Devil's Advocate: A Dark Mafia Romance (Devil's Playground Book 1)

by Vivi Paige

  Thing was, though, Sophie wasn’t the only one with a little surprise to spring. I patted my blazer pocket and grinned as I hit the courthouse steps.

  I was surprised to see my big bro Flavio standing inside the lobby. He pursed his lips in worry as I approached, put off by my ear-to-ear grin.

  “Indro. You’re looking good. I suppose being as you’re looking at your last chance to wear anything other than an orange jumpsuit for the next decade and a half, it makes sense.”

  “What makes you think I’m going down?”

  Flavio sighed. “Look, Indro. Even if the cops lost their eyewitness, he can still testify posthumously with his recorded statements. Without your girlfriend able to cross-examine him, I don’t see any path forward that doesn’t end with you rotting on Rikers Island.”

  “Oh ye of little faith. I guarantee you I’m walking out of here today.”

  Flavio knows when I’m full of shit. He also knows when I’m not. A cautious grin spread over his face.

  “You’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t you?”

  “You could say that.” My smile drooped into a frown. “I might walk out of here, bro, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods. The Loggias have their hooks sunk deep into the Chicago PD, if you catch my drift.” I glanced around. “I can’t talk about it here, but I came across something the Don definitely needs to hear about.”

  Flavio nodded. “We’re not in a great spot for a turf war, Indro. Not great at all. The Loggias have us beat cold in terms of manpower and funding. If they’ve got the cops in their back pocket, we might have our backs up against the wall.”

  “Yeah, well, us Lastra boys are never more dangerous than when our backs are against the wall.”

  “Damn right.” I clasped hands with him and patted his shoulder. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you soon.”

  I hummed a little ditty while I rode the elevator to the top floor. Using the mirrored walls, I checked my tie, smoothed my hair a bit, and strutted out into the corridor.

  I pushed the doors open and saw Sophie sitting smugly behind the defense table, hands clasped in front of her. I came up behind her and rested my hand on her shoulder.

  “What’s up, doll?”

  She grinned up at me. “A direction?”

  “Nice. Haven’t heard that one since prep school.” I settled into the chair beside her. DA Miller frowned at us. We should have been shaking in our boots, and instead we sat there like the cats who ate the canary. “He’s worried.”

  “He should be.” Sophie chuckled. “I’ve never lost to Miller, and I’m not about to start now.”

  We all stood up as Moreno entered the courtroom. She settled behind the bench and asked if we were ready to present our closing arguments.

  “Your Honor, the defense would like to enter one final piece of evidence.”

  “Objection!” Miller stood up. “I don’t know what kind of grandstanding stunt the defense is up to, but this is a violation of disclosure of the most heinous variety.”

  “I promise this is highly relevant,” Sophie said. “And, once I present this evidence, there will be no need for closing arguments or jury deliberation.”

  Judge Moreno frowned. “You have my attention, Ms. Vercetti. You may proceed.”

  “Your Honor—”

  “Enough of your wounded pride act, Mr. Miller. I’ve already made my ruling.”

  Man, the way Miller’s eyes bugged out of his head when the coroner wheeled in Marco’s corpse was just priceless. Moreno listened to Sophie’s explanation, slowly growing less incredulous as she went.

  “In light of this new evidence,” Moreno sniffed in disgust, “this court finds no other recourse but to dismiss all charges against Indro Lastra.”

  “Your Honor, you can’t do this.” DA Miller jabbed a finger my way. “He’s guilty! We all know he’s guilty!”

  “My own personal feelings on the matter aside, Mr. Miller, the fact is you don’t have any evidence. Your lone eyewitness has been thoroughly discredited. He’s not even who you said he was.”

  “I didn’t know that. The fact is, no matter who he said he was, he saw what he saw.”

  “Mr. Miller, other than your highly dubious, very dead eyewitness, you have no case. No forensics, no murder weapon, nothing. The charges against Indro Lastra are hereby dismissed.”

  She banged her gavel. “Mr. Lastra, you’re free to go. This time. Sooner or later the long arm of the law will find its way back to you.”

  As the courtroom cleared, I scooted my chair back and sank down to one knee in front of Sophie.

  “What are you doing? Isn’t that a new suit?”

  Her eyes grew big as the moon when she saw me open the case. I’d sprung for a big rock set in gold.

  “Sophie Vercetti, will you marry me?”

  Sophie sighed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  I slipped the ring on her finger as Flavio applauded. DA Miller flopped into his chair and shook his head.

  “Cursed,” he muttered. “I’m friggin’ cursed.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Sophie

  “You first, Mrs. Lastra.” Indro opened the door to his apartment and stood aside, waving me in as if he had magically turned into a Brioni-clad butler. The wicked grin on his face, though, told a different story.

