Mafia Darling (The Kings of Italy Book 2)

I had no idea how long I had been imprisoned in the Ravazzani dungeon. Days? Weeks? Time had no meaning anymore as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

My entire body screamed in pain. I was fairly certain my left lung was punctured, which could happen when one’s ribs were broken like mine. I couldn’t hold my head up without getting dizzy. My right shoulder was dislocated, as was my left knee. Every breath was agony.

But I never broke.

Somehow I had endured Fausto’s cruelty. I thought of my wife and children, my family. I thought of the beach in Napoli, my home there that I loved so much. I thought of my favorite places, my favorite meals—anything that allowed me to escape this nightmare, if only in my own mind.

I just had to keep my mouth shut and survive.

Fausto still didn’t have what he wanted—access to my empire. I would die before signing it over to anyone. It had taken me years to establish the computer fraud scheme, and the other bosses ridiculed me along the way. Then, when I started making piles of Euros, they all wanted to reap the benefits. Fuck them.

And fuck Fausto. He’d maintained a stranglehold on the European drug market for years, never sharing with the rest of us. And if anyone else tried smuggling, he reacted with swift retribution, like a bully in primary school.

So I’d been smarter. Creative and more progressive. I alone brought the ’Ndrangheta into the twenty-first century. Drugs may be better understood by the old school, but I earned hundreds of billions every year with fraud. Fausto Ravazzani would never get his hands on it, either.

A key turned in the metal lock at the top of the stairs and I froze.

That sound haunted me. It signaled hours and hours of terrible suffering, and I wasn’t certain how much more I could endure.

Besides, he’d promised to kill me the next time he visited.

When I’ve sent her sisters back to Toronto, I’ll come down and finish what I’ve started.

My heart began racing as I tried to suck in air. At any second the heavy door would swing open and I would hear the scrape of their shoes on the stone steps. Their laughter and glee as they anticipated hurting me over and over.

Nothing.

There was only silence. I didn’t understand. Where was Fausto? His consigliere, Marco, or his son, Giulio?

I was sweating. My breath wheezed as I tried to force enough air into my damaged lungs. Had I imagined the sound? Or was this just another way to torture me, to build my fear until I was nearly catatonic.

Cazzo. I didn’t know anymore.

The room swam, even though my eyes were closed, the darkness swallowing me up. And I welcomed it.

Fausto

As we drove to the doctor’s appointment, Francesca’s face was nearly pressed to the car window, her wide eyes, taking in the city. It was like she’d never seen shops and restaurants before.

Because she hasn’t seen much of Siderno before.

Guilt settled at the top of my spine, regret weighing heavily on me this afternoon. If I were a normal man, I would have taken her out to dinner, shows. Nightclubs and parties. Everything a girl her age deserved.

But I wasn’t a normal man and our life would always be lived in the shadows. She and our children would need to stick to the estate, as I did. It was too dangerous otherwise, and Francesca would eventually come to respect my orders without question. My first wife had died at the hands of my enemies. I’d never survive it if I lost Francesca, too.

I wondered whether I’d been too lenient in giving in to this appointment today. Her concern over the baby convinced me, though. I had been rough with her recently, so it would be good to reassure us both.

Extra precautions had been taken for the outing, including tripling the number of soldiers accompanying us. The car had been swept for bugs and tracking devices as usual, and the route had been secured. While Enzo no longer posed a threat, I still had other enemies. I wasn’t taking any chances with Francesca and our child.

Marco’s phone rang, interrupting the silence. He answered and spoke quietly in cryptic sentences, as we always did with our business when using phones. When he finished, he turned toward me. “It’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

Because Francesca was in the car. “Anything serious?”

“No. I had to shuffle people around today while you’re gone and the men were confused. Also, I worked out who is going to Piedmont.”

“Good. Are you keeping Giulio apprised?” My son was in the car behind us, riding with more of my men.

“I’ll text him now.”

“Is this about Enzo?”

At Francesca’s question, Marco winced and slowly faced forward, like he was removing himself from this conversation. I angled toward my wife. “You know I can’t discuss these things with you.”

“But you were just discussing it in front of me.”

“A good wife would pretend she didn’t hear anything,” I teased, knowing it would make her mad, while I ran my fingers along her arm.

She lowered her voice and leaned in. “You don’t want a good wife. You’d be bored with her in an afternoon.”

