Devils: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance: (The Brotherhood Book 2)

by K. M. Raya

  A maid hurries towards us, and the five of us let her take our coats. Luckily, the inside of the house is cozy and warm despite the chilliness of the East Coast weather outside. One of the guards from outside introduces himself as Vinny, and I have to physically hold back a snort. What are the fucking odds? Vinny, how cliché Italian mobster could they possibly get? I’m wondering now if we’ll meet a Luigi or a Leonardo… I have to keep my face neutral. I’m a big fucker, but this guy looks like he could put my head through a wall easily.

  We follow Vinny through the house, past hallways littered with antique paintings and white marble statues of what seems to be gods and goddesses from every pantheon. The house is eclectic but refined—fitting the Angel I know perfectly. She’s polished, strange and a little bit terrifying.

  The hallway ends and we reach a massive dining room. There’s a long table down the center of it that could probably seat over thirty guests. I feel like we’ve been invited to dine with royalty, and I guess in a way, that might actually be sort of accurate. From the small amount of research Captain and I have been able to do over the course of our exile, we’ve managed to find very little information about Salvatore Valentino. With the help of Finley and his access to outside sources, I’ve managed to come up with a few of his business holdings on both coasts that have ties to the Brotherhood. I’d been blindsided at first, finding out that the Brotherhood was in league with the Italian mob, but thinking logically… why wouldn’t we? We were basically a crime family on our own, because I know for damn sure that our father’s dealings were always illegal. Hell, we bought and sold women as marriage prospects in exchange for money… if you want to get technical, the Brotherhood were human traffickers.

  Shuddering, I force myself to focus. There’s a man sitting at the end of the long table, and he doesn’t make a move to stand. This is undeniably Salvatore Valentino. There’s no question about it. He looks cold. That’s the only way to put it. His pale skin is at odds with that slicked back midnight colored hair that he must have passed down to his daughter. Watery green eyes assess us, but since half of his face is covered in a thick black beard, I can’t quite tell if he’s grimacing or not. His expression is stoic—vacant.

  “Buonasera—” his deep voice rumbles through the room, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. His accent is thick, reminding me of the way it would sometimes come out when Angel was upset. “Please have a seat.”

  We don’t hesitate, knowing how men like him work. In a way, it already reminds me of dinners with Cole Faux and how on edge I was every single time I was forced to be around him. I constantly felt like every move I made was being scrutinized. Carter and I sit side by side, while Captain, Holden and Fin circle around and sit across from us—leaving an open seat next to Salvatore on either side. The room is silent of any chatter, but soft, lilting music fills the room from some hidden speaker, but it’s eerily quiet.

  “Welcome to my family home, gentlemen. I hope you are very welcome.” His cheeks lift on both sides, causing his shrewd eyes to squint as he spreads his arms out wide. Suddenly, the man snaps his fingers and three maids bustle into the room to fill our wine glasses. Looking to both entrances, I count at least four henchmen milling around. A lot of security for a dinner.

  “Thank you for having us, Mr. Valentino,” Holden speaks up—attempting to be diplomatic. It’s more than I myself could have faked. Sal’s eyes flicker to him and he smiles blandly. “Your estate is beautiful. It’s a pleasure to be invited to dine in such a—”

  Sal’s booming laugh cuts him off and we all gaze around at one another uneasily. “My boy, you do not need to butter this old man up. We all know why you are here and there’s no need to skirt around it.” The tension in the room is thickening because the facts are… we don’t know why we’re here.

  “Ahh, mia bella, better late than never I presume?” Sal suddenly asks as he smiles towards the door. My whole body locks up as a figure appears in my peripheral. I almost don’t want to look. “Come and join our friends, my darling, there are no strangers here.” There’s an unmistakable teasing note to his voice. To any outsider, Sal would appear to be thrilled at the sight of his beautiful daughter, but to the trained eye, you can see the wheels turning in his head. You can see a glimmer in his green eyes that promises pain.

