Dirty Italian - A Mafia Romance - Macguire Jacee

Dirty Italian By Jacee Macguire

Copyright This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons – living or dead – is entirely coincidental. Dirty Italian © December 2015, Jacee Macguire Cover Image © Can Stock Photo Inc. /curaphotography All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner

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whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews.

Chapter One The harsh chemical scent of disinfectant stung Massimo Bianchi’s nose as he leaned against the dull white walls in the hospital corridor, a few feet away from the packed waiting room. Fatigue had long since settled across his thick, rigid muscles, with minutes turning into hours. He’d never been a fan of the waiting game, and knowing that his father was so close and fighting for his life set him on edge. Guilt coiled like a cobra, thick and unruly, ready to strike out. He’d been only a few feet away when it happened. He should have reacted faster. He should have known something was off, but he didn’t. And now he was wrestling with the fact that he’d failed to protect his father. Someone had dared to enact a hit on the Bianchi boss. Had they succeeded? Were they celebrating the blood they had spilled in a dim

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warehouse while he waited, waited to see if his father would survive. Massimo let the entire event play on repeat over and over, trying to wrap his head around it. The seemingly normal day, everything playing out just as it always had hundreds — thousands — of times before. His father, surrounded by his closest and most trusted men, with Massimo right beside him as they strode to their waiting car at the curb. And then… total chaos. The rapid gunfire and screams from women and the shouts of Bianchi soldiers as they attempted to cover their Boss. Red. That crimson hue that made men were used to seeing flowing freely from the one man they swore to protect. Massimo closed his eyes against the image of his father falling to the ground, crimson bubbling from his body. With a strangled grunt, he growled in frustration.

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Nobody had managed to see the gunman’s face or the getaway driver. They’d been careful. The car was one of those economy cars, cheap and basic in appearance. There was nothing to distinguish it from the hundreds of others like it in the city. He knew that whoever had planned the hit had put a shit-ton of thought into making sure they wouldn’t be found. But who? Sure, the Bianchi family had enemies, but presently there was peace among the families, and even with their rivals. At least he thought there was. Today he wasn’t so sure. Someone was making a move. A BIG fucking move. It just didn’t make any sense. Grunting at the realization that he had more questions than answers, he shifted his position yet again, clenching his jaw until his teeth ground together painfully. Bright patches of crimson stained the sleeves of his once stark white dress shirt. Blood didn’t bother him anymore — he’d

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seen his fair share of it flowing freely from the bodies of many men, some even by his own hands. But never his father’s. The sight was unsettling, even now, as he forced his eyes away from the still-moist stains, hating the way his shirt stuck to him, adhering to his flesh. How did this happen? Why? His head ached from the constant chatter of medical personnel hustling this way and that. The steady beeping of machines and squeaky carts only adding to the frustration crawling beneath his skin. Dario, his father and boss, had been brought in hours ago with a gunshot wound to the chest. The damage to his body and copious amounts of blood lost were enough that any man with a half-ass decent set of eyes could see that it didn’t look good. Hell, the chances of any man surviving a direct hit to the chest were slim, and more often than not, included a one-way express ticket to the pearly gates.

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Men in Cosa Nostra lived and died for the famiglia. It’s just the way it was. Was it a noble death? Sometimes. But sometimes it wasn’t. Shifting his weight once again, he eyed the double doors at the end of the hall. Twenty minutes ago, he’d damn near wrapped his hands around the neck of the nurse sitting at the nurse’s station when he demanded information. Was a fucking update on his father so fucking much to ask? He didn’t think so. Didn’t these damn people know who he was? Didn’t they know whom they were dealing with? The bitch at the desk didn’t seem to give two shits, though. She had looked him dead in the eyes with a no-nonsense attitude, venom tinging her raspy voice. With a loud grunt, the heifer in the too-small-for-her-ass white uniform growled that the doctor would

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be with us soon. She’d had the nerve to tell him to have a little patience, too. Massimo had swallowed his rage, shoved his fists into his pockets, and glared daggers at the woman. She didn’t back down. No, the nurse had thrust her shoulders back, as if challenging him to make a move. He hadn’t though. Too many witnesses. The bitch had some balls on her. She’d pressed her lips together in a tight line and thrust her balled up fists against her hips, proceeding to tell him just how things were going to be, never once showing a moment of fear or weakness. Few people would ever dare to go toe-totoe with a mafia prince, much less a Bianchi. With a growl that vibrated his chest, he frowned and walked away from the desk. Nurse one. Massimo zero. Whatever. Shifting his thoughts to the fucking doctor, he continued watching the damned door,

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waiting. The doctor wasn’t moving fast enough as far as Massimo was concerned. He couldn’t even look his mother in the eye, knowing he had no answers for her. His men — his father’s men —waited silently in their crisp black suits, somber expressions on their faces. They might be hardened criminals with numerous kills under each of their belts, but an attack on their leader or the loss of a close made man always took its toll. They weren’t an unfeeling lot. Not entirely, anyway. Massimo wasn’t used to being told no or put off when he demanded something, especially now when the men less than ten feet away looked to him as their temporary leader. He had nothing to offer them. Out of the corner of his tired blue eyes, he caught the movement of the double doors and a short woman in a long white coat heading in his direction. Pushing off the wall, he reached over and tapped his mother on

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the shoulder. He canted his head in the direction of the white coat. His mother’s eyes went wide as she stood, making her way to his side. He flinched at the sight of hope in her teary eyes. The look on the young doctor’s face told him there was no hope to have. It felt like a crushing blow to his solar plexus, stealing the small amount of air in his lungs. “I’m Dr. Rossi. You must be Mrs. Bianchi,” the woman said, her eyes trained on his mother. She nodded. “I’ve been in charge of your husband’s care, Mrs. Bianchi, since his arrival this afternoon.” Massimo could see the sadness in the young doctor’s eyes as she hesitated, her eyes darting away briefly before continuing to speak with his mother. “There’s no easy way to say this. We did everything we could. The gunshot Mr. Bianchi suffered was fatal. I’m very sorry for your

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loss.” The young red-haired doctor spoke in an even but soft tone as she spoke. Caring; beautiful even. But not once did the woman’s eyes meet his as she spoke those nearwhispered words. It had always been like that for Massimo. The pure, innocent women — untouched by the dark world of the mafia — always sensed the evil within men like him with a mere glance. He’d never once asked those women what it was they saw when they looked into his eyes, or at him in general, no matter how much he might have wanted to on numerous occasions. He was a monster and killer, filled with a darkness that was cold and merciless. What little bit of light was left inside him barely flickered to life these days. He wondered if it would ever just disappear from existence and stop giving him hope of something more. So far it hadn’t.

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Dario had once told him that love always found a way, no matter how much darkness was inside a man. He said that one day, that small almost unnoticeable light would flourish when touched by a woman strong enough to handle the darkness surrounding it. That woman would create a balance between the two worlds he straddled. His father had found it. But Massimo hadn’t, and wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. Seeing the hurt in his mother’s eyes now, the way her shoulders slumped in defeat and loss, wasn’t something he wanted for his woman. He could see the moment her light began to fade. It was heartbreaking. An all-consuming pain. All of his time and energy was wrapped snugly into the Bianchi family. It was lonely, but he didn’t have to worry about the pain his death would cause. ‘Our Thing,’ more commonly known to most people as Cosa Nostra, was just a way of life, a comfort of sorts that came with

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power, prestige, and money. Those were three things the Bianchi family enjoyed, but it was so much more than that. ‘Our Thing’ was everything to Massimo. Love had no place in a world like that. Love made shit dangerous. It made a man soft, as far as he was concerned. His father had raised him with the understanding of the rules a made man would always need to follow, preparing him for the day he would take his father’s seat at the head of the family. He both looked forward to that day and despised it with a passion. But he knew it would eventually come… and today was that day. Massimo stood stone-still, his throat prickling with unshed tears he would never let fall in public, as he watched his mother’s eyes fill with tears, her bottom lip trembling as the doctor’s words took root. Her husband was gone. His mother’s pained gasp broke what little bit of a heart he still had left. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her,

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holding her weakened body against his own. Massimo’s eyes darted to the young doctor still standing before them as he comforted his mother. His attention was split for a beat as he took in the beautiful woman with green eyes as enchanting as emerald jewels, her long flaming red hair flowing freely down her back like a wild and unruly inferno. Tendrils of that ginger fire framed her face as her eyes finally met his, sadness swirling in them as she too seemed to feel their pain and loss. But how could she? How could this fiery angel understand such a thing? Why would she care? Even as those questions slipped through his mind, he couldn’t take his eyes from the beauty before him. He shouldn’t be thinking about such things. Not now. It was wrong. But still, he saw clearly how enchanting she was, even in a simple but elegant way in her uniform and white coat. What the hell was

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wrong with him? His pulse raced, his heart thudded against his ribs, and he found himself wanting to reach out and touch the creamy smooth skin of her neck where her pulse jumped just beneath the surface as he gazed at her. But she wasn’t the type of woman that would ever understand a man like Massimo or the ways of his world. Someone as perfect and innocent could never — would never — accept him as he was. As he gave the woman one final look, he pushed the thoughts of her beauty and intrigue from his mind. He needed to think of nothing but his family. They needed him now more than ever, and he wouldn’t let them down. With his father’s passing, there was much to be taken care of, and his family needed him to remain strong. With a quick snap of his fingers, a man dressed in a black suit appeared almost out of nowhere at Massimo’s side, quickly easing

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his sobbing mother into a nearby chair in the crowded lobby behind him. Without offering a glance at the doctor, his eyes trained on the scuffed-up tile at his feet, Massimo finally spoke. “We... My family and I appreciate you doing all that you could to save my father.” “You’re... oh my god! You’re Massimo Bianchi, aren’t you? As in the...” Her hand lightly touched his forearm. Massimo wasn’t used to being touched, not like that. Not the soft gentle way she let her small hand rest against his arm. He had never liked being caught off-guard, either. In a matter of seconds, this fiery redhead had managed to do both. Few people would dare be so bold as to lay their hands on him, the ‘Principe of the mafia,’ but this woman — this woman had showed no fear. His head snapped up, his cold blue eyes meeting hers. With a smirk on his lips, he replied, “I am. Are you scared, piccolo rosso?” Little red.

