Mafia Darling: Chapter 8

I woke slowly, my entire body sore. For a moment, I couldn’t remember why. Then it all came rushing back.

Beach house. Attack. Fausto.

My lids flew open and I stared at the plaster ceiling. I was in the castello, but this was not my room. Fausto had brought me here last night and put a guard outside so I couldn’t escape. Again. Jesus, being a captive really sucked. Would I ever have my freedom again?

I pushed up onto my elbows and did some deep breathing as the morning sickness washed over me. I’d stopped vomiting during my captivity at Enzo’s house, so I hoped the worst of it was over. Now I just felt queasy all the time.

Two familiar suitcases waited inside the door. My things from Fausto’s beach house. It was a relief to have my belongings, but it meant I was here for the foreseeable future. Well, just until I could convince Fausto to let me go.

I sat up and something on the nightstand caught the corner of my eye. It was a white box with a red bow. A gift? Excitement eclipsed the nausea for a brief second. I liked gifts, and he knew I was furious with him. Was this a peace offering?

Should I open it? I stared at it, thinking. I should throw it out. I didn’t want anything from him. The only thing he could give me was my freedom—and we all knew that wasn’t happening.

What was this? If lingerie was stuffed into that tiny box, he had a rude awakening coming. I wasn’t wearing lingerie for him again, ever. Curiosity nagged at me as I stared at it. The box’s size was more tailored to jewelry, like a bracelet or necklace. Whatever it was, I didn’t want it.

But maybe I wanted to see it.

I reached for the box and slipped the bow off before I could change my mind. Then I pried open the lid and peeled back the white tissue paper. Was that . . .?

Holy fuck!

I dropped the box like it was on fire and watched a fingertip fall out and roll onto the carpet. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. That was Enzo’s finger. I knew it deep in my soul. Why in God’s name had Fausto given me Enzo’s finger?

Acid burned my throat and I bolted for the toilet. I barely made it to the bathroom in time before I vomited. My eyes watered with it, my body heaving in absolute horror.

What the hell was wrong with that man?

I sat there, wrung out and exhausted, disgusted with the entire male population, when I heard a knock on the outer door. “Frankie, you up?”

It was Giulio, the only man in this household I liked. Getting to my feet, I leaned out of the bathroom to call, “Come in.”

Quickly, I rinsed my mouth out in the sink. I heard the door close and by the time I left the bathroom, Giulio was standing over the finger, frowning.

“What the fuck?” I asked, intentionally looking at Giulio and not the human finger on the floor.

“I tried to tell him it was a bad idea. He said you would appreciate it.”

“Well, now you may return that and tell him I didn’t. It made me puke my guts out. I hope he’s happy.”

“I’ll get rid of it.” Giulio bent to deal with the finger and I went to brush my teeth. I left the bathroom door open, so he came to find me when he finished. “It’s gone,” he said, dusting his hands back and forth. “Like it never happened.”

“But it did happen,” I said, putting Fausto’s toothbrush back in the cup on the counter. Yes, I used his toothbrush to brush my teeth, and if he didn’t like it he could fuck off. “He’s absolutely crazy.”

“I know, but he was worse after you were kidnapped.”

This wasn’t the first time in recent weeks that Giulio had mentioned his father’s mental state being unhinged, but I couldn’t allow myself to care. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I hate being back here, but I’m happy to see you.”

“I am very happy to see you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head as he hugged me back. “I was scared shitless for you. Did Enzo hurt you?”

“No, other than to insult me and shove a gun in my mouth.”

“Fausto went berserk when he saw that photo.”

“Good.” Releasing him, I went to the bed and crawled back under the covers. “He shouldn’t have sent me away.”

Giulio sat on the mattress at the end of the bed. His hair was damp and he was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Not working today, then. He said, “I think he’s paid for that mistake. Repeatedly.”

“Except I paid for it, as well.”

He shifted, getting more comfortable, and I rubbed my feet against his hip. I liked spending time with Giulio. We’d grown close during those weeks while I’d been at the beach house. Most days, he’d been the only thing keeping me sane. “I don’t want to talk about Fausto. How’s Paulo?”

Giulio’s eyes turned bleak and sad, a look he only got when I brought up his former boyfriend. “Fucking every rent boy in town, from what I hear. He won’t even look at me. He’ll never forgive me and I don’t blame him. I’ll never forgive myself, either.”

“I’m sorry, G. That absolutely sucks, but you had no choice.”

“I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier. At least there’s no need to worry about marrying D’Agostino’s sister now.”

“Speaking of Enzo, is he . . . ?”