  Turning my head finally, I drink in the sight of Angel as she slips into the room—a vision in soft white, with her dark blue hair cascading over her shoulders in soft, luscious waves. Her full lips are bare of any makeup and the freckles that dot the pale bridge of her nose are prominent. She looks like a fucking fairy princess and my dick hardens on the spot. I fear for a moment, that Sal can hear the thumping of my heart against my ribcage. It seems to be the only sound in the room as blood floods my ears. Gripping the tabletop, I wait for her to just fucking sit already because I can’t stand staring at her anymore. Swallowing thickly, I can’t seem to pry my eyes away from those curves that I used to grip in my palm. My teeth ache in my mouth and my fingers itch to grab a glass of scotch and down its contents. Anger surges through me and I have to hold myself back from taking her face in my hands as I scream and rage at the lying bitch.

  Glancing across the table, I watch as Captain bites the inside of his cheek, and Holden grips the tabletop with white knuckles. I can practically hear the grinding of teeth next to me. Carter must be fuming, given his tantrum the other night in her bedroom. He’d destroyed practically everything in his path. Not to mention it’s hard to reign in his volatile temper even on a good day…

  Carter

  I’m screaming inside. Hatred, hurt, and utter loathing bubbles beneath the surface as I watch her dark eyes scan the room. Her face gives nothing away and I hate that she feels like a stranger after the life we’ve built together.

  I spent so long loving her. Six months to be exact, and she threw it all back in my face. Every touch, kiss and caress flits through my brain like an agonizing slide show of betrayal. I put my heart on the line for her and she stomped on it. I should have known better than to fall for a pretty face and a tragic backstory. I fucking told the guys we needed to be careful, but what did we do? Jumped headfirst into saving her until our lives were dismantled and everything we worked so hard to build up came crashing down. I don’t regret killing our fathers. No, that part still brings me immense joy, but what I do regret is how we let our feelings for the little wench cloud years’ worth of training and judgement we thought we perfected. How she slipped past our defenses is a mystery.

  Movement behind her in the doorway catches my attention. A tall man steps in after her, with short brown hair and green eyes that see a little bit too much for my comfort. His eyes scan the room just as Angel’s had, and he steps in closer to her back—their bodies almost touching. My spine stiffens and I can see out of the corner of my eye that every single one of my Brothers do the same. Looking over, I can see that Holden’s eyes are narrowed in on the man’s hand that barely touches Angel’s waist as he guides her in. My teeth grind as I suppress the need to rip his arm from his body.

  The man's gaze flickers to mine and the sides of his mouth tilt into a barely there smirk. Rage lights me up at the knowing sneer. The man guides Angel further into the room before pulling out her chair and standing back at the wall, guarding her like she’s some sort of… well, some sort of princessa. I feel sick at the thought of his hands on her even though I have no reason to. She’s a backstabbing bitch that I shouldn’t have any lingering feelings towards. I wish I could convince my head to cooperate with my heart.

  Angel’s eyes are averted, almost as if she’s afraid to look at any of us. Good. Let her feel the shame she deserves for leading us on like a bunch of whipped dogs. All those nights we spent in each other’s arms mean nothing now. Every whisper, kiss or promise is poison in my mouth and my skin feels too tight over my bones. I trace every angle of her familiar face with my burning gaze, wondering how I didn’t see the signs.

  “How was your training
?” Sal asks as she settles into her chair. Briefly, her eyes flit to mine, but bounce away quickly.

  “Fine, Papa,” she clips. Her hands are resting in her lap in a practiced manner that’s so unfamiliar to me. Gone is the relaxed, pixie-like woman who used to prance around our apartment in her pajamas. Gone is the lighthearted twinkle in her molten eyes, and in its place is a cold chasm of empty promises.

  Sal clears his throat. “I trust you are in good hands with Nicolas?” He nods at the beefy guard that escorted her in and my blood fucking boils. A million images of his nasty hands on her skin—pinning her lush curves to the floor flood my mind. Glancing over, I can see Ellis clenching his jaw while Captain takes a too large swig of wine.

