Mafia Darling: Chapter 10

I stared at the card, not terribly surprised. It was a smart play by the Guardia, approaching Francesca. They had left my mistresses alone in the past, probably because none of them had lived with me and I never discussed business in front of them. Francesca was different. In every regard. “I see.”

She dropped the card in my lap when I didn’t take it. “I told her to fuck off.”

Marco’s eyes met mine in the rear view mirror. I knew what he was thinking. He didn’t trust her, and he was wondering if this was a tactic, telling me about the Guardia to gain my confidence.

The familiar itch skittered across the nape of my neck, the one that whispered never to let anyone in. Never to give anyone power over me, over the business, especially a woman. These were words my father had repeated many, many times.

It wasn’t easy, but I ignored them. I had been wrong to doubt Francesca’s loyalty before. There would be indisputable proof the next time I accused her of anything.

“Who did they send?” Marco asked from the driver’s seat.

I picked up the card. “Rinaldo.”

Marco snorted. “They must not be trying too hard.”

“What does that mean?” Francesca asked, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Marco and me.

“We’ve never heard of her,” I said. “Probably trying to make a name for herself.”

“Do you know all of the Guardia agents by name?”

“Yes,” Marco and I both said at the same time.

It was our job. Our livelihood. We had to know the enemy inside and out. I even had several GDF officials on my payroll. I would need to look into this Agent Rinaldo.

“Well, you didn’t know this one,” Francesca said, resting her head against the seat back and closing her eyes. “So, you’re welcome.”

I studied her face, the dark circles under her eyes. The sunken cheeks. She was exhausted. How had she slept last night in my bed? Despite my craving to be near her, I’d left her alone to rest and slept in a guest bedroom instead. Looking at her now, it was clear she needed more sleep. Hadn’t her reports from the beach mentioned naps?

I pulled out my phone and checked my email. I answered when required, made some phone calls, and tried to catch up on the work I’d neglected for the last month. Toni was right, I had been distracted. Now I had Francesca back and things would slowly go back to normal.

The car turned a corner and Francesca’s head dropped onto my shoulder. Asleep, she shifted to get more comfortable, and I remained as still as possible to avoid waking her. My poor dolcezza.

We pulled into the castello’s drive and Marco turned the car off. He peeked over his shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing. Because we’re all fucked if you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong.” I knew it in my bones. Rinaldo had presented Francesca with an opportunity and my woman had turned it down. If Francesca wanted to escape me, she would have accepted the Guardia’s deal, turned me in, and disappeared.

Which meant she wanted to stay.

Hope expanded in my chest as I unbuckled her seat belt, then carefully maneuvered her onto my lap. Benito opened the door for me and I lifted Francesca out of the car. “You had better be in my office in five minutes,” I quietly told my guard. “Where you will explain to me how a GDF agent was allowed to accost my woman in the bathroom.”

Benito paled but gave me a nod. I went up the steps and into my home, the smell of basil and garlic in the air like the sweetest perfume. Zia must have started cooking dinner. I took Francesca up the staircase and into our wing.

She didn’t rouse at all as I placed her on the mattress, not even when I removed her shoes. Then I found the soft blanket at the end of the bed. “Sleep, amore mio,” I whispered before pressing a light kiss to the top of her head.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she mumbled, her hands tucking under her cheek. “Just because I didn’t help the GDF doesn’t mean we are back together.”

I didn’t bother responding. We both knew she was wrong. This meant everything.

I went down the stairs and into my office, where Marco and Benito were waiting. “Ma che cazzo?” I snapped, pointing at Benito. “Explain yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Don Ravazzani. She looked like a nice older woman. I never suspected she was a GDF agent.”

Likely why Rinaldo had been chosen to approach Francesca. Still, this was sloppy. I didn’t like sloppy, especially when it came to my woman.

I moved behind my desk but didn’t sit. I wanted to loom over Benito and use my size to intimidate him. “You shouldn’t have allowed anyone in there, old or not.”

“I figured she was safe. It’s your restaurant.”

“Trust no one where Francesca is concerned. No one. And if it happens again, you’ll be buried in the hole next to D’Agostino. Capisce?”

“Understood.”

I flicked my hand toward the door. “Go, get out of my sight. Don’t let me see you for a few days.”

Benito nodded, then exchanged a glance with Marco before departing. “Rav,” my cousin started. “He—”

“Don’t make excuses for him.” Benito was one of Marco’s favorites. “He knows better.”

“True, but none of us expected the GDF to be so bold.”

“No one expected D’Agostino to kidnap Francesca, either. I’m tired of excuses. You know Rinaldo’s arrival was no coincidence. The GDF obviously trailed us to the obstetrician, which means they are watching the castello more closely than we thought. How are you not aware of this?”

Marco’s chest ballooned as he drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m stretched thin between the kidnapping, Enzo, and everything else I deal with on a daily basis. What more do you want from me?”

I slapped my hand on the desk. “I want answers! Put Giulio in charge of security, then, if you can’t handle it. The extra responsibilities will be good for him and help keep his mind off his other problems.”

“I’ll speak to Giulio,” Marco said. “I’ll let him decide.”

