Page 72 of Mafia Mistress

We tookthe helicopter to the yacht this time, and I was both excited and scared. Fausto smiled indulgently at me, while Marco ignored me from his seat next to the pilot. The ride was so much fun that I forgot all about how I was now officially Fausto Ravazzani’s mistress.

It could be worse. You could be married to his son.

True. At least now I got great sex and then he’d set me free. Who cared what label he put on it? Afterwards, I’d return to Toronto or New York, get a degree and live my life. As used goods, my father wouldn’t be able to marry me off to anyone else, which meant I had my whole future ahead of me.

It was perfect, actually. Why hadn’t I thought of this in the first place?

I slid a glance at Fausto, wondering if I could get him alone on the boat after the meeting ended. I might want to try deep throating him again.

He flicked a switch and his voice entered my headphones, “Whatever you are planning, my answer is yes.”

He could read me so well.

I slid my hand up his thigh, toward his crotch. He didn’t stop me, just arched his brow. I found his dick and squeezed, pleased when his head dropped back and he closed his eyes. “Cazzo, you are making me hard again.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Not before my meeting. Afterward you may do whatever you wish.” He took my hand, kissed my fingertips, and placed it in my lap.

“Can we stay on the boat a little while?”

“If you’d like. We could even sleep out here. Marco can retrieve us in the morning.”

That sounded like heaven. “I like when you spoil me with sex and outings.”

“Then prepare for more of both. I like to see you happy, Francesca.”

He dragged a fingertip along my jaw, and my chest squeezed. The fierce il Diavolo, feared mafia boss, wanted to make me happy. Was he softening toward me?

The helicopter started descending, and I nervously grabbed Fausto’s arm as I watched out the window. The yacht’s helipad was underneath us, blue water on all sides. It was beyond extravagant, a luxury even my family couldn’t afford.

When we touched down, Marco got out first and opened our door. Fausto stepped out then helped me to the ground, making sure I kept my head down until we were safely away from the spinning blades. Six crew members, including the captain, were there to greet us, and they all bowed saying, “Buona sera, Signorina Mancini.” I doubted they remembered me from my trip with Giulio, so this must have been Fausto’s doing.

News of il Diavolo’s new mistress has traveled fast.

He took my hand and exchanged a few words in Italian with the captain. Then Marco, Fausto, and I went into Fausto’s suite. He dropped onto the plush cushions and spread his arms and legs, the king of everything around him. Marco took one of the chairs, but I wasn’t certain what to do. Should I leave them alone? Should I sit?

“Come here,” Fausto told me, patting to the cushion next to him.

I didn’t like being ordered around, but I supposed this was hardly the time to take a stand. Not in front of Marco. Besides, Fausto had said this was a test. I didn’t really think he’d send me into the dungeon...but I didn’t want to risk it, either.

When I slid onto the cushion next to him, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, and for the next thirty minutes he and Marco talked in Italian, ignoring me. I wasn’t sure if I felt grateful or irritated, but soon I yawned, feeling the day’s activities catch up with me.

Fausto’s hand landed on the back of my neck and he squeezed. A simple gesture, but one my body clearly loved because heat bloomed between my legs. A gentle roll of desire that was never far when this man was around.

He put his mouth near my ear. “There is wine and food on the patio deck. You can go out and enjoy yourself, if you like. Our guests should be here imminently.”

Our guests. Such an odd way of phrasing it, when nothing here was mine. “All right.”

I started to get up but he didn’t release me. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Glancing over, I could see he was in his full mafia king mode. Power came off him in waves and I could have jumped him right there. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I decided to play his game. Leaning in, I kissed his cheek. “Grazie, Fausto.”

This must have appeased him because his eyes softened and he released me. I put extra swing in my hips as I walked out, hoping he could see the outline of my ass through my thick cover up.

The pool deck had tables of food set up, with bottles of prosecco and wine already on ice. I helped myself to a glass of prosecco and some raw shrimp. I’d skipped lunch to have sex with Fausto—a decision I didn’t regret—but now I was starving. There was an antipasto board, so I loaded up on various meats and cheeses before relaxing on one of the lounges. My ass was still sore from Fausto’s hand, but the reminder made my nipples perk up. I was definitely not complaining about his moves in bed.

A small motorboat approached. Three people were seated on board, two men and a woman. These must be the people meeting with Fausto. I shielded my eyes and watched as they pulled alongside the yacht. The crew rushed over to help secure their boat and assist them. Fausto and Marco appeared from nowhere, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes as the guests climbed onto the deck.

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