pulse pounding under his fingertips?

I heard him suck in a breath, so I assumed he’d noticed my reaction. Then his voice grew low and sensual, his lips near my ear. “What were you hoping to see in the dungeon, Francesca? Hmm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Liar.” The hand not on my neck cupped my hip, almost caressing me. “Do you know what happens to girls who spy on me?”

“Let me go. You’re scaring me.”

“No, I’m not. You are not frozen in fear or fighting me off. Instead, you are relaxed against me while your heart is beating so fast. Do you know what that tells me?”

I was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

“That you don’t mind the danger. That you might even thrive on it.” He inhaled near my neck, as if smelling me. “As I do.”

Moisture flooded between my legs, arousal so swift and fierce that my knees nearly buckled. In fact, I probably would have collapsed if Ravazzani hadn’t been holding me up.

“Yes,” he murmured. “That is exactly what I thought. Do not ever try to tell me you weren’t made for this life, that you weren’t born to rule as a queen.”

I closed my eyes. God, please don’t let that be true. “Fuck you. I will never marry your son.”

“You will, bellissima. And if you curse at me again, or use such foul language in my house, I will return you to the dungeon—whether it’s been cleaned or not.”

I shivered, imagining the blood and brain matter on those dank walls. I never wanted to be down there again—ever. “This is the twenty-first century, Ravazzani. Women curse.”

He let me go abruptly, and I had to brace myself on the countertop to keep from toppling over. I looked over my shoulder and saw him run his hands through his hair. His eyes were bright and wild, almost feral, like an animal caught in a trap in the woods. “It may be the twenty-first century out there, but here in Calabria, in my house, it is very much not. We honor tradition, and that means you will also honor our traditions. Because if you don’t, I promise you won’t like the consequences.”

Turning, he strode to the door. “And let this be a warning—do not spy on my business again. The less you know, the better.”

He disappeared into the night, leaving me shaken and confused. It seemed like Fausto Ravazzani might understand me better than I did myself, which was an absolutely horrifying thought.

I couldn’t let that be true.

Looking at the door, I made a swift decision. Fuck this. Fuck the engagement, fuck this castle, and fuck Fausto.

Tonight I would escape.

* * *

Fausto

Something toldme she was going to run.

I knew the wedding dress, combined with whatever Francesca saw in the dungeon, would overwhelm her and force her hand. I was looking forward to the challenge, actually. She had no chance of escaping, but it would be fun to see how she tried.

I kept working late into the night. As usual, guards patrolled outside and two men monitored the security feeds. There was a complex system of tunnels that connected the castello to hideouts in the surrounding mountains, and if she found them she would be able to get deep into the forest. While she wouldn’t get away, it would take us some time to find her.

She was unaware of that option, thankfully, and I meant to see it stayed that way.

Giulio had returned an hour ago. Francesca would wait until she assumed everyone was asleep before making her attempt. Which meant any minute now….

I was checking over a contract we had secured for a government building when I heard the creak of the floor above me. Ah, yes. The monellawas on the move.

My lips curved into a smile. It was so satisfying to be proven right.

I flicked off the light in my office, just in case she came down this corridor. More likely she would go the other way, through the kitchen to gather supplies, then out the back door, but I wanted to be cautious. When I didn’t hear her footsteps, I assumed she had gone toward the kitchen, so I followed.

My feet were silent on the old floors as I approached. The refrigerator door opened and closed, and I waited out of sight as she rifled through the cabinets. Looking for food, no doubt. Packages rustled, then her steps took her toward the back door.

I didn’t try to stop her. The best way to break her was to give her a tiny sliver of hope—and then crush it. Prove to her there really was no escape.

The latch on the back door clicked shut, ever so quietly. A second later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. As I moved into the kitchen to peer out the window, I swiped to answer. “Pronto.”

“Don Fausto, the girl has left.” It was Benito. “What do you want us to do? Should we grab her?”

“No,” I said immediately. “I need to teach her a lesson. Let her go.”

“She is headed toward the front. Out toward the road.”

Even better. If she’d gone through the estate, she could have hidden in a dozen places and caused more aggravation. The road was a true waste of her time. “Call our friends at the carabinieri,” I said, letting the local police be of some use. “Have someone pick her up and hold her there on the road.”

“Okay,” Benito said and hung up.

I strode back to my office. There was nothing to do now but wait.

Part of me admired her for running. She was strong willed, which would be good for Giulio. When I died, my son would need a formidable partner, a woman who could handle the risks of life in the mafia. In fact, many women were running ’ndrine nowadays, as their husbands sat in jail.

My father had been arrested once, but released within hours. The witnesses had recanted their testimony and moved away, up to some Scandinavian country where the food was shit. Then my father made certain to infiltrate every level of government, including the police and the judicial system, as insurance against future arrests. That foresight meant I hadn’t been charged with any crime to date because most everyone was on my payroll. There were rumblings about a crackdown on a bigger scale, but I had yet to see it.

So Francesca’s bravery was actually beneficial to the family. I merely needed to prove to her that my power superseded anything she might ever plan.

Benito called twenty minutes later. “They have her. It’s about a half mile along the road to the east.”

“Excellent.” No doubt she was spitting mad. “Come, you’ll drive me.”

He paused for a half-second. “Should we call Marco? He won’t like it if you leave the estate without him.”

I considered this. Leaving was a risk, but a slight one. The road was close to the castello, well within the area my men routinely patrolled. Also, I couldn’t wait to see the look on Francesca’s face when I arrived.

Decision made, I said, “We’ll be fine. We aren’t going far.”

“I’ll meet you out front.”