“No, you tell him what to do. My boy knows his place. And it’s past time that he takes a larger role around here.” Instead of waiting for Marco to argue, I grabbed the phone and punched a few buttons. “Get in my office now,” I snarled, then hung up.

“Giulio is out on a job,” Marco said.

“That was Vic.” I dropped into my chair. “As long as I’m in this mood, I might as well get to the bottom of the security camera issue.”

“I already talked to him. You heard his answers weeks ago. What’s gotten into you?”

“You just said yourself that you’re stretched thin. Maybe I can get more information out of Vic than you did. These men need to kept in line, cousin, and if you won’t do it, then I will.”

“Madonna,” Marco murmured as he lowered himself into his favorite chair. “I hope you get laid soon.”

So did I, but I didn’t dare say it.

But this was a good reminder to calm down. I needed my wits about me at all times. I forced my hands to unclench and dragged in a few deep breaths. I had Francesca back, and she and the baby were safe. Enzo was in my dungeon, bleeding from my knife. I would have answers regarding security, then I could focus on everything else.

A second later we heard the knock. I called out and Vic entered, his hair disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it. I didn’t stand or offer any greeting. Instead, I leaned back and folded my hands across my stomach. “Sit.”

Vic slid into a chair and gripped the armrests. He rubbed his lips together, as if moistening them. “Don Ravazzani. How may I help you?”

“I want to hear for myself how my woman was kidnapped and no one noticed on the security cameras.”

“I-I don’t know. There was a security update. I was busy and not paying attention. Sal was on duty at the beach, and she usually stayed inside until Giulio’s afternoon visit. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen.”

“But you are never alone in there. Where were the others?”

“We thought a camera went down. They went to investigate.”

I resisted the urge to glance at Marco. This was too many coincidences for me. “And this was the precise moment that Francesca disappeared?”

“They were gone for about forty-five minutes, so somewhere in there, yes.”

I scrutinized his expression. A man in my position learns quickly to tell when he’s being lied to. Vic was nervous but I expected that. Was he lying? I wasn’t sure.

With Francesca back under my roof, I wasn’t going to take any chances. Everyone in my organization would now be under suspicion. “Finish up and go home for the day,” I told him. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“Sì, Don Ravazzani.” Vic got up and nodded at me and Marco.

When we were alone, Marco said, “I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.” I tapped my finger on the top of the desk. “Giulio is close with these young men. Have him do some digging. He can take them drinking, to the clubs. Someone will say something they shouldn’t. No one can hide this big of a secret from me.”

“And in the meantime? Are you going to let Benito and the others work in the castello?”

“Yes, except for Vic. Transfer him off site for now.”

“No problem.”

“Let’s start some digging. If someone is working with Enzo or the GDF, there is going to be money changing hands somewhere. And I want Francesca watched carefully.”

“All right.” Marco didn’t move, his mouth turned into a heavy frown.

My cousin clearly wished to say something. “Out with it.”

“This could bring down everything we’ve built. Is she worth it, Rav? Is she worth losing the entire empire over?”

“She is worth ten empires—and don’t fucking ask me again.”

Rising, Marco pursed his lips and held up his hands. “Ask yourself what happens the next time the GDF approaches her, because there will be a next time. Are you so certain she wants this life for herself and her child?”

He left after that, and I could feel doubt creeping like poisonous vines in my veins. I pushed it away. Francesca had the chance to betray me with Agent Rinaldo and she didn’t. While she might still wish to leave here, she wasn’t a rat. She’d stab me right in the heart where I could watch her do it, before she’d ever stab me in the back.

No, she was still mine and soon she would admit it.

I found Francesca reclining on the patio, reading on her tablet, early one afternoon. When I sat on the end of the chaise, she slid her feet over, making sure not to touch me. A flush brightened her cheeks, color that had nothing to do with the Italian sun. “What do you want, Fausto?”

My eyes drank in her long sculpted legs and golden skin. For the last few days, I’d kept my distance, giving her time to readjust to life at the estate while I tried to find out if I had a traitor in our midst. I knew her trust would take time, but I was a patient man. She would require proof of my feelings, irrefutable evidence of my devotion to her, which I was perfectly willing to demonstrate for however long it took. I had no more pride when it came to this woman.

I leaned on the chaise, drawing closer to her. “I have a surprise for you.”

“No, thank you.”

“You will like this one, I promise.”

“Let me guess? Your dick in my mouth? Hard pass.”

Madonna, this woman. I craved her fire and spirit. Those qualities were some of the reasons she was such an extraordinary fuck. “No, but that offer is open anytime.”

“I bet,” she muttered, eyes locked on her tablet.

“Do you know what happens in September?”

“The leaves change color?”

“La vendemmia,” I said. “The grape harvest.”

Her gaze flicked to mine, and I could see the curiosity there. Before I sent her away she spent a lot of time in the winery and the vineyard. It was only natural she would be interested in seeing more. “What, machines go out and harvest the grapes, bring them back, and workers stomp on them?”

I shook my head. “Wrong and wrong. The grapes must be harvested by hand. It is the Italian way. And no feet in the wine anymore. That part is done by machines.”

