Revenge Is Sweet (Mafia Brides #1) Read Online Lee Savino

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Crime, Insta-Love, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Mafia Brides Series by Lee Savino
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Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

(Mafia Brides #1) Revenge Is Sweet

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lee Savino

Language:
English
Book Information:

“Did you think, for a minute, I might want to be awake for the proposal?” I ask, fluttering my fingers so the huge princess cut diamond on my hand catches the light.
His eyes go soft and warm. “I couldn’t risk you running again. There’s a tracking device in there.”
“Tracking device?” I squeak, when I find my voice.
“Oh yes,” he murmurs. “You will not escape me again.”
***
Revenge is Sweet was previously published as “Taken by the Mafia Prince” in the Darkly Ever After Boxset.
***
She’s gonna bake him a muffin he can’t refuse… When a mafia prince sweeps into Leah's bakery and decides she belong to him, all's she can do is can hang on until the happily ever after.
Author's Note: It's a heart-warming spicy mafia romance. It has some sort-of-dark themes but not really. This is what happens when my brain wants to write both a dark romance and rom com. You're welcome.
Books in Series:

Mafia Brides Series by Lee Savino

Books by Author:

Lee Savino



1

The sun’s just waking up as I trudge from the bus stop through piles of matted and dirty snow. On this gray February morning, there’s only one shop whose windows are lit up in the dark and rundown strip mall. Even with the scuffed and faded pale pink paint, the bakery is a cheery and welcoming sight.

The door sticks, but when I lean my weight into it, it stutters open and sets the overhead bell jingling merrily. My mouth begins watering a second before the caramel and cinnamon scents hit me in a blast of warmth.

Heaven is a bakery ten minutes before opening. Specifically, Panetteria Principessa, the best bakery in my hometown, Dumont, and possibly all of the world. It doesn’t matter that my cheap boots are soggy or that my cheeks are chapped with cold. It’s gonna be a good day.

“Good morning,” I trill, stomping my feet to shake off the crust of dirty ice. The shop is warm and smells like cinnamon buns. The scent gives me a sugar rush.

“Buongiorno, Leah!” Mr. Rossi shouts from the back, glee radiating through his tone. “Come see what I have done!”

“One sec.” I turn and yank on the door handle, making the bell dance and ring again and again. “The door is sticking.” Cold air leaks through the cracks.

“I will fix it later. You must come and see!”

“You’re gonna pay a ton in heating costs,” I warn, but I give up tugging and stroll further into the shop.

“I already do.” Mr. Rossi sounds cheerful, but I wince. Heating bills suck. It’s not like we can keep the front door closed. Every new customer will bring in an unwelcome blast of winter.

It’s a good day to bake, if only to keep the oven on.

The front cases are already filled with chocolate muffins and red velvet cupcakes topped with the most perfect pillowy frosting. A few steps past the counter is the doorway to the back. There’s no door, and when I step through, I’m embraced by the yeasty scent of cinnamon rolls and the bright citrus scent of lemon poppy seed muffins.

I’m so lucky to work in my favorite place in the world.

To the left are all the ovens, giving off delicious heat. I tug off my thin coat and unwind my cream-colored scarf. Underneath my winter things, I’m wearing a soft pink sweater that makes my brown skin glow. The knit fabric would be too hot to work in if I were back here all day, but as I’m alternating between the front and the back, it will be perfect.

In the corner, Mr. Rossi’s head sticks out from a row of huge shiny cylinders sitting on an ornate metal box—some sort of machine I’ve never seen before.

“Ahh, there she is!” His weathered face splits into a smile. “Descending like an angel from heaven.”

I chuckle and shed my matching cream mittens and hat. There's nothing flirtatious about my boss’s exuberance. He’s a sweetheart to everyone. Besides, he’s madly in love with his wife.

“You must come see!” he cries, waving his hands in joy. A thin fringe of dark curls bounces around his otherwise bald pate. Light reflects between both the pale patch of bare skin on the top of his head and the metal antique that dominates the corner of the room. “I have found the answer to all our troubles.”

The answer to all our troubles is a metallic monstrosity, sitting on a cart. It’s taller than I am, with three cylindrical turrets on the top of a brass box.

“What is it?”

“Una macchina per caffè espresso. Very vintage. Very rare. I have finally found it! The machine that will turn beans into gold!”

“This is the espresso machine?” When Mr. Rossi told me he was bidding on one at an auction, I was excited. But I was not expecting this. “How old is it?”

“Thirty, forty years… but it works fine.”

Oh God. This thing is older than I am.

Mr. Rossi must not see my expression, because he continues. “Cappuccino, latte, il caffe—it makes it all. Soon, we will be printing money!”

I hide my sigh. I’ve heard this before. I can only hope this time, it’s true. “What did Cedella say?”

“She has not seen it yet.” His face falls. “Only a picture. She can’t do stairs, not today.”

Mrs. Rossi—Cedella—has the swollen joints of advanced rheumatoid arthritis. Today must be one of her bad days. The cold makes her body ache so bad, she mostly stays in bed.

“I’ll make her favorite scones today,” I announce. “Maybe by then we’ll have this working and we can make her a latte—she can be the first to try a cup.”

“Yes.” He brightens. “Thank you, Leah. You are an angel. Soon, she will be better.” He grabs a rag and starts polishing the machine.

“Did you look into the infusion treatments?” I ask. “I hear the results are almost miraculous.”


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