Jaded Devil: An Enemies-to-Lovers Mafia Romance

by Nicole Fox

  I shake my head. “You’re not supposed to be here…”

  “You kept it because you were stupid enough to believe that he was your savior,” Drago continues over my protestations. “That the fact that he didn’t kill you where you stood made him some kind of a hero.”

  “Please,” I beg. “Just… leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

  “You stupid little bitch!” Drago rails at me. “You’re pathetic. He wasn’t protecting you. You weren’t even worth killing. He just didn’t want to waste a bullet on you. That’s all it was.”

  “Stop…”

  “But now that you’ve grown tits… now that your pussy is ripe for the plucking… he’s interested in how he can use you.”

  “No…!”

  “Admit it. You want him to.”

  “Please…”

  “You dirty little whore. You—”

  “STOP!

  I wake up with my nails digging into the hard cement, trying to claw my way out of a nightmare that still feels so fucking real.

  I look around the cell frantically, but my brother is not here.

  He never was.

  23

  Kian

  I’m extremely aware of my body as I head to my office. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, desperate for an outlet.

  Usually, when this happens, I go out to a random club and pick a woman. I’ve had three decades of practice. By now, the sport of it has all but disappeared. It comes as naturally to me as breathing.

  She doesn’t have to have anything specific. She just needs to catch my attention. And really, there are only two things I’m really looking for when I want a woman for the night.

  She needs to be willing. She needs to be wild.

  Some nights have ended in triumph. And some nights, I’ve ended up with the wrong girl. But I’ve honed my gift over the years. I can pick out the girls who don’t have limits from the ones who have very clear boundaries drawn.

  When it comes to Renata… she’s definitely wild. There’s a sense of abandon inside her that’s desperate to break free. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  There’s no denying the sexual tension between us anymore. I’m hard around her more often than not. And considering the way she reacts to me, I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. But that possibility… it feels barred to us. Off-limits.

  To her, I’m the monster that murdered her father right in front of her.

  To me, she’s the five-year-old I left surrounded by a pile of dead bodies.

  And yes, there is a certain amount of guilt I associate with Renata. It has nothing to do with killing her father. It has to do with my less-than-pure thoughts about her now.

  She was a child when I first met her. How many years stand between us? Two decades.

  I’m forty-five. She’s twenty-five.

  It shouldn’t matter either way. Even if she was older, she’s still be off limits. She’s a fucking Lombardi. The enemy. The scum of the earth. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to care about that as much as I should.

  When I get to my office, I sit down behind my desk and pick up the phone on the side of the table. I dial in Phoenix’s number first. He picks up almost immediately.

  “Uncle Kian,” he says. “I was just about to call you.”

  “Anything to report?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “No?” I ask, frowning. “Nothing at all?”

  “We’ve been scouring the city looking for Lombardi,” Phoenix says, and I can sense that he’s not happy about what he has to tell me next. “Nothing’s come up so far. We’ve been monitoring Italian and Greek mob connections, too. And it’s all quiet as the fucking grave. Their regular haunts seem to be empty, too. Like they all just up and left.”

  “Hm,” I growl. “That’s not good.”

  “We’re still looking—”

  “If there was something to find, you would have found something by now. Drago Lombardi didn’t just disappear.”

  “We’ll find him,” Phoenix says with the kind of steely-eyed determination that comes from youth. “I’ll find him.”

  “He’s not working alone, Phoenix.”

  “I know. Whoever’s helping him is obviously covering his tracks. So if we find them, we’ll find him, too.”

  “I’m not sure how loyal the Greeks are to Lombardi,” I admit. “Yannis may just be using Drago to leverage his support. So you need to do some digging. Try and flush out the last remaining Lombardi loyalists. There might be breadcrumbs there.”

  “You really think he has many supporters left?”

  “Not necessarily,” I explain. “But a few powerful guys in your corner can do more damage than a lot of inconsequential allies. Any news about Rokiades?”

  Phoenix hesitates for a moment. Again, I can sense his disappointment with his own report. “I’ve got men scouting around in all the Greek territories in the city,” he tells me. “There’s nothing there, either.”

  “He’s lying low for the moment. We must have really shocked him at the club. He wasn’t expecting the attack. Fuck, we nearly had him.” I stab a letter opener into the pockmarked surface of my desk. The anger at watching Yannis scurry away down that secret passageway in his club, cock dangling from his open zipper, makes me mad as hell.

  “He’ll be planning something.”

  “Undoubtedly,” I agree. “There’s a chance that the attack on the club forced the Italians and the Greeks closer together.”

  “Close enough to pose a real threat to us?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “It depends on how they decide to attack.”

  “Well, if it comes down to it, the Bratva has your back.”

  I smile. “I know that, Phoenix. And I appreciate it. But your father has bailed us out of enough scrapes. We’ll handle this on our own.”

  I can sense that Phoenix likes the sound of that. It can’t be easy having a living legend as a father. I can relate.

  “Maybe I should come back to the city. Handle this shit myself.”