“Oh, he’s very much alive. Fausto plans to draw it out as long as possible. We were down there most of the night.”

“I don’t want to know.” Glancing over, I noticed that Fausto’s side of the bed hadn’t been slept in. What did that mean? If he was sleeping elsewhere, why make me stay here?

“How are you feeling?” Giulio asked. “I know yesterday was a lot to handle. The baby, he or she is okay?”

“Tired but fine. David came last night and said the baby sounds good, but I should see an obstetrician to be certain. I plan to call one as soon as their office opens.”

“I’m happy to take you today, if you’d like.”

“You mean I can leave this fancy prison?”

Giulio cocked his head and studied me. “I suppose this means my father didn’t ask you whether you’d like to stay or not?”

Like, that was a choice? “Uh, no. He didn’t.”

Brow wrinkling, Giulio stroked his jaw. “I’ll speak with him. Would you go home if you could?”

“Not to Toronto, but to New York or Boston, maybe. Anywhere but here. At least I’d be closer to my sisters there.”

“I get it, but I would miss you, Frankie.”

I rubbed my feet against him playfully. “I would miss you, too, but you know why I can’t stay. He’s hurt me too many times.”

“What’s a little love without hurt?” he said with a sad smile. “Italians have an expression, ‘l’amore non è bello se non è litigarello.’ It means a little squabbling now and then does a relationship good. That you come out stronger for it.”

“Squabbling?” I snort. “He locked me in a dungeon, left me on a yacht in the middle of a hurricane, and banished me to live under guard where I was kidnapped.”

Giulio’s mouth hitched. “At least you’ve seen him at his worst. Speaking of your sisters, you should call them. Both Gia and Emma keep texting me to ask about you. I’ve been playing dumb ever since D’Agostino kidnapped you, but I think they are starting to catch on.”

“Thank you.” I’d wondered what my sisters would do when they hadn’t heard from me, whether they would talk to my father or not. I guess they reached out to Giulio instead, thank God. The last person I wanted involved in this mess was Papà. “Except I’ll have to use your phone. God knows when Fausto will return mine.”

“Your tablet is in one of those suitcases.” He nodded to the bags by the door. “I packed all your things last night.”

“Thank you, G. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

I noticed his knuckles were torn and scraped, his hands swollen. “Is that from last night?” I tipped my chin toward his hands.

“Yeah.” He flexed his long fingers. “Hurts like a bitch today.”

“Do you like it? Hitting people and playing the mafia heavy?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Should we be talking about this?”

“Why wouldn’t we? Like, it’s weird that we’ve never talked about it before, don’t you think?”

“I do what needs to be done, like any good soldato.”

“That’s a bullshit answer. Be serious with me for one second.”

He exhaled heavily. “I can’t explain it, but there is this place inside me that feels unworthy, like I always need to prove myself to my father. He is the great Fausto Ravazzani and I’m supposed to follow in his footsteps. But how could I ever measure up to him?”

“He’s not so great,” I muttered dryly.

“Of course you’d say that. I’m his heir, though, and I want him to be proud of me.” He fiddled with his watch, adjusting the thick metal band. “It’s funny, I used to hate the violence, but the older I get the more I love it. I guess that makes me fucked up.”

“Not fucked up. Your father is il Diavolo, after all. It’s in your—” I bit off the last word. Shit, I had half Fausto’s DNA inside me, growing a baby. Would his genes guarantee a violent child?

“You don’t need to worry about that if you leave,” Giulio said, perfectly reading my thoughts. “I was raised in this life. The heir. I never had a chance. But your baby can grow up outside our world, somewhere nice with picket fences and no bullets.”

That was only if Fausto let me go—and something told me he wouldn’t.

Fausto

Mid-morning, I arrived in the kitchen to find my son and my woman laughing over café and cornetti. It was almost like the horror of the last month hadn’t happened. I felt a smile tug at my mouth. Things would soon return to the way they’d been, including Francesca fucking me with abandon.

Their laughter died as I prepared another espresso. But I had other things on my mind. I was exhausted. Enzo hadn’t broken yet, but he would. I had given him much suffering last night, enough to last for days.

Still, my mood was light. My dolcezza was back under my roof where she belonged.

“We should get going,” she said quietly to Giulio. “I don’t want to be late.”

That got me to turn around. “Where do you think you are going this morning?”

Her right eye twitched but her voice remained flat. “To the obstetrician, Fausto.”

“I will take you.” My day was packed with calls and reports, but I would push them off to do this with her. For her to forgive me, we had to spend time together.

“You are going to take me to the doctor. You?”

“Me.” I glanced at my son. “Tell Marco. I want six men with me, cars in front and behind.”

