Mafia Lord Lover

CHAPTER 6 Man Who Does Not Bend

　　Faust

　　I heard the bedroom door open, and my body went into overdrive. I didn't want to admit it, but I was listening for every sound from her back there. Anxious, like a schoolboy. I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Even if I wasn'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 breasts bouncing with every step. Long legs and shapely hips, with waves of blonde hair cascading down her back and a face that could make angels weep. God, she was hot.

　　When I looked away, I found Marco smiling at me. Had he read me so easily? When my father died and I became a capobastone ten years ago, I named my cousin my right-hand man. Truly, there was no one I trusted more. We grew up together, killed together, and rose through the 'ndrina ranks together.

　　But that didn't mean he had the right to smile at me.

　　"Do you have something to say to your capo?" I asked him.

　　He didn't look chastened in the least. "Are you going to shoot me if I say that?"

　　"Probably when we're on the ground."

　　Marco threw up his hands and remained silent. I returned to my phone, to the emails and notes I was reviewing. These were for the legitimate 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 remained involved. After all, I had to answer if the Guardia di Finanza came calling.

　　Earlier, I texted Giulio to make sure he stayed home tonight. I wanted him to meet Francesca as soon as we arrived. The sooner they met, the sooner she would accept the marriage. In the meantime, Giulio could look after her well-being and acclimate her to life in Siderno.

　　Even though my son was only eighteen, I needed him settled down 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 grandchildren, the future of the Ravazzani 'ndrina family would remain in jeopardy.

　　This brought my thoughts back to Francesca, who was staring out the window at the night sky. Was she on the pill? I would need to inform Giulio about her ex-boyfriend and the possibility of her being pregnant by another man. Better to wait until she bled before the wedding.

　　Her gaze met mine in the reflection of the window, but she didn't flinch. 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'd shown more spirit than most 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 couldn't afford to be distracted. Besides, even if she wasn't marrying my son, she was still too young. I already had a lover, one who didn't bother me at all, and I wasn't interested in replacing her.

　　Resolved to ignore Francesca, I returned to my phone. For the rest of the flight, Marco and I talked business, going over everything that needed my attention after this trip. The Crimine in San Luca was coming up in two months, where all the leaders met annually to discuss our operations. Even Toronto bosses like Mancini would be in attendance. This meant profits needed to increase, all our debts collected. We would need to pull some men from other jobs to clean up the 'ndrina's 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. That was why I rarely left the castle in Siderno. At least there I was safe.

　　"You should sleep in the back," Marco said. "Now that she's awake."

　　"We're close. I'll wait until I'm home."

　　"What a shame. I bet the sheets smell like her."

　　"Screw this."

　　Marco laughed. "Do you think Giulio can handle her?"

　　I narrowed my eyes. "Are you saying he's soft?"

　　"No, but he's not like you. He doesn't have them eating out of the palm of his hand. I've never seen a meaner bastard get more p***y than you."

　　I had a temper, for sure. Giulio was calmer, like his mother. "She'll change," I said about Francesca.

　　The pilot announced our landing. A silent Francesca buckled in while I fastened mine. Her quiet demeanor bothered me. Shouldn't she be screaming and panicking right now? Throwing something at my head? Trying to overpower the pilot? The instinct that had kept me alive for nearly thirty-nine years screamed inside me, telling me to stay on my toes around her. She was up to something.

　　I stifled a smile. Whatever she planned, I would be ready. She wouldn't stand a chance.

　　Minutes later, we landed. As I descended the steps to the ground, I checked to see Francesca was right behind me, with Marco hot on her heels. My car was waiting, so I grabbed her arm to pull her toward it—and felt a sharp pain in my hand.

　　"Damn it!" I hissed. She stabbed me with a pen, the tip now embedded in my flesh. I screamed and ripped the thing from my skin, throwing it to the ground. This stranza .

　　Francesca ran the second she got the chance, but she was no match for Marco, who still ran daily. I hadn't even finished wiping the blood from my hand before she was dragged back to my car.