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With a huff, the woman withdrew her hand, as if she’d been burned, a wicked little smirk forming on her pouty lips as she glared at Massimo. “Mio Dio. Why should I be? I think your bark is far worse than your bite.” Her smile drew his attention to her full pouty lips. Kissable and sexy. And a small part of him wanted to kiss those lips, nip at them until she begged him to stop… and then begged him for more. What was it with this woman? The look on the gorgeous doctor’s face said she feared nothing and wouldn’t be rattled by him. Was he losing his touch? Surely not. Was he wrong in assuming this woman was innocent? Maybe. She glared openly at him in challenge. Massimo didn’t respond. What the hell could he say to that, anyway? He was shocked and intrigued by this bold and gorgeous creature. He knew from the look on the young woman’s face, and the way her green eyes shifted between him and his crying mother, that

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she didn’t understand his lack of emotion. Not many would. Sure, he’d grown cold since his initiation ceremony at the age of sixteen, but he loved his father as much as he could, considering their lifestyle. Family had always been important to him. The woman’s eyes narrowed as they roamed over the crowd of men beyond his shoulder. This situation — being in a hospital surrounded by La Famiglia — was relatively normal for the Bianchi family. The death of Dario Massimo, however, was not. Losing a Boss meant things were going to shift, and that alone made many men restless. There was no time for him to grieve the loss. He would miss his father greatly, but work always came first, and no matter how closely tied work and family were, he had to keep his mind free of distractions like the young woman before him. Massimo had spent the better part of his life learning the ins and outs of the La Cosa

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Nostra from his father, Dario, and his most trusted men, waiting for the day he would be initiated and pledge the Omerta, a lifetime oath of silence. Now at the age of twenty-six, Massimo commanded authority as a Capo. He’d made his father proud, of that he was sure. His men looked up to him as they had his father before him. That would never change, or so he thought. Dario, unlike other bosses in the La Cosa Nostra, had remained loyal to his wife, Lorena, who had been his world. Unlike the other made men, Dario never took a goomah — a mistress. There was no need. Everything he needed to keep him happy and centered, balancing his two worlds, could be found at home with his wife and children. Their love had been the stability his father had needed to keep him grounded in their violent world. Not once had she raised hell about the dirty deeds that surrounded them… and in some cases, entered their

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home. No, she had remained silent and steadfast. She was the light in the dark world Dario lived in. She was a force that gave him strength when he felt weak. Lorena Bianchi was the perfect mafia wife and mother. A true queen in his father’s kingdom. Massimo wanted that same type of love if he ever decided to settle down… but that time wasn’t now. On the other hand, donne facili — easy women — were a dime a dozen, and far easier to come by than a perfect wife. There were always easy women willing to spread their legs or drop to their knees and suck a man’s cock for no other reason than being able to brag to their friends that they had lain down with a made man. These women weren’t the type to bring home to your mother, of course. It was a simple rule — never disrespect one’s mother by bringing a whore home. They had their place, though. Their purpose. Right now, donne facili offered Massimo everything he

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needed, with no strings attached. Never once had a donne facili made him want more than a quick fuck. They never would. As the beautiful young doctor turned on her heel and walked away, Massimo watched the sway of her hips, appreciating the curve of her plump little ass as she disappeared down the hallway. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned around, forced his shoulders back, and faced his heartbroken mother and his father’s men, his men now, he supposed. “Madre, I’ll take care of everything,” Massimo said, pulling his mother into a hug. “Stella will be home soon and she will help you at home.” “Il mio figlio — my son — I couldn’t make it through this without you and Stella.”

Chapter Two Massimo helped get his mother settled in her bed. The exhaustion of the day had caught up with her. The loss of her husband was taking its toll. As the wife of a mafia boss, she had weathered so much over the years. Death wasn’t new to her, or Massimo for that matter. It happened so regularly that only when it was a close relative did it pack a punch that broke you in ways you couldn’t imagine. “Get some rest, Ma. I’ll pick up Stella this evening and bring her home to you.” “Thank you, il mio figlio,” she whispered, her red swollen eyes falling closed as exhaustion finally caught up with her. Massimo pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned to leave. With the death of a boss, things could turn ugly really damn quickly. Even with a Bianchi heir in good standing with the

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family, it wasn’t always a done deal. There was always someone — or several someones — starving for more power, more money. Made men had always been a greedy bunch. This worried Massimo a great deal. Massimo looked at his mother’s resting form one last time, then turned off the light as he eased the bedroom door closed. As he strode down the hallway of his parents’ home, he took no time to glance at the family photos and reminisce. Instead, he strode through the house and into the large family room to the small bar. He grabbed a tumbler, filled it with bourbon, and turned up the glass, gulping down the amber liquid. Then he poured himself another. The first was to ease the pain of loss, the second for his father’s memory. “To you, Father,” Massimo mumbled in a somber voice, raising his glass to the sky, then bringing it to his lips, tilting the tumbler, and taking a hearty gulp.

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He took a seat on the sofa, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back. A knock at the front door sounded, stealing the silence he so desperately ached for. With a huff, he abandoned his glass of bourbon on the coffee table and made his way to the front door. Through the frosted glass, he could make out several large silhouettes. Great. Gripping the doorknob in his fist, he opened the door. All he wanted was a few minutes, or a few hours, alone to think. He needed to get his head in the game. The loss of Dario was beginning to hit home. He hadn’t cried, and he wouldn’t, but having to sit and talk was not something he wanted to do right now. “Ah, we had hoped to catch you here Massimo,” Bruno said. “Come on in,” Massimo replied, waving the men inside.

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Bruno Ricci was accompanied by three other high ranking made men in the Bianchi family. As children, Dario and Bruno were thick as thieves. Dario’s trust in Bruno had made him an easy choice as his father’s consigliere. There was no better person to be an adviser. His legal expertise had saved their asses more times than he could count. The man was like a second father in a lot of ways. Trust and loyalty between the two were never questioned. They always had each other’s back when shit hit the fan. That was the way it should always be. Always. Giovanni Bianchi, Sal, and Antony were different. Giovanni had always had his eye on Dario’s spot. That wasn’t odd, but allowing others to see it was disrespectful and frowned upon in their circle. The only thing that saved his ass was his ability to never quite cross the line. No, he’d just tiptoe right to the edge of the fucker and piss everyone

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off. He was a cutthroat bastard if ever there was one. It didn’t matter that he was family really, although Dario allowed him more room to fuck up than anyone else. Massimo always thought his father was giving Giovanni enough room to hang himself, and given enough time, he would do just that. So far, he hadn’t. Sal and Antony were Capos, like Massimo. The three men were deadly as all hell. And all three were handsome, able to charm the panties off the ladies with little effort. Their jet black hair and their bronzed skin tone were absolutely sexy. But that’s where the similarities stopped. The men gathered in the family room, where Massimo offered them all drinks from the small bar. Once they were all served and settled around the room, Bruno began to speak. “Massimo, there isn’t a good time to do this, but given your father’s passing, we need

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to get a jump on things before trouble comes our way. Capire?” “Yes, sir. I figured this discussion was coming. Who do you have in mind for a replacement?” He took a sip of his bourbon, savoring the taste before the conversation got out of hand. It likely would get a bit crazy, given the open seat that needed to be filled. He was certain there would be a fight for it, no matter what. Some would argue he was too young to lead. Others would just want the power for themselves. “Given your father’s age, we — your father and I — along with Giovanni, had discussed what should happen if something were to happen to him. It was your father’s wish that you take his seat and we all agree… but your father, being the man he was, had specific requests.” Bruno chuckled. Massimo nearly choked on his drink at Bruno’s words. If he were to take his father’s seat as boss of the Bianchi family, he would

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be the youngest boss in the history of the family. Typically, men holding that position were at least thirty-years-old when they took control of a family, so this was rare. Massimo glanced around the room at the men before him. He wasn’t sure what he thought he would see, but he only saw loyalty and honesty among them. Nothing in the way they looked at him said they didn’t agree with Bruno’s words. “I… I’m only twenty-six. Is that what he really wanted?” He’d never speak the words out loud but Giovanni Bianchi had always chapped his ass. The man had almost zero fucking respect for other men, especially those ranking above him. Men like Gio didn’t understand the heart of ‘Our Thing,’ and Massimo figured that was their problem. It explained why they had a desire to take, instead of earn, the things they desired. Even the rules didn’t fucking matter. Massimo’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together as he

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let his mind have free reign with his true feelings about Gio. He didn’t trust the prick. Never would, either. He wasn’t afraid of the bastard, but he’d damn sure keep an eye on him until his thoughts on the matter were proven wrong. “It is, my boy. We spoke at great lengths about it and you’re ready. You’ve been ready for some time now. More than ready to be sure. As Dario’s sole heir, it is your seat to take.” Nodding, Massimo downed his bourbon and rolled the glass between his palms. “What’s the catch? I know my old man better than most, and there is always a catch. ‘Nothing is free and nothing is given. It must always be earned,’ I believe he always said.” Everyone had a laugh at that. Dario was known for tossing in a little something extra with the benefit of the family in mind. Always for the family.

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“The details will be laid out in his will. So we’ll know more in the next few days, Friday, I believe. I don’t expect it to be anything terrible, my boy. He always intended for you to take over when he stepped down. It’s time for you to lead, Massimo.” “I guess it is. In the meantime, who will take care of business before the will is read?” “Everything will continue as usual. All is quiet on the streets and we haven’t had any problems lately with the other families. If something comes up, then we’ll all chat again about what to do.” “Sounds good.” “Massimo, you’ll do fine,” Giovanni said, his voice as harsh and cold as ever. “Dario prepared you from the time you were a young boy, following him around like a young pup. You’ve seen it all… and then some.” “Right. I guess we’ll see what Dario has in store for me soon enough. Bruno, let me

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know when the reading will be. Dario’s funeral arrangements were planned in advance, so make whatever calls are necessary, if you would please.” “Sure. I’ll keep you informed. When is Stella to arrive?” “Tonight. She’ll be staying here with mom.” Massimo noticed the way Antony’s head snapped to him at the mention of Stella’s name. He’d always had a crush on her, but out of respect, he’d kept his distance, hoping that one day they could be together. Everyone knew the chances of that happening were very slim, as the daughters of bosses were often times married off to other families to strengthen alliances. Now that didn’t mean that was the plan, but it was possible, and she was still too young. However, seeing the way Antony’s face lit up like the fourth of July at the mere mention of Stella proved

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that her leaving for school hadn’t changed his feelings for her in the slightest. The group of men said their goodbyes, offered their condolences again, and left. Massimo plopped down on the couch and let out a sigh. He knew his father had been grooming him to lead, but he never expected it to happen so soon. At only twenty-six, he’d be leading a rather large group of men, as well as caring for his mother and younger sister. It was a shit-ton of responsibility he wasn’t use to, but he’d manage. He always managed.

