Page 2 of Mafia Mistress

A man unfolded from the armchair and my heart leapt into my throat. I’d never seen such a handsome man before, one with such thick, wavy dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was trim, with a chiseled jaw and broad shoulders, and his suit fit him perfectly. He looked to be in his late thirties, and under any other circumstances I would have guessed him a former model or actor. No one looked and dressed like this unless they were dependent on their looks for a living.

But this was no prima donna. Power rolled off his taut frame in waves, like he was in control of everyone and everything around him. The men accompanying him clearly weren’t his friends, they were guards. He was someone important, someone worth protecting.

And he seemed... dangerous.

I nodded once. “Mr. Ravazzani.”

His eyes drifted over my face and down my body, as if I were a horse he was considering purchasing. Tingles broke out along my skin wherever he looked, but I couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or embarrassment. Even more confusing, my nipples hardened in my thin bra, which I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

The smirk on his face when he met my gaze told me he was aware of the state of my nipples.

“You are eighteen?”

The words rolled out of his mouth with an Italian accent and my heart gave an ominous thump in my chest. Were these men from Toronto? I doubted it. No one in my father’s employ had an accent this thick. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded once to my father. “She’ll do.”

She’ll do? “Do for what?” I asked.

My father shot me a quick look before addressing Ravazzani. “Excellent. We’ll plan the wedding for next month.”

“Wedding?” I screeched. No, no, no. I was supposed to go to college first. My mother made my father promise that all three of their daughters would be educated before marriage. I was counting on it. “What wedding?”

“Quiet, Francesca,” my father hissed.

I glanced at my cousin, hoping to find answers, but Dante wouldn’t meet my eye. Which meant this was bad. Really bad. Normally he relished my unhappiness.

One of Ravazzani’s men entered and leaned down to speak in his ear. The edge of Ravazzani’s mouth curled as he listened, then he waved the man away. Returning his attention to my father, he said, “No. The wedding will take place at my home in Siderno, where Giulio resides. We leave tomorrow.”

Giulio? And wait, Siderno? As in Italy?

What the fuck was happening?

Lines deepened on my father’s forehead. “But what about me and my family? We have a right to—”

Stiffening, Ravazzani glared at my father, and the mood in the room went arctic. “Be very, very careful, Roberto,” he said softly. “You lost your rights when you lost my shipment.”

Yikes.

No one moved and the moment stretched. I’d never seen anyone put my father in his place before. No one had ever dared. I held my breath until my father finally put up his hands. “Mi dispiace,” he apologized.

This appeared to appease Ravazzani, but I still had no idea what they were talking about. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?” I blurted, unable to hold back any longer.

Ravazzani moved quickly, stepping closer, until he towered over me. His irises were so blue, with hints of gray, but they didn’t seem angry. Instead, he appeared amused. “You have spirit. That’s good. You will need it, piccolina.”

Walking around me, he went to the door, trailed by five of his men. “I expect her ready, Mancini,” he said over his shoulder.

Anger burned in my chest. Expected me ready? Like I was a piece of luggage? No one was carting me off to Italy. I was going to school in New York City, not getting married to some scary Italian man who was most definitely in the mafia.

When the door closed, I rounded on my father. “Papà, what is this all about?”

He dragged a hand down his face and dropped into his chair. Uncle Reggie and Dante didn’t move, but the rest of my father’s men left the room. “Sit, Frankie.”

“I’d rather not. I’d rather stand until I know what’s happening.”

Papà slapped a hand against the surface of his desk. “For fuck’s sake. Do as you’re told!”

I hated when he spoke to me so coldly, like I was one of his men. Dante shook his head, clearly indicating he thought I was an idiot, and Uncle Reggie wore his usual frown. Pushing away the hurt and confusion, I slid into a chair. “There. Now please explain what is happening.”

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