She was probably right. I shifted to kiss her, my chest swelling with the magnitude of what I felt for this woman. I loved her so fucking much.

I didn’t care that the men in the front knew I was kissing my wife, not when Francesca’s lips were this eager, her mouth this hot. Her tits were pressed against my arm, her leg moving restlessly along mine, like she was trying to get closer. I slid my hand up her bare thigh, eager to hear her little whimpers.

Then her stomach growled. Loudly.

I pulled back to see her face turn bright red. She bit her lip. “Sorry. I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t scowl at me,” she snapped. “Nothing sounded good at the time. It’s not a big deal.”

“This is a very big deal. My son or daughter needs you to stay healthy, wife.”

“I’ve got it covered. I don’t need you all up in my business.”

Her flippant attitude did nothing to reassure me. “Your business is my business. Or have you forgotten?”

There was a gelato store a few doors down from the office building where her doctor’s office resided. I glanced at my wife and came to a quick decision. “Pull over, Nesto.”

Enzo

A noise roused me. But there was no one in the dungeon. Now I was sure I was hearing things.

My brain tried to focus, but it was like slogging through quicksand. I was numb and weak, and every second I was conscious felt like an hour.

There. I heard it again. It was the door.

Cristo! No, no, no.

I shivered, the dread filling my veins like ice water. I tried to remember what little words of prayer I could still recall. Please, help me.

There were more of them this time. I counted at least eight men coming down the stairs. They were moving slower than usual. But why hurry, I supposed? I wasn’t going anywhere.

I heard whispers but couldn’t make them out. That was odd. Usually Fausto was shouting at me, taunting me the second he entered the dungeon.

They came closer, but I didn’t bother looking. I didn’t need to see the smug satisfaction when he saw me, naked and crumpled, on the dungeon floor. I prayed he killed me quickly, but I knew he wouldn’t.

Please.

“Don D’Agostino.”

No one had called me by that name in quite a long time. I opened my good eye and squinted, trying to make out a face.

I knew that face.

It was one of my own men.

“Don D’Agostino,” he breathed, his gaze sweeping down my mangled body. “Thank God you are alive.”

The overwhelming relief caused tears to form, so I closed my eye and relaxed into the dirt floor. Dio santo! They had come for me. Fucking finally.

Ravazzani hadn’t known that I had people close to him, people who would work to get me out, and I prayed each morning it would be the day. I’d all but run out of hope. I was certain after Fausto’s last visit that my time was up.

But I held out long enough. I would soon be free.

Voices carried on around me. “He can’t walk. We’ll need to carry him.”

“But I think his shoulder is dislocated.”

“We can’t fix it now. We don’t have time.”

There was rustling and I felt my body shifting as they got into position. I made a pitiful whine when they lifted me, sounding more like a wounded animal than a man. The pain was excruciating.

I must have passed out going up the stairs because the next thing I knew we were out in the fresh air. Gunfire popped in the distance and I cracked my eyelid to see where we were.

They were carrying me around the side of Fausto’s castello. Bodies dotted the ground, the dirt dark and wet beneath them. My men surrounded me, at least ten of them, some holding me and the rest offering protection. The jostling and shifting nearly caused me to vomit, not that I had anything in my stomach.

One of my men fired his gun, the sound both familiar and strange after so long in isolation. I could barely breathe as more shots were fired, the hope and terror lodging in my throat. To be stopped now, when I was so close to freedom, would be worse than never having a chance at all. They would need to put a bullet between my eyes right here because I would not return to that dungeon under any circumstances.

They started yelling, but I was too weak and nauseous to understand what was being said.

Instead, I began to pray.

Fausto

Nesto cast a worried look at Marco before glancing at me in the rear view mirror. “But, Don Ravazzani . . .”

“Here,” I repeated in a sharp tone, the one my men knew was an order. I appreciated his caution, but we were well guarded and the obstetrician was just a few doors down. There was no reason I couldn’t treat my woman to gelato right now.

Nesto slowed the car, guiding us to the curb, then came to a stop. Francesca peered over my shoulder. “What’s going on? Why are we stopping here?”

I threw open the door and got out. The car behind us had also pulled over, and my men were hurrying onto the sidewalk to offer protection. Marco was there beside me, his keen gaze taking in the street, his body tense and ready. I could hear his phone buzz, but he ignored it.

“Anything?” I asked him.

“No, but let’s make this quick.”