Her tablet fell in her lap as she cocked her head at me. “You mean people cut the grapes off the vines by hand?”

“Of course. You mean in all that time you spent peppering Vincenzo with questions, you never asked about the harvest?”

“How do you know I asked Vincenzo questions?”

Because I watched the security footage, hours of it, back when I was obsessed with having her. Not that I could admit as much now. “I was told you spent time in the winery, no? Regardless, I thought you might like to help.”

“Help with the harvest?”

“Sì.” I rose and held out my hand. “Come. Let me show you.”

She ignored my hand but sat up and started to slip on her shoes. “Don’t tell me the great Fausto Ravazzani is actually go into the vineyard and harvest grapes.”

“I’ve done so almost every year.”

Her mouth fell open, but she quickly shut it. When she was on her feet, we began strolling toward the vineyards. At a leisurely pace, it would take around twenty minutes. Did she plan to walk the entire way in silence?

Clasping my hands behind my back, I matched my stride to hers. There was no hurry and I didn’t want to tire her out. Everyone should see an Italian grape harvest at least once in their lives, and I wanted this to be the first of many for her.

Normally workers were everywhere on the estate, buzzing about and chattering loudly. During la vendemmia, however, every able-bodied person was needed to help harvest the grapes. Workers from town and neighboring estates came over, as well. Nothing was more important than wine to Italians.

“How did I not know this is happening?” she asked. “The estate is like a ghost town.”

“Today is the first day. Vincenzo declared the grapes ready only this morning.”

“And he told you?”

“Nothing happens on the estate without my knowledge. Or, have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten that you’re a controlling asshole, no.”

I chuckled. She was not wrong. “Yes, but at heart I am just a farmer, like my ancestors before me.”

“Please. You get off on being a mafia boss. I saw you with Enzo, threatening to gut him like a fish and feed him to the pigs.”

“I get off on many things,” I said in a low rumble.

“Stop it. You’re trying to get me back into bed and it isn’t going to work.”

“But I have you back in my bed. Every night when I pull you close to fall sleep, and every morning when I wake up and you’re wrapped around me like a second skin.” I leaned closer, my mouth hovering above her ear. “What I am trying to do is to get you to ride my dick again, because I miss it, amore. I miss you.”

She swallowed, her throat working, but she edged aside. “You cannot throw me away and then decide you want me again. It doesn’t work like that. You said terrible things to me. All because I stood up for your son!” She exhaled through her nose, a little huff of annoyance. “You broke my heart, Fausto. And I know you’re sorry and you’d change it if you could, but you can’t. You treated me like shit when I was pregnant with your child, for fuck’s sake. Almost three weeks I stayed in that beach house, alone and miserable, sick to my stomach, and not a word from you.”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t care whether I lived or died, as long as I was out of your sight.”

This was enough. I had to set her straight.

I moved in and cupped her face in my hands. “Wrong. I couldn’t sleep while you were gone. I couldn’t eat, and I started drinking heavily. Ask Marco or Zia. I was miserable, a shell of a man. I poured over the daily reports about you, then lingered in doorways, hiding, while Giulio updated Zia on you.” I stroked my thumbs along her jaw, the soft skin like velvet. My heart pounded so hard that I wondered if she could hear it. “Do you need me to tell you how I feel? Is that what you need to forgive me and believe I am worthy of your trust? Because ti amo, cuore mio.”

Her eyes moved back and forth, as if searching my gaze for a lie. She would not find one.

I admitted, “I have never told a woman that before in my life, not even Lucia. I didn’t want to lie and raise her hopes for that kind of marriage between us. But the way I feel about you, Francesca? It is a sickness, a cancer. Something that cannot be destroyed or removed. You are a part of me, from now until they put me in the ground.”

“Until I make you mad again,” she whispered. “Until you cannot control your temper and I am the one to suffer. Or our child.”

“I would never hurt our child.”

“Unless he or she turns out to be gay. Or trans. Or bi. What will you do then, Fausto?” She stepped back and my hands fell to my sides. “What if your next son doesn’t want to join the mafia? What if your daughter wants to choose her own husband—or wife? Will you be so understanding, then?”

I clenched my jaw. “I do not wish to discuss the situation with Giulio. This is about you and me.”

“No, this is about more than you and me now. It became more the minute you got me pregnant. I was perfectly happy as your temporary mantenuta, and you had to ruin everything by accusing me of being a gold-digging whore! Just because I was willing to keep Giulio’s secret!”

I wanted to tell her she was never temporary, but why would she believe me? I had to prove it to her. My words were not enough, even if I meant them.

I gestured to the path. “Come. Vincenzo needs our help.”

She didn’t budge. “I changed my mind. I don’t feel like hanging out with you this afternoon. I’m going back to the castello.”

I put my hands together, shaking them. “Please, Francesca. You should see la vendemmia. It is magical. Let me show you. Or, let Vincenzo show you. I’ll keep my distance, if that is what you prefer.”

“Yes, I fucking prefer,” she snapped and started off toward the vineyards.

I exhaled in relief and followed her. At least she was still coming to pick grapes with me. That was a small victory.