Page 101 of Mafia Mistress

I kissed his throat. “Is it too early to drag you upstairs so I can have my wicked way with you?”

He caressed my thigh, in no hurry to break our connection. “Why don’t you sit here and keep me company while I catch up on work and calls? Then I’ll take you upstairs and fuck you.”

* * *

Over the next three weeks,life settled into a normal pattern—or as normal as could be expected when one was a mafia don’s girlfriend. Yes, girlfriend. I had convinced myself that Fausto was my boyfriend, because that was preferable to the real situation, that I was his mistress. Everyone knew the truth, however. The only person I was fooling was myself.

Most days, my inner lie worked. Everyone on the estate treated me with kindness and respect. Whatever I asked for was granted, and I felt like part of the family. The only person who hadn’t quite warmed up to me was Marco, and I found that troubling, considering his closeness to Fausto. Marco’s attitude remained polite but cold towards me. I told myself I didn’t care, but the question of why dug under my skin like a splinter.

My classes started next week and I couldn’t wait. I found a college with a good agricultural program that had online classes, and as promised, Fausto gave me the money in a trust and bought me a laptop. Meanwhile, on my phone I set up a secret account that allowed me to chat with my sisters every day. I showed them the vineyards and the castle. Gia thought I was the luckiest woman alive, but Emma was more concerned with my happiness. Did Fausto treat me well? Was I safe? Did I mind not being married?

The truth was I didn’t care about marriage. I knew what it meant to be a mafia wife, waiting at home with dinner on the table for a man who cheated on me every chance he got. My mother had given up her career, her whole life, for my father. Then she’d died from cancer in her mid-thirties, regretting the choices she’d made. I never wanted that. I wanted independence and a career of my own. No mafia husband would ever allow that, which meant I had to make my way outside my father’s world.

Besides, this fling with Fausto was a short-term arrangement. Whenever the fire between us burned out, he would let me go and I would start a life in Toronto or New York. I would think fondly of this as the summer I studied abroad in Italy and dated a sexy older man who had more money than God. And who was incredibly talented in bed.

Like, how was that a bad thing?

I wouldn’t think about my father and his hurtful words. Instead I kept busy. Except for my daily Italian lesson, I spent my time outside, mostly with Vincenzo. He taught me more and more about the grapes and the vines. How to care for the plants and the soil. It was better than any hands-on college course I could have taken. Vincenzo loved the outdoors as much as I did, and I peppered him with questions all day long, taking note of his answers in a journal Fausto bought me.

The evenings belonged to Fausto. Unless work demanded his attention, he ate dinner with me, Zia and Giulio. After that, he and I went up to his suite and he fucked me desperately, wringing every drop of pleasure from my body before we collapsed into bed. There was no shame between us and I loved the little games we played. I learned so much about myself, like what I found arousing, and quite a bit about Fausto, as well. He liked me bratty, a little bit resistant, and a lot naughty.

I was more than happy to comply.

Today I was in the outdoor garden with Zia. Fausto’s aunt had offered to teach me about vegetables. She didn’t speak much English and my Italian was only so-so, but we were muddling through. The August sun was overbearing, even this early in the day. It never seemed to bother Zia, though.

Zia’s garden was laid out with carefully defined beds and a network of trellises. There were climbing beans, tomatoes, herbs, eggplants, potatoes, artichokes, onions, and more. She handled each plant with care. She reminded me of my mom, giving each leaf and bloom careful attention, pouring her love all the way down into the roots and dirt. It made my heart ache with bittersweet memories.

“Viene qua, viene qua,” Zia said, waving me over. When I came closer, she showed me the tiny green bug crawling on the leaf. “Un afide. Molto male.”

I recognized the aphid, a species of insect which were bad for gardens. “What now?”

She reached for a spray bottle on the ground and began spraying the liquid on the plants. “Soap. Water. Il pepe di Caienna.”

“Cayenne pepper?” Zia nodded and I wrote this down. Fascinating.

She imitated a choking, gasping sound and sure enough the aphid stopped moving.

We walked along, looking for more aphids and checking on her plants. She told me when each vegetable would be ready to harvest, and let me eat a tomato right off the vine. I swear, it was the best tomato I’d ever put in my mouth.

When we passed a trellis full of pea pods, she pulled one off and handed it to me. “Fa bene al bambino.”

I blinked. Wasn’t bambino….? Did she mean me? Wishful thinking for her nephew, no doubt. I smiled and shook my head as I accepted the pea pod. “No bambino, Zia.”

“Sí, bambino.” She gestured with both hands toward my belly. “Fausto’s bambino.”

I nearly choked on a pea. Most old women were obsessed with babies, and she considered Fausto a son. However, there was no way I was having Fausto’s baby. I answered the best way I knew how. “Molto molto no bambino.”

She just smiled and tapped her temple. What did that mean?

“Ah, my two favorite women out in my Italian sun. What could be better?”

I turned and saw Fausto edging toward us. He was dressed shockingly down for the daytime, wearing jeans and a simple gray t-shirt. Was he not working this morning? By the time I got up, he’d already dressed and left for his office. The sun caressed his golden muscular skin, like he was a Roman god sent straight from heaven.

He kissed Zia’s cheeks first, then got close to me. “Dolcezza, you are never more beautiful than when you are outside on my land.” Bending, he pulled me close and gave me a deep, lingering kiss on the mouth. “Mmm, terre e sole.”

Land and sun. He loved to smell my skin when I came in from outside.

“Now, you must stop eye-fucking me,” he murmured, “or you won’t get your surprise.”

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