Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
A ruthless villain in a suit, he’s the head of a rival mafia family.
I should have been safe.
Instead, I was trapped by the man my brother betrayed.
Cassian came for blood.
But he took me instead.
Now I’m his possession.
His obsession.
He demands my surrender. He wants my body, my heart and soul.
And the most dangerous part? My heart has already betrayed me.
But the truce between our families is fracturing. We stand on the brink of a mafia war.
Loving my enemy isn’t only forbidden. It could be the deadliest betrayal of all.
Author's This is a dark mafia romance. NO cheating. Check TW on my website
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
ALLEGRA
“Just keep a smile on that pretty face of yours and it’ll be over before you know it.”
My brother pats my cheek, but I think what he’d really like to do is slap it if he could. If two hundred of our relatives, including members of the inner circle and business associates, weren’t clustered in our living room, drinks in hand, watching us, some openly, some from the corners of their eyes.
Watching and waiting for a crack to show, a weakness to exploit.
“It hasn’t even been six months since his death, Michael. It’s not right.”
The family trusted our father to lead them. I’m not sure my brother realizes they don’t exactly look at him with the same respect.
Michael turns to nod a greeting to one of the guests, his lips moving into what on the outside looks like a warm smile as he sips his whiskey.
“The contract’s been delayed long enough. And besides, right won’t keep us fed, will it? Won’t keep this roof over our heads. It certainly won’t put us back at the top of the food chain.”
That last part he says under his breath. He scans the crowd before turning to me once more and I see his true face. The one beneath the mask.
“Besides, it’s my birthday, sis. Consider this my birthday gift, you actually doing what you’re told for once. I’m head of this family now and I’m working my ass off to fix the mess our father left behind. Hell, he should have married you off the day you turned eighteen, but you always did have him wrapped around your little finger, didn’t you?”
“He wouldn’t make me do something I didn’t want to do.”
“Bullshit,” he says with a snort. “Don’t make a saint of him. He wasn’t one, Allegra. You of all people should know that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He grits his teeth and narrows his eyes, and I get the feeling it’s taking all he has to hold back.
“You really need to ask?” Michael taunts. He wraps his hand around mine, weaving our fingers together and giving a little squeeze. To all those watching, I’m sure it looks like a comforting gesture, big brother taking care of his younger sister. It’s not, though, and I wince when his fingernail presses into the nub where the pinkie finger of my left hand used to be. “Speaking of little fingers, tuck this hand into your pocket. We don’t need to parade that around, do we?”
When he releases my hand, I push it into my pocket.
With a jerk of his chin, he gestures to two men standing across the room, William and Richard Moore. Governor Richard Moore. Father and son. I wonder if they feel out of place considering the rest of the guest list.
Over the years, Dad had many meetings with the Moores. Richard and I were officially introduced on my eighteenth birthday with the understanding that after my college graduation, we’d be married and our families would be aligned.
“I’m not sure why you’re whining anyway. He’s not completely hideous and his wallet is thick,” Michael says.
I clench my jaw to bite back my words as he finishes his drink and sets the glass aside before adjusting the butterfly mask covering the top half of my face. He mutters his disappointment at my lack of costume. It is Halloween, after all.
“And don’t think I won’t punish you for this,” he says.
One look in his hard eyes and I have no doubt he will.
Someone calls his name and after giving me one more pointed look, he finally moves on.
Taking a flute of champagne from one of the serving staff hired with money we don’t have, I ignore my fiancé to be and sip from my glass. My gaze moves around the room. I recognize many of the faces behind the masks, family members and business associates of my father’s. Malek Lombardi, my father’s consigliere, now my brother’s, is among them. He catches my eye over the shoulder of the woman he’s talking to. His mask is pushed to the top of his head. He’s barely bothered with a costume himself. He gives a quick wink that makes my skin crawl. It’s to let me know he’s watched the whole interaction. He’s always watching. Even when Dad was alive, Malek was always on the sidelines, never missing a thing. The only difference is he’s less on the sidelines now.
I turn my back to him and swallow the remainder of my champagne, the bubbles tickling my throat. In my periphery I see Richard Moore begin to approach. I guess he’s finished waiting. I need to get out of here. I set my empty glass on a side table and head in the opposite direction, weaving through the crowd and down the hallway that will lead to my father’s study.