I struggled to get away, but my arms weakened and I was quickly forced to let go of the wall. I fell onto a hard, masculine chest, arms folding like bands of steel around me. "Get your hands off me. I'm not going with you."
He didn't move. "You're coming with me. Even if I have to drug you to do it."
I sighed. "Drug me? Is that what you Italians do to reluctant women?"
His lips found the edge of my ear. "I couldn't say. There are no reluctant women in my life, Francesca."
Was that...sexual?
My mind remained fuzzy, but my body must have been on board because it caught fire. I was close enough to smell him – lemon and mint and maybe green apple – and my nipples tightened. I closed my eyes, humiliated.
Why was I having this reaction, especially when this man wanted to kidnap me and force me to marry his son?
Using all my strength, I resisted against him. "Get off me, you idiot."
He gave a soft laugh. "Drugs, that's it."
I tried to move away to see his face. "No, please no..."
A sharp sting on the back of my neck was followed by a cold rush through my veins. "What was that? Are you serious?"
And the world went black.
**
The dream wouldn't fade. As I struggled to wake up, my brain felt like it was swimming in thick, sticky blood. Where was I?
I heard murmurs and a rumble beneath me. Was I in a car? My body felt heavy, and my limbs were like cement. I couldn't open my eyes.
Then I remembered. The wall, Ravazzani, the needle. Shit! He drugged me. What a idiot.
I focused on my breathing and forced the drugs out of my system. I needed to fight whatever was happening to me.
"Good. You're awake."
I would have jumped if I could move my limbs. He'd been watching me while I slept? Just my luck to be kidnapped by a lunatic and a murderer. Excellent.
I was on a mattress, the sheets crisp and cold beneath me.
"You... kidnapped me," I forced out. "And drugged me."
Large fingers pushed the hair away from my face. "I retrieved my son's bride by any means necessary. Consider it a warning to you."
A small shiver ran through me. None of this made sense. Ravazzani could choose any woman to marry his son, and most would probably go willingly. "Why me?"
"You don't know? You and your sisters are legendary. Your mother was very famous. Tales of her daughters have been spread all over the world."
I swallowed against my dry throat. My mother didn't want this for me, for any of her daughters. Have your own life, Frankie, and never give it up for any man.
Blinking, I finally opened my eyelids. Ravazzani's handsome face filled my vision, his lips twisted into a smug smile as if I were a joke. As if my resistance were just a laugh. I held his gaze firmly. "I will never marry your son."
The smile fell instantly. "Never is a long time, Francesca, and don't forget, you're at my mercy. You would be wise not to make an enemy of me."
The threat rolled so easily off his tongue, and I didn't doubt him for a second. But even if he tried to break me, tried to force me into a marriage I didn't want, I would never stop resisting. "What are you going to do, threaten to shoot me? Torture me?"
"That depends on you, my dear. Because if you refuse, I will consider the debt unsettled. I will be forced to retaliate against your family. Is that what you want?"
"You won't hurt my sisters."
A dark brown eyebrow raised. "No?"
We stared at each other, and I tried to see inside his head, to figure out if he was bluffing. I couldn't tell. The man was good at hiding his thoughts. But even if he promised not to hurt Emma and Gia, he might kill my father. "What does your wife think of you kidnapping a woman to marry your son?"
"My wife died many years ago."
A lump formed in my stomach. Had he killed her? Or was she killed by a rival family? The mafia was violent and cruel, and that's why my mother had tried to shield us from it. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.
Avoiding my gaze, he stood and straightened his cuffs. "It was a long time ago. Giulio is my only son, so he will have the best wife."
"And what if I don't marry him?"
"Don't make me answer that, Francesca." He walked to the door. "Two hours before we land. You should get some sleep."
He had much to learn about kidnapping if he thought I could sleep now. "I need a bathroom and my bag."
"That way," he pointed to a small door at the back of the room. "I'll have the hostess bring a tray. I'm sure you're hungry."
I wasn't about to thank him, so I repeated, "And my bag."
"You won't get your things back until I think you're cooperating."
I stared at him, trying to bore holes into his skin with my eyes. "There are people who will worry about me. I need some way for them to know I'm okay."
"You mean David?" He scoffed, sending a chilling wave of fear through me. "He's not worried, Francesca. You don't matter to him anymore."
“Did you... kill him?”
He had the audacity to look down his nose at me. "You watch too much American television."
At the door, he stopped and pinned me with a dark, frightening look that sent shivers down to my toes. There was no warmth, no sympathy in it. Just a man always used to getting what he wanted. "He's alive and well, for now, but you won't see him again."
I waited until he disappeared. I jumped out of bed and started searching. There had to be something in the room or the bathroom I could use to defend myself as soon as we landed. Dad had reluctantly allowed us to take self-defense classes, and the instructor had said many common objects could be used as weapons.
The bathroom yielded nothing. The medicine cabinet was empty, and the shower held only plastic bottles. I quickly used the facilities and washed my face, then found a tray waiting for me on the bed in the other room. I ate, knowing that a hunger strike would only weaken me, and I had to keep my strength up for when we landed. Unfortunately, the utensils were plastic, as was the wine glass and the water bottle.
I continued to search. The table held nothing but blank paper, while the nightstand had nothing but condoms. Extra-large, naturally. Disgusted, I slammed the drawer shut and then crouched to check under the bed.
