Wanted: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men Of Mayhem Book 1)

by Kristen Luciani

  “For?” Vince asks.

  She squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath. “Anything. And everything.”

  Chapter Ten

  Serena

  I follow the hallway around past the kitchen and push open the door to the bathroom, closing it tight. I flip around and collapse against the painted wood, smacking a hand against my mouth and letting out a muffled scream. I’ve only felt this helpless twice in my life.

  The night I was taken and the night of the gala.

  Both of those events turned my life upside down before tearing it apart.

  I press my hands to my temples, the haunting memory of me holding my mother in my arms as she drifted away from the horrors and evil of her earthly life crashing over me.

  I hope she’s resting comfortably.

  I don’t know that I ever will again.

  Deep down, I knew what was in store for me when I started the foundation a year ago. I knew the hate my work generated. The anger and the fear. The desperation to come up with ways to keep the cash flowing. I knew lobbying against the sex trade would put me in the line of fire.

  Again.

  I just never thought it would claim the life of my mother.

  My best friend.

  I never thought a lot of things until now.

  A lump forms in my throat as I step over to the sink and turn on the cold water. I splash it over my face, the chill instantly cooling my heated cheeks. She’d always been so proud of me and what I accomplished. And she never missed an opportunity to let me know it.

  I’d never really had many close girlfriends growing up. Papa didn’t trust easily, and it was hard for me to maintain any real relationships when he constantly hovered over me like a helicopter. So Mama became my confidante and my rock through the years.

  And guys? Forget that. I can count on less than two hands how many dates I’ve actually been on. Under heavy surveillance, of course.

  I may be the daughter of an infamous mob boss, the head of an international charitable foundation, and a fashion icon, but I’ve never been properly kissed.

  At least, not enough to know a good one from a bad one.

  So I focused my energy on my own life and the value I could bring to the world. It had taken me a long time to convince my parents that I was ready to accept more responsibility within the family and create a name for myself.

  Credibility.

  I had a college degree and I wanted to use it. I had dreams and goals that I wanted to achieve.

  I always needed a purpose. I never wanted to be one of those daughters who just marries the next rising star in the family.

  I wanted to be that rising star.

  Even if it put a bullseye on my back.

  And that’s why I made a point to have Papa train me. My constant prodding only worked because Papa was panicked that if I couldn’t defend myself, I’d become a victim.

  Me, the only heir to the Vitale family legacy.

  He never wanted me to play a central role in the organization. He knew I’d be at risk every time I’d so much as set foot out of my house, which is why he had body guards assigned to me twenty-four-seven. And they earned their handsome pay since I made appearances and did work all over Italy for years.

  It wasn’t like I could pack a weapon into a sparkly ball gown on those occasions. I needed the backup, even with as much as I hated feeling so powerless.

  Papa was never a fan of me being in the spotlight, even before the attack at the gala. But I think he realized that night, just like I did, that you never know when your time will be up. So if you’re going to live, live. But just keep your ears and eyes on everything and everyone around you.

  And if shit moves in the shadows, pull out your gun and shoot first.

  Never ask questions.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t pay attention to the shadows until it was too late and they all but consumed me.

  I swore I’d never make the same mistake twice, promised myself I’d pay closer attention to what was going on around me since I knew I’d eventually make enough waves with our enemies and need to protect myself from the kind of guy who’d try to take me out in the middle of a café at dawn.

  I ball my fists, my fingernails digging into my palms.

  How the fuck did I forget to bring my damn gun? That should be a no-brainer. Money, hotel key, weapon!

  I dab at my face with a fluffy white towel, peering at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are less red and puffy, my face less blotchy. But the tip of my nose is still bright red, like I’m trying to guide a pack of reindeer through a blizzard.

  I clutch the sides of the sink, bile rising in my throat as the reality of my situation grabs hold of me by the neck. It chokes me like a noose that’s being pulled tighter and tighter.

  Papa brought me here to protect me, to save me from the dangers that lurk back in Italy. Tears spring to my eyes once again. Is he alive? Am I ever going to see him again? Am I ever going to be able to thank him for everything he’s done for me and tell him how much I love him?

  So many questions I don’t have answers to pop through my mind like bullets.

  How very ironic.

  For such a long time, I’d wanted to leave my mark on the world. I was so idealistic, so optimistic that I could make a positive difference. I barreled ahead with my plans to save would-be victims of the sex trade after suffering through my own experience, never thinking about the damage and destruction that might come of it.

  The people whose lives I’d ultimately risk.

  The most important people in my world.

  This is exactly why Papa always kept me in the shadows. For years, I begged him to let me have a place, a real role in the family. But he told me no. It was too dangerous, too unpredictable, and too risky. He knew better.

  But I, on the other hand, didn’t. And I got involved with things I shouldn’t have. People I shouldn’t have.

  All because I needed purpose.

  I’m not a fan of death and devastation, but sometimes it’s necessary.

  Things weren’t completely clear to me until after the gala attack. Even after the night I’d been kidnapped, I didn’t realize the faceless enemies we were battling. But I now know what I have to find the strength to do on behalf of my father’s legacy.