I held out my hand to Francesca and her fingers met mine. “Dai, andiamo.” I helped her out of the big car. “I want to feed you. Let’s get you some gelato.”

“You’re buying me gelato. Right now?” She gave me that secret teasing smile of hers, the one that said she knew how much I loved her. I would do anything for that smile.

“There is never a bad time for gelato, no?” I threw my arm around her waist and tugged her close as we strolled inside. “I know how much you love it. And I know you’re hungry.”

The shop was empty, so she took her time deciding, asking for samples of three or four different flavors. By the time she settled on the mint chocolate chip, she was smiling and laughing. Marco and Nesto waited outside like a protective wall, so I opened the door for her. She waited for me on the walk, then held up her spoon. “Here, try this.”

“Are you sure?” I grinned down at her. “I was told never to take food away from a pregnant woman.”

She rolled her eyes but chuckled. “Oh, the misogyny. You are hopeless, husband.”

Her happiness sank into my bones, a balm for all the violence and cruelty I dealt with on a daily basis. It was like the dark clouds that loomed over my soul parted just for her, enough to let in her sassy mouth and resilient spirit.

I snatched her hand and bent down for the gelato.

Enzo

I was too dizzy, so I had to keep my eyes closed. The shouts and gunfire grew louder, more intense as we went. One of the men carrying me stumbled, and horrendous pain went all throughout my body. I felt my stomach revolt, but I was somehow able to keep from retching.

If they dropped me, I’m not certain I would survive it.

“Almost there, Don D’Agostino,” one of my men said.

I could hear the rumble of a car engine, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard save for the first cries of my children when they were born.

“Open the door!”

More shots nearby and then they laid me down on a cool leather seat. Someone threw a blanket over me.

“Dai, andiamo!”

A car door slammed. Dio, was I really going to get out of this place? It seemed too good to be true. I tried to listen to what was going on, catching pieces here and there.

“Wait!”

“What is it?”

“The shots have been reported and the carabinieri are on the way. They’ll approach from the north, so you must head south to avoid them.”

“Grazie. We couldn’t have done this without your help.”

“Just make sure he knows when he wakes up. I want a promise that my family will be safe.”

Ah, so this was Fausto’s man, the one who had helped me bring down the Ravazzani empire. While he’d been useful to me over the last year, I had to wonder why he didn’t tip me off about the attack on my beach house. Had he wanted Fausto to capture me?

“Of course, of course,” my soldier said. “Now, let us leave.”

More doors slammed, and then the tires squealed as the car drove off. They held me down to keep me from tumbling about, but with every bump and twist I fought to remain conscious.

“Should we take him to the nearest hospital?”

“No. To the docks, as we discussed.”

“But—”

“We just need to get him on the ship. The doctor can attend to him there.”

“I think he needs more than a doctor.”

“No . . . hospital,” I wheezed.

It was hardly more than a breath, but they heard me. We had to get as far away from Siderno as possible—and quickly.

If I was right, then all hell was about to break loose.

Fausto

When I licked gelato off my lips, Francesca gave me a sly grin. “You want some now, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“And what is it you think I want, amore?” I asked, leaning close.

“Stop. You’re not getting that until we get home.” She glanced back at the gelato shop. “I’m kind of regretting not getting the chocolate, though.”

“Cioccolato,” I corrected.

Her eyes glazed over, like she did when I talked dirty Italian to her in bed. “God, I love the way you say that.”

I kissed her forehead. “Go back to the car with Marco. I’ll go get you some for later.”

“You will?” She fed me another spoonful of mint chocolate chip gelato. “You are the best husband I’ve ever had.”

I playfully slapped her ass right there on the walk. “The only husband you’ll ever have.”

Spinning toward the store, I suddenly felt a hard punch to my side, but saw no one close enough to hit me. Cazzo, that hurt. The impact threw me back a step, then I dropped to one knee. I couldn’t control my body, the pain was so great.

Then I knew what had happened. What was happening. I supposed it had been inevitable.

My brain couldn’t function but my mouth still worked. “Francesca,” I wheezed, wanting them to get her to safety. She was what mattered in this moment, not me. She was the only thing that mattered.

I watched her mouth open in a scream but nothing came out. My men rushed around me, their footsteps silent, as I collapsed on the hard ground and blue sky filled my vision. I heard nothing, the pain in my lower half roaring in my mind, my ears ringing. I saw Marco, who seemed to be shouting at me . . . and then I slipped away.