Becoming his Mistress: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  His words are a promise that I don’t believe. I want to believe them, but I don’t. Nodding, I shift my gaze to the floor, then bring it back to meet his.

  “Even if it means I’m not with him,” I breathe.

  He shrugs a shoulder, taking a step back. “Doubt he’ll allow that, but yeah, even if it means you aren’t with him.”

  Deciding I can’t have this conversation for another second, I make my way back to my bedroom. I need to shower and put on this ridiculously too short, too tight, too-much-of-everything, dress.

  Once I’m safely locked in my room, I inhale a deep breath, allowing my head to hit the back of the door with a thud. I don’t know if I can do this. I feel completely out of control.

  Pinching my eyes closed, I try not to imagine Arlo and I fail. Then I try not to imagine his wife, the beautiful, perfect brunette, and I fail again.

  I hate it.

  I hate that I picture them together.

  I hate that I’m jealous of her, that I miss him when I should hate him.

  Allowing myself to cry, my shoulders shake as I silently mourn the loss of this man that I only knew for mere weeks, yet fell harder for than any other man I’ve ever met. I don’t know when this pain is supposed to lessen, but I’m ready. It can happen any day now.

  ARLO

  Taking my place behind Gavino, I stand with my hands in front of me, clasped together, waiting for Tiziano to walk through the door. He already mentioned that he would have his father’s Consigliere in tow.

  Gavino is touching the screen of his phone, texting his woman who is waiting, under heavy guard, in the VIP area of the nightclub.

  “You didn’t bring your wife?” Gavino asks after a few moments of silence.

  I grunt. I haven’t seen the bitch in over a week and I’m glad for it. If I had, I would have strangled her myself. Benny sent me her phone and bank records this afternoon and swear to Christ, I almost drove over there and shot the zoccola myself.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You going to tell me what Benicio found or do I have to open the email he sent me?”

  I let out a sigh, then drop my head for a moment before I lift it and look into Gavino’s eyes. He’s turned his chair around and has his head tipped back so that he can look at me.

  “She hired one of her father’s men to destroy Sugar Cookies. She paid him in cash from a secret account that she shares with her father. She paid him another large sum of money just three days ago and I don’t know what the fuck that means. We haven’t been able to track the man down yet to stop him from whatever she put into motion.”

  “Why don’t you go to the source?” he asks.

  I shrug. “It’s not enough for the church, my parents or the famiglia to approve an annulment.”

  Gavino lifts his hand, running his fingers through his hair. His green eyes flash with anger. “You’re being a fucking pussy, Arlo. It’s starting to really piss me off. She betrayed you, that is enough in my book.”

  I shake my head. “I want everything with Lenora, Vino. I want what we should have had from day one and I can’t have that if the church doesn’t approve an annulment.”

  “Which you’re pushing for willful exclusion of marital fidelity?” Gavino asks. “Because if you wanted to dig for a valid annulment reason, I think Salvatore could find something in the gray area of the accepted reasons.”

  Salvatore, who has been silently sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, grunts. “Wouldn’t be hard,” he grumbles.

  “My parents, my mother…” I let my words trail off.

  Salvatore surprised me, by speaking up. “I understand, Arlo. It makes sense. Is there any proof you have, at all, that she’s been unfaithful?”

  I shake my head, lifting my hand to my hair and running my fingers through before I let my arm fall to my side. “Not yet,” I grind out.

  “I guarantee she’s giving this mystery guy more than a handful of cash. Find him, then you’ll find your evidence,” he suggests.

  There’s a knock on the door that interrupts our conversation and before the room fills with men, I let Salvatore’s words roll through my head one more time. Find him, then you’ll find your evidence.

  Tiziano waltzes into the room and sits down in the chair across from Gavino. His Consigliere sinks down in the sofa close to Salvatore, obviously content to let Tiz do all of the talking, for now.

  “Tiziano Bianchi,” Gavino greets, standing slightly and reaching across his desk to shake the other man’s hand.

