Mafia Lord Lover

Francesca

Toronto, Ontario

I MET the devil the morning after my eighteenth birthday.

Hungover and tired, I rolled over in bed, my toes brushing against his warm skin and frizzy body hair. A friend of mine had a graduation party last night at her pool, and my boyfriend, David, slept over. We usually stayed at his apartment, but I was too drunk last night and insisted on coming over.

It wasn't easy sneaking him into the house under the watchful eye of the cameras monitored by Dad's men, but I was a pro. I'd been fooling the guards and the cameras for years. The one thing the guards loved? Routine. Once you learned the routine, you could bypass it and do whatever you wanted.

Papà was the head of one of the seven 'Ndrangheta families in Toronto, a criminal network that stretched from Canada to South America and Italy. My father's business was dangerous, so my two sisters and I weren't raised as normal teenagers. Everywhere we went, we were followed by guards with guns tucked into their jackets—including to school. Our extracurricular activities were severely limited, our lives kept under close scrutiny.

And that was why I couldn't help but slip away occasionally.

I was the responsible one, the older sister who started taking care of my two younger sisters when our mother died. I deserved a break every now and then.

A knock sounded on my door. "Frankie. Are you awake?"

My father.

Sh*t. Panic filled me. The first night I dared to have my boyfriend sleep over, my dad was standing outside my door. This couldn't be good.

Hangover forgotten, I grabbed David's shoulders. "You have to get out of here," I muttered silently. "Like now."

David nodded and hurried to get dressed, while I handed him his clothes. I glanced at the door. "Papa, don't come in. I'm not dressed."

"You need to get up and look presentable," he said from the hallway. "We have guests."

Guests? It was only nine o'clock. "I'll need at least an hour," I said.

—"You have ten minutes."

I could hear the command in his voice. "Okay," I replied.

David zipped up his jeans and pulled on his T-shirt. I opened the window and looked down. My room was on the second floor, so it was high, but not a death-defying leap. "Hold on to the windowsill and you should be fine."

A rough hand slid under my bare *ss. "Maybe it's time I met your family, honey."

The thought almost made me laugh. My father would strangle David with his bare hands for daring to touch his precious daughter. "You have to go. Stay to the side of the house and out of sight. There's a path to the left that leads to a wall. The cameras won't see you there. Hurry."

He planted a hard kiss on my mouth, then crawled out the window. I watched as he slowly lowered himself, his biceps bulging with the effort. Before we graduated last month, he was one of the most popular kids in our class and captain of the hockey team. I was going to miss him when I left for college in August.

David landed on his feet and then gave me a wave. I blew him a kiss and closed the window, my mind already racing to Dad and the guests.

After a quick shower, I braided my wet hair and applied concealer under my eyes. After a slick of mascara, I donned a sleek dress that covered most of my body, just like my father preferred. Instead of flats, I wore heels. I was tall, but I liked the way I looked in heels. Like nothing could stop me. Intimidating. Fierce.

The house was quiet, my sisters still asleep. The sixteen-year-old twins, Emma and Gia, usually stayed up late, watching movies and chatting with their friends online. I would miss them when I went to college, but they didn't need me as much these days. They would be fine after I left.

My heels clicked on the marble floor as I approached my father's office. I rarely went in here, preferring not to know what Dad was really doing most of the time. Ignorance was bliss when it came to having a family member in the Mafia, let alone running it.

I knocked and waited until I heard my father's voice telling me to come in. He was sitting behind his desk, and the room was filled with men in suits. Some faces were familiar, like Uncle Reggie and my cousin, Dante, but the others were strangers—and they were all staring at me.

"Francesca, come in." My father stood up and buttoned his jacket.

Swallowing my nerves, I approached his desk. "Did you want to see me?"

"Yes. This is Faust Ravazzani."

A man unfolded from his chair, and my heart leaped into my throat. I had never seen such a handsome man before, one with such thick, wavy dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was slender, with a chiseled jaw and broad shoulders, and his suit fit him perfectly. He looked to be in his late thirties, and under any other circumstances, I would have guessed he was a former model or actor. No one looked and dressed like that unless they depended on their appearance for a living.

But this was no prima donna. Power rolled off his tense body in waves, as if he were in control of everything and everyone around him. The men accompanying him were clearly not his friends; they were guards. He was someone important, someone worth protecting.

And he looked... dangerous.

I nodded once. "Mr. Ravazzani."

His eyes wandered over my face and down my body, as if I were a horse he was thinking about.

buy. Tingles broke out along my skin wherever he looked, but I couldn't tell if it was from excitement or embarrassment. Even more confusing, my n*ppl*s hardened in my thin bra, which I hoped he wouldn't notice.

The smile on his face when he met my gaze told me he was aware of the state of my n*ppl*s.

"Are you eighteen?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth with an Italian accent, and my heart gave an ominous thud. Were these men from Toronto? I doubted it. No one in my father's service had such a thick accent. "Yes, sir."

He nodded once to my father. "She'll do."

Will it serve ? "Serve what purpose?" I asked.

My father gave me a quick glance before turning to Ravazzani.

"Excellent. Let's plan the wedding for next month."

Francesca

"Let's plan the wedding for next month."

"Marriage?" I screamed. No, no, no. I should go to college first. My mother made my father promise that all three of his daughters would be educated before marriage. I was counting on it. "What marriage?"

"Quiet, Francesca," my father snapped.

I looked at my cousin, hoping for answers, but Dante wouldn't meet my eyes. Which meant this was bad. Really bad. Normally, he relished my misery.

One of Ravazzani's men entered and leaned in to speak in his ear. The corner of Ravazzani's mouth quirked as he listened, then he waved the man away. Turning his attention to my father, he said, "No. The wedding will be at my house in Siderno, where Giulio lives. We leave tomorrow."

Giulio? And wait, Siderno? Like in Italy?

What the f*ck was going on?

The lines deepened on my father's forehead. "But me and my family? We have the right to..."

Stiffening, Ravazzani looked at my father, and the atmo