Page 110 of Mafia Mistress

He grabbed my wrist, tugged me to my feet and began leading me out of the bathroom. I resisted, pulling away from him. “Don’t touch me. I hate you—and I definitely don’t want to have a baby with you.”

Sighing, Fausto bent and scooped me up in his arms. I squirmed and shoved at his chest. “Put me down. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“That is too bad.”

He sat on the bed and then twisted until we were both flat on the mattress, our heads on the pillows. I was too furious to speak so I folded my arms and stared at the ceiling. Fausto rose up on an elbow. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

“I’m thinking I should have smothered you in your sleep while I had the chance.”

The bastard chuckled.

“I am sorry to tell you, then, that I’ll definitely be sleeping with one eye open from now on.” His hand gently rested on my belly. “Piccolina, this does not displease me. I like the idea of you round and big with my child.”

I glared at him. “What if I don’t want to be round and big with your child?”

He lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “I won’t allow you to abort it, if that is what you are thinking. But you needn’t be involved after the child is born, if you don’t wish.”

My mouth fell open. While I had been thinking of adoption, something about his phrasing made me think this was not what he was talking about. “What does that mean?”

“This is not an uncommon occurrence. While I’ve never had a child out of marriage, many mistresses have babies in our world. I can find someone to help raise it.”

Was he serious right now? This was how he was attempting to make me feel better? Get in line, Frankie. All the mafia whores have bastards. And who would help raise it? His next mantenuta?

Over my dead body.

Fausto clearly didn’t want me around for the long haul. He was already planning how to raise this child without me. Weren’t men at least supposed to offer to marry the woman they knocked up?

You don’t want to marry him. You were planning to go back to school.

He kept talking. “Though not an heir, this child will be treated like a king because he is mine. Another Ravazzani for the brotherhood.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“I don’t. But either a boy or a girl will serve in their own way. It is how things are done here.”

Was he listening to himself? Already signing our child up for a lifetime of misery and violence. I didn’t want this—for me or my child.

I rolled off the bed in a flash and pointed to the door. “Get the fuck out, Fausto.”

He made no effort to move. “We need to talk about this, Francesca.”

“I’m done talking. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. This is my body. I will decide what happens in the future. Not you.”

His expression twisted into something dark, something frightening. I hadn’t seen him this angry since I had stabbed him with a pen. “If you harm yourself or that child, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand me?”

“Do your worst! Whatever you do can’t be any worse than kidnapping me, keeping me here, getting me pregnant and stealing my future from me. I don’t want to have a baby, especially not with you!”

Very carefully, he got up off the bed. He came over to me but didn’t touch me. “It is too late for immature tantrums. You let me fuck you and come inside you. In fact, I remember several times you begged me to fill you up with my come. Do not blame this all on me, monella.”

Oh, I would absolutely blame this all on him.

Lifting my chin, I said, “I want to go back to Toronto.”

“No fucking chance,” he snarled. “You and my child will stay here.”

“For how long? Until you get tired of me? What then?”

“I will always take care of you and this child, Francesca.”

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