  “Gavino,” he says with a hearty shake and smile.

  “Let’s get to business,” Gavino announces.

  No bullshit, no show, no pomp.

  This is why Gavino is a favored Boss.

  He’s no bullshit and you always know where you stand with him. With the older generation, you get a lot of rules, a lot of show and performances.

  That is the old Mafia.

  Gavino is bringing the new world to the forefront, and he has all the old men shaking in their Italian leather shoes, which they damn well fucking should.

  “Mia and Arlo told you what I desire?” he asks.

  Gavino nods. “They have, however, it’s not something we dabble with at this time, nor do we want the reputation of dealing with. The only reason I’m entertaining this is because of who you are,” he explains.

  Tiziano nods. “I assumed as much.”

  “That being said. I’m willing to do this for you, but I’m not exchanging money for this transaction.”

  “What will this cost me, Santoro?” Tiziano growls.

  Gavino, ever the cool and seemingly unaffected Boss only nods. “Nothing much, just the Bianchi territory under Zanetti control.”

  There’s a moment of silence, of complete fucking shock on Tiziano’s end. I don’t blame him, I would be in shock too had I not known that it was coming. Tiziano stares at Gavino, then I watch as the red climbs up his neck and engulfs his face.

  “You are asking too much, Santoro. You are too goddamn bold.”

  “I am a businessman, Bianchi. I have something that you desire. You have something that I desire, and money is not it.”

  “You killed Mauro Ricci, didn’t you? I mean I already know that it was you who took down Antonio Rossi. But Mauro, too? Now your man is in charge of the Ricci family. You want to take over the entire area, don’t you? All of it.”

  Gavino doesn’t speak right away. My eyes stay vigilant as I flick my gaze between him and his Consigliere who has stayed completely silent this entire time.

  “It doesn’t matter. What’s done, is done, yeah?”

  Tiziano lifts a brow, then leans back in the chair. “We both have something the other one wants. Being a Boss hasn’t really interested me much, but like you said, it is my family legacy. So, I want to know, aside from a woman, what else will your offer include.”

  “Trying to play hardball, Bianchi?” Gavino asks with a smile in his voice.

  “You know it.”

  Gavino lifts his hand, signaling for me to step away from behind him. I do, but not too far and never off alert. Walking to the side, I lean my back against the wall and continue to watch both of the men in the room who are not part of our team.

  “Okay, name your terms. I already know that you want a virgin for yourself, what else?”

  He lifts his brow, then grins. “I want to be in charge of the Bianchi famiglia still. I know, I know, you’ll be who I answer to. But I still want to take my position.”

  “That all?”

  “This comes with a paycheck I assume?”

  Gavino chuckles. “You get what you put in. There will be a percentage of your earnings that will be yours, and then a percentage that will be given to you to pass down to your crews and split up as you see fit.”

  Tiziano nods then turns his head toward his Consigliere and jerks his chin.

  “I think we can agree to those terms, as long as everything on paper adds up,” the Consigliere says.

 
; Gavino claps then stands to his feet. I watch as he reaches across the table, offering his hand toward the other man. Tiziano stands, taking Gavino’s extended palm and they shake.

  “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this shit,” Tiziano mutters beneath his breath.

  Gavino laughs. “It will be good, Bianchi, you’ll see. Your famiglia will thrive just as the Riccis have been.”

  “Which is the only reason I even agreed to this plan,” Tiziano states.

  “Shall we go have some fun, my wife is waiting for me in the VIP area, would you like me to procure some women for the evening?” Gavino asks.

  Tiziano chuckles. “I think I would.”

  “Once the Consiglieres have finalized everything, we’ll get some dossiers for you to choose your wife and continue with the process. Until then, you no longer have to pay for the services of the women here. I’ll tell Mia you have carte blanche until your wife is ready.”

  “Now you’re talking, Santoro,” Tiziano says as the two men make their way out of the door.