　　"Help!" she yelled to the crew I employed at the private airstrip. "Help! I'm being kidnapped."

　　My men laughed. No one within a fifty-mile radius would help someone complaining about a k********g here. They all knew better. I opened the back door of the car. "Go inside, Francesca."

　　I turned around to the other side, fury burning inside me until I nearly choked her. She had shamed me in front of my men. She had drained my blood and made me look weak.

　　She would pay for this when we got home.

　　She struggled with Marco, but it was in vain. Soon she was shoved in beside me, and the car sped off. "I'm not going to apologize," she said, like a petulant child.

　　For once, I didn't try to appear civil. Instead, I let her see the darkness I usually kept hidden. "Good, because I'm eager to punish you."

　　She swallowed hard and focused on the scenery. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at my home, Castello di Ravazzani. I loved every bit of the property—the olive groves, vineyards, farmland, and pastures—but I couldn't appreciate any of it right now. And that only fueled my fury.

　　When the car stopped in front of the stone entrance, I didn't move. "Leave us alone," I said to Marco and my driver. The doors closed, and Francesca jumped out, a frightened bunny. I leaned toward her slightly. "You know my favorite part of owning a castle?"

　　"No," she said, her voice breaking.

　　"Not even a guess?"

　　"The towers?"

　　Smiling, I got out and walked around to her side. As soon as I pulled her out of the car, I leaned over. "My favorite part of this castle is the dungeon."

　　She gasped. My patience snapped, I didn't give her a chance to run. Instead, I pulled her over my shoulder and started walking toward the back entrance that led underground.

　　She instantly began to struggle, her legs kicking frantically. "Put me down! Please stop."

　　I ignored her and continued.

　　"No, please. I can't go into a dungeon. Don't take me there. Please, Signore Ravazzani."

　　Signore? That was new.

　　But I was mad beyond rational thought. We used the dungeon for business, though I preferred not to kill people on my land. It was quite a mess. Francesca could have cooked in one of the dank cells for a few hours, then she might have been more receptive to my hospitality.

　　The moment I opened the heavy door, she was crying. Good. Maybe that would help her learn her place.

　　"Please, signore. I can't... you can't put me down here."

　　The soles of my shoes scraped against the old stone as I descended. Hopelessness shook the walls, while blood and despair hung in the air—two familiar scents that never failed to please me. I had done terrible things in this place, and my son would do countless more. The legacy of the Ravazzani 'ndrina would continue here through fear and intimidation, rage and torture.

　　Grabbing a set of keys from the hook beside the door, I walked to the nearest cell. The iron bars were impossible to escape, though many had tried. Chains were embedded in the wall, but I didn't think that was necessary with her. Not yet, at least.

　　I pulled her to her feet. Tears streaked her cheeks and her eyes were wild as she clutched my blazer. "Please. Don't do this. I'm literally going to lose my mind."

　　This generation. So f*****g dramatic.

　　I pushed her away and took a step back, my intention clear. A capo never changed an order once it was made. We never showed weakness or remorse. I would gain the upper hand with this woman, and she would fall into line.

　　I left the cell and closed the heavy metal door before she could pass through. As it closed, she shook her head, panic making her tremble. She gripped the iron bars. "Please, signore. Don't do this. I'll do whatever you want. I'll be good."

　　The words made my c**k twitch as I imagined her on her knees being so good for me.

　　Minchia! There had to be a special circle of hell for a man who had impure thoughts about his son's bride.

　　With a furious twist of my wrist, I locked the door with the old key. Above ground, we may have gone high-tech, but medieval worked perfectly well here. "Perhaps this will teach you who holds the power in this house, little monella."

　　She shook the bars with a cry of pain and for a brief moment I reconsidered, something I almost never did.

　　A capo cannot show weakness.

　　My father had drilled this into my head for years, almost from birth. It was in our blood, in our history.

　　After all, the word 'ndrina was derived from the Greek, which means man who does not bend.

　　Which meant there would be no mercy, not even for her.

　　I turned and headed for the exit. "Enjoy your stay."