Her Mafia Daddy (Book 1) novel Chapter 16

Rafael POV

She licked her lips and stared up at me with unreadable eyes. “I don’t want to marry anyone.”

“That is too bad, bellissima, because you will become a bride. The choice of groom is up to you.” As we stared at each other, I noticed she smelled like earth and olives.

Sun and plants. Like my estate. The comforting scent sank into me like an aphrodisiac, boosting the simmering lust I already felt for this gorgeous spirited creature. I wanted to fuck her outside in the rain, in the dirt, with the grape vines all around us, her silken hair spread out like roots on the ground while I coated her in my come.

She must have sensed the shift in my thoughts because her lips parted on a swift intake of breath. Her gaze darted to my mouth and for a crazy moment I wondered if she was thinking about what it would be like to kiss me. Madonna, I wanted that. I wanted to taste her, to feel her lips on mine.

Drink her sighs and swallow her whimpers. I wanted to inhale her. Disgusted with myself, I pushed away from the wall. I spun and tried to

collect my composure as I walked back to the racks of gowns. “I hate you.”

I didn’t doubt it. But I didn’t need her to like me. I needed her to obey me. “Accept your fate and do as you’re told.”

“Does no one ever stand up to you and win?”

“No.” I found a simple ivory satin gown that would show off her tits. “What about this one?”

She didn’t even look at it. “Fine. Who cares?”

“Excellent. I’ll have Marco fetch your things. See how accommodating I can be when you do what I ask?”

“Yes, very accommodating,” she mumbled as she walked to a chair, where a floppy hat rested on the seat. She grabbed it and tugged it on. At that moment, she looked so young. Too young for me, that was for certain.

But it was hard to remember her age when she was staring me down better than a hardened criminal. She started toward the door. “Are we done here? I’d like to go back outside and help Vincenzo.”

Ah, so that was why she smelled like the estate. “Sampling wine?”

“No, I’m learning how to make it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you know there are over two thousand varieties of grapes in Italy?”

“I do, actually.” Wine has been in my family for generations. I’d helped with the harvesting and crushing many times. “Which wine is your favourite?”

“The rosé, I think. Or the ciró.” The ciró was my personal favourite, and I had a brief fantasy of pouring the dark red wine all over her pale skin and licking it off.

“I’ll tell Celestina you prefer this gown, if you’d like to return outside.” See? I could be nice.

“Whatever. I expect to find my things on my bed, Ravazzani.” She disappeared into the hall.

The lack of respect and sharp attitude made my dick twitch. She took any gesture of kindness from me and threw it back in my face. No one else would dare. Would Dimitri hold it against me if I spanked his fiancée?

You’d never stop at just a spanking. Which was why I needed to keep my distance from her. She made me crazy.

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“Mi prendi per scemo, Sergio?” he shouted. A fist smacked against flesh, twice. Then again. From there, it was a series of pleas, grunts, and moans as the beatings continued. Was Ravazzani doing the hitting or did he delegate the job to one of his men? I pictured him, sleeves rolled high and muscles bunching as he delivered punch after punch, sweat rolling down his face. Instead of repulsing me, it made my heart race and sent heat twisting through my belly.

I was a terrible person. I chewed the edge of a fingernail and tried to focus on the violence, the wrongness of whatever was happening below, but it didn’t work. I was getting more turned on the longer I stayed here. A snap echoed followed by a yelp, and I knew a bone had been broken.

A finger? One of the men began sobbing at that point. “Mi dispiace, Don Rafael ,”

he shouted, his voice racked with pain. Then it sounded like he was begging. The tone of Ravazzani’s voice changed then. It went from angry to resigned, almost paternal. “Va bene. Dimmi, Rocco.” Tell me.

Rocco began speaking, his voice hitching occasionally, probably from the pain. I couldn’t understand the words, though. Was he explaining why he took the cocaine?

Ravazzani responded, which prompted both Rocco and Sergio to plead some more. Ugh, what were they saying? I only caught the word, “esempio,” which I think was an example.

Damn, I really needed to improve my Italian. Two shots rang out into the empty space. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, stifling my gasp. Oh, my God. He just killed two people down there. Murdered both Sergio and Rocco.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want to be a witness to an actual crime. I bolted from my spot on the landing, letting the door close behind me as I raced for the castle. Fear clogged my throat. My only thought was to reach the relative safety of my room and lock the door. I would skip dinner and came down for food after everyone had gone to bed.

Or maybe I’d never leave my room again. The kitchen was dark when I entered, my feet moving quickly across the tiled floor. All of a sudden, arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me to a halt. I struggled, but the hands only tightened as I was pulled into a strong warm chest.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, piccola monella?” Ravazzani. Shit. Did he know I’d been listening? I licked my lips and tried to keep my voice even. “My room.”

He felt like a wall behind me. A tall muscular wall that had just murdered two people. I began trembling, emotions rioting inside me. He was brutal and beautiful, like those jungle cats on the nature channel I sometimes watched, and I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream and run away. But there was a darkness within me, too, some part of my soul that relished violence and power, and found it exciting. That shameful side was drawn to this man. I found him fascinating and sexy as fuck.