  I stay with the Consiglieres while they continue the meeting and go over finite details. Bianchi’s man is almost as good as Salvatore. Not quite, but almost. It’s a nice change of pace, listening to them volley back and forth on terms, instead of wallowing in my own fucking bullshit.

  “I’m going to head home and draw this up. I’ll have it to you by private courier tomorrow,” Salvatore announces as he holds out his palm for the other man to shake.

  “Yes, good, thank you, Sal.”

  The two men leave without saying a word to me. Deciding to tell Gavino that I’m heading out for the evening, I make my way to the VIP room. I’m halfway there when gold hair and something red catches my eye.

  Stopping in my tracks, I turn my head and my heart stops beating in its spot at the sight in front of me.

  It’s Lenora, and she’s pressed up against another man.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ELENORA

  The man behind me wraps his fingers around my hips and pulls me close against his chest. I bite my bottom lip, closing my eyes, and shamelessly imagine that it’s Arlo behind me.

  He touches his lips just below my ear, right at the back of my neck and I’m unable to fight the goosebumps that appear all over my skin.

  Music flows through us, it beats all around us, but I feel it inside of me with every thump of my heart. He doesn’t speak and I’m glad for it. Lifting my arm, I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck and exhale a shaky breath.

  The music continues, our hips move to the rhythm and our breathing turns into panting as we continue to dance.

  “Merda, Lenora,” he breathes. “Give him a show.”

  Slowly, my eyes flutter open in confusion. I don’t know what Massimo is talking about, but when my eyes open, my breath hitches.

  “Don’t fucking stop, bella. He needs to see you, needs to want you bad enough to stop being a fucking cunt,” he growls against my ear.

  Exhaling a trembling breath, my skin breaks out into goosebumps again, but that’s because Arlo is actually here, watching me. His gaze is angry, it’s full of so much fire that I can practically feel his heat touch my skin.

  “I can’t do this,” I whisper.

  Massimo makes a tsking sound. “You can, and you will,” he states as one of his hand slides from my hip to my belly, anchoring me to him. “He’s so fucking pissed off, do you see that?”

  “I do,” I exhale.

  “Show him what he’s missing by being a cunt, Lenora.”

  Tears fill my eyes from his words. I don’t want to show him anything. I want him to march over here and claim me for himself. He doesn’t. The song ends, he turns away, and I watch his back retreat from me.

  “I have to go,” I cry.

  “Lenora, don’t…” Massimo calls as he attempts to grasp my wrist.

  I don’t allow it. I push him off of me and I run to the women’s restroom. Slipping inside the bathroom, I make my way to the sink and grip the basin with my fingers. Dropping my head, I press my forehead against the glass.

  Someone walks in behind me, but I ignore them. Then, I feel two strong hands at my hips. Spinning around, my heart leaps before it shatters in a matter of seconds. My eyes meet ice blue ones, eyes that I’ve fallen in love with, eyes that have done nothing but lie, eyes that I haven’t seen in over a week.

  “Did you like his hands on you?” he spits, his anger palpable.

  Shaking my head, I lift my hand and instead of cupping his cheek like I intend, my palm slaps him across his stubbled cheek. I watch as his head moves to the side, then shifts back to look directly at me. He doesn’t look surprised by my move, not like I assuredly look while I stare into those eyes that I adore.

  “I deserve that,” he rasps.

  “And more.”

  “And so much more,” he murmurs. “Answer me, Lenora. Did you like his hands on you?”

  Tears fall down my cheeks without warning. I suck my trembling lips in, pressing them together. Shaking my head, I inhale a deep breath before letting it out.

  “Did you like fucking your wife?” I hiss.

  I know it’s a low blow, especially when I watch him wince as if I’ve hit him again.

  “Massimo was sent to you for protection, not to fuck you,” he snaps.

  Growling, I lift my arms between us, placing my palms on his chest and I push against him. He shakes his head, his entire body rock solid and I hate how I love how strong that he is.

  “Why, Carlo,” I whisper. “Why?”

