Page 17 of Mafia Mistress

“Basta, Papà,” Giulio said, telling his father that was enough.

Ravazzani carried his cup and saucer out of the kitchen, departing without another word.

“You mustn’t antagonize him like that,” Giulio warned. “And definitely never in front of the men again.”

“I am not here to play nice. I am here under duress, and I want to go home.”

Giulio shook his head sadly. “We rarely get what we want in this life, Frankie. It’s best you accept your fate now.” Before I could ask him to explain, he held out his hand. “Let’s go outside and explore, eh?”

After I thanked Zia for breakfast, Giulio and I went through the back door and into the morning sunshine. Somehow I would use today’s outing to my advantage and figure out how to escape this nightmare.

* * *

The estate wasnothing like I imagined.

Giulio was charming and funny, escorting me around the property and introducing me to the workers. We saw the famous black pigs, rare and prized in Italy, and tasted the prosciutto and culatello made from them. There were sheep, cows and goats who were milked to make cheese. Lemon, fig and chestnut trees dotted the hillside, but olive trees were predominant here. When Giulio let me taste some of the Ravazzani olive oil, the number of olive trees suddenly made sense. The oil was better than any I’d had in Canada, even the kind we imported from Italy.

I couldn’t stop asking questions of the employees, and Giulio translated as necessary. The workers seemed proud of their connection to the Ravazzani family, many continuing in the footsteps of previous generations who had worked here. I wanted to ask if they knew their employer was a kidnapper who drugged and spied on women, but I suspected Giulio wouldn’t translate it for me.

Our last stop was the vineyard, where vines stretched as far as the eye could see. The estate grew Gaglioppo and Greco bianco grapes, which they blended to make red and rosé wines. They also made nigredo, a grappa flavored with licorice—and I quickly discovered this was my very favorite thing on earth.

“Easy, signorina,” Vincenzo, the vintner, said as I took another swallow. “The Ravazzani grappa is to be sipped.”

“Canadians are quickly becoming like Americans,” Giulio teased, mimicking someone guzzling a drink. “More, more, more.”

“Stop dragging Canadians,” I told him as I shoved his shoulder. “We are nicer than Italians.”

Vincenzo chuckled, but shook his head. “You will not like how it tastes coming back up, signorina.”

I waved that comment away. “I never throw up after drinking. We Mancinis are made of sterner stuff.”

Vincenzo and Giulio exchanged an amused look. “No doubt you are, bella,” Giulio said and held up the bottle. “Would you like another?”

“Per favore,” I said, which only made Giulio laugh.

“Your Italian needs improvement.”

“I know. Will you teach me?”

“Of course, but there is no rush.”

There was, but I couldn’t say as much. Giulio was resigned to our marriage, and who knew what he might do if I informed him of my plans to escape? He was becoming a friend, but not an ally. First and foremost, he was a Ravazzani.

Vincenzo left us and I decided to learn more about this man who seemed to fear his father but had saved me all the same. “What do you do in the ’Ndrangheta?”

Giulio choked on his grappa and coughed loudly. “Are you always so forward?”

“I apologize. It’s just that you seem different from your father. I’m having a hard time seeing you as a hardened mobster.”

He licked his lips and studied the glass in his hand. “It’s all I have ever known. I was young when my mother died, and since then it has been Zia and my father, and the ’ndrina. I was inducted at fourteen. There’s no other life for me.”

“That sounds...sad.”

The edge of his mouth hitched, making him appear like a younger version of his father. “Only someone from the outside would see it as such. Being the Ravazzani heir is a great privilege.”

“It is—but only if you want it. If you want the same life as your father.”

“I have no choice. And it is not a bad thing, being both feared and respected by everyone I meet. My father’s reputation is known by many.”

---