Mafia Darling (The Kings of Italy Book 2)

When most mafia soldati killed, they wore black. The color hid bloodstains better than any other.

I preferred to wear white. I wanted the next man to know what happened to the man before. I wanted to see the fear in his eyes when he realized what I was capable of.

Right now, my white shirt was soaked in blood. The metallic smell filled the dungeon and my nostrils, the floor sticky under my leather shoes. It had been so long since I let the darkness take over, and I welcomed the sensation. I needed to kill, to feel life draining out from under my blade, hear their cries as they begged for me to stop.

My heart pounded, my body alive after weeks of being numb. I had a purpose now and that was to get my dolcezza back. Anyone who stood in my way would regret it.

Two men lay crumpled on the stone floor at my feet, pools of red beneath them. They hadn’t talked—but I was betting the third one would.

We captured three of D’Agostino’s men yesterday, brought them back to Siderno, and tortured them for information on their boss’s beach home. Francesca was being kept there, and I wanted to know everything I could about the inside. Rooms, security cameras, occupants—even down to the paint colors and carpet patterns.

I smiled as I sat down in front of D’Agostino’s soldier. Though he couldn’t move, he jerked against his bindings, trying to get away from me.

A waste of time. There was no escape for this man, and the terror in his eyes told me he knew it.

I set my knife on my thigh, the silver blade dripping red. “Do you think to leave here alive?”

The man, who looked only a few years older than my son, trembled and shook his head. “No, Don Ravazzani.”

“Correct, but you have a choice. You may hold out on me and suffer, like your brothers”—I gestured to the floor—“or you may help me and die an honorable death. Quick, painless. I’ll see your body returned to your family in Napoli.”

He swallowed hard and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

“So,” I continued when he didn’t speak, “you will tell me what I need to know, no?”

“I swore an oath to Don D’Agostino.”

“If you will not help me, that makes us enemies. Are you certain you wish to be my enemy?”

“No, but please. I have a child coming soon.”

The words reminded me of my unborn child, the one Francesca was carrying while Enzo kidnapped her. Renewed fury had me lunging forward to hold my knife against his throat. “I don’t give a fuck about you or your child. I will peel the skin from your bones until you tell me what I wish to know. See those IV bags?” I pointed to where Marco stood with the medical equipment. “That is to keep you alive until I get the information I need. You will not bleed out. You will watch as I pull your intestines from your belly and throw them onto the floor.”

My prisoner shook his head, terrified but silent.

I began trying to get him to talk. At some point he passed out, and Marco had to rouse the soldier awake with smelling salts. Finally, I ordered Marco to strip off the young man’s pants while I went to fetch a drill.

The second the metal bit touched his balls, the soldier began speaking. The words were slow and barely audible, but we eventually received the information on the house, exactly where they were keeping Francesca. The others inside, the number of soldiers on guard.

When we had what we needed, I took pity on him and told Giulio to take care of it, so my son put a bullet between the soldier’s eyes. As I stood, Marco gave me a long look. “Are you all right?”

“Ask me that one more time and I will slice your tongue out of your mouth.”

“Hard to have a consigliere who cannot speak, Rav.”

“You could still write.” I strode toward the stairs. “Get some men down here and clean up. I need to shower and then make a call.”

“Papà, wait.” Giulio now stood next to Marco, his gun at his side. “You need to sleep. It’s been too long. Zia is considering putting sleeping tablets in your drinks. You cannot get Frankie back without a clear head.”

I knew it, but I couldn’t sleep. The nightmares were plaguing me, my regret like a tire around my neck. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her, pictured her face the day I had sent her away. The sadness, the anger. The disbelief that I would act so cruelly toward her.

I am the best thing that has ever happened to you. And it will be too late when you realize it.

Her words were all true. She had been the best thing in my life and I had thrown her away.

“I will,” I lied as I stripped out of my clothes. Zia hated when I tracked blood in the house. “Do your jobs, both of you.”

Dressed in briefs and dried blood, I made my way out of the dungeon and into the dark kitchen. As soon as I stepped inside the lights came on, startling me.

Zia stood there, scowling.

I was in no mood. “Do not start, old woman.”

“Look at you. You look like a monster, which is why she left you. What kind of woman wants to bring a monster’s baby into this world?”

She was not wrong. I was a monster, born from a long line of monsters. Molded and shaped to be a killer, a king. Feared and respected around the globe, with wealth greater than most countries. And I would not apologize for it.

Just to annoy her, I grabbed a glass and the open bottle of ciró on the counter. I filled the glass to the top. “Your husband was a monster. One of the ’ndrina’s best killers. My father bragged that no one tortured better than Zio Dario.”

“And how many babies did we have?”

I took a long drink of wine, trying to cool the bloodlust and rage inside me. “I assumed he had enough bastards that you didn’t feel it necessary.” Dario had six children by three different women, as I recall. The men were now all members of my ’ndrina, as were their young sons.

She made the sign of the cross and glanced heavenward, no doubt saying a prayer on my behalf. “You dare to disrespect me in this house? I should put a curse on you.”