  “Yes, Papa, just like old times.” Her voice is steady, but more demure than I can ever recall hearing. She doesn’t sound the same. She sounds defeated and I hate that it makes my gut twist. I shouldn’t have any sympathy for the likes of her.

  “We’ll need to pick up your training then,” Sal suggests. “You’ve been away too long and I’m afraid Nicolas might be taking things too easy on you.” His voice is mocking. He’s putting on a show and relishing in how uncomfortable the six of us are. Even Finley is squirming.

  “Yes, Papa,” she repeats, but there’s an edge to her words.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’ve invited these fine gentlemen to our table.” Sal pours himself some scotch. “You’ve done all I’ve asked of you and more, and I couldn't be happier.” Something about his words ring false. “But now that certain… obstacles, are out of the way, our West Coast venture finds themselves in need of some new leadership.”

  Acid burns in my stomach. Of course, they’re in need of new leadership, we put bullets into the last ones. We remain silent until Sal continues, knowing he has our full attention.

  “Black Pharmaceuticals remains in a state of limbo, since the four of you decided to take an… extended vacation.” His eyes narrow on Angel, making me frown in confusion. “But now that you’re back, I’d like to extend an invitation to the Brotherhood once more—a partnership, if you will.”

  A glass clinks. “Partnership?” asks Holden as he sits forward. “Cole Faux was your friend and you ordered his assassination. We saw the correspondence between you and your daughter. We know it was you who orchestrated the entire thing. Why should we partner with a man so willing to turn on his friends?”

  Sal’s right eyebrow rises, but his face remains neutral. I’d personally love to hear the answer to this particular question. From what Cole said, he and Salvatore went way back—back to military school days before they went their separate ways and Sal moved to Italy. From the way Cole spoke of him, they were close like brothers at one point, but for Sal to order their deaths made him a special kind of psychopath.

  Sal runs a ring clad hand over his full beard before sitting back in his chair with the air of a king. “You may think me a callous man,” Sal says, swirling his drink around in his glass idly. “But sometimes decisions must be made—hard decisions that go against a man’s moral code for the sake of business. Cole was a friend, as were the others for a time, and in some ways, he was family to me.” His mouth turns flat, imitating what normal humans might call a frown. “But he lost his way. He grew cocky and made the fatal decision to go behind my back and sell to my competitors, thinking I wouldn’t notice. He lost my trust, and in turn—his life. Don’t make the same mistake as your fathers.”

  “That man wasn’t my father,” Ellis snaps. His voice is filled with venom and lingering betrayal after living a life of lies. Soon after the revelation that Cole murdered Charlotte in cold blood, Ellis relinquished the name Faux altogether.

  Sal’s eyes crinkle. “Should we be calling you Cassini now?” He asks with a small smirk; his eyes are glittering with amusement. My hands curl into fists.

  Ellis opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off before he can dig himself into a hole he might not be able to talk his way out of. “Why did you call us here, Salvatore? You say you want to extend an invitation, but what does that entail?”

  He claps his hands together accompanied by a deep chuckle that makes my skin prickle. “Finally, a man that gets straight to the point.” He looks to Angel with a wide smile. “He’s just as you described, mia bella.” She glares at her father—those chocolate depths glazing over in seething anger. I study her, trying to figure out her motives. She clearly dislikes the man, so why is she helping him? Is it familial loyalty?

  His attention returns to us. “I need you to work for me, boys.” My teeth grit. Boys. We haven’t been boys since we were thirteen years old. We hadn't been afforded that luxury. “What happened with your predecessors was unfortunate, but I think it may be possible to come to some kind of agreement, no?” He glances not so subtly towards Angel.

  I frown, not quite understanding what he’s getting at.

  “Our families have been closely linked for many years, and I do wish to continue working with the Brotherhood.”