  “No,” Phoenix barks immediately. “That’s not necessary. I’ve got this handled.”

  I pause, realizing that I actually want Phoenix to handle this—for purely selfish reasons. I want to stay here.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. If anything new pops up, I’ll let you know.”

  “You better.”

  After I hang up, I stare out the windows that overlook the blackened ocean. I don’t know why the thought of leaving Renata weighs on me. Or maybe I do, and I just don’t want to face the truth.

  But I do need to decide what to do with her. Am I using her to draw out her brother? Or am I going to protect her like I’ve protected so many women before her?

  Is she a victim? Or is she every bit the Lombardi bastard her brother is?

  I can’t quite decide.

  But I have seen the fight in her. She’s been broken down and beaten. There’s a darkness in her past that she’s desperate to bury at any cost. She let it slip in that conversation we had in her room, but I saw the open wounds she’s still nursing.

  Sometimes, strength is just a mask to hide the scars left by the demons we can’t get rid of.

  A soft knock comes at my door. “Enter.”

  Aisling walks in and meets my eyes with a smile.

  “Sit,” I tell her, gesturing to the chair in front of my desk.

  She sits down confidently. She’s not like some of the other maids I’ve employed. She’s whip-smart, shrewd, and observant. Her talents have come in handy many times over the years. Now more so than ever.

  “Well?”

  “I just checked on her,” she answers. “She was dreaming. Screaming in her sleep, tossing around on the floor.”

  I try not to look too upset about that. I have noticed the nightmares, though. I’ve watched Renata sleep enough to know that she has them frequently. “Did you speak to her?”

  “Not this time,” Aisling says. “She seemed out
of sorts when she finally did wake up. I don’t think she even noticed that I had the partition open an inch. She did…”

  I lean forward. “Did what?”

  “She did seem to think someone was in the room with her. Someone that meant her harm.”

  I consider that for a moment. Something in her past—or someone, more likely—has hurt her enough that all men are now the enemy in Renata’s eyes. Drago is the obvious culprit. But something Renata said at dinner has been circulating in my head, too. He sold me to a monster. What could that mean?

  “Did she say anything else to you when you helped her dress for dinner?” I ask, trying not to stay on track.

  “We spoke a lot,” Aisling says. It’s another reason she was perfect for the job. She engenders trust. There’s something about her that coerces people to open up a little more. “She wanted to know how I had come to work here for you.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “The truth. That you were the one that saved me.”

  I suppress a smile. I couldn’t have planned the conversation better myself. But I wonder how much of an impact it has had on Renata. She still seems to look at me like a… what had she called me?

  A predator.

  The insult still fucking stings. Worse, she keeps associating me with her dumbass of a brother.

  “She did seem surprised.”

  “Surprised?”

  “By what I told her about you,” she says. “Not just that you saved me, but that you’re helping me look for my husband and daughter. That you gave me a job here in the meantime.”

  “Of course she was surprised,” I say, mostly to myself. “I’ve always been the villain in her life.”

  Aisling’s jaw twitches and I catch the expression flit across her face. “What?” I ask.

  She sighs. “I told her about her father’s involvement,” she explains. “I told her about the money he pumped into them.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You told her that?”

  Her expression turns resolute. “She deserves to know. I would have wanted to know. Especially if I were loyal to my family.”

  I search Aisling’s face for any sign that she might be a danger to Renata—or to me. But I see none. She’s as trustworthy as ever. “How did she react?”

  “She was shocked,” Aisling says. “But still in denial.”

  I nod. “I want you to develop a relationship with her,” I tell her. “Don’t overdo it, but it’ll benefit her to have someone to talk to while she’s here.”

  “Of course, Master Kian.”

  “Thank you, Aisling,” I say, dismissing her.

  She doesn’t stand immediately, though. Instead, her expression turns almost pleading. “Master Kian, have you managed to find anything about…?”

  “Not yet, Aisling,” I tell her, disappointed that I can’t give her more. “My men are still looking.”

  She bites her bottom lip. “Shouldn’t there be some record of them? A paper trail? Something?”

  “The fact that finding them has proved so difficult suggests that your husband wanted to disappear,” I tell her. “He made sure there was no trace of where they went, paper or otherwise.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “You did disappear on them,” I tell her straight. “Perhaps he was afraid of staying in one place. Perhaps he felt threatened. It could be a number of different reasons.”

  She looks down. The disappointment weighs on her shoulders.

  “Don’t you worry,” I tell her gently. “I gave you my word I’d find them, and I will. It’ll just take time.”

  She nods slowly and stands weakly to her feet. “Thank you.”

  When she leaves the office, I get up and walk towards the windows. The ocean is dark, filtered only by little pockets of waves. I’ve always loved the sea at night. The shifting darkness speaks to me.

  So many missing people out in that darkness. Drago. Aisling’s family. Countless other women who’ve been ripped from their homes by men like Giorgio Lombardi. I’ve made it my job in this world to comb through the shadows, find those women, return them where they belong. But I’m starting to think that the darkness is infecting me. Burrowing its way inside, to a place where I can’t get it back out again.