  I know Papa had blood on his hands, too much to ever scrub clean.

  And I know that my hands will look the same way if I follow in his footsteps.

  It’s the only way, though.

  If he really is gone…the thought clenching my heart…then I need to step into his shoes and take command of what he’s left behind.

  I have to stop our enemies before they crash through our borders and unleash more terror on young innocent lives. Even though he’d always been resistant to me getting involved with his war, I have to accept the responsibility over his empire.

  There are a lot of seedy criminals moving into our territories, people who don’t like moves I’ve made to expose them and their plans. Moves that can yank millions of dollars right out from under their noses. They feel threatened. They’re desperate.

  That makes them dangerous.

  And deadly.

  Papa would need someone strong to lead the charge against them, to protect what we’ve built, and to preserve our future.

  This life isn’t something I chose for myself, it’s something I was born into. And even though I don’t embrace everything about it, it’s given me the opportunity to help people, innocent victims who have nowhere else to turn.

  Sure, it’s money my family made through illicit businesses, but doing good with it launders it better than any bullshit shell corporation could.

  Yep, this mafia princess has a moral code. Stranger things have happened.

  The newspapers don’t call me Principessa Filantropo for nothing.

  And since my work makes me a target for the people who don’t like to lose money, that means war.

  A war that needs to be fought, even if I’m c
ompletely on my own representing the Vitale camp.

  I narrow my eyes in the mirror, my jaw set, gaze steely.

  I won’t go down easily. I won’t let them steal it all away.

  I will protect what’s ours.

  And I’ll keep fighting like hell to defend the freedom of those who can’t.

  Because I’m still here.

  No, I’m not a goddamn damsel. And that’s something the assholes hunting me are about to witness firsthand.

  I pull open the door and step back into the hallway. My stomach rumbles and I rub it, trying to remember the last thing I ate.

  That’s right.

  I haven’t eaten anything. I came close when I ordered that muffin at the café, but we already know how that trip turned out.

  A baby giggle makes my lips curl upward, and I poke my head into the kitchen where Diego’s sister Gianna is feeding his niece. She really is the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen, with all of that hair and those big bright eyes.

  Gianna looks at me with an inviting smile. She waves me into the room and points to a platter of breads and meats om the table. “You must be starving, you know, what with cheating death and all that.”

  I snicker and pat the top of Ava’s head as her tiny teeth tear into a piece of bread. “You’re right about that. Both things.”

  She hands me a plate and I fork a few slices of mozzarella onto it, along with some tomato slices and capicola.

  Papa’s favorites…

  My smile fades, and I sink into a chair next to Gianna, sliding the plate across the table.

  “Not hungry anymore?” she says in a soft voice.

  I run a hand down the front of my face. “I have no idea what’s happening out there right now. I feel like I’ve put you all in danger just by coming out here.” I tickle the underside of Ava’s chin and her eyes light up. “I’d never forgive myself if anything ever happened to any of you.”

  “You do realize that we live this every day,” Gianna says, getting up to pour me a glass of water. “And because of that, someone is always welcoming some not-so-nice people into our lives. Goes with the territory.” She grins. “You’re a Vitale. I’d think you knew that already.”

  “Yeah,” I trace my finger along the wood grain on the table top. “And I may be the only one left.”

  “You don’t know that,” she says, handing me the glass. “The news would have reported it if he’d been hit.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Definitely,” Gianna says. There is no uncertainty in her voice, although I do detect a tinge of something else…sadness. “When my father was killed, I was with him. The media couldn’t report on it faster if they’d had a drone hanging over the farm where he was hit. It’s news and news sells, as disturbing as that may be to hear. If Franco was dead,” she says, knocking on the wooden table three times. “You’d know it. The fact that you don’t is a good thing. It means he’s still alive. And safe. And my brothers will make sure that they keep you out of danger until he finds you.”

  “Oh God, I hope so, Gianna,” I whisper, leaning forward into my hands. “I mean, yes, I’ve prepared to take over Papa’s business since Mama died. We’ve prepared for it. And I’m trying to be strong because it’s what I need to do, but I wasn’t ready for it to happen yet. Not today. Not before I had the chance to even say goodbye to Papa.” I look at her, my throat tight as I choke out my next words. “I never got to say goodbye to my mother before she died. I’m the reason for that attack. I brought all of this trouble onto my family. Me. Because of my oh-so-noble cause, my desire to save the world. Who was I kidding? Did I really think I’d be able to do this work and not worry about any consequences? Like the death of my parents?”

  “Hey,” Gianna says, rubbing my arm. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but I really don’t think you deserve all of the blame. It’s not like your father works in the Peace Corps, you know? I mean, let’s face it. We all know the risks. Someone is always ready to strike because of a past vendetta or because their toes got stepped on or because they’re just out for blood. There are plenty of enemies to go around, Serena. They don’t all have to be yours.” She nods toward the doorway with a smirk on her face. “Just ask Diego. He knows all about pissing people off.”