“Sì, Papà.” With a kiss to Francesca’s cheek he disappeared from the kitchen to make arrangements for the trip. That left me alone with her, as Zia was outside in her garden already.

“You cannot seriously mean to go with me,” she said. “You never leave the estate.”

“Except for you, it seems. And what is the problem? I am the baby’s father. I should go to these things.” I hadn’t accompanied Lucia to the doctor, so I had no idea what to expect. But these were things most men did when their women were pregnant, no? When Marco’s wife had been carrying the boys, Marco had treasured the tiny black and white sonogram photos like they were gold bars, showing them to anyone in the vicinity.

She seemed to be struggling with a response, her mouth opening and closing several times. Finally, she said, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t come.”

I sipped my espresso and regarded her over the rim of the cup. If she was over me, as she claimed, why not let me tag along? We both knew she wasn’t over me, though. I would never allow it. I was prepared to move heaven and earth to win this woman’s forgiveness. “That is too bad,” I said. “Besides, I want to hear for myself that everything is all right with our child.”

“Suit yourself.” She stood up and brought her dishes to the sink. “Though I just have to ask, what kind of lunatic gives a finger as a present to a pregnant woman?”

“Giulio already informed me it was a bad idea, but you deserve proof of his suffering, amore mio.”

The porcelain clattered in the sink. “Shit,” she murmured, righting the dishes.

Had it been the endearment that rattled her? If so, she should brace herself. There would be far more of those, as many as I could sneak in.

“Let’s go,” she said evenly as she strode past me.

Hmm. Her demeanor was unnaturally calm. I’d expected an argument or a biting comment, at the very least. I did love to argue with her. Back when we were together, our arguments usually led to fucking.

Was this new attitude a tactic to avoid arguing with me?

Ah, that made sense. I smiled as I followed her through the castello. I would love nothing more than a battle of wits with this woman, but she would lose. I hadn’t risen to where I was in this world by being out maneuvered. Still, I relished the challenge.

She could act as calm and boring as she liked. It wouldn’t work. Nothing about her could ever bore me. Didn’t Francesca know that by now?

Once in the car, she studied the streets out the window, ignoring me. I didn’t care. I had plenty of work calls to make during the ride. One of those was to touch base with Toni, who oversaw the legitimate side of my business empire. During the call he talked about trades and our portfolio, and I listened with half an ear. From the corner of my eye I watched Francesca’s foot bounce, her flat shoe dangling from the tips of her toes. It was unintentionally sexy and I wanted to pull her feet in my lap, slide my palms up her calves . . .

“Stop staring at me,” she said without sparing me a glance. “It’s creepy.” She angled the other way, shielding her feet from me, and I tried not to laugh. Creepy? Then why were her nipples poking through her bra and shirt? She couldn’t hide her body’s reaction from me.

I finished my call as we arrived at the office building. She reached for the door handle but I grabbed her arm. “Wait here. Do not get out until you have guards surrounding you.”

“Fausto, the only person I am in danger from is you.” She flipped open the latch and left the car, and I was forced to let go of her. Damn it.

I hurried out my door and came around quickly. My men surrounded us and we all headed toward the door. “Cristo, Francesca! It’s not safe for you to run around the streets of Siderno.”

“I apologize.” She slipped sunglasses on her face and covered her eyes from me. “Next time I’ll wait.”

Her voice was tight, as if the acquiescence nearly killed her. I had to credit her acting skills, though. If I didn’t know her so well, I might have believed she meant it.

One person was already in the elevator when our entourage piled in. He took one look at the big soldati and bulges under our jackets and quickly excused himself, getting out before the elevator doors closed. Francesca sighed but said nothing.

The guards waited outside the main door to the doctor’s office, while Marco and I escorted Francesca inside. The two women behind the reception desk perked up when they saw us, their eyes darting to me then back to my woman. I rested my hand on Francesca’s lower back as we came forward, ignoring the stiffening of her small frame at my touch.

She removed her sunglasses. “Francesca Mancini to see Dr. Russo, please.”

The receptionist swallowed and dared another glance at me. “Ciao, Miss Mancini.” She clacked on her computer for a moment, and I looked around at the other couples in the waiting room. They were all staring at me, but quickly averted their eyes when I turned.

“Word will get around,” Marco muttered to me. “This was a mistake.” He’d been saying as much with his disapproving frown ever since we left the castello.

“It’s what she expects,” I said quietly. “And I won’t handle this like I did before.”

I wasn’t certain whether I meant Lucia or how I had treated Francesca earlier. Perhaps I meant both. News of a Ravazzani baby would make Francesca more of a target, but I would go with her everywhere—along with an army of guards, of course.