“I am already cursed. What’s one more?” My first wife had been killed and the woman I loved had been kidnapped. Murder and heartache was all I’d ever known, outside of my short time with Francesca.

“Never have you spoken to me like this. In all the years I have known you, I said you were a good boy. Now I am ashamed of you, drinking wine when you should be out getting your unborn child back safely.” She clapped her hands twice. “Give that man whatever he wishes and bring Francesca home.”

As if it were that simple.

D’Agostino was dangling Francesca out like a piece of meat, hoping I would bite. The price he’d quoted me, half my drug operation on the west coast, was ridiculous. I would not bow to blackmail or intimidation. I was il Diavolo—I inspired the intimidation, not succumbed to it.

I chugged the rest of the wine and put the glass on the marble countertop. “I will have my vengeance and bring her home. D’Agostino will pay with his life first.”

“Bah! You men worry so much about your pride that you cannot see what really matters.”

Likely true, but this was all I’d ever known. “I am taking my pride and going to shower. You may chastise me more tomorrow.”

I left her standing in the kitchen and trudged up the steps. All of a sudden, my body felt exhausted, my muscles heavy. Each step grew increasingly more difficult, like I was walking through quicksand. Ma che cazzo?

I put a hand on the wall as I stumbled down the corridor, just trying to remain upright. Something was wrong. I was covered in blood and sweat, but I hadn’t been injured. I shouldn’t feel like this.

Once I was in my room, my bed swung up to greet me. As I closed my eyes, it hit me what had happened.

Zia and her sleeping tablets. In the wine.

Minchia!

Francesca

Clean and modern, Enzo’s beach home was the complete opposite of the castello. The property stretched out along the Gulf of Naples, each room boasting a magnificent view of the water and Vesuvius. Mariella lived here, while Enzo’s wife and children were somewhere else, and he had the luxury of going back and forth, the cheating bastard.

Even though Enzo was hardly around, his guards were always present, as was Mariella, which meant I was never alone, and I was exhausted from it. Most of my time was spent wondering if this was the day I’d be tortured or raped in revenge against Fausto. Or worse, the day Enzo realized I was of no use to him and put a bullet in my brain.

I hardly slept. I ate to keep my stomach settled, but I worried that each bite of food was poisoned. Every noise made me jump, and my nerves felt stretched to the breaking point. How much more of this could I take? How much longer before they realized I was pregnant with Fausto’s baby? What would happen then?

The possibilities were too terrifying to contemplate.

So despite Mariella’s repeated attempts to forge a friendship with me, I kept to myself. I needed to think and figure out an escape. All I needed was an instant, any window of opportunity where I could sneak away. Or for Mariella to make a mistake, like leaving her phone lying around.

Something would eventually happen. They would underestimate this puttanella and then I would run.

I was slicing a peach in the kitchen when the front door opened. Enzo came in, trailed by three of his men. Unlike Fausto, Enzo never wore a suit, at least that I’d seen. He was always in tight designer shirts and jeans or trousers, like a Hollywood movie star on vacation. “Good afternoon, Frankie. I would like a word with you.”

The peach turned to ash in my mouth and I watched him warily as I swallowed. “Sure.”

Enzo sat on a stool at the kitchen bar and snagged a piece of peach off my plate. I didn’t like how his eyes traveled my body as he chewed. He asked, “How do you like my beach house?”

“As prisons go, it’s nice.”

“Thank you. I would say you could thank Fausto for it, but he doesn’t seem to be in the chatting mood lately.”

Thank Fausto for kicking me out and allowing Enzo to kidnap me? Hell would freeze over first. “I told you he doesn’t care about me.”

Enzo didn’t comment on this. “Has my Mariella been taking good care of you?”

“I suppose, but if you’re taking requests I’d like a phone.”

His lips twitched. “Strange we’ve not heard from Ravazzani, don’t you think?”

Not strange to me. I knew him better than anyone, and Fausto never said what he didn’t mean. He was through with me. I tried to sound braver than I felt. “You should let me go.”

“Or perhaps I should send him a reminder.”

I gripped the marble counter so hard my fingers turned white. Was this where he cut off one of my toes and delivered it to Fausto? I pushed the peach away, appetite forgotten. “That’s a waste of your time.”

“I don’t agree.” His gaze was shrewd. “I think he will mind very, very much.”

I really liked having all five toes attached to my foot. “You heard what he said, right? He’s given his blessing for you to send me anywhere I wish to go. Well, I wish to go to Toronto, please.”

“Amore mio!” Mariella exclaimed, bounding into the room with a bright smile on her face.

He turned and opened his arms, and she came quickly, sliding between his thighs to press a deep kiss on his mouth. When they parted, he spoke in rapid Italian to her, too fast for me to translate, and she nodded before disappearing again. My stomach sank. Whatever he was planning must be truly terrible if he didn’t want her to see it.

