Her Mafia Daddy - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

The doors closed and Valentina jumped, a frightened little rabbit. I angled toward her slightly. "Do you know my favourite part of owning a castle?"
"No," she said, her voice breaking.
"Not even a guess?"
"The turrets?" Smirking, I got out and came around to her side. Once I pulled her from the car, I leaned down. "My favourite part of this castle is the dungeon." She gasped. My patience thin, I didn't give her a chance to run. Instead, I hauled her over my shoulder and started walking toward the back entrance that led below ground.
She instantly began thrashing, her legs kicking frantically. "Put me down! Stop, please." I ignored her and kept going.
"No, please. I can't go into a dungeon. Don't take me down there. Please, Signore Ravazzani."
Signore? That was new. But I was mad, beyond rational thought. We used the dungeon for business, though I preferred not to kill people on my land. It made too much of a mess. Valentina could stew in one of the dank cells for a few hours, then she might be more amenable to my hospitality.
By the time I threw open the heavy door, she was weeping. Good. Perhaps this would help her learn her place. "Please, signore. I can't... You cannot put me down here."
The soles of my shoes scratched against the old stone as I descended. Hopelessness rattled off the walls, while blood and despair hung in the air two familiar scents that never failed to please me. I had done terrible things in this place, and my son would do countless more. The legacy of the Ravazzani 'ndrina would continue here through fear and intimidation, through wrath and torture.
Grabbing a ring of keys off the peg by the door, I strode to the nearest cell. The iron bars were impossible to escape, though many had tried. Chains were embedded into the wall, but I didn't think those were necessary with her. Not yet, at least. I set her on her feet. Tears tracked her cheeks and her eyes were wild as she clutched at my jacket. "Please. Don't do this. I will literally freak out."
This generation. So damn dramatic. I shook her off and stepped back, my intention clear. A capo never changed an order once it was made. We never showed weakness or remorse. I would gain the upper hand with this woman and she would fall in line.
I stepped outside the cell and swung the heavy metal door shut before she could slip through it. When it closed, she shook her head, panic causing her to shake. She clutched the iron bars. "Please, signore Don't do this. I'll do whatever you want. I'll be good."
The words made my dick twitch as I imagined her on her knees being very good for me. Minchia! There had to be a special circle of Hell for a man who had impure thoughts about his son's fiancée.
With a furious twist of my wrist, I locked the door with the old key. Above ground, we may have gone high tech but mediaeval worked perfectly well down here. "Perhaps this will teach you who holds the power in this house, piccola monella."
She rattled the bars with a pained cry and for a brief moment I reconsidered, something which I almost never did. A capo cannot show weakness. My father had drilled this into my head for years, almost from birth. It was in our blood, our history.
After all, the word "'ndrina" was derived from the Greek, meaning "man who does not bend." Which meant there would be no mercy, not even for her. I spun and started for the exit. "Enjoy your stay."
Valentina's POV
I screamed until my throat ached, raw from the strain. It made no difference. The door remained closed, darkness all around me. I was locked in and no one was coming to save me. Oh God. I couldn't survive it.
My throat was dry and my lungs burned. This was my worst nightmare. Caged in below ground, where no one would find me. Was there even air down here? Chest burning, I fell to my knees. How long would it take to suffocate? A few hours?
I could feel hysteria edging out the plain old panic in my mind. The therapist I saw for my claustrophobia had said to breathe and to count to one hundred, that remaining calm was the key. I closed my eyes and began to count.
I tried to focus on the numbers, on the rate of my breathing, but the musty air reminded me of where I was, of who had imprisoned me. How
many men had died in these walls? Has Ravazzani killed anyone here? Of course he has, Tina . He is the capo of one of the most legendary mafia clans in Italy.
Were there ghosts in this dungeon? Oh, fuck. I curled my hands into my palms, nails digging deep into the flesh. It stung but I welcomed the pain because it reminded me that I was still alive. I wasn't dead yet. He would retrieve me eventually. I had to marry his son, after all.
Bitterness filled my mouth. By the time they let me out of here, my mind will probably have snapped. I'll be stark raving mad by then. I gave a hollow laugh. Maybe then he would send me back to Toronto, declare me too unfit to wed the precious Ravazzani heir Or maybe he would just kill me.