Page 16 of Mafia Mistress

When the three of them were alone again, the silence was oppressive. Zia looked murderous and Giulio appeared embarrassed. I couldn’t figure out why, but a sinking feeling in my stomach suggested I might. Zia crossed herself and muttered in Italian. Giulio answered her but I didn’t understand any of it.

“Who was that woman?” I asked.

Giulio sighed. “Katarzyna is my father’s current mantenuta. Do you know what that means?”

I did. Kept woman.

That woman was Ravazzani’s mistress. And she had...slept here last night. In his house.

I didn’t care that he had a fuck toy. I was just surprised at seeing her this morning. Yes, the hollow feeling in my stomach was definitely surprise.

“Oh. She seems….” I couldn’t think of anything to say. “Comfortable here,” I finished.

“She’s not terrible,” Giulio confirmed. “But I never interfere in my father’s personal life. Don’t worry, she won’t last long. They never do.”

They didn’t? It seemed Ravazzani was even worse than I suspected.

“They never do, what?” a deep voice asked.

My body jolted as the devil himself walked into the kitchen, looking disturbingly sexy and annoyingly refreshed. And why wouldn’t he be? He hadn’t spent hours in a dungeon last night.

I studied him through my lashes, unable to help myself. His gray suit was all perfect crisp lines and luxurious fabric, and he wore a blue tie that complimented the color of his eyes. Hair wet, he’d obviously just come from the shower. Had Katarzyna been in there with him? Had he screwed her in the shower?

There are no unwilling women in my life, Francesca.

I had to stop thinking about him, stop noticing his looks. I didn’t like the way the hairs on my arms stood up every time he walked into a room. An attraction to this horrible and dangerous man—the person who had locked me in a dungeon, for fuck’s sake—was out of the question.

“Niente, Papà,” Giulio said, his posture stiffer now that his father was in the room.

Ravazzani bent to kiss Zia’s cheek. “Buongiorno, nonnina.” His expression was soft and affectionate as he hugged her.

Zia smiled but hit his shoulder with her palm as she seemed to admonish him in rapid Italian.

Giulio leaned over to me. “He calls her granny all the time just to get her worked up.”

I frowned. I didn’t want to see this side of the elder Ravazzani, the one that teased his aunt, whom he obviously loved. I needed him to remain one-hundred percent cruel and heartless.

Ravazzani started to brew a cup of espresso, then he leaned against the counter and spoke to Giulio in Italian. The only word I caught was “blood.” I wished they would speak slower. I knew some Italian, but not enough to keep up with this rapid pace.

I would definitely need to improve my language skills in the next few days to aid in my escape.

Giulio’s face darkened, clearly unhappy with whatever his father was saying. But he nodded. “Sì, Papà.”

“This pleases me,” Ravazzani said in English, gesturing to Giulio and me. “The two of you will spend time together and get acquainted. It’s more than most of us had before our weddings.”

Then he said it again in Italian for Zia, who responded with something that made Ravazzani laugh—and my breath caught in my throat. The harsh lines of his face eased and his mouth curled, all manly charm and Italian beauty, and I felt a tug of arousal in my belly.

I needed to get a grip on myself. I could not be attracted to him.

“What did she say?” I asked, desperate to take my mind off his looks.

He sipped his espresso and studied me over the rim. “She said it was intentional, that my ugly face and surly disposition would have scared off any potential bride.”

Well, I agreed with half of that description. “Or your dungeon,” I couldn’t help but add.

The mood in the room shifted instantly. Giulio didn’t move, while Ravazzani pinned me with a cold stare that reminded me of a Toronto lake in the winter. I saw him flex his hand, which had a small bandage on it. “Did you enjoy your short stay in the cell, monella? Because I would be happy to escort you there again, should you give me a reason.”

The thought of returning to that small damp place sent waves of terror along my spine, and my skin grew cold and clammy. I stared at him with all the loathing I felt in my soul.

---