Hidden in the carpet along the wall, I found it. A pen. I picked it up and put it in the pocket of my jeans.
As a weapon, it wasn't much, but I just had to wait for the right opportunity to use it.
FaustFour and a half years laterThe door handle rattled, followed by a thud. More rattling.When Marco started to rise from his chair, I raised my hand. “Wait,” I muttered and hid my smile.A few seconds later, my office door opened and the beautiful face of my two-year-old daughter, Noemi, appeared. She walked in like she was in charge. — Papa! Zio Marco! Mom says it's time to come.I pushed away from the table and patted my lap. — Polpetta! I've been waiting for you. Come, give me hugs and kisses.— Oh, me first! — Marco took my daughter before she couldreached the table and turned it around. She screamed in pleasure, her short blonde curls flying.When he pulled her to her feet, she smiled and staggered. - I am dizzy.I gave him a second to get his bearings. — Now can I have my hugs and kisses?She ran over and jumped on top of me, squirming in my lap. Naomi was aggressive and energetic, just like her brother. And your mother, now that I think about it.Noemi stayed on my thighs
FrancescaI was worried the whole time he was gone.When Fausto was ready to return, I walked back and forth in the entrance while Nestor leaned against the wall, watching me. He didn't leave my side during my husband's absence, except when I used the bathroom. I knew this was to keep me safe, but I preferred to have Faust's gaze on me.After scolding me for scratching the entrance tile, Zia dragged me into the kitchen to order chicken in lemon sauce and a portion of roasted eggplant. She had a tartufo for dessert, which reminded me of Giulio and our dinner when I was first in Siderno. I started to tear myself apart.Zia shook her head at me. - He is better. He's a good boy, but he never liked this life, not like he should to lead. Your child will take over when the time is right.That was a conversation for another day. There was no way I was deciding my son's fate like that. I didn't care what Fausto said—our children would make their own decisions.“It's the hormones,” I told her.
In fact, I couldn't wait to sit down again. But instead I took a walk around the large hall where the round table was set up. I shook hands, kissed cheeks, slapped backs, and acted like I hadn't almost been murdered three weeks ago. Someone gave me a Campari and soda, and I saw it was Marco. I sent him a grateful look and drank half the cocktail in one go.Inside the room were members of La Provincia , the control council. The only person missing was Enzo D'Agostino. It was smart of him not to show up, because I would have strangled him right away.Finally all the leaders sat down, with our men behind us. I was sandwiched between the dons of Reggio Calabria and Platì, both men I knew well.Pasquale Borghese was the capo crimine, also the diplomat and mediator of the group, which is why he initiated the meeting. — Signori, let's begin, as we are all anxious to return home. Some more than others.— Yes, the ones with girlfriends! — Someone shouted, making everyone laugh.Borghese raised
FrancescaI couldn't stop crying.Five of us were gathered in the lobby, surrounded by three suitcases. Fausto was standing, leaning on a cane, with Zia and Marco nearby. Giulio and I stood to the side, near the luggage, and his arms were around me as I sobbed into his probably very expensive shirt. There was nothing more to be said. I had pushed for this result, I hoped it would happen, but it hurt.Giulio was the most composed of all of us, which was understandable. After all, it was his decision to leave. Fausto gave him a choice and Giulio eagerly seized the opportunity. Now he would begin a new chapter in his life as an entirely different person. When he walked out this door, he was no longer the Ravazzani heir. Not a Ravazzani, actually.And I would never see him again.I hated it, but I understood the reasons why he couldn't live happily here. And really, that was better for Giulio, that was all that mattered.When he broke the news to me, I heard the excitement in his voice abo
I looked at my wife's beautiful face, letting the tranquility she instilled in me settle into my bones. Then I pointed to the phone. When it started ringing, Marco put it on speaker and placed it under the table.“There,” said a voice, weaker than usual, but stronger than it should have been.— Enzo, come stai ? How are you feeling?— I've never been better, Fausto. But enough about me. I heard you're not well.- I am fine. Stronger than a bull. It's a shame you can't stay longer.- Yes well. Thank you for your generous hospitality. I'll have to see how I can reciprocate.“There's no need for that,” I said. — It was truly my pleasure.— Maybe you can come visit me next time. His wife seemed to like the beach house.I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nostrils. My wife's delicate fingers touched my hand, telling me to stay calm, so I said, “Last I heard your beach house was destroyed.Everything can be rebuilt, don't worry. Congratulations on your wedding, by the way.—
FaustI was too weak for the dungeon steps, so I instructed Marco to bring Vic to my new hospital room upstairs. In the middle of the night, they dragged him and threw him onto a plastic sheet spread out on the floor next to my bed. He groaned and winced, his broken and bloody body shaking in pain.Go well. That pleased me.— Can you hear me, pezzo di shit ?When Vic didn't respond, Giulio kicked him in the ribs. Vic gasped a few times, and after he calmed down, I replied: — Answer me.— Yes... Don... Ravazzani.—Know this, Vic Benedetti. I will make an example of you. They will whisper about the horrors of his death for years to come. You will suffer, coglione . You will suffer for spitting in the face of my trust and for what happened to my wife. The wife and sisters you were trying to protect from D'Agostino? They receive nothing from me after their death, noreven my protection.“No, please,” he panted. - Please.— He put a gun in my wife's mouth. A weapon. In my wife's mouth! — I