  I hold my breath when he lifts one of his arms and his palm cups my cheek. His thumb traces my tear-stained cheek, his eyes following the move before he brings his gaze back to mine.

  “I fell for you, tesoro. That’s why.”

  “What about her?”

  He shakes his head, sadness washes over him. Sadness and if I’m not mistaken, regret. “I want to have a reasonable explanation, but I don’t. Just know that I’m doing what I can to rectify it all.”

  “What does that even mean?” I demand, almost desperately.

  He clears his throat, then I feel his lips brush my own swollen ones. “It means I’m going to be free for you, Lenora, soon. Until then, don’t promise yourself to another.”

  “Like you?” I snap.

  His lips turn up into a smirk. He dips his chin again, his hands wrapping around the hem of my dress and before I realize what’s happened, his lips are touching my own as his hands wrench up my skirt.

  Wrenching his mouth from mine, we’re both breathing heavily before he spins me around and tugs my hips back. “Grab the sink, tesoro, this is going to be fast and hard,” he warns.

  It’s my only warning. My fingers find the edge of the sink just as his cock fills me entirely. He buries himself deep inside of me with a moan. My gaze finds his in the reflection in the mirror and I whimper at the pain that I see radiating from his face, his eyes.

  “I will spend my entire life making this up to you, Elenora. I vow it.”

  He doesn’t say anything else. There is nothing left to say. He fucks me instead, showing me with every shift of his hips, every thrust, and every groan that echoes off of the bathroom walls what he feels for me.

  Maybe I’m the biggest fool on this earth, but I want him to spend forever making it up to me. I want to have that kind of time with him, because no matter how badly he’s hurt me, I still love him—all of him.

  My eyelids flutter closed as I come, my pussy clenches around him, trying to keep him inside, just like my stupid heart. A few thrusts later and I feel him bury himself deep inside of me as he groans with his own release.

  His lips touch the side of my neck, his tongue tasting me as my body trembles against his touch. We both jump when we hear a loud banging on the door.

  “I don’t want to leave here,” he rasps against my skin.

  Opening my eyes, I find his gaze in the reflection. He pulls me against his chest even tighter, his hips thrusting so that h
is half-mast cock surges deeper inside of me. His arm moves up my chest and wraps around my breasts, his fingers grasping one of them and holding me firmly.

  “Don’t,” I breathe.

  He shakes his head, his eyes focused on mine and nowhere else. “I am going to fix this. I am going to fix us, fix you,” he vows. “Do not run to another man, Lenora.”

  “Or what?” I spit.

  Anger bubbles just below my surface, ready to explode and fill the room around us. Arlo’s fingers flex against my breast and fire fills his recently sated blue eyes.

  “I’ll kill him, Lenora. I will kill whoever it is, slowly. Don’t fucking test me,” he warns.

  “You have no right, Carlo.”

  The fire leaves almost instantly, and it’s replaced with a sadness that I didn’t expect. He nods once, then when he speaks, I feel the fight leave my entire body.

  “I know that I don’t, tesoro. I have no right to ask you for a damn thing. But please, wait for me, swear to God I will make it all up to you.”

  I want to believe him. I want to believe every word that he’s saying to me. I want that more than anything else in my life. I want him to be the man that I thought he was, but he isn’t, he never was. I feel nothing but disappointment.

  Tears fill my eyes and I shake my head. What I say next takes every ounce of courage from deep inside of my body. He’s still inside of me, still surrounding me, filling me.

  “You’re right. You have no right to ask anything of me, you never did.”

  He takes a step back, the loss of his hands, his cock, and his warmth hits me in a wave of nausea as it rolls throughout my entire body.

  “I’ll fix it,” he repeats, his voice soft and if I’m not mistaken, almost broken sounding.

  “You can’t,” I breathe as I shimmy my skirt down and turn around to face him.

  He’s adjusting his pants, he looks perfectly put together in a matter of moments. He looks completely untouched, unfazed, and unfrazzled. I hate that he can put himself back together, that he can look so unaffected so quickly and easily.