Page 35 of Mafia Mistress

I only caught the word, “esempio,” which I think was example. Damn, I really needed to improve my Italian.

Two shots rang out into the empty space. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, stifling my gasp. Oh, my God. He just killed two people down there. Murdered both Sergio and Rocco.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want to be a witness to an actual crime.

I bolted from my spot on the landing, letting the door close behind me as I raced for the castle. Fear clogged my throat. My only thought was to reach the relative safety of my room and lock the door. I would skip dinner and come down for food after everyone had gone to bed.

Or maybe I’d never leave my room again.

The kitchen was dark when I entered, my feet moving quickly across the tiled floor. All of a sudden, arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me to a halt. I struggled, but the hands only tightened as I was pulled into a strong warm chest.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, piccola monella?”

Ravazzani. Shit. Did he know I’d been listening? I licked my lips and tried to keep my voice even. “My room.”

He felt like a wall behind me. A tall muscular wall that had just murdered two people.

I began trembling, emotions rioting inside me. He was brutal and beautiful, like those jungle cats on the nature channel I sometimes watched, and I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream and run away. But there was a darkness within me, too, some part of my soul that relished violence and power, and found it exciting. That shameful side was drawn to this man. I found him fascinating and sexy as fuck.

Again, what was wrong with me?

His rough hand clamped around my throat, holding me tightly. Instead of scaring me, his touch caused slashes of heat to race down my spine and settle between my legs. He surrounded me, his strength on magnificent display, and my body softened as fear shifted to need and hunger. Could he feel my pulse pounding under his fingertips?

I heard him suck in a breath, so I assumed he’d noticed my reaction. Then his voice grew low and sensual, his lips near my ear. “What were you hoping to see in the dungeon, Francesca? Hmm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Liar.” The hand not on my neck cupped my hip, almost caressing me. “Do you know what happens to girls who spy on me?”

“Let me go. You’re scaring me.”

“No, I’m not. You are not frozen in fear or fighting me off. Instead, you are relaxed against me while your heart is beating so fast. Do you know what that tells me?”

I was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

“That you don’t mind the danger. That you might even thrive on it.” He inhaled near my neck, as if smelling me. “As I do.”

Moisture flooded between my legs, arousal so swift and fierce that my knees nearly buckled. In fact, I probably would have collapsed if Ravazzani hadn’t been holding me up.

“Yes,” he murmured. “That is exactly what I thought. Do not ever try to tell me you weren’t made for this life, that you weren’t born to rule as a queen.”

I closed my eyes. God, please don’t let that be true. “Fuck you. I will never marry your son.”

“You will, bellissima. And if you curse at me again, or use such foul language in my house, I will return you to the dungeon—whether it’s been cleaned or not.”

I shivered, imagining the blood and brain matter on those dank walls. I never wanted to be down there again—ever. “This is the twenty-first century, Ravazzani. Women curse.”

He let me go abruptly, and I had to brace myself on the countertop to keep from toppling over. I looked over my shoulder and saw him run his hands through his hair. His eyes were bright and wild, almost feral, like an animal caught in a trap in the woods. “It may be the twenty-first century out there, but here in Calabria, in my house, it is very much not. We honor tradition, and that means you will also honor our traditions. Because if you don’t, I promise you won’t like the consequences.”

Turning, he strode to the door. “And let this be a warning—do not spy on my business again. The less you know, the better.”

He disappeared into the night, leaving me shaken and confused. It seemed like Fausto Ravazzani might understand me better than I did myself, which was an absolutely horrifying thought.

I couldn’t let that be true.

Looking at the door, I made a swift decision. Fuck this. Fuck the engagement, fuck this castle, and fuck Fausto.

Tonight I would escape.

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