  I sit up straight in the chair as Diego walks into the kitchen, my heart thumping like a jackhammer. His lips curl up into a lazy grin as he rakes a hand through his tousled dark hair. “Yeah, it’s kind of my full-time job these days.” He shrugs at me. “Occupational hazard.”

  Good God, it’s not enough that he looks like a real-life Adonis. And that voice. Low, gravelly, seductive. It made my knees weak the first time we met months ago, and that effect is only amplified right now.

  Maybe it’s because of my near-death experience and the fact that he saved my life that I’m feeling this way.

  Maybe it’s because of the way his strong arms felt wrapped tight around me, keeping me secure against him.

  Maybe it’s because of the goofy way he acts with his niece that makes my ovaries jump.

  But could it be more than all of that?

  Is it even possible?

  Or am I just a hot mess who is flailing like she’s in the middle of the ocean with no ability to swim and no lifeline to grasp onto?

  Unless…

  He’s supposed to be that lifeline.

  What kind of sad, twenty-first century woman am I, potentially the head of an international criminal organization, lusting after a guy who’s stepped in to save my ass twice in one day?

  I should be protecting my own ass, thank you very much!

  “Guys! Get in here quick!”

  Vince’s voice echoes through the place and Diego laces his fingers with mine and pulls me up from the chair. We run down the hallway and into the office. Vince is holding a television remote and pointing at the plasma screen mounted on the wall. I peer at the caption displayed below the newscasters’ faces and my heart damn near explodes out of my chest with each word I read.

  Gunman on the loose after shootout at Ritz-Carlton in Palermo. Five hotel workers injured.

  “What about the fatality?” I ask, rubbing my clammy hands against my legs.

  Vince shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  “That’s a good thing, though,” I mutter, toying with the drawstring on my shirt. “They haven’t confirmed it yet, which means it may not be him.”

  “Why would they be holding it back?” Diego looks at Vince. “They’ve been reporting that Franco was at the hotel during the time of the attack, but nobody has said a damn word about him other than that. Lots of speculation, but nothing concrete.”

  Vince frowns at the screen. “Could be because they’re being paid to keep it quiet. Could be because they don’t want to turn the city into a complete fucking zoo if his enemies found out he escaped and plan to comb the place looking for him. Could be because they still can’t confirm the identity of the person who was in that body bag.” He shrugs and looks back at us. “There are plenty of reasons why they’d keep it quiet.”

  I gasp and point to the screen. “Shit!”

  The guys follow my finger back to the screen, where a clear shot of me with Diego’s arm wrapped around my waist is splashed across it with the caption Principessa Appears In Public With Her New Knight in Shining Armor, Uniting the Vitale and Marcone Families?

  “Un-fucking-believable.” Diego mutters under his breath. “That’s what they’re feeding to the world? Nothing about the attack?”

  I watch as the newscaster spouts her view on the kind of relationship we have based on evidence displayed in the picture. She analyzes it from every angle and points out each and every possible indication that it may be more than just friendship or a simple helping hand apparent in the photo. I swallow hard, a hot flush creeping into my cheeks as she flashes on another picture of the two of us staring at each other. I shift in my sneakers, keeping my eyes fixed on the photo. There’s nothing friendly about that look in my eyes.


  Oh, no. Nothing at all.

  And I can still remember the intensity in Diego’s gaze when he looked at me.

  The newscaster can’t report on anything critically important, but she seems to have a good knack for body language.

  “Yeah, so…” Vince clicks off the television and clears his throat. “We’re still waiting.”

  “We can’t sit around here forever!” I throw my hands into the air. “I mean, are we just supposed to hide out from these people? Never to be seen again?”

  Diego looks at his watch. “Um, it’s only been three hours.”

  “Argh!” I throw my hands into the air. “I don’t care! I’m owning this, guys. My life is too important to waste. I can’t do this anymore! I’ve been cowering for two months! Out of the public eye, away from my work. I did what Papa asked. I took a step back to let things blow over. They clearly didn’t!” I shriek, pointing at the television. “I refuse to give up the rest of my life because I’m afraid. Papa would want me to be safe, but he’d also want me to be happy.” I pause with a sad smile on my face. “I needed purpose, which is why I started the foundation in the first place. I didn’t just want to be known as Franco Vitale’s daughter. I wanted to make my own name, my own mark. A powerful one. It’s jeopardized a hell of a lot for me, and taken away the most important person in my life. I have to live with my choices. But I cannot accept the choice to give up. And living a life where I can’t be and do all that I want to is giving up.” I shrug. “I’m just not that girl. I won’t hide from them any longer. If they’re going to come after me, so be it. I’ll be ready.”

  “I think that’s a very fucking bad idea,” Vince grunts. “You should stay here while we figure out what’s happened to your father—”

  “No!” I yell, stomping my foot. “What if we find out he’s gone? For real? Am I supposed to just sit back and let everything he built crash and burn? I have to uphold the legacy. Me! There is not a single guy in his crew who can do anything other than plug holes into people. They’re a bunch of fucking baboons, especially his underboss, Jackie Anzelone!”