Page 20 of Mafia Mistress

Chapter Six

Fausto

I cameinto the kitchen the next morning at my usual time. My son was there with Zia, but Francesca was still absent. She’d been too ill from grappa to eat with us last evening and apparently was not yet awake.

I didn’t like it.

Giulio and Francesca seemed happy yesterday in the tasting room. Unable to help myself, I’d watched the security footage, soaking in the way she smiled at him. Studying the curve of her lips when she laughed. It was clear she liked my son, and I told myself that was a good thing. A sign of their future together, a team working toward the common goal of the future success of the Ravazzani family.

I kissed Zia’s cheeks and made a cup of espresso. Giulio was on his phone, scrolling through videos of some kind. He’d gone out last night for work and, from the looks of it, was only getting home. “Rough night?” I asked.

Out of respect, he put down his phone and gave me his full attention. “No. I was at the club until around three. Then we had a shipment to oversee. Everything is stored.”

“Any problems?”

“None.”

“You are just getting home now?”

A flush worked its way above his collar. “I was out with friends.”

Getting laid, then. “Try to keep your other women away from your fiancée, at least until after the wedding.”

“And not in this house,” Zia said, pointing at Giulio. “Your father and his women are bad enough. I cannot take more.”

I frowned and sipped my espresso. Zia hated that I brought my mistresses into the castello, but I had little choice. There have been many attempts on my life and, after what happened to Lucia, I learned to be more cautious. I was safe here.

Besides, I was the boss. If I wanted to fuck a woman in my own house, I would.

“I won’t,” Giulio told Zia. “I promise.”

“Your fiancée is alive?” I asked. “Not too much grappa?”

“She was sleeping when I left last night. There couldn’t have been much remaining in her system at that point.”

“Good. Bring her to my office this morning.”

Giulio searched my eyes as if trying to read my intentions, but he knew better than to question a direct order. “I’ll fix her a tray and take it up.”

I nodded, refreshed my caffé, and departed for my office. Marco would arrive soon with verbal updates on business matters. Until then, I would read the emails regarding the legitimate ventures, offering up opinions when warranted.

Truth be told, I liked the legitimate work better, the strategy and moving money around, but I was more suited to the extortion, drug-running, and gambling operations. Not everyone had the stomach for what needed to be done to run an organization like ours, but I did. Some days, I even relished the violence and chaos.

The sun was just rising over the vineyards outside my office window. The sight never failed to please me. All of this belonged to me, as it had belonged to five generations of Ravazzani men. And it would eventually belong to Giulio and his sons after him. Would they appreciate the sights and smells as much as I did? The rich tang of the earth and the slightly salty air from the ocean? I loved this property, this land that was in my bones. I would fight for it until my last breath. I’d murder, cheat, and steal to keep it, if necessary.

Briefly, I wondered about Giulio’s amante. Who was he seeing? I trusted my son to keep the family’s secrets, but not all women were trustworthy. I should learn her name and do a little digging. Better to worry over nothing than regret it later.

Thirty minutes later, a knock on my office door distracted me from my computer. “Enter.”

A very annoyed-looking Francesca arrived with my son. She held herself stiffly, the circles under her eyes giving away her exhaustion. She wore a simple sundress and no shoes, her skin red from being outside yesterday. From now on, I’d tell Giulio to insist she wear sunscreen. The Italian sun was stronger than what she was used to in Canada.

I stood and slipped my hands into my trouser pockets. “Thank you, Giulio. You may go.”

My son blinked, clearly not expecting to be dismissed, but it was time to deal with some practicalities of the pending marriage. As head of the family, these were my responsibilities to handle for him.

Francesca reached out to clutch his arm, preventing Giulio from leaving. “Can’t he stay?”

For some reason, that pissed me off. As if she needed him to protect her from me. Didn’t she know that my son would never dare to question or contradict me, no matter what I wished to do in this house?

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