  “Mrs. Lastra?” I repeated, chuckling as I walked past him. “I agreed to marry you, Indro, not to become a side-kick character in your story. I’m not sure if taking your surname is on the table.”

  Before I even knew what was happening, he had his hand on my waist. He spun me around with a quick motion, and pushed me back against the closed door. My back hit the wood with a solid thud, the impact sending a wave of anticipation all over my body. It was always fun whenever Indro got aggressive.

  “Is this going to be our first marital spat?” Indro asked me, his grin widening. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, one that always appeared whenever he was enjoying himself. “Maybe I’ll allow you to keep your surname, Sophie. But if you’re not taking my name… then what exactly will you be taking?”

  “About that… I might have an idea,” I replied, reaching between his legs. His hard shape pressed against the palm of my hand, and I immediately wrapped my fingers around it, pushing the fabric of his expensive pants against his cock.

  “I like the way you think.”

  Mirroring me, he laid one hand on my knee and slid his fingers up. They dove under the hemline of my skirt, quickly finding their way to my inner thighs, and Indro flattened his palm against my underwear. No more than two seconds later, I was ready to go, my thong so drenched I couldn’t wait to take it off.

  “Shut up, will ya?” I threw at him and, using my free hand, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “The time for words is over.” Reeling him in, I went on tiptoes and crushed my mouth against his, my tongue finding its way past his parted lips. Locked in a desperate embrace, kissing as if this was our last day on Earth, we stumbled across his apartment until we crashed on the couch.

  The moment his back hit the cushions, I climbed on top of him with cat-like movements, placing my knees on either side of his thighs. As his hands hiked my skirt up, bunching it up around my waist, I pushed his jacket down his shoulders. Working fast, I unbuttoned his shirt, my knuckles brushing against his naked skin as I made my way down.

  Once he was naked from the waist up, his shirt and jacket lying discarded on the floor, I pressed myself against him. With my legs spread wide, I felt his hard cock throbbing between my legs, eager to be let loose.

  “Happy to see me?” I whispered, pulling his belt out.

  “You have no idea.”

  As I got rid of his pants, Indro kicked his shoes off. They clattered over the hardwood floor, leather on wood. I held my breath for a moment and then pushed forward, tugging his boxer briefs down and freeing his erection.

  The moment I had his hard length in my hand, I didn’t hesitate. I started moving my f
ingers up and down his long inches, my eyes locked on Indro’s as I took in the expression of devilish lust that overtook him.

  “Fuck,” he breathed out, tipping his head back as his eyes rolled in their orbits.

  “That comes later,” I said with a chuckle, my fingers tightly wrapped around his cock as I slid down to the floor. I knelt between his legs, let my eyes wander up Indro’s chiseled body, and then ran my tongue over my lips.

  I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just closed my eyes and let instinct take the steering wheel. Leaning forward, I opened my mouth and let my tongue out, using it to close the distance to his hard flesh. I purred softly as I lapped at the tip of his cock, twirling my tongue around it, and then dove forward with a sudden motion.

  I rolled my lips down his length, only stopping when I felt him pressed against the back of my throat, and that was when I really got started. Still gripping him, I started bobbing my head as my hand settled into the same pumping motion.

  As a high-powered lawyer that was known for her ruthless methods, I never thought I’d enjoy being down on my knees for a man like Indro… but, as it turned out, that had become one my favorite things in the world.

  Judging by the way Indro threaded his fingers into my hair, his hips moving as he thrust into my mouth, I figured it was safe to say he shared the sentiment.

  “You’re killing me here,” he groaned, his cock weighing down my tongue as it throbbed. I could already feel the saltiness of his seed as he became even harder than before, and I realized he was only a few seconds away from coming undone. Instead of pulling back, I did the exact opposite and redoubled my efforts, sucking and stroking as if my life depended on it.

  It’s odd, but while some women believe that to go down on a man is a submissive thing, I couldn’t disagree more. In that moment, with Indro’s hard cock throbbing viciously inside my mouth, I felt absolutely powerful. After all, who was the vulnerable party here? I was the one with his cock between my teeth.

  “That’s not gonna happen.” Leaning forward, Indro yanked on my hair and pulled his cock out from between my lips. “As fun as it’d be to fill that pretty little mouth of yours… I have other plans.”

  “Then why don’t you stop talking,” I threw back at him, dragging my teeth over my bottom lip, “and just get to it?”

  That’s exactly what he did.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Indro

  This marriage of ours was going to be intense.

  I still didn’t know what kind of black magic she had used on me, but Sophie made me so damn hard that my boner was now probably covered by the Second Amendment. And more impressive than that, she didn’t just get me hard—she also knew how to drive me up the fucking wall.