I disconnected and grabbed one of the pistols I kept in my office. I didn’t expect trouble but it didn’t hurt to have extra firepower. As I went through the castello, I briefly considered waking Giulio. She was his fiancée, after all. But I quickly discarded the idea. Right or wrong, I wanted to handle this. Whatever punishment she received would come from me.

Benito waited in the heavily fortified SUV I used when I left the estate. I got in the back and we drove off. Speaking of punishment, what would I do to her? I knew what I wanted to do, but it was impossible. I wanted to spank her ass red until she cried and begged me to stop. But that would ignite the attraction simmering in my belly for her, the precise reaction I was trying to prevent.

No, it was better if I didn’t touch her.

When we approached, the lights of the carabiniere’s Land Rover were flashing. I could see a lone figure in the rear of the dark vehicle, while the carabiniere stood outside, leaning against the driver’s side door. I recognized him, so this would be easy.

“Buona sera, Paoletti,” I greeted when I got out. “I hope we did not trouble you.” Walking over, I handed him two hundred Euros.

“Never trouble for you, Signore Ravazzani. She put up quite a fight, though. Said she had been kidnapped.”

I grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Women. You don’t give them enough diamonds and they cry big crocodile tears.” Paoletti laughed, as I knew he would, and then I thanked him. “I’ll take her with me now.”

“Of course, signore. A moment, per favore.”

He disappeared into the back seat to uncuff Francesca. I met her angry gaze as she was pulled from the Land Rover. Surprisingly, she didn’t speak, just continued to burn holes in my skin with her eyes. I tried not to grin as Paoletti marched her toward me.

“Here you are, signore.”

Now that she was closer, I could see the tear tracks, evidence of where she’d been crying. I squashed any guilt I might have felt. Taking Francesca’s arm, I kept a tight grip on her even as she tried to pull away. I said, “Grazie, Paoletti. My best to your wife and daughters.”

“Arrivederci, Signore Ravazzani.”

I led her to the SUV and Benito opened the rear door. She tossed her head back, long wheat-colored strands of hair whipping over her shoulder, to stare at me. Her expression was a mixture of stubbornness and defeat, like a person who knew they’d lost but could not stand to admit it. “Let me go, Ravazzani.”

“Never. Get in the fucking car, Francesca.”

Muttering to herself, she did as she was told. I followed and sat directly beside her, so close that our thighs touched. I wanted her uncomfortable.

She shoved at me. “Do you mind? Move over.”

“Is it wise to order me around after you tried to escape tonight?”

“Can you blame me? You kidnap and intimidate me, you are forcing me to marry someone I hardly know, and you killed two men in cold blood tonight. I would be insane not to try to escape from you.”

Benito started the engine and we headed back to the estate. The car was silent, and I thought about what she’d said. She believed I killed those two boys tonight, which meant she hadn’t been watching but listening in the dungeon. So she didn’t know that while I had shot them, they were both very much alive. I decided not to correct her. Better she think me a monster, a killer, and be afraid to cross me.

The drive was short. When we pulled up to the castello, Benito turned the car off. I told him to leave us, so he got out and strode toward the surveillance room on the back side of my home.

I said nothing, just waited.

“I should have known,” she snapped, “that you have all the police here on your payroll. The two of you were laughing like old friends.”

“The police are helpless, too weak to stop our organization. They know it is better to work with me than against me. A lesson you would be wise to learn, as well.”

“I don’t want to work with you.” Her voice hitched, as if she were holding back tears. “I don’t want to be part of your horrible family full of murderers and criminals. You’re all psychopaths. I want you to let me go.”

This from the woman who had nearly melted in my arms after hearing me interrogate and shoot two men?

I didn’t believe it. She was scared because she might not mind it. She might even like it.

I reached into my coat pocket, took out the pistol and rested it on my knee. “Do you want to kill me, Francesca?”

She grew very still, her gaze darting between my face and the gun. “What?”

I grabbed her wrist and forced the gun into her palm. Then I aimed the barrel at my chest. “Go on, then. Shoot me.” I stared directly into her dark eyes, showing her how comfortable I was with violence. “Pull the trigger, dolcezza,” I said in a low rasp, like I was seducing her.

Licking her lips, she tried to edge away. “You’re insane. What are you doing?”

Putting my hand on the door behind her, I caged her in. The lights of the castello illuminated the interior of the car, and I could see the pulse racing on the side of her throat, the flush to her skin. No fear, however. Whatever she was feeling was something different, something that confirmed all my suspicions about her. “You want to kill me, no? This is your chance. Pull the trigger and watch my blood spill out all over your lap and onto the seat, spray against the glass of the windows. Then you’ll be free,” I whispered.

“Until your men catch and kill me.”

“Don’t think about that. Think about how good it will feel to pull the trigger and take my life with your own hand. To watch the light fade from my eyes until I am nothing. What power you will feel in that moment.”

The barrel of the gun shifted against my sternum, and her mouth parted slightly on an exhale, her pupils dilating. I bet if I looked at her nipples, they would be poking through the fabric of her clothing. Dio, this woman. She was extraordinary. I had to curl my hands into fists to keep from touching her.

“You’re crazy,” she said quietly. “It’s like you want me to do it.”

“I want to prove that you are not frightened of me. That you are just as crazy, just as wild as we are.”

“I’m not. I’m a good person. I don’t want any of this.”

“A good girl would have stayed at home instead of sneaking out of her father’s house, just to find a man to fuck her. A good girl would not have stabbed a man like me in the hand with a pen. A good girl would not be turned on by holding a gun on a man.” I leaned in. “You are definitely not a good girl, Francesca.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice was weak, unsure.

“Go on then. Pull the trigger.”