Chapter Three Massimo parked his Mercedes and got out of the car, flicking his key ring around his fingers as he made his way inside the damp warehouse. As Capo, he had several dozen men to lead on a daily basis, all of which played a major role in how well their day-today business dealings ran in his territory. When one stepped out of line, they had to be dealt with. Letting things like that slide showed weakness, and there was no room for that shit. Signs of weakness led to bloody wars between families wanting to expand their territories, and that couldn’t be allowed. Inside the warehouse, a dozen of his men meandered around the dimly-lit room at the back of the warehouse, an old office from the looks of things. In the center of the room was a metal table, and on it lay a man strapped down. The closer he got to the

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table, the putrid smell of sweat, piss, and fear saturated the air. As Massimo eased through the room, a chorus of welcomes met his ears. With a nod, he strode up to the table, knowing who laid there waiting. Vinny. Vinny was a low-level soldier that should have never been welcomed into the family. His father was a drunk and his mother a whore. Sure, he tried to make his way up the ranks, but the shitty upbringing he’d had only caused him to fuck up things. His father’s addiction to booze left Vinny in a tight spot most every month. It was a sad case, but little could be done about that. He’d been given a chance to change his life, but he just didn’t seem to catch on. Massimo knew that Vinny would continue to screw up again and again, no matter how many warnings he received. His chances had finally run out. It was time to pay the piper.

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“Vinny, what did I tell you would happen the next time you skimmed money?” “Capo, I… I’ll pay it back. I always do. Please.” As sad as it was, Massimo had no choice in what came next. Rules were rules. La Cosa Nostra was built on rules and oaths men didn’t dare break. Vinny had broken those rules. You never bite the hand that feeds you. Stealing from the Bianchi family, or any mafia family, was a death wish. Too many times, his actions had been overlooked because of his family issues. Dario had felt sorry for Vinny and gave the poor kid a break, but no more. Vinny had reached the end of the line. The bridge of chance had been burned to fuck. “Vinny,” Massimo grumbled as he looked the man in the eye, “we’ve given you so many chances to prove you could straighten your shit up, but you never do. It’s time to

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clean my house, Vinny. Your time is up, my friend.” Massimo stepped back from the table and gave a nod to one of his men. “Make it quick. He’s just a kid, after all. When you’re finished here, clean up and head out.” Screams of pain chased him across the room. Massimo headed for the door, never once looking back or acknowledging his men. The warehouse door slammed shut behind him as he breathed in the night air. He climbed inside his car, checked the time, and headed for the airport to pick up his sister. The drive to the airport was filled with the silence and peace Massimo had needed all day. After leaving the hospital, and later finding out his father’s plans for him, he hadn’t had a minute of peace to let it all sink in. Now he finally did. Soon he’d be the Boss, leading the entire Bianchi family. That was a huge undertaking, and as much as he had learned over the

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years, he wasn’t completely sure he was ready. Being the Boss meant a lot of different things. Massimo knew that some men would follow him without question, as they had his father. Others would want to question his ability to lead. But that wasn’t all. There were still the other families, Bianchi allies, and of course, their rivals, too, that could likely stir up shit. Being the Boss meant you had to always watch your back, because there would always be someone in the shadows waiting to take you out. Massimo flipped his turn signal and headed for the airport pickup terminal. His little sister, Stella, had been away at college for the last year. Having graduated high school a year early, she was well on her way. With her first year of college almost behind her, she was growing into quite a lovely young woman. Massimo was as proud of her accomplishments as their parents. The news of their father’s shooting and death had hit

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her hard. She had always been daddy’s little girl, his principessa, and by the time she turned eighteen, that hadn’t changed. Pulling into the airport parking lot, he killed the engine and lit a cigarette. The smoke whirled in the air around him as he watched the time on the car dashboard slowly pass by. Stella’s flight should be landing soon. As he sat alone in the car, his mind wandered to the past, when he followed his father around, eager to be just like him in every way. The night he had become a made man, his father had never been more proud. Finally his father saw him as more than a son. He saw him as his Principe. He’d finally become a Bianchi prince worthy of leadership. That night had been strange from the very start. For weeks, he’d been tested in various ways, and finally he received a call with instructions to follow to the letter. He had done so without question.

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When he’d arrived at the specified location, an old restaurant, he was patted down. Minutes later, he found himself in a room of made men and the heads of several prominent Italian mafia families in nothing but his damned birthday suit. For hours, they had asked Massimo question after question. No matter how exhausted he was, it continued on, with him doing his best to give them what they wanted. In the end, he had survived, eventually rising within the ranks to Capo. And now he was to become the Boss. He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe how much his life had changed over the past ten years, and more changes were coming. With Bruno’s vague explanation of what his father had planned, he was left with what he could only describe as worry. Worry for the unknown. His father was a sneaky bastard that loved surprises, and they weren’t always great ones.

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With a quick glance at the time, Massimo let out a breath and exited the car. His sister should have already arrived by now. He hustled across the drive and headed straight for the baggage claim. Stella let out a yelp when she saw Massimo approach, her thick black hair cascading down her back in waves, as beautiful as ever. In a year, she had grown into a gorgeous young woman, and he knew at the sight of her, he’d have to beat the guys off with a stick to keep her honest and pure. “Massimo!” she shouted, throwing herself into his open arms. “Ciao, little sister. You look good.” “Thanks. How’s Mom doing?” “She’s exhausted, but doing as well as can be expected. She’s excited to see you.” “I’ve missed you all so much,” Stella said. “I can’t believe that Father is gone. It just doesn’t seem real.”

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“I know.” He hugged his little sister again. “We’ve missed you.” An hour or so later, Massimo and Stella arrived at the Bianchi estate in New York. Hell’s Kitchen had always been a thriving Italian community, and as far as the Cosa Nostra was concerned, it always fucking would be. The Bianchi family, along with two other Italian families — the Mancini’s and the Moretti’s — worked together to keep their neighborhood thriving and safe. As an entire unit, they held strong against the Russian mafia in Brighton Beach, which was growing and widening their territory more and more each year. Massimo watched as Stella and his mom embraced one another. The sight brought him back to the reality that was his life. Cutting his eyes away from the pair of women, he glanced around the living room that had, earlier that afternoon, been the location of a major turning point in his life. It wouldn’t be

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the only one, of that he was certain. There were to be many more of those in the days to come. How he would handle those changes was another question entirely. He wasn’t his father. Sure, they were the same in so many ways, cut from the same cloth and raised to bear the burden of ruling La Famiglia. He had been taught to follow the rules set by men that had come before him, before his father even, and those rules would never change. They were the foundation of their life. The structure that raised their family above all others, giving them power, among other things. Most of all, they were rules he valued above all else. There was an order to things. Our thing. Massimo was proud to be a part of it all, to be at the heart of something so grand, to be surrounded by family and undying loyalty.

Chapter Four Adelaisa Rossi’s sixteen-hour shift had finally come to an end. Her feet were aching something awful. She rolled her shoulders, shifting her head from side to side, the tiny bones cracking with the movement, providing a small amount of relief to the tension in her neck. No matter how many years she had walked the halls of hospitals in her residency, she still felt the ache after a long shift. It had been a long damn day. Coming face to face with the prince of the Bianchi family had caught her off-guard. She found herself forcibly pushing thoughts of the handsome man out of her mind, because no matter how gorgeous he was, he was too much for her in so many ways. She’d heard stories of his bad boy ways and the countless women he had bedded. A real man-whore, that one. As curious as she had always been about the stories, wondering if

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there was any truth to them, she realized she would never know. He was one man that it was best to have nothing to do with... ever. Gathering her belongings from her locker, she eased her white coat off, placing it on the waiting hanger before slamming the door shut and fastening her lock. With a flick of her wrist, she engaged the lock and turned for the door to leave. Hoisting her hefty bag over her shoulder, she flung the door open, stepping into the hall. A large warm hand encircled her wrist, giving her a start until she focused her tired eyes on the man’s face. Her father. Few things agitated Adelaisa more than her father’s inability to understand her need to have her own life, separate from La Famiglia. He just didn’t get it. They had had an agreement that if she returned home, he would keep away from her job and let her be. She should have known that wouldn’t last. Already, the mafia

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had appeared before her twice in the same twenty-four hour period. A cold reminder that she would never fully escape the life her father had bestowed upon her at birth. It was inescapable. A prison of sorts that could protect you… or kill you if you weren’t careful. The Bianchis had a reason to enter her safe little world, though. Nero Rossi did not; well… not one she would be willing to accept. He’d flat out lied to her, and that was unforgivable in her eyes. Heat prickled her chest, rising up her neck to settle on the soft creamy skin of her cheeks. She’d argue with him if she thought it would do any good, but she knew it would be a waste of her time and effort. It always had been. Nero Rossi was old school in every way, but coming to her place of work was crossing a major line for her. As a first-year physician needing to prove herself worthy of her position, she didn’t want — or need — her employer’s fear of La Cosa Nostra to affect her

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employment in any way. And she damn sure didn’t want them to connect her to her family. Nothing good would come of it. Few women benefited from being connected. Once everyone knew she was a principessa of the Rossi boss, her life would no longer be hers. “I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want la famiglia to show up here,” she growled at her father, the smile on his lips making her fume with anger even more. Bastard. “Sorry, Principessa. This couldn’t be avoided. I had every intention of keeping my promise to you… but something has happened and I had no choice but to come.” Nero’s smile grew as his daughter finally looked him in the eye. Adelaisa curbed her desire to slap the damn smile off his face. As angry as she was, she could never bring herself to actually raise a hand to her father. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” She crossed her arms over her breasts. She

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already knew the answer to her question. She could see it in his face, that damned smile that spoke of him getting what he wanted. But what did it have to do with her? Why the hell was he here? What worried her most was how she fit into whatever it was lighting up his eyes like a kid being given the keys to a candy store. It definitely wasn’t going to be good news, of that she was certain. “Probably not,” he replied. “I’ll drive you home.” The smile dropped from his lips, instantly morphing into a thin line as they began the trek down the hospital corridor. Great. Perfect. “I have my own car. Remember?” Her irritation with her father continued to grow with each line he crossed and word he spoke, even those words he held back. Her independence was important to her. For the last eight years, she had learned to live on her own without having to answer to anyone.