  “Papa—” Angel practically hisses, but he silences her with a sharp look.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Valentino,” Holden begins respectfully. “You aren't offering what I think you’re offering—”

  There’s a moment of heavy silence. A booming laugh fills the room as Salvatore’s hand slaps the table. I just barely keep myself from jumping in my seat. With men like this, it’s dangerous to let on that they intimidate you. Salvatore would take that as a sure sign of weakness. A sign that we may be unfit to do what he is asking of us… even if that thing isn’t entirely clear. Still, my stomach clenches tightly and my eyes flit from Angel back to her father.

  “I’m afraid my daughter’s hand is no longer on the table.” He wipes the corner of his eyes. “If I remember correctly, we tried to go that route, but alas our plans fell through at the last moment.” I remember that night clearly. Angel was seconds away from being bound to Captain forever. Their palms had been slit and Giles had already begun to recite the words, but four bullets put a quick stop to it.

  “Don’t pretend to be upset about it,” I grit. Angel’s eyes widen before she frowns with a barely perceptible shake of her head—as if telling me silently to shut my mouth. I ignore her, unwilling to let her manipulate me any further. “You orchestrated that entire night for your benefit. You put the pawns in place and made it so that their blood wasn’t on your hands. You had your precious daughter play with our emotions, knowing we would kill for her. You knew who really killed Charlotte, but you kept it to yourself until the moment was right, didn’t you, Sal? Who best to cover it up than the fucking mob?” My chest is heaving, and my eyes are burning with tears of rage that I’ll never let fall.

  Sal watches me now—expressionless, but studying. His fingers are tapping the wooden tabletop as my accusations sink in. “Aren’t you a brave one.” I want to scoff, but I’ve probably pushed my luck enough for one night. “Tell me, Carter Draven,” he prompts. Squaring my shoulders, I sit a little higher in my seat. “Do you make decisions for yourself, or are you content that a little girl might have the power to sway your mind? My daughter is many things, but she is still simply a girl. You were trained to never be that stupid, or to let your guard down for a pretty face. What happened to those men was justified and inevitable, but your inability to see past your own teenage lust was the real reason for what happened six months ago.”

  His voice is no longer mocking. Salvatore is speaking man to man now. There’s nothing hiding in his words, no sharp turn of phrase. The sad part of it is—he’s right. I let my feelings for Angel blind me to what was really going on and how corrupt the Brotherhood had really become. It doesn’t surprise me that our fathers might have somehow turned their backs on Sal for their own gain. How could I have thought it was normal for a young girl to move across the states by herself in the middle of senior year of high school? Why did I believe it was no big deal for her to live in that huge house all alone? And when Cole told us about Angel’s mafia ties, wh
y had we excused it so easily? There’s no logical explanation for the way we fell for her lies.

  “I am hoping to make this a seamless transition,” Sal says. “Bad blood aside, the Brotherhood’s many assets in the west are still in need of loyal leadership—men I trust to do as I say. Angel has kept me well informed that the five of you are quite capable, luckily untainted by the ways of your predecessors.” Bile coats my throat with each word. It’s not that I disagree with him necessarily, it's the fact that it’s him saying it, and the fact that the insider information came from someone who I thought I could trust. There’s no sincerity in his voice.

  “Black Pharmaceuticals has been in under my authority for next to fifteen years. I intend to keep it that way, but I need your legacy at the helm if we are to continue to do great things.”

  The truth of the matter settles in. This isn’t about us. This isn’t about Sal being able to trust us as men; it’s about the legacy our fathers left behind. It would look bad on Salvatore if four of his closest partners suddenly turned up missing, while shortly after he decides to appoint a new CEO. It would look suspicious, as it should. But with us at the helm of his drug empire, it would be the natural next step to take in a situation like this. We are the successors, and by all rights, owners and partners of Black Pharmaceuticals.

  “And if we agree to your terms, what then?” Holden asks. “Things return to normal and we pretend like the last six months never happened?”

  Sal chuckles. “What is normal, my boy? Have you seen a normal day in your short life? You’ll take over for your fathers and report to Alexi Cassini or myself, what you do with your free time is none of my concern, unless you make it so.”