“Listen, Enzo. Signore D’Agostino. There’s no reason to bother yourself with me. I’m sure you have better things to do. Let me go and we’ll forget any of this ever happened.”

He grinned at me. “You must have driven him crazy. I can see why he was staring at you like a starving wolf that day on the yacht.”

That trip seemed like a lifetime ago. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it doesn’t matter. Fausto and I are through.”

Mariella returned, a long rope dangling from her fingertips. Oh, shit. I started to back up as Enzo stood. Except I was trapped by kitchen cabinetry and stainless steel appliances. I would need to sprint past them both and hope for the best.

It was now or never.

In a blink, I took off. I darted around the island and ran toward the sliding glass doors that led to the beach. No one tried to stop me, so I kept going. My feet slapped onto the wooden deck—and that’s when I saw two guards emerge from either side of the house, their guns drawn and pointed at my head. I hesitated. Would they actually shoot me? I wasn’t certain I could risk it.

That pause was all they needed to swarm around me. I tried to pull free, but they wouldn’t budge, dragging me back inside.

Enzo didn’t seem surprised. “Enjoy the fresh air?”

So many words burned my tongue. Most were creative versions of “fuck off,” but I had to be careful with this man. “What are you going to do?”

“Come. Stand here, Frankie.” He moved to the center of the room, the rope in his hand. Looking over his shoulder, he told his guards to bring me over. I knew there was nowhere for me to go, but I dropped back a step.

It did no good. The guards had a firm grip on me and they tugged me over to Enzo. “Hold her hands behind her back,” Enzo ordered.

“No, please.” I hated myself for begging, but I didn’t want this. My heart pounded, my mind scared out of my wits. Why did he need rope? Was he going to rape me? Torture me? Oh, God. I couldn’t breathe.

When the rope was around my wrists, pulled tight, Enzo continued winding the rope around my torso. His fingers brushed the underside of my breasts as he worked, and I tried not to react as revulsion ripped through me. Did he just cop a feel, the fucking perv?

The slight curve to his lips told me he had. God, how gross.

He’s going to kill you. Stop worrying about whether he touched your boobs or not.

Right. There were far bigger problems at the moment.

When he had me trussed up to his liking, he pushed on my shoulder and forced me to my knees. That put my face at his crotch level, and fear clawed in my chest. Was he going to shove his dick in my mouth? I wobbled and certainly would’ve toppled over if not for Enzo’s hand on my head to steady me. He ordered Mariella to get his phone, then held out his hand to one of the guards and a gun was placed in his palm.

Oh, Jesus. He finally realized I was of no use to him. “Enzo, no. Please, don’t do this.”

“Open your mouth, puttanella.”

A tear slid down my cheek, my lungs incapable of pulling in air. I was going to die. I was going to die before meeting my baby, before seeing my sisters again. How was this fair? “Please, Enzo.”

He pried open my jaw using his powerful fingers and shoved the barrel of the gun inside my mouth. The cold metal smoothed over my tongue and rattled against my teeth. It tasted like death.

I trembled, tears running silently down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Fuck Fausto for kicking me out. I was definitely coming back as a ghost to haunt his ass for the rest of his life.

My mind went blank after that. I could only stare up at Enzo, the harsh edges of the gun tearing at the soft skin of my mouth. I don’t think I was even breathing.

“So beautiful and so proud,” Enzo murmured as he dragged a fingertip along my jaw, caressing me. “How could any man resist you?” Then he told Mariella to take photos with his phone.

I knelt in a grotesque display of cruelty, my body vibrating in terror as I waited for Enzo to pull the trigger. No doubt it would be soon, my gruesome death captured for his enjoyment. Would he share the photos with other members of the ’Ndrangheta? With Fausto? Was there a mafia Instagram where they posted these after the fact?

“Basta,” he told his mistress, then slowly withdrew the gun from my mouth. He used his thumb to wipe the tears from my face while I tried not to hyperventilate. “You on your knees, so obedient. Did he like this, as well? I bet he did. This is why you are the perfect distraction.”

Distraction? Something about his tone caused my skin to prickle. Danger cloaked the room, so thick I could smell it. Would he take me against my will now?

The moment was broken when Mariella threw her arm over his shoulder and handed his phone back. “Baby, her hands,” she said in English.

I was quickly untied and left there, kneeling on the floor. What was happening? Relief flooded me as Enzo began texting on his phone, ignoring me, and the guards wandered away. Sagging, I caught my breath and tried not to think about how close I’d come to dying.

Mariella slipped a hand under my elbow and helped me to my feet. “He’s very attracted to you,” she said quietly. “If you want to join us, you are welcome. And, it might make Fausto jealous.”

Inspiring jealousy in a man I hated seemed like a terrible reason to have a threesome. “Hard pass,” I said. “But this is why you should help me. Please. I need to get out of Italy.”

She gave one small shake of her head. “He will kill me if I help you escape.”

“It’s not safe for either of us here. Come with me. We can help each other.”

Mariella’s eyes were flat and resigned when they met mine. “There is no escape from these men.”