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She’d loved it, and after moving back to Hell’s Kitchen a month ago, she had realized that it was slipping away little by little, mostly by her father’s doing. “Just give me your damn keys and ride with me,” he said, gruffly. “Make an old man happy.” “Fine.” Adelaisa handed over her keys with a shake of her head. Nero had always known how to get her under his thumb. Pulling the dear old dad card had always worked on her. It was best just to give in and let him have his way… for now. As they reached the hospital exit, two men in suits — her father’s bodyguards — approached, each falling in step with them as they stepped into the blinding morning light. Her father handed her keys to one of the men, giving him a few quick instructions. The man bounded off into the parking lot for her car without a word.

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They drove in silence, all the while Adelaisa’s mind running wild. It was always this way after a shift. It sometimes took hours for her mind to catch up with her tired body so she could finally get some muchneeded rest. Soon she would succumb to her exhaustion and get the rest needed to rejuvenate and ready herself for another round of caring for her patients. She closed her eyes, enjoying the steady hum of the car as it traveled along the bustling streets. The scent of peppermint and cigars filled the car, relaxing her as it usually did. Nero had always had a particular fondness for the mint candy. Inhaling deeply, Adelaisa let her father’s scent fill her nostrils and memories of her childhood fill her mind, sitting on her father’s lap as he read stories about princesses and their knights in shining armor coming to save the day. A small smile fluttered over her lips before she could stop it.

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Sometime later, she awoke to the gentle prodding of her father as he scooped her out of the backseat of the car. Feeling safe in her father’s arms, she let her heavy lids fall closed again as he carried her inside the family home. Later, Adelaisa awoke with a start, the sound of raised voices meeting her ears. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sat up, taking in the plush bed and lack of her personal belongings. Memories of the morning and her father’s broken promises cut through her tired mind. She slid out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. Still wearing her work clothes, she padded down the hallway, taking the stairs to the ground floor slowly. Sounds of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen, along with the irritated and foreign sound of her mother’s voice, as did the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday.

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Stepping into the kitchen, the conversation between her mother and father stopped instantly. “Ciao, Adelaisa. How did you sleep?” her mother asked, a sharp edge to her voice. It wasn’t directed at her, but it was there. The small woman, ever the perfect wife and mother, was always calm. This morning, or near afternoon, she was barely containing her anger. Adelaisa could see it boiling in her eyes as she glared at Nero. This was definitely new. Never had she seen her parents mad at one another. Their love had always been pure and unaffected by the mafia life, but today she saw a crack in that perfection. Why? What would cause her sweet mother to act in such a way? “I’m still exhausted, but I slept just fine.” Looking from her mother, Evelina, to a silent Nero, she cleared her throat. Before she knew what was happening, the words fell

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from her lips. “What is going on with you two?” Evelina shifted on her feet, busying herself with making lunch. Adelaisa watched as her mother’s mouth opened, then snapped closed as her father gave a warning that sent a chill down her spine. “Evelina! Don’t,” Nero snapped angrily, his deep voice echoing off the walls of the kitchen. “You know this has to happen. It’s been years in the making, and it must be done per the agreement.” “I know, Nero,” Evelina huffed in frustrated anger at her husband. “But I don’t have to like it.” Her sad eyes, filled with so much emotion, looked upon her only daughter as she blinked back tears. Unable to hold in all her sadness, a single tear trailed down her cheek as she turned away. Adelaisa’s heart stuttered in her chest. Only one thing could anger her mother that much, and she knew what that was.

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Marriage. And not just any marriage. A mafia marriage. A marriage based on business and power, with love nowhere in sight. Inside, Adelaisa was screaming at the thought of having to marry someone she hadn’t chosen for herself. Choice had always been important to her. That was one of the reasons she wanted so much to leave Hell’s Kitchen and experience the world and get an education. And she’d done that. She’d found herself and a job that she loved. Now... now she was worried that she would lose it all because of her father. It wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference who the man was, she wasn’t interested in being a bartering tool for her father and La Cosa Nostra. She wanted to fall in love with a man of her choosing, marry him, and live a happy life with children. “Mio Dio,” Adelaisa growled, turning on her father. She fisted her small hands to hide the trembling. Her fingernails cut into her palms brutally, but the discomfort helped to

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settle the need to lash out at her father. “You can’t do this to me.” “Calm yourself, Adelaisa. You are a Principessa. Act like it,” he said coolly, pointing to the table across the room. “Now have a seat and we will discuss this like adults.” Evelina’s shoulders slumped, obviously feeling her daughter’s agony over the situation she faced. Women had little choice in matters like this, and love very rarely played a part in it. In some cases, love was born from these marriages but Adelaisa didn’t dare lie to herself about the possibilities of that happening for her. For the next hour, Adelaisa sat across from her father, pushing down her anger and letting him speak of his plans for her life. His plans, not hers. Arranged marriages weren’t a new thing among the Italian mafia. For eons, this is the way it had been. Young women were handed over to a man of their father’s choosing, often to better the standing of

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one or both families. Men had all the power, leaving the women to follow along beside them as mere cattle. Adelaisa was not fond of this treatment. In fact, it pissed her off. “And just who are you selling me off to like a common piece of property?” Adelaisa gripped the edge of the table so hard, her knuckles ached from the pressure. “I’ve seen my childhood friends given away to men that leave them at home, preferring their goomahs. You know I don’t want that… but I see you care little for my feelings.” “Massimo Bianchi. He’s to be the new Boss...” The air whooshed from Adelaisa’s lungs in a rush, leaving her damn near gasping for breath. Massimo freaking Bianchi. Oh shit. Glaring daggers at her father, she slammed her palms down on the table, pushed from her seat, and did the one thing she never thought she would be capable of.

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Standing before her father, she pointed a finger in his face, the tip of her manicured nail grazing his nose, and let her feelings on the matter run wild. “You can’t be serious. Everyone knows that man is a walking asshole that sticks his cock in anything willing to spread its legs. You... you expect me to marry that piece of shit? Go to hell, Nero. I won’t fucking do it.” “You can and you will,” her father replied, seemingly undisturbed by her outburst. “We all have a part to play, Adelaisa. This is yours. You will marry Massimo Bianchi. You will take your place at his side… and you will be proud of it.” She didn’t miss the shocked gasp from her mother’s lips as she slammed the kitchen door, headed for the guest house. Pure adrenaline flooded her veins as she marched angrily across the manicured yard to her silent, calm oasis.

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Once Adelaisa was alone, she threw herself across her bed and let the tears fall unbidden. When her eighteenth birthday came and went and marriage was never brought up, she was sure her father was giving her the chance to have whatever she wanted. Obviously, she had been terribly mistaken in that thought. She was no different than all the other girls being married off to men they didn’t know or barely knew. Now she was to be handed off to a manwhore. Not just any manwhore, either, but Massimo Bianchi, the king of manwhores. Sure, he was a beautiful man, with a gorgeous body that rivaled the warriors of old. Standing at over six feet tall, the man was wrapped in taut, rippling muscles and beautiful tanned skin made for nipping and licking. His full sensual lips were made for kissing. And those smoldering blue eyes that spoke of intoxicating lust and dark

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deliciously naughty things could drive any woman wild with want. Yeah, Massimo Bianchi was a dangerous man. Probably the most dangerous in all of Hell’s Kitchen. As much as Adelaisa hated the idea of marrying him, she couldn’t refute that she was attracted to the man. Even his cold demeanor set her loins on fire. No matter how much her body was screaming hell yes to the idea of being married to such a man, her mind and heart were swept up in a tidal wave of emotions. Even if she could quite possibly stomach perusing his body each day, she wasn’t entirely sure that the dangerous side that killed people would ever be alright in her eyes. “Stop it,” she mumbled to herself, hating how just thinking of the man made her feel like she was losing control of herself. Suddenly, she lurched up from the bed, shocking herself with her latest thought. When he saw

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her at the hospital, had he known she was promised to him years ago? Adelaisa dried her eyes and took a deep, settling breath. There was no way out of an arranged marriage and everyone knew that. She’d do her duty to the Rossi family and make the best of it. A sourness bloomed in her stomach at the thought of sharing a bed with Massimo Bianchi. How many women had come before her? How many more would he bed after they were married? Just thinking about the answer to that question had bile rising up her throat. She’d tolerate him. But she would never love the man. Never.

Chapter Five Massimo stood in the corner of the room, watching the crowd of mourners linger about, chatting about lord only knows what. He’d always preferred to watch people closely, getting a feel for them by way of their body language and facial expressions. Today, though, he was having difficulty reading anyone. Talking to people was even more problematic. When he felt overwhelmed by things before, he had always talked to his father. He felt lost now since that possibility was lost. Deciding to disappear to his father’s office for a little peace and quiet instead of people watching, he slowly moved towards the hallway, but he didn’t make it very far. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Bruno pushing through the crowded room, headed right for him.

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“It was a nice service, Massimo,” Bruno said, gripping his shoulder. “Dario was a great man. He’ll be missed.” “He was, and he will be Bruno. The will reading is today, right?” “Yes. As soon as we are finished here, we’ll meet in your father’s office.” Massimo nodded, his mind all over the place. Business was moving along as usual. Since the drive-by that ended his father’s life, no other attacks had been made, and still there was no word on the streets as to who was responsible for the hit. Massimo wanted to know who and why. He could practically taste the revenge on his tongue. “Has there been any word on the street?” Massimo asked, scanning the crowd, studying faces to see who was paying their respects to his fallen father. Sometimes, those who masterminded death liked to view their victims, but nothing seemed strange about any of the people in attendance.