  And if the darkness swallows me up… who will come search through it for me?

  Still wired by the events of the day, I change into sweats and head down to the beach for a run. The salt air fills my lungs as I start off jogging down the shore. The moon hangs precariously in the sky, partially hidden by a bunch of grey-blue clouds.

  I consider wading out and swimming until my muscles burn. The waves are strong, but then, I’m a strong swimmer. I decide not to, though. Not tonight.

  Tonight, my mind is too distracted by the dark-haired beauty lying on the cold floor of my basement cell.

  I’m not entirely comfortable leaving her there. But a lesson needs to be taught. I have to meet her fire with strength. Otherwise, she’ll never respect me. Her stubbornness is as irritating as it is impressive.

  My cock stiffens slightly, despite the bite in the air. I should leave her in the fucking cell for a few more days until she starts begging for food. I should stay away from her. Make her feel as though I’ve forgotten her entirely.

  But I’m not sure my will is that strong.

  In the end, I cut my jog short and head back into the house. The plan is to go straight to bed and get some much-needed sleep, but I find myself changing course and heading down to the basement instead.

  I don’t know why, but the woman calls to me like a fucking siren.

  There was only one woman I’ve spent significant time and energy on in the past. One woman. And even that had not felt like this.

  All is quiet when I enter the cold basement. I walk over to her cell and slide the partition open. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but then I see her. She’s curled up in one corner of the cell. Resting her head on her hands with her knees drawn up into a fetal position. She’s still wearing the sheer nude dress I’d picked for her. It doesn’t exactly provide very much coverage.

  Every so often, her body shivers as though there’s an independent breeze fluttering around her cell. Her eyelashes flutter slightly and I realize she’s probably dreaming again.

  I’ve been plagued by dreams for most of my life. I know firsthand how unwelcome they can be.

  I clench my jaw. I should leave her here for a few more days. If she were anyone else, I would. But there’s just something about this fucking woman.

  I can’t stay away.

  I can’t resist.

  Even when I can feel the danger hurtling towards us both.

  24

  Renata

  I twist around. My bones don’t hit the hard, cold surface I’m expecting. Instead, I land on something that’s still got some resistance, but is incredibly soft.

  That’s when the smell hits me. The mouth-watering smell of savory, fried food. Oh God. The hunger’s finally starting to affect my head.

  Then I hear a sound, a scraping noise like nails on a chalkboard. And a cough. My eyes fly open and I sit up fast.

  There’s a short table placed about two feet away from me. It’s full to the brim, absolutely groaning with as much food as I’ve ever seen in one place.

  Pizza with gooey, melted cheese and thick-cut pepperonis. Burgers dripping ketchup and grease. Noodles in a red broth with shrimp floating on top. A plate bearing the biggest piece of frosted chocolate cake I’ve ever seen.

  I blink, but the food doesn’t dissolve like I expect it to.

  Clearly, I’m hallucinating. Which doesn’t trouble me as much as the fact that the hallucination refuses to budge.

  “How about some dumplings?”

  I gasp and turn my head away from the table to find Kian sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He stands and drags his chair closer to me.

  I look down, realizing that I’m lying on a thick blanket. And I’ve been
covered over with a second one.

  When Kian sits down again, he stretches out comfortably and pushes the plate he’s holding in my face. “Pork dumplings,” he tells me. “Best I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m not dreaming?”

  “I can see why you’d assume that, given that I’m here,” he says, “looking the way I always do. But no, it’s not a dream.”

  I try to glare at him, but the food is messing with my head. I can’t seem to muster up enough energy even for anger. “You’re an asshole.”

  “So you’ve said,” he replies with a shrug. “Multiple times. But you only think that because you don’t really know me.”

  “So then tell me, eh?” I snap. “Tell me who you are.”

  He cocks his head to the side as though I’ve asked him the one question he was hoping for. “Maybe eventually,” he says with a shrug. “When you’re in a more receptive frame of mind. And after I get what I want.”

  “What is it that you want?” I ask suspiciously, trying very hard not to look at the food in front of me. Those burgers look so damn good. The chicken looks like it’s been fried twice. My stomach rumbles.

  “Simple,” Kian replies. “You can ask me any question you want and I’ll answer honestly.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “You have to eat.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  “Quite seriously,” he says without the faintest trace of humor.

  “You’ll honestly answer any question I ask if I just eat?”

  “That’s right.”

  His condition might almost be construed as concern. To someone who didn’t know any better, at least. But I do know better.

  I glance towards the table and then back at him. He’s still given no indication that he’s joking. And I realize that my will is crumbling quickly. I’m not sure if it’s delirium or not, but it feels like a fair trade to me. I get to fill my aching belly and I also get some straight answers from the man I’ve spent my life orbiting around.

  Of course, he might just renege on the deal. Or maybe he’ll just lie to me. But, as I look at the gorgeous bowl of creamy pasta sitting next to the pizza, I decide it’s a risk worth taking.