Page 8 of Mafia Mistress

“You won’t have your things returned until I find you cooperative.”

I glared at him and tried to burn holes in his skin with my eyes. “There are people who will be worried about me. I need to somehow let them know I’m okay.”

“Do you mean David?” he sneered, sending a bolt of cold fear through me. “He’s not worried, Francesca. You no longer matter to him.”

“Oh, my God. Did you kill him?”

He had the gall to look down his nose at me. “You watch too much American television. He is alive and well—for now—but you will not see him again.” At the door, he paused and pinned me with a dark stare that scared me down to my toes. There was no feeling there, no sympathy. Just a man always used to getting his way. “Oh, and do not bother looking for a weapon. I made certain you won’t find one.”

I waited until he disappeared before ignoring his advice. I jumped off the bed and started searching. There had to be something in the bedroom or bathroom to defend myself with once we landed. Papà had reluctantly let us take self-defense classes, and the instructor said many ordinary objects could be used as a weapon.

The bathroom yielded nothing. The medicine cabinet was empty and the shower contained only plastic bottles. I quickly used the facilities and washed my face, then found that a tray was waiting for me on the bed in the other room. I dug in, knowing a hunger strike would only weaken me, and I had to keep up my strength to fight when we landed. I hardly tasted the food, though, my haste and fear overriding everything else at the moment. Unfortunately, the silverware was plastic, as was the wine glass and water bottle.

I kept looking. The desk contained nothing but blank paper, while the nightstand just had condoms. Extra large, naturally. Disgusted, I slammed the drawer shut and then dropped down to check under the bed.

Tucked into the carpet along the wall, I spotted it. A pen. I snatched it up and slipped it into the pocket of my jeans.

As a weapon, it wasn’t much but I just had to wait for the right opportunity to use it.

* * *

Fausto

I heardthe bedroom door open and my body went on alert. I didn’t want to admit it, but I had been listening for any sound of her back there. Eager, like a schoolboy. I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Even if I weren’t too old for her, she was engaged to my son.

I needed to pull my head out of my ass.

All my men turned to watch as she picked her way to an empty seat, her tits bouncing with each step. Long legs and shapely hips, with waves of blond hair that reached down her back, and a face that could make angels weep. Dio, she was hot.

When I looked away, I found Marco smirking at me. Had he read me so easily? When my father died and I became capobastone ten years ago, I appointed my cousin my right-hand. In fact, there was no one I trusted more. We’d grown up together, killed together, and risen through the ’ndrina ranks together.

But that didn’t mean he had the right to smirk at me.

“You have something to say to your capo?” I asked him.

He didn’t appear chastised in the least. “Are you going to shoot me if I say it?”

“Probably, once we are on the ground.”

Marco held up his hands and remained silent. I went back to my phone, to the emails and notes I was reviewing. These were for the legal businesses, the ones I used as a public front for my family’s wealth. My cousin, Toni, handled most of the Ravazzani corporation for me, but I kept involved. After all, I had to provide answers if the Guardia di Finanza paid me a visit.

Earlier, I texted Giulio to ensure he remained home tonight. I wanted him to meet Francesca as soon as we arrived. The sooner the two of them met, the sooner she would accept the marriage. In the meantime, Giulio could look after her well being, acclimate her to life in Siderno.

Though my son was only eighteen, I needed him settled and married. The time had come for Giulio to fulfill his role as my heir, which meant producing heirs of his own. I was an only child, as was my son. Therefore, until I had grandsons, the future of the Ravazzani ’ndrina would remain at risk.

That brought my thoughts back to Francesca, who was staring out the window at the night sky. Was she on the pill? I’d need to inform Giulio about her former boyfriend and the possibility she might be carrying another man’s child. Best to wait until she bleeds before the wedding.

Her gaze met mine in the window’s reflection but she did not cower. I liked that about her. Most women feared me, or at least my reputation. Francesca didn’t seem to have that problem. In fact, she showed more spirit than most had dared in the last ten years. Would she show that same spirit in bed?

I had to stop. These thoughts weren’t productive and I could not afford the distraction. Besides, even if she weren’t marrying my son, she was too young. I had a mistress already, one who gave me no hassle whatsoever, and I wasn’t interested in replacing her.

Resolved to ignoring Francesca, I returned to my phone. For the rest of the flight, Marco and I talked business, going over all that needed my attention after this trip. The crimine in San Luca was coming up in two months, where all the leaders gathered every year to discuss our operations. Even the Toronto capos, like Mancini, would attend. This meant that profits needed to be up, all our debts collected. We would need to pull some men off other jobs to clean up the ’ndrina books.

I rubbed the back of my neck, exhaustion pulling at me. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t relax on planes or in hotels. It was why I rarely left the castello in Siderno. At least there I was safe.

“You should sleep in the back,” Marco said. “Now that she is awake.”

“We are close. I’ll wait until I’m home.”

---