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“Nothing. The men found the car ditched at the docks,” Bruno responded. “It had been set on fire; nothing left but a charred frame. It had been reported stolen.” This wasn’t a surprise to Massimo. Even they were known for burning out a car or two after a hit. “Bruno, do you trust Gio? I know he’s family, but the guy always had his eye set a little too high, you know?” The stunned look on Bruno’s face spoke volumes to Massimo. He had never, before now, considered the possibility of someone inside the family trying to force his way into power. “Be careful of speaking thoughts like that out loud, Massimo. Shit like that gets a good man killed… but Gio has been more forceful in trying to get his way. I can have one of our trusted men tail him and see what, if anything, he might be up to.”

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“Do that. He’s always been a sneaky bastard. Any power he had over, or with, Dario is gone now. He won’t like that.” “No, he won’t. Watch your back.” By three in the afternoon, the family had gathered at the Bianchi home for the reading of Dario Bianchi’s will. Lorena and his sister, Stella, were sitting on a couch huddled together, their eyes red and swollen from many hours of crying. Around the room, sat several of Dario Bianchi’s most trusted and loyal men, all of them longtime friends, with several going back to his youth. Massimo stood in front of a large bookcase near the large oak desk where Bruno Ricci now sat with documents spread out before him. Bruno’s hefty frame barely squeezed into the leather office chair that screamed beneath his weight. “It looks like everyone involved in the will for one Dario Bianchi is present. Let’s get a move on, shall we?” Bruno didn’t

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bother to remove his eyes from the document in his hands. “First things first. Not everyone present will receive something. Dario requested that certain individuals in La Cosa Nostra be present for the reading. I’m sure your wondering why that is, and we’ll get to that soon enough.” “Get on with it, Bruno,” Massimo urged. “Some of these men need to get back to work.” Bruno chuckled and gave a quick nod. “Lorena Bianchi, monies have been set aside for your care. See me after the reading for a specific amount and how you might access the funds.” Lorena sniffled and nodded her head. “Stella Bianchi, monies have been set aside for the remainder of your schooling, and the trip to Europe you wanted upon completion of your degree. Beyond that, a small trust has been set up but cannot be touched until you turn twenty-five.”

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Stella’s soft voice could barely be heard as she quickly responded. “Thank you, Bruno.” Bruno Ricci gazed at the room full of made men before his gaze fell on Massimo. Dario’s son would surely be pissed once the next portion of the will was read, but there was nothing he could do about that. He’d promised his friend and boss to make sure his wishes were followed to the letter where his son, Massimo, was concerned. Year ago he had sat in this very same office across the desk from Dario, the second birthday of his first and only son happening only days before. They were joined by a longtime made man, Nero Rossi, from a rival family. At the time, Dario knew that Nero had been working on a move to push the boss of his family out to take his place. He’d succeeded. That day, they made an arrangement for the marriage of Massimo Bianchi to Nero

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Rossi’s first-born daughter, Adelaisa. The marriage was to take place within seven months of the death or retirement of Dario Bianchi. The arrangement, once completed, would join the two families, making the Bianchi-Rossi family the largest and most powerful of the Italian mafia. Rossi would then step down, leaving Massimo and Adelaisa to rule the combined family in its entirety. Bruno cleared his throat, braced for what was about to happen. “Massimo Bianchi, heir to the Bianchi family, is to receive all businesses and properties, as well as any monies beyond those already designated for Stella and Lorena Bianchi.” He sat the document on the desk and picked up a sealed envelope. He stood from his seat behind the large desk, running his fingers over the yellowed envelope. “The contents of this envelope have been sealed for many years. When Massimo was only two years old, Dario

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prepared for this day. What I am about to read will change ‘Our Thing’ in a major way. Dario knew this. He looked forward to the day this shift would happen. Not everyone will be pleased.” Bruno tore the aged envelope open, removed an equally-aged document, and began reading. “Massimo Tristano Bianchi and Adelaisa Rossi are to be married no later than seven months from the day of the reading of this will. This arrangement will merge the Bianchi and Rossi families into the largest, and most powerful, Italian mafia family. The wedding must be held within the church, making sure that the members of the Commission view the union as binding and unquestionable.” He glanced at Massimo, curious as to what his reaction would be. Gasps of shock echoed off the walls. Massimo didn’t move a muscle as he took in his father’s last wishes. He was stunned, in complete and utter shock at the words Bruno

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had just uttered. Married? There was no way he was ready to marry. Not yet. Not with everything going on just now. It was too much. And who the hell was this woman he was to marry, anyhow? Why had his father chosen this particular woman? He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room baring down on him, waiting for him to react. He knew they all expected him to react in anger… but was he angry? Not at all. Just shocked. He knew that one day this would be required of him. It was just the way things worked in his world. He hated to question his father’s choice, but hell, taking on a wife was a big deal. He didn’t even know this woman and he was expected to marry her in seven months? “Who is this woman?” Massimo asked, his tone forceful and commanding, but calm. There could be no sign that he was hesitant to follow his father’s wishes.

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Before Bruno could respond, a loud knock on the office door drew everyone’s attention. Bruno motioned to Antony, one of the Bianchi capos to open the door. Seconds later a man entered and behind him, head held high, with a curtain of fiery red hair and the most hypnotic green eyes, was Adelaisa Rossi. Massimo knew without a doubt that it was her. His breath hitched at the sight of her. The doctor from the hospital. No freaking way. It was, though. Damn. She was even more beautiful than the first time he saw her. “Ciao Nero, it’s been a long time old friend,” Bruno said, welcoming the older man. Hushed whispers sounded around the room but Massimo ignored them. His gaze was glued to the woman he was to be bound to. “Bruno. Sorry we’re late for the reading. I hope all went according to Dario’s plans.” With a chuckle, Bruno approached the man. It was obvious from the way they

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welcomed one another, that they were old friends. “It did. I just finished informing Massimo of the arrangement, as requested.” “Ah, Massimo. I’m Nero Rossi. Last time I saw you, you were two years old and kneehigh to a grasshopper’s ass, if memory serves me.” Massimo accepted Nero’s outstretched hand and shook it, but all the while, his attention never left the young woman frozen in place just inside the door. “Adelaisa,” Nero said. “Come here, love.” Massimo watched the woman slowly make her way across the room, his eyes roaming over every minute detail of her gorgeous face. While the smile upon her lips was forced, the light in her eyes was not. Before Nero could introduce the couple, Massimo spoke, flashing her a wicked smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, piccolo rosso.” Little red.

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“I’m sure you think so,” she snapped. Massimo’s brows shot up at the tone of her voice. The woman was pissed beyond belief. It was obvious he wasn’t the only one shell-shocked by the arrangement made on their behalf. “I do, minx grintoso-feisty minx,” he said in a low voice. “Retract your claws… or don’t. I surely don’t mind a scratch or two.” Adelaisa’s spine stiffened and she jerked away from Massimo. The nearness of his body, the rich, sultry scent of his cologne threw her off her game. Being near him was maddening. And the low sexy rumble of his voice had heat pooling between her thighs almost instantly. Her body’s response angered her. “Go to hell. I may be required to marry you, but I will never fall into line like your whores or your damn soldiers. There will be plenty of cold nights in your future,” she growled, spitting out each venomous word.

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“Adelaisa! Don’t you dare disrespect Mr. Bianchi like that. You were raised better than that so act like it,” Nero growled. “My apologies for her behavior, Massimo. She’s very upset by the arrangement… but she will come around. I can assure you of that.” “No worries, Nero. I’m sure she’ll learn her place.” Massimo laughed as his eyes fell on Adelaisa who looked as if she wanted to claw his eyes out. “Come now, minx grintoso, is being with me so bad?” Adelaisa grunted an unlady-like sound in response but kept her lips pressed firmly together. Massimo wasn’t at all shocked by the heat of her words since her arrival. The gasps from around the room didn’t shock him, either. With a smirk, he decided to let her know he’d have his way, no matter what she thought. Leaning into her personal space, he whispered into her ear, “My dear, you will fall in line or you will fall to your knees. I

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don’t care which one you choose… but you will fall. I guarantee it. Fight all you want. In the end I will win. I always win.” She shivered as his tongue darted out, teasing the shell of her ear. Then, Adelaisa let loose a whimper so soft that Massimo was almost unsure if he had, in fact, heard it at all. Her red cheeks let him know he had. She was definitely feisty; his own personal minx grintoso. Adelaisa Rossi was definitely that. Massimo let out a chuckle that vibrated in his chest, sending a wave of chills down Adelaisa’s spine. He continued to watch her as Bruno asked everyone to leave so that they could talk further with the couple.

Chapter Six Massimo had just stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as the phone began to ring. Running his fingers through his damp, black hair, he let out a grunt of frustration. Over and over, the shrill sound reverberated off the walls. As he reached for the cell phone on the nightstand, it stopped ringing. Just as well. He had no urge to talk to anyone. It had been two days since the reading of the will and he was still pissed off about the secret arrangement. Now he faced the constant calls at all hours of the day and night. Not that he wasn’t used to being interrupted by calls. He had spoken with his mother, Lorena, after everyone cleared out of the house, and she had sworn she had no knowledge of Dario’s plans. Her eyes let him know she was telling the truth so he let it go. The wedding would happen, regardless. It was a business

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deal, she had said with a shrug of her shoulders. Yeah, he got that. Business deals were to stay within the confines of those made men in charge. Women never fell into that group... until now, anyway. Adelaisa would be the first. It was a historic move that would piss off so many people. Massimo couldn’t understand what his father had been thinking when he made that damn deal. Maybe it would all work out. But he still couldn’t shake the anger of never being told about it. Now he was faced with a woman be didn’t know and would have to protect. At least she was beautiful. Beautiful and feisty; his two favorite things in a woman. The only problem he saw when it came to Adelaisa was her inability to go with the flow of things. It was bothersome. He couldn’t allow her to question his authority, not in front of his men. That was something he would

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have to deal with soon. She didn’t have to like him, but somehow he had to make her see just how important it was for her safety. Maybe he should have a sit-down with her, or at the very least, her father. Just as he reached the bathroom door, the phone rang again. “Massimo here,” he growled as he fisted the towel together around his hips. “Boss, it’s Antony. We have a problem. Two of my guys were found shot in the chest, just like your father. No witnesses.” “Fuck. Where? Who the hell is doing this shit?” “In the alley behind Club Sixty-Nine. There was a note, Massimo. Someone doesn’t want you to marry that chick.” “Fuck! I’m on my way.” Massimo ended the call. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the towel on the floor near the bathroom door and stalked into the closet to pick out a suit.