An older woman in scrubs came over, one I recognized. It was the wife of one of my men who had retired two years ago. “Signore Ravazzani,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Buona sera.”

I kissed her cheeks. “Signora Mancuso. You are looking well.”

“We hadn’t realized . . . That is, Signorina Mancini . . .”

Had a different last name, therefore no one knew this baby was mine. I lifted a brow. “It is joyous news, no?”

“Of course, of course. Congratulations on your blessing. Come with me. I will see you settled in one of the exam rooms.”

“Is it my turn already?” Francesca asked as I guided her after Signora Mancuso. “Normally I have to sit in the waiting room.”

“A Ravazzani does not wait.”

A sound of disgust escaped her mouth. “This is why I didn’t want you to come.”

“You should be thanking me. I have saved hours of your time.”

I settled in a chair in the examination room, while Francesca sat on the big padded chair with stirrups. Signora Mancuso handed Francesca an empty plastic cup, the kind used for urine samples. “You know where the bathroom is?”

Francesca nodded and started to leave the room with the cup. I stood, ready to follow. “It’s only around the corner, Fausto,” she hissed. “Stay here.”

“I go where you go.” I didn’t know these people. Therefore, I wasn’t letting Francesca out of my sight while we were off the estate.

With a roll of her eyes, she went into the corridor and I trailed her. I hadn’t been to a doctor’s office in many years, but it seemed they hadn’t changed much. Boring furniture, pastel walls. This one had photographs of babies everywhere, smiling mothers and fathers in hospital gowns. Hmm. For security, my son or daughter would need to be delivered at the castello, not a hospital. This was not the time for such a conversation with Francesca, however.

Soon we were back in the exam room. Signora Mancuso instructed Francesca to get in the gown and the doctor would be with us shortly. The door closed, leaving us alone, and Francesca stood there, unmoving, like she was waiting for me to do something.

I folded my hands on my lap. “I have already seen you undressed. That is how we found ourselves in this situation, if I recall.”

“That was before,” she snapped. “It’s different now.”

“Is it?”

Her arms flopped at her sides, as if I exasperated her. “At least turn around.”

“You know how I feel about taking orders from you.” I raked her body with a hot glance. “And I know you’d much rather follow my commands than give them.”

“God, you are the worst.”

With a huff, she turned and began undressing. She ignored me, but that didn’t stop me from looking.

Cazzo, she was gorgeous. Her skin had turned a deep gold from the sun, and her long toned legs led to that round ass I loved to bite. Her waist hadn’t filled out with the pregnancy yet, and I couldn’t wait to see her all round and lush with my child. Dark blond hair spilled over her back and I longed to run my fingers through it, wrap it around my fist and pull as I rode her from behind.

Then she shimmied out of her panties, pushing the silk and lace down her hips, and let the scrap of fabric fall to the ground. She bent to pick them up.

Madonna santa, that sight.

I was nearly panting, my cock half-hard. My heart galloped in my chest like I had run a race, and I forgot all about the painful scrape on my side and my terrible night’s sleep. I could only focus on her and this insatiable craving I had to touch her, to fuck her. To crawl inside her and never leave. She was a fever in my veins, an obsession, one I wasn’t certain I’d ever overcome.

I had to have her soon or I would go insane.

After she slipped on the cotton gown, she strode over and handed me her clothes. “Here. For your lap.” She tilted her chin toward the bulge in my trousers.

I spread my arms but made no move to take the garments. “Put them down,” I ordered softly, unable to help myself.

Her breath hitched and she licked her lips. Her gaze darted to my crotch, where my dick pushed insistently against my zipper. For a second, I thought she was going to play along, that she would bend over and place the clothes on my groin, and perhaps brush her hand against my cock in the process. Instead, she looked away and let the bundle drop onto my lap, uncaring if it fell on the floor.

I was a tiny bit disappointed, but mostly pleased by her reaction. She was not immune to me.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how different things would’ve been if I hadn’t fucked up with her. We might’ve been here together for every appointment, teasing and laughing while waiting for the doctor. She would sit on my lap and kiss me, while I told her how much I looked forward to seeing our child but worried over my ability to keep them all safe.

I couldn’t stand to lose anyone else.

Francesca hopped onto the examination table. “Don’t say a word, Fausto. You’re here as an observer only. I don’t want you throwing your mafia boss weight around with my doctor.”

More orders?

My dick twitched at her audacity. Though I longed to take her over my knees and spank her ass, I held up my palms. “You won’t even know I’m here, dolcezza.”