Page 33 of Mafia Mistress

Strolling to the dresses, I slowly examined them. Tina was the most sought-after wedding dress designer in Italy, and each gown was unique. There were four racks of at least fifteen dresses each. Plenty for Francesca to choose from.

“I thought we had a deal,” I said, continuing to shift through the gowns.

“You said I am allowed to choose my own dress.”

“No, I said you had to choose a suitable dress. No member of the Ravazzani family will wear black or red at a wedding.”

“Then perhaps I shouldn’t become a member of the Ravazzani family.”

I dropped the gown in my hand and advanced on her, the soles of my leather shoes slapping angrily on the wooden floor. Francesca began backing away from me, but it was too little, too late. While I admired her spirit—and yes, it turned me on—there were times when she needed to obey orders. This was one of those times.

Fear flashed in her gaze when her back hit the wall. I kept coming, closing the distance until I crowded her into the plaster. She looked up at me, pulse pounding at the base of her throat, her chest rising and falling quickly. She wore a simple strapless sundress, and I was proud that my eyes remained on her face, not drifting to the bare skin on display.

I braced my hands on either side of her head and leaned in, my body caging hers. “Do you know what happens to those who disobey my orders?”

She lifted her chin. “Giulio won’t allow you to hurt me.”

I sneered. “You think to use my son as a shield against me? I am the ruler of this family—and Giulio answers to me. I can do whatever I wish, whenever I wish. You would be wise not to cross me, Francesca.”

“Stop threatening me. If you are going to kill me, I wish you would just do it and put me out of my misery.”

“Kill you? I would not make it so easy. No, I would marry you off to some other member of my ’ndrina instead. There are plenty of old men who would love to break in a new young bride.”

“You wouldn’t dare. My father—”

“Your father isn’t here now to coddle you. He gave you to me as payment on a debt. It is by my favor that you are marrying my son and bearing future generations of Ravazzanis.” The desire to touch her overruled my good sense. I dragged a fingertip down her soft cheek, not stopping until I caressed her jaw. “If you spit on that favor, I will find you another husband. And I guarantee you won’t like him half as well as my son.”

She licked her lips and stared up at me with unreadable eyes. “I don’t want to marry anyone.”

“That is too bad, bellissima, because you will become a bride. The choice of groom is up to you.”

As we stared at each other, I noticed she smelled like earth and olives. Sun and plants. Like my estate. The comforting scent sank into me like an aphrodisiac, boosting the simmering lust I already felt for this gorgeous spirited creature. I wanted to fuck her outside in the rain, in the dirt, with the grape vines all around us, her silken hair spread out like roots on the ground while I coated her in my come.

She must have sensed the shift in my thoughts because her lips parted on a swift intake of breath. Her gaze darted to my mouth and for a crazy moment I wondered if she was thinking about what it would be like to kiss me. Madonna, I wanted that. I wanted to taste her, to feel her lips on mine. Drink her sighs and swallow her whimpers. I wanted to inhale her.

Disgusted with myself, I pushed away from the wall. I spun and tried to collect my composure as I walked back to the racks of gowns.

“I hate you.”

I didn’t doubt it. But I didn’t need her to like me. I needed her to obey me. “Accept your fate and do as you’re told.”

“Does no one ever stand up to you and win?”

“No.” I found a simple ivory satin gown that would show off her tits. “What about this one?”

She didn’t even look at it. “Fine. Who cares?”

“Excellent. I’ll have Marco fetch your things. See how accommodating I can be when you do what I ask?”

“Yes, very accommodating,” she mumbled as she walked to a chair, where a floppy hat rested on the seat. She grabbed it and tugged it on. At that moment, she looked so young. Too young for me, that was for certain. But it was hard to remember her age when she was staring me down better than a hardened criminal.

She started toward the door. “Are we done here? I’d like to go back outside and help Vincenzo.”

Ah, so that was why she smelled like the estate. “Sampling wine?”

“No, I’m learning how to make it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you know there are over two thousand varieties of grapes in Italy?”

“I do, actually.” Wine has been in my family for generations. I’d helped with the harvesting and crushing many times. “Which wine is your favorite?”

“The rosé, I think. Or the ciró.”

The ciró was my personal favorite, and I had a brief fantasy of pouring the dark red wine all over her pale skin and licking it off. “I’ll tell Celestina you prefer this gown, if you’d like to return outside.” See? I could be nice.

“Whatever. I expect to find my things on my bed, Ravazzani.” She disappeared into the hall.

The lack of respect and sharp attitude made my dick twitch. She took any gesture of kindness from me and threw it back in my face. No one else would dare. Would Giulio hold it against me if I spanked his fiancée?

You’d never stop at just a spanking.

Which was why I needed to keep my distance from her. She made me crazy.

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