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An hour later, Massimo parked his Viper behind Club Sixty-Nine. The beep of the car alarm setting echoed off of the walls of the nearby buildings. Readjusting his suit, he strode to the backdoor without a care in the world, his jaw set firmly, all sense of emotion gone as he pulled open the backdoor to the bar. Stepping inside, he blinked his eyes, allowing them a second or two to adjust to the dark hallway before striding forward. A hailstorm of Italian voices filled the air as he neared the main room ahead. With a slight quirk of his brow, he appeared in a room full of men. “What do we know?” he barked as all heads snapped in his direction. A few uniformed officers were scattered amongst his soldiers, standing out like a sore thumb. For years, they’d bought the help of the police department; a few police officers and higher ranking officials here and there for just this reason. A murder at their

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doorsteps was never a good sign. The help of a dirty cop, or a dozen, would mean open and shut cases… or at the very least, averting their eyes when needed. This was one of those times the latter was needed. The Bianchi family had their hands in every cookie jar there was. Well, almost every one. They stayed away from prostitution and human trafficking. The Cosa Nostra respected women, even the goomahs were treated well. There were rules, you see. Rules that protected the women and children as long as the made men making up the famiglia followed them. To break those rules meant death. And it wouldn’t be a fast and painless one, either. Three deaths in such a short time, with no bragging on the streets didn’t bode well for the family. Someone was up to no good. But was it a rival or someone much closer? That was the big question Massimo was

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facing now. His plate was overflowing and his mind still reeling with it all. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey off the bar, he leaned forward, snatching a clean glass from the shelf above the bar. Filling the glass to the top, he raised it to his lips, appreciating the aroma before taking a deep swallow. Antony stepped forward, anger lighting his eyes. “Boss, I’ve put the word out to the men to watch their backs and keep alert. They’re to report anything suspicious immediately.” That was Antony’s way. He knew Massimo well and always seemed to read his mind. Now that Massimo was the Boss, he’d need his friend to be a little more cautious when giving orders without his approval. Someone could get the wrong idea and off his ass. Massimo didn’t want that. “Good. You still have that note?” Massimo pressed his lips firmly together, his jaw clenching as his eyes happened to land

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on a smirking Gio in the corner booth before glancing at the note. His blood turned to ice as he watched his uncle. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was behind everything that was happening. The older man seemed almost happy that Massimo was facing all of this shit during his first days as the Boss. Pushing away the lingering thoughts of his uncle’s possible betrayal, he cleared his throat. Slamming his hands down on the table before him, he commanded the room. “Find the asshat behind this mess. I want answers and I want them yesterday. Find the person responsible and bring them to me!” A chorus of ‘yes, boss’ filled the room, making Massimo smile for a beat. Just as quickly as his lips turned up, they fell back into a snarl as his uncle pushed out of his seat. “Antony and Sal stay for a moment,” Massimo called out, furrowing his brow as he watched Gio saunter out the front door

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and disappear around the corner of the building. “What’s up, boss?” Sal questioned. “I don’t trust that asshole. Something feels off to me. Bruno said he’d put a man on him but I want you both to pick your best men to keep an eye on him. I trust you both to have my back. Report his every move to me.” “Sure thing. He’s always seemed a little sketchy if you ask me, Massimo. The man doesn’t even care to hide his lust of power. Do you think he’s responsible for your father and Antony’s men?” “Maybe. He’s a made man, though, so we can’t make a move on him without proof.” Antony growled, “He’ll pay if he’s behind all of this. Those two guys who bled out on the pavement were two of my best. Loyal guys.” With a shake of his head, he eyed the front door. “So how’s the fiery redhead? She sure is a looker.”

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“Man, she’s going to be difficult. And yeah, she’s beautiful, but taming her will probably be the death of me.” Massimo laughed. “Adelaisa is a force for sure. She won’t fall into line easily. Not sure how to approach her. She’s strong as all hell and vicious when she wants to be.” “Yeah, man, I caught that at the reading. Girl held her ground. Spirited as fuck, that one. Maybe you should take her out to dinner. Somewhere quiet and shit so you can talk. Show her your softer side and gain her trust, man.” “Yeah, boss. Women like to be wooed. No matter how strong they are. That, my friend, is their weakness.” “Maybe. The wedding is happening no matter what, so we might as well learn to get along.” “Will we see you here tonight as usual?” Antony asked as he tossed back a shot. “You

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better get all your fun in now before you’re married off to that hot little redhead.” Massimo shook his head and laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be here.” Then he ordered the men to get to work. As he slid inside his Viper, his thoughts went back to Adelaisa and the advice of his Capos, Antony and Sal. He knew they were right. Would taking Adelaisa to dinner actually make things easier? Fucking hell, he had no clue. Dating and romancing a woman wasn’t his thing; never had been. Thrusting the key in the ignition, he revved up the engine, enjoying the purr of the powerful car. Backing out of his parking space he pulled onto the street and headed for the hospital. One thought flittered through his mind. Adelaisa Rossi was his… and he would make sure she understood that. Before he knew it, he was striding across the hospital parking lot, not remembering the drive there in the slightest because he

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had been preoccupied with a woman whose attitude was as fiery as her hair.

Chapter Seven The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. The halls were bustling with families visiting their loved ones and medical personnel doing whatever it was they were hired to do. Massimo made his way down the long corridor to the nurse’s station as he looked for one woman in particular. His woman. Adelaisa. Not seeing her anywhere, he lumbered up to the desk, resting his hands on the edge of the counter. He cleared his throat. Two young nurses in bright uniforms flashed him smiles. “Can I help you, sir?” the young blonde asked in a sultry tone. “I’m looking for Dr. Rossi. If you would be so kind as to direct me to her, I’d appreciate it.” “Sure. She’s making rounds right now.” With a quick glance to the wall clock and then to her dark haired friend, she met his eyes again. “I’m sure she’ll be finished in a

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few minutes. You can wait in the lobby down the hall. We’ll send her to you when she’s finished.” “What room is she in? I’d like to see her now. It’s urgent.” The dark haired nurse butted in, her voice laced with lustful intent. “Dr. Rossi doesn’t like to be disturbed on her rounds, sir. It’s best if you wait.” She flashed a smile filled with naughtiness. “We’d be happy to keep you company.” Massimo had always appreciated the attention of the ladies, but these two nurses were wearing on the last bit of patience he had. Just as he was opening his mouth to demand they point him in the direction of Adelaisa, she stepped into the hallway with a frustrated scowl on her face. Pushing off the counter, he quickly thanked the two nurses — for what, he wasn’t sure — and made his way to his bride-to-be.

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He watched as she scribbled in a chart, slammed it closed, and headed towards him without so much as looking up once. Massimo’s eyes roamed up and down her frame, taking in the tight charcoal pencil skirt that fit to her curvy hips beautifully, up to the light pink blouse fitted snugly to her generous breast. Damn, the woman was sexy as hell. “Ciao, Bella!” Her gaze shot up to meet his at the sound of his voice, her emerald green eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Come on, Bella. I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to take you to lunch.” Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food. When had she last ate? Looking down at her watch, she groaned. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just lunch, Massimo.”

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“Just lunch,” he agreed. “I know you aren’t happy about the arrangement, Bella, but I’m trying here. You could at least try, too.” He reached out and stroked his fingers gently, like a whisper, down her arm. Even through the white coat, he could feel her tremble under his touch. The response from her had his lips turning up in a devilish smile. They walked to the desk where she dropped off the patient chart. After giving a few quick orders to the nurses on duty, she returned to his side. They walked in silence to her office, where she grabbed her purse and removed her jacket, placing it on a hanger behind the door. “I need to be back here within an hour to finish my rounds. Okay?” “Got it. Your work is important to you. I get that.” “It is.”

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As they stepped into the empty elevator she turned to face him as if to say something but remained quiet. “What?” Massimo asked. “You have questions, so just ask. If I can give you an answer, then I will.” “Did you know about the arrangement?” “No I didn’t. I was kept in the dark, just as I assume you were. There isn’t a way out of this type of arrangement, Bella. You and I both know that. While I never thought of marriage, I’m not opposed to it. My parents had a great marriage, even with all the extra business.” “Extra business? Is that what you call it now? You can’t possibly be happy about this. I’m not even you’re type. This is a fucking disaster. You’re a manwhore and I’m... I’m not like the whores you bed.” Her cheeks flamed crimson. “I’d never satisfy you,” she said, softly.

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“Oh, Bella. How do you know what my type is? You expect me to take on a goomah, but that isn’t going to happen.” Massimo stepped in front of Adelaisa, pressing his body into hers. She gasped at the closeness of their bodies, the feel of his cock hardening against her stomach. Looking up into his blue eyes, seeing the lust building there, she whimpered. “You will be my wife, Adelaisa, in every way you should be. Let’s make the best of this. I know you want me, though, for some reason, you fight it. Your body responds to me. Don’t even try to lie. It does. I feel it.” “I... you...” Adelaisa’s heart pounded against her ribs, her breathing becoming harsh and ragged as his large hands cupped her face. Whatever she meant to say fell away into oblivion at his touch. A slow swirling heat built between her thighs as his lips crashed down on hers. His tongue danced across the seam of her mouth, pressing and

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flicking over her lips. She moaned, allowing his tongue to dart inside as his hips ground against hers. “Don’t fight me, Bella. Let yourself feel. Feel me. Let me in.” he groaned against her neck. He felt her shiver under his touch. Her breathing hitched at his words and he knew. He knew she was giving in. “Massimo, please. I... Oh God,” she moaned, her hands gripping his shirt, the feel of his hard pecs beneath her fingers. The elevator dinged, shattering the moment. Massimo watched as a stunned Adelaisa stumbled out into the bright lobby, her hooded gaze meeting his as he laced his fingers with hers. She didn’t fight his touch and he considered that a win for now. But he wanted more. Maybe, just maybe, their marriage wouldn’t be a nightmare after all.

