Page 58 of Mafia Mistress

Chapter Fourteen

Fausto

Work was a waste of time.I couldn’t concentrate, my mind still stuck on Francesca. I hadn’t slept last night, even after jacking off in the shower. This morning I made myself come again after what happened in the dining room, standing in the bathroom and furiously stroking myself. My cock would chafe if I kept this up.

I had to fuck her soon.

She would have let me last night. Or this morning. But I wanted her ready for it. She hadn’t liked giving in to me in the dining room, but it was a lesson she had to learn. As my mantenuta, she was at my disposal, our relationship at my whim. I’d never had a mistress who lived with me before, but I figured that only made things more convenient. I could have Francesca whenever I wanted, no waiting required.

“Are you paying attention, Rav?”

Marco’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Yes.”

We were on a conference call, but our side was muted. The discussion about what to do with the Avellinos now that D'Agostino died was droning on. Most of the upper-ranking bosses of the provincia were on the call, where we always talked in code, but my opinion carried the most weight. The Ravazzanis had issues with the Avellinos in the past and I stood to lose the most if the peace fell apart.

They were discussing the Avellino’s newest venture, computer fraud. Apparently, the eldest son had set it up and the family was raking in money hand over fist. I could hear the jealousy from the other capos over the phone line.

“Isn’t there a sister?” I asked Marco. “Eleven or twelve years of age?”

“She is fifteen,” Marco answered. “What are you thinking?”

“We could betroth her to Giulio now that I’ve decided to end his arrangement with Francesca. Merge the future of the two families.”

“A lot could happen in three years, though.”

“So, marry them now? He could wait until she was of age to consummate it.”

“Sure, but how do you know she isn’t already spoken for?”

“I don’t, but I could convince Enzo D'Agostino to see things my way.”

“Every other capo is probably thinking the same,” Marco noted, tilting his head to the phone.

“Probably, but none of them have access like we do.” He knew I meant access to the drugs that came in through our ports.

“True. So should I reach out?”

“Yes. Ask Enzo to the yacht with his woman. I’ll bring Francesca and we’ll make a day of it.”

Marco’s brows lifted. “So Francesca has agreed to be your mantenuta. That was fast.”

Marco thought I should have punished Francesca after her escape attempt. He hadn’t been happy that I let her off so easily. While he didn’t say it outright, he clearly thought I was soft when it came to her—and capos could not afford to be soft. Ever.

“We are still negotiating her role, but yes. She’ll accept the position.” Based on her reaction to me in the dining room, I believed there was very little I couldn’t get Francesca to agree to. I pushed out of my chair but didn’t reach for my suit jacket. “Set it up and text me. I’m going outside for the rest of the day.”

My cousin’s jaw fell open. “You are leaving this call? And what about the rest of today’s work? You never take off like this.”

“I am today. Finish up for me on the call. My decision has already been made, but tell them we are thinking over the next course of action. No one needs to know about the D'Agostino girl.”

I reached the door, but Marco wasn’t done with me yet, apparently. “You are going outside to find her.”

The sun was high up in the sky and it was a glorious day, not a cloud in sight. I knew Francesca would be either in the vineyards or with the animals. I wanted to taste the sun on her skin and see the Siderno dirt beneath her feet. “Try not to be too jealous, cugino.”

“Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo,” he cursed behind me as I left.

I chuckled and headed to the rear of the castello. Giulio’s car was still not in the drive, and I wondered if he’d come home last night. I sent Marco a text, asking about the information on Giulio’s girl. I needed to know who my son was spending time with, especially after leaving the drop early the other night. Then I put my phone away and walked the path I’d traveled hundreds of times, over the land that had belonged to my ancestors. I loved every bit of it.

My wife hadn’t cared for the estate. She’d preferred shopping in Milan and Rome to staying in Siderno. When she was in town, she liked showing herself off at the beach instead of “playing the farmer” here on the grounds. I hadn’t minded. We hadn’t loved each other and slept together infrequently after Giulio was born. I wanted more kids and assumed we had time. Then she’d been killed, and all my efforts went into raising my son.

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