Her Mafia Daddy (Book 1) novel Chapter 9

Valentina POV

Light filtered into the room, streaks of blinding sunshine that roused me from a fitful sleep. I could barely bring myself to open my eyes. All night I had tossed and turned, convinced the lock on my door would mean nothing to anyone who wanted to enter. Namely, someone with bright blue eyes and a nasty disposition who liked to kidnap and drug young women.

The only way I’d been able to relax was knowing Dimitri slept a few doors away. I rolled onto my back and studied the plaster ceiling. If I were going to find a way out of this, I couldn’t stay in bed or hide in this room. I had to get out and explore, look for weaknesses. Try to come up with a plan to escape. Even if Dimitri had resigned himself to this marriage, I certainly hadn’t.

Thankfully, the bathroom had been stocked with every toiletry I might possibly need, mostly high end Italian brands we couldn’t get in Canada. The closet and wardrobe were full of clothes, from yoga pants to designer dresses.

Even La Perla bras and panties, though I don’t know why they bothered with such sexy undergarments. No one here would see them. I rose and dressed for comfort, choosing jeans and a t-shirt. The jeans were a perfect fit, though the shirt was a bit tight across my breasts. I decided to leave it on. Maybe my boobs might distract some of the guards from my escape efforts.

After I was ready, I slipped into the corridor. The house was quiet. Dimitri ’s door was closed, but I remembered the way to the kitchen so I started downstairs. Hopefully Ravazzani slept late like his son. The smell of freshly baked bread made my mouth water. In the kitchen, I found Zia taking something out of the oven. She’d brought me tea last night and I instantly liked her.

An older woman with greyish-brown hair, she was Ravazzani’s father’s sister, and had lived in the castle ever since her husband and son were killed years ago. Unfortunately, she didn’t speak much English. “Hello,” I said as I walked in.

She smiled at me and held up the tray. “Ciao, bella. Caffé?” I sat on a stool at the island. “Sí. Thank you.”

Soon she set a cup of espresso in front of me along with a basket of croissant-like things. “Mangia, bella. Cornetti.”

I couldn’t resist a pastry, especially a warm pastry. I might be a prisoner, but I wasn’t dead. I was enjoying my third one when Dimitri came in, fully dressed and hair styled, looking like a movie star. He kissed Zia’s cheeks and then reached for a pastry. “Buongiorno, Tina . How did you sleep?”

“Like I’d been kidnapped from my home and brought to a foreign country.”

“Sounds about right,” he said with a half smile. “I’ll take you around the estate today. We can even sample some wine and grappa, if you’d like.”

“There are vineyards here?” Dimitri smiled at me. “Vineyards, olive groves, animals. Our soppressata is second to none. You’ll love it.”

“I’d rather go home.”

“Come on. You don’t want to stay inside all day.” True, plus a tour would help me learn the property. “Okay.”

Heels on the tile caught my attention. I looked over to see a tall brown haired woman stride into the kitchen like she belonged there. She was beautiful and thin, her tiny silver dress showing off a figure any model would kill for. The heels made her legs look even longer. Who in the hell Was she? “Good morning, Zia. Dimitri . I just wanted to take one of Zia’s pastries on my way out.”

Her accent wasn’t Italian, but I couldn’t place it. Eastern European, maybe? Zia gave the woman a tight smile, but Dimitri was slightly more welcoming. “Buongiorno, Katarzyna.”

The woman plucked a pastry out of the basket on the island then cocked her head at me. “You must be the fiancée.”

“I’m Tina .”

“I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then.” From the stove, Zia made a noise in her throat that sounded disapproving. Dimitri put down his espresso cup. “Our driver will take you anywhere you want to go, Katarzyna.”

“I’m aware, Dimitri . This isn’t my first time.” She rolled her eyes, though a smirk remained on her face. Strolling back the way she came, she

looked over her shoulder. “Thanks, Zia. Your pastries are the bomb.”

When the three of them were alone again, the silence was oppressive. Zia looked murderous and Dimitri appeared embarrassed. I couldn’t figure out why, but a sinking feeling in my stomach suggested I might. Zia crossed herself and muttered in Italian. Dimitri answered her but I didn’t understand any of it. “Who was that woman?” I asked.

Dimitri sighed. “Katarzyna is my father’s current mantenuta. Do you know what that means?”

“What did she say?” I asked, desperate to take my mind off his looks. He sipped his espresso and studied me over the rim. “She said it was

intentional, that my ugly face and surly disposition would have scared off any potential bride.”

Well, I agreed with half of that description. “Or your dungeon,” I couldn’t help but add. The mood in the room shifted instantly. Dimitri didn’t move, while Ravazzani pinned me with a cold stare that reminded me of a Toronto lake in the winter. I saw him flex his hand, which had a small bandage on it.

“Did you enjoy your short stay in the cell, monella? Because I would be happy to escort you there again, should you give me a reason.” The thought of returning to that small damp place sent waves of terror along my spine, and my skin grew cold and clammy. I stared at him with all the loathing I felt in my soul.

“Basta, Papà,” Dimitri said, telling his father that was enough. Ravazzani carried his cup and saucer out of the kitchen, departing without another word. “You mustn’t antagonise him like that,” Dimitri warned. “And definitely never in front of the men again.”

“I am not here to play nice. I am here under duress, and I want to go home.” Dimitri shook his head sadly. “We rarely get what we want in this life, Tina . It’s best you accept your fate now.”

Before I could ask him to explain, he held out his hand. “Let’s go outside and explore, eh?”

After I thanked Zia for breakfast, Dimitri and I went through the back door and into the morning sunshine. Somehow I would use today’s outing to my advantage and figure out how to escape this nightmare. The estate was nothing like I imagined.

Dimitri was charming and funny, escorting me around the property and introducing me to the workers. We saw the famous black pigs, rare and prized in Italy, and tasted the prosciutto and culatello made from them. There were sheep, cows and goats who were milked to make cheese.

Lemon, fig and chestnut trees dotted the hillside, but olive trees were predominant here. When Dimitri let me taste some of the Ravazzani olive oil, the number of olive trees suddenly made sense. The oil was better than any I’d had in Canada, even the kind we imported from Italy. I couldn’t stop asking questions of the employees, and Dimitri translated as necessary.

The workers seemed proud of their connection to the Ravazzani family, many continuing in the footsteps of previous generations who had worked here. I wanted to ask if they knew their employer was a kidnapper who drugged and spied on women, but I suspected Dimitri

wouldn’t translate it for me.