Chapter Eight Lunch with Massimo earlier in the week had left Adelaisa wondering if she had judged him too harshly. Sure, he had been with a lot of women, or at least that is what she had been told over the years by the few friends who still lived here to witness it. But so far she hadn’t seen anything that proved those stories to be true. Maybe he was a good man after all? He still had his dark side, that dangerous man lurking beneath the surface. Her father had it, too, but he was always kind to her… barring the arrangement, of course. She had been shocked by Massimo’s sudden arrival at the hospital, and even more so by his honesty throughout their short lunch. She’d always assumed that men like him were incapable of being nice and sweet, but he had been so charming. And those short few minutes in the elevator were

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unbelievably intense. That kiss, and the way he had touched her, left her dizzy with want... for him. She had writhed against him like a common goomah but it had felt so damn good. Having a man like Massimo Bianchi wooing her was something else. It was erotic and beautiful at the same time. And it had been so long since she had allowed a man into her bed. Maybe letting him in wouldn’t be so bad. He was obviously an experienced lover, judging from their short moment together. The man was getting under her skin. He definitely made her feel things she hadn’t before. He was hot and sexy and left her feeling as though, for once, she could let go of her need to control and just be. No man had made her feel comfortable letting go before, but he did and it took him all of a few minutes to do it. It was heaven feeling his body pressed against hers.

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The taste of him on her lips was intoxicating and she wanted more — needed more — of him. But she wouldn’t dare share him with anyone, and he needed to know that. Grabbing her cell phone from the coffee table, she shot off a text to Massimo. While she had the nerve to put her foot down, she would damn sure do it. Adelaisa: No goomahs! Ever! I don’t share! Capire? Understand? Massimo: Bella, you will be the only one. Adelaisa: You promise? Massimo: Promise, Bella. Sempre. Always. Adelaisa: Guess we have a wedding to plan then. Massimo: That we do, love. That we do. With a smile on her face, Adelaisa tossed the phone back on the coffee table and headed for the bathroom. It was her day off and she felt the need to celebrate. In less than seven months, she’d be a married

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woman. Even though she still wasn’t happy that her father had promised her to a made man, and a known player, she had finally begun to get used to the whole circus act. Massimo Bianchi was to be her husband and, to be honest, she knew she could have ended up with an aging old man with a nasty attitude and a body that would make any woman puke her guts up. With Massimo, that wouldn’t be a problem as his body was a temple, a sprawling mass of delectable muscles that had her mouth watering and her panties moist as a raging river. He was sinfully gorgeous in every possible way with that dark hair and cold blue eyes, and he was all hers. Stripping off her clothes, she hopped in the shower. Within an hour, she went from plain jane doctor to sex kitten on heels. Tonight, she would have a few drinks, maybe even dance a little, and head home. She had applied a little makeup, not wanting to

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overdo it and hide her natural beauty, then fixed her hair and dressed in a little black dress. Club 69 was the place to be in Hell’s Kitchen, and owned by her soon-to-be husband, Massimo. If she was lucky, she’d have a chance to sneak in and see if what he had promised her was, in fact, true or not. Hopefully, it was because she so wanted to be able to trust him. The cabbie pulled to a stop and barked out the cost of her ride. Adelaisa paid the cabbie, telling him to keep the change. She exited the vehicle with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. With her head held high, she straightened her little black dress and headed inside straight for the bar. Catcalls resounded as she strode to the busy bar, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Her stomach rolled as some of the vulgar comments met her ears. Some men just had no manners. Jerks! The whole damn lot of them.

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Pushing their words and voices out of her mind, she pressed on to more important things, like the drink she needed desperately. Taking a seat at the bar, she ordered a Fuck Me Sideways, having always loved the taste of Lemon Vodka mixed with just about anything. She slowly sipped her drink, enjoying the steady vibration of the loud music working through her body from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. It had been ages since she had let her hair down and just relaxed a bit. Before she could finish her drink, she felt the pressure of a hard, delicious body against her back. She swallowed hard as the feel of someone’s warm, whiskey-tinted breath brushed her ear. She knew it was Massimo, as the spicy scent of his cologne wrapped around her, invading her senses and driving her wild with its rich and masculine scent. Her spine stiffened as lips grazed the shell of her ear.

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“Don’t move,” he growled, his warm moist lips ghosting over the naked flesh below her ear. A chill swept over her, leaving goosebumps in its wake as his tongue darted out, flicking her earring. Dear Lord. Her thighs pressed together, the friction indescribable. She was tired of fighting this man. Tired of fighting the desire pent up inside her. “Mmm. You smell good enough to eat, Bella.” Her breath hitched as Massimo’s teeth nipped at her skin. Whirling around on her barstool, she came face to face with the man she had been fantasizing about all week. It had been months — no, years — since she had allowed a man in her bed, and right now she wanted the one standing in front of her. Dangerous or not, she needed to let go and just enjoy what he could offer her, consequences of her actions be damned. She

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didn’t care. She just needed to feel him again, so badly her pussy ached. “T... thank you,” she stammered. “You look really good yourself.” She grinned wickedly, her eyes drifting from his face down to the bulge in his pants. The deep rumbling laugh was enough to wet her already-moistened panties. God, this man was incredibly sexy. Massimo snapped his fingers at the bartender, who damn near tripped over his feet to get to us. Massimo looked down at me, his voice low and predatory. “What are you having, Bella?” “Fuck Me Sideways.” Her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Massimo choked at the words from her sweet, seemingly-innocent mouth, his eyes darkening like a hungry animal. Damn. She always seemed to shock the hell out of him. Good. “You heard the lady. I’ll have my usual.”

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With a raised brow, Massimo shifted his stance, running his big masculine hands up her thighs as he slid them apart, stepping between them, the hem of the short black dress riding up her thighs as he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. “I’d be happy to give you the real thing, Bella. You only need to ask.” “Oh yeah? Well maybe later, Bello.” She grinned as she lifted her drink from the bar and took a sip, her eyes staying trained on his. “Come home with me, Bella.” “Okay.” “Just like that, Adelaisa? You aren’t going to fight me? Why?” He lifted a brow in question of her lack of fight. He hadn’t expected her to agree. He almost wished he had to fight a little for her agreement. Almost. “Just thought about what you said the other day. Why fight it? It’s going to happen

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eventually as we’ll be married soon… and we are so obviously attracted to one another, so it makes sense.” “Yes, Bella, it does. I’m glad you’re coming around to the idea of us.” “Don’t make me regret this, Massimo. I tend to be a bitch when treated badly.” She took yet another sip of her drink, the alcohol doing wonders for her nerves. She felt at ease now, her filter loosening, allowing her to just say whatever she wanted. She couldn’t believe how she was acting. It wasn’t like her, but she’d spent the last few days thinking of nothing but Massimo’s amazing body, wondering how it would feel pressed against hers, flesh against flesh, his rippling muscles taut with need as he pounded his cock deep inside her. They were to be married so having a taste before the wedding wasn’t a bad thing. Was it? She wanted him and he wanted her. Were they in love? No.

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But maybe they would grow to love each other over time. She was enjoying his undivided attention, their flirting conversation growing as the minutes passed. With each drink they shared, she felt the tension between them melt away to nothingness. He was actually a pretty nice guy, charming even. Maybe she had been wrong about him after all. Several women around the bar had been staring her down, giving her go-to-hell looks most of the night. She hadn’t missed that. They were jealous of losing his affections. Evidently they didn’t know he was off the market, or maybe they just didn’t give a shit. A tall blonde smirked at Adelaisa, stepping away from a group of slutty-looking women and heading straight for them. Massimo had his back to them so he didn’t see her coming. Adelaisa’s brows shot up as the brazen women wrapped her arms around him from behind.

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“Hey there,” she purred, giving Adelaisa the stink-eye before pushing her way between them, nearly knocking Adelaisa from her bar stool and rubbing her hands on Massimo’s chest. “I haven’t seen you around in a while, handsome.” Massimo removed the woman’s hands from his chest and pushed her away. Adelaisa smiled up at him as he did so. “Not interested,” he said, not even sparing the blonde a look. “But...” the blonde stammered. She seemed as shocked as Adelaisa was by his actions. “You ready to head out, Bella?” he asked, leaning forward and kissed her cheek. “I am, Bello. The scent of trash is making me ill,” Adelaisa stated coolly, turning to the blonde. She stepped up to the woman, their breasts nearly touching, her brows drawn together. “He’s taken,” she said,

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staring the blonde in the eye. “I’d appreciate you keeping your hands off of my fiancé.” The look on the woman’s face was priceless. Adelaisa pushed the stunned blonde out of her way, pressed herself into Massimo’s side, and walked out of the club without glancing back.

Chapter Nine By the time Massimo and Adelaisa arrived at his place, it was well after midnight. The drive to the condo had been short and filled with a thick silence, heavy with barelyrestrained lust and anticipation. He pulled into a parking garage, slipped from the car, and quickly helped her out. Seconds later, they were in the elevator. When the door closed, he was on her. Their mouths crashed together in a passionate kiss that was rough and heady. Massimo wrapped his arms around her, his hands sliding down her back seductively. He spread his fingers over her ass, digging his fingertips into her sensitive flesh as he lifted her up. Adelaisa wrapped her legs around his hips, moaning as his thick, hard cock ground against her core. She groaned at the feel of him. Massimo captured her mouth again, the thrust of his hips matching the movement of

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his tongue as it darted into her mouth, dancing with hers. Holding her body against his, he stepped out of the elevator, his mouth never leaving hers as he wrestled to unlock his door. Adelaisa giggled as he eased her feet to the floor, dropped the keys once, then twice, before growling out his frustration. Once inside the condo, he tossed his keys on the floor and kicked the door closed, pulling her flush against his body. His chest heaved as his eyes filled with a hunger only she could sate as he walked her backwards down the hallway and into his bedroom. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, Bella,” he admitted, unzipping her dress and watching it fall to the floor, pooling at her feet. “Fuck! You’re gorgeous,” he growled at the sight of Adelaisa, dressed in nothing but a thin black lace bra and matching thong, her legs bare but for the black heels on her feet.

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“Well, it seems I’m yours now and I guess I was then, too. We just didn’t know it yet,” she cooed, shyly looking away. “Don’t get shy on me now, Adelaisa,” he said, his voice low and husky as he took in her body. He closed the distance between them, dropping to his knees before her. “I want to taste you. I can smell your arousal, Bella.” He leaned forward, brushing his nose over her panties, inhaling deeply her sweet honey scent. “My God, the things you do to me.” Massimo wrapped his hands around her ankles, running the palms of his hands up her gorgeous legs to her inner thighs, his fingertips ghosting over the edge of her panties. Adelaisa moaned at the feel of his warm gentle touch, the heat of his breath as it tickled her thighs, then her pussy. His fingers drifted under her panties along her hips, dragging the fabric down lower until they hit the floor.

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She felt his hands on her thighs, spreading her legs further, shifting her open to make room for him. Her legs shook, her stomach fluttered, but her eyes remained closed. She wanted to look down to see his obsidian hair and those devilish blue eyes, but her embarrassment and lack of experience kept them firmly closed. “Look at me, Adelaisa,” Massimo commanded with a growl. “I want you to watch me taste your sweet little pussy. Open those eyes, Bella. Please?” She couldn’t resist the commanding tone of his voice, or the way his voice cracked as he uttered the word please, that velvety, rich sound delving deep inside her, making her feel soft and comfortably loose and carefree. Her eyes slid open, finding his hungry lust-filled gaze focused on her. Her lips trembled, knowing that once she let him have her, there would be no turning back.

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He’d consume her and break her down and she’d let him. “Tell me you want me, Bella. I need to hear the words.” “I... I want this. I want you. Please, Massimo.” Before his name fell completely from her lips, his tongue darted out, lashing her throbbing clit, as his fingers spread her velvety lips. Adelaisa moaned unbidden, her hands delving into his thick black hair. The faster his tongue lapped at her pussy, the firmer her grip on his hair became, her nails digging into his scalp, inciting a deep growl from her lover. “Oh. My. God,” she cried as her body fluttered, her pussy clenching tighter and tighter, ready to explode. Her entire being vibrated as she screamed his name over and over again. Massimo groaned against her pussy, loving the way she cried out for him. He moaned and she whimpered

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as his tongue dipped into her heated core. “Oh Massimo! Oh God!” she cried. “So sweet, Bella. So fucking tight. My God, love, you’re perfect.” “Massimo!” she screamed again as her orgasm burst forth. Massimo continued to lap at her honey slowly, taking care of her sensitive flesh as the orgasm receded, his arms looped around her body, holding her in place. He leaned back onto his heels, looking up at his woman, his Adelaisa. She was everything he never knew he wanted or needed, from her flushed cheeks to her mouth slightly parted and swollen from his kisses, to her breasts heaving from his ministrations. He stood up, easing a shaky Adelaisa to the bed, laying her trembling frame onto the soft mattress. He pulled a condom from his nightstand and dropped it on the bed beside her. Adelaisa lay quietly on the bed, watching Massimo strip his clothes off, tossing them to

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the side. Her hooded, lust-filled gaze swept over every inch of his muscled flesh. He knelt onto the bed, easing himself between her thighs. As he leaned his large body over hers, his cock grazed the swollen velvety lips of her pussy. She let loose a soft whimper. Massimo smiled wickedly, his muscles tensing. “Kiss me,” Adelaisa demanded, her voice a hoarse whisper. Massimo leaned down, pressed his lips to hers. It was a simple innocent peck on the lips. Not at all the type of kiss she wanted. Adelaisa wanted him to ravish her, to command her body as no other man ever had before. She huffed out a breath, her lips pouting in frustration. He chuckled. “What’s wrong, Bella? I gave you a kiss. Was there something else you wanted?” He nipped at the tender flesh of her neck.

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Adelaisa gasped at the intensity of the pleasure and pain from the bite, only to have it soothed away with a gentle swipe of his tongue. “Don’t tease me,” she huffed. “I hate it. If that’s how you mean to treat me, then I’ll leave. I despise games.” Massimo smiled. “Oh, I think you like it, Bella.” A rush of heat shot to her core. Never before had she thought she’d find pleasure like this, but she had. He was right, but she refused to admit it. She frowned, pressing her lips together in a firm line. “No teasing then.” He reached over to the edge of the bed, grabbed the foil packet, and tore it open. Slowly, he rolled the condom down his thick shaft. With a kiss that began at Adelaisa’s lips, trailing slowly along her jaw, down her neck, he reached the base where it connected to her shoulder. He nipped her flesh.

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She groaned and writhed beneath him, her soaked pussy gliding along his engorged cock. Reaching between them, he aligned his cock with her moist slit. He licked her shoulder and bit once more before thrusting his cock deep. Adelaisa cried out, her arms gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. “So good, Bella,” he groaned, thrusting deeper and deeper, until his cock was buried to the hilt inside her tight pussy. Adelaisa’s heart was hammering in her chest, her body humming a lovely tune as Massimo made music with their bodies. The man was working her deftly, inciting groans of pure pleasure from her lips. She arched off the bed, meeting Massimo’s awaiting lips. He sucked her swollen pink nipple between his lips, his teeth nipping her sensitive nub. She cried out, bucking wildly, begging. “Massimo. Oh God. Oh please.”

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“So beautiful, Bella,” Massimo groaned. “So fucking perfect.” He pinned Adelaisa to the bed, lifting her hands above her head, locking them in place with one hand. She squirmed beneath him, loving the way it felt to be held captive by him, to be at his mercy. She tipped her head back onto the fluffy pillows, raising her hips up to meet each and every thrust of his glorious hips. “So, so close. Fuck,” she whimpered. Massimo slipped his hand between their sweat-coated bodies, deftly finding her swollen clit. “I feel your pussy squeezing my cock, Bella. Come for me, sweetheart.” He rubbed her in slow, delicious circles, driving her closer and closer to a euphoric oblivion. His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing heavier. With one final thrust, they fell into oblivion together. Massimo shouted Adelaisa’s name as she cried out his. “You’re mine, Adelaisa. I’ll never let you go,” he growled into her ear. With a quick

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kiss on the lips, he slipped from the bed, disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. Seconds later, he returned, climbed into bed, and pulled her exhausted body against his. Adelaisa didn’t know what to say. She had expected sex with Massimo to be great… and it was. Extraordinary. Better than she had ever imagined. But she feared giving her heart to this man. When thoughts of love flickered through her mind, she stiffened in his arms. Would she be enough for a man like him? She wasn’t certain that she would be, no matter how much she might try. “What’s wrong, Bella?” Massimo asked, gently gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her to face him. “It’s... it’s nothing. I’m just nervous. You already promised not to have a mistress, and I want to believe you but...”

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“You fear I’ll break your heart because I’ve never been serious with anyone before. Right?” “Yes,” she choked out. “Listen to me, Adelaisa,” he said softly as she turned to face him. “Let’s forget for a moment that this marriage was arranged years ago without our knowledge. Okay?” Adelaisa nodded shyly, unsure of just where he was going with this. “You’re a beautiful and intelligent woman. I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like you as my wife. Even if we weren’t pushed into each other’s lives, I would have wanted you. I did want you before all of this. To be honest, I wanted you the moment I first saw you, the night my father died. And if given the choice to marry you or another woman, I’d pick you any day of the week… and twice on Sunday.” “Really? Oh, Massimo, I judged you so terribly wrong. You’re much more charming

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than I thought you would be, you know, considering what you do and all. I don’t agree with that shit by the way, but it is what it is. We can’t change that. You are a pretty good catch, though. I think I’ll have to brush up on my ass-kicking skills to fight of the whores.” Massimo laughed, his chest vibrating with it. “Come here.” Pulling Adelaisa close, he kissed her lips wrapped his arms around her body, and flipped her on top of him. She straddled his hips, feeling his cock harden beneath her. She groaned, leaned forward, kissed his chiseled jaw, then reached between them, wrapping her hand around his stiff cock. She looked Massimo in the eyes, worried her bottom lip, then slid harshly down his cock. “Fuck me, woman,” he growled. “Oh, Massimo. Oh my god.” Adelaisa moaned. She rode him with unbridled joy. For once, she didn’t let herself think about anything. She only let the feel of his body

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joining with hers guide her. Massimo’s fingers dug into her hips. There’d surely be bruises come morning, but they would be worth it. She felt his body tense, his balls tightening beneath her ass. “Are you close, Bella?” Adelaisa nodded her head, unable to speak. Fast as lightning, Massimo swirled his fingertips around her swollen bud. She whimpered at the contact, her hips rocking back and forth, up and down, wildly. Her body began to shake, her thighs clamping down on his hips, and he knew she was seconds away from orgasm. He thrust his hips up meeting her halfway, his hands grasping tightly to her hips, holding her still as he thrust once, twice, three times, before shouting her name. Adelaisa curled into Massimo’s side, resting her head on his chest, tracing her fingers over the dips and curves of his muscular chest and abdomen. His heart pounded

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louder under her ear the further south her fingers drifted. His breathing became heavier, more erratic. “Massimo?” she whispered. “Hmm.” He replied, his fingers drifting up and down her spine. She shivered. “I won’t fall into line like you’re soldiers. I won’t stop being who I am because we have to marry. I won’t leave my job.” “I don’t expect you to. Now go to sleep.” And she did. She slept soundly in his arms, her mind finally free of the worries holding her hostage for weeks. Massimo, in one night, had somehow made her see a softer gentler side of the hardened criminal she knew him to be. But was it enough to make a marriage feel whole? Would the comfort she felt something that would last for years to come? Maybe it was. Maybe she was just fearful of being drawn back into the life she had wanted so much to escape, only to find herself in the arms of a Bianchi boss, a

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killer with hands stained red from god only knew how many murders. One night, and Adelaisa and Massimo had found a connection, finally understanding each other. Love might not play a part of their relationship yet, but there was a slice of hope, a hope that life together with this man wouldn’t be as bad as she once thought. She finally saw the softer side of a man known for being harsh and deadly. Being with Massimo had allowed her to feel free, to feel open to their life together, and for now, she was excited to see where their life together would go. Together they could make it. Together they could survive whatever came their way. Together they would learn to support each other. Tonight, as she lay beside him, curled against his warm muscular body, she knew that he would protect her, and she hoped one

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day he would learn to love her, too. Because she could see herself loving him. **** Check out my Author Page on Amazon to discover more hot and sexy reads.

Also by Jacee Convicted: A Mafia Romance Dangerous Love: A Russian Mafia Romance (Grekov Mafia Book 3) Enamored: A Russian Mafia Romance (Grekov Mafia Book 2) Indulgence: A Russian Mafia Romance (Grekov Mafia Book 1) Naughty Arrangement

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My Russian Hero Scent of Desire (Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance) The Boardroom The Professor’s Lover Visit Jacee on the web at: Blog: http://jaceemacguire.blogspot.com/ Twitter: @JaceeMacguire

Table of Contents Copyright Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Also by Jacee

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