  Proof of that was the way I had almost come in her mouth. I mean, seriously—I’ve always been the kind of guy that’s in complete control. I only come when I want to come. Except when it comes to Sophie, obviously. No pun intended.

  Still, this time I couldn’t allow that to happen. We were celebrating our engagement, right? I needed to bring my A-game to the table, or else she might start reconsidering the whole deal. After all, someone like Sophie deserved the best. And the best was exactly what I wanted to give her.

  Grabbing her by the wrist, I pulled her up until she was back on the couch. I placed both hands on her chest, my palms over the rising curves of her breasts, but I didn’t bother with unbuttoning her blouse. Instead, I just pulled on the fabric as hard as I could, the buttons popping off, bouncing off the floor like scared little mice.

  “That’s an expensive blouse,” Sophie protested, but her words came out as a quivering moan.

  “Was an expensive blouse,” I replied, one hand moving up her back. I found the clasp on her bra, undid it with a quick flick of my fingers, and my heart did a little somersault as I saw her rosy nipples jump into sight. Fuck, how could anyone be this fucking perfect?

  Indro Lastra, I thought, you’re one fortunato bastard.

  Lucky or not, though, I still needed to put in the work. Thankfully, this was exactly the kind of work I was best at. And so, both my hands firmly planted on her ass, I reached forward and sucked one nipple into my mouth. Sophie arched her back, pushing her breasts against my face, and I gave her nipples a lashing with my tongue she wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

  “You have no idea how much I fucking want you,” I whispered, forcing her to lie flat on her back. I pushed her skirt up, tossed it aside, and then sucked in a deep breath as my gaze landed on her black lace thong. Sophie was so wet that, if I wrung her underwear, it’d leave a puddle on the floor.

  Eager to experience that sweet wetness of hers, I hooked my fingers on her thong’s elastic band and pulled it against her outer thigh. Her thong turned into tatters as I ripped it off of her body, and my cock became solid concrete, her naked pussy working its magic on my body.

  “You know,” I started, lying down on top of her, “now that you’re going to be my wife, how do you feel about getting this treatment every single day for the rest of your life?” Grabbing my cock, I angled it so that its tip was positioned against her wet entrance, her inner lips embracing it. “Do you think you’re up to it?”

  “Oh, please.”

  She moved her hands down the sides of my back, only stopping when she reached my ass, and dug her fingernails into my flesh. Pulling me in, she forced me to thrust. I offered zero resistance.

  Obviously.

  My cock pushed its way in, straining against her inner walls, and a heartbeat later all of my inches were buried deep inside of her. I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth and tightness of her aching pussy, and only then did I start to thrust.

  I kept a steady, growing pace right from the start, and it was only a matter of time until my movements reached a fever pitch. I fucked her as hard as was humanly possible, my body burning from the effort, and then I went even harder. Sophie, though, wasn’t just a spectator—she was my perfect match.

  Lacing her legs around my waist, their hold on me vise-like, she forced me to keep the rhythm up. She clawed at me with her fingernails, doing it hard enough to draw blood, but I barely registered the pain. I barely registered anything, if I were to be honest. Right then and there, the only thing my lust-addled brain could process was how amazing Sophie’s tight body felt.

  “Harder,” she whispered against my lips, kissing me almost too viciously. Her pussy gripped my cock tight, her whole body tensing up, and I could tell she was already diving straight into oblivion. That didn’t surprise me—after all, I was right behind her.

  Resting my forehead against hers, I pushed my body to the absolute limit. I put all my strength behind my hips and thrust as hard as I could, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the entire apartment.

  “Fuck,” I groaned, bright lights exploding behind my shut eyelids. A column of fire rose up the length of my cock and, before I could do anything about it, ecstasy washed all over me. I didn’t move a fucking muscle as I came, spilling all of my seed inside her, and I only noticed Sophie was moaning like a banshee moments later.

  We remained locked in that embrace for a long time, struggling to process all of the pleasure. When we finally rolled to the side, we breathed in deeply at the same time, our bodies coming down from the edge.

  “I think that was a good warm-up,” Sophie said, lazily turning on the couch so that she was facing me. I arched one eyebrow, not sure if I had heard it right.

  “A warm-up?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re tired,” she said with an amused chuckle. “If you want to be my husband, I need you to be at your best, Indro.” Before I could say anything else, her smile turned into a grin. “Or, if you prefer, you can just become Mr. Vercetti.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “No,” she laughed, pushing her naked body against mine. “Fuck me.”

  And so I did.

  Love—what an interesting thing.

  Chapter Fifty

  Lorenzo />
  Gang war? More like gang snore.

  When the Loggias stuck a knife in the Maloiks’ collective backs and tried to send made man Indro Lastra away to the big house, I figured my time had finally come. No more acting like a glorified chauffeur. No more bringing the capos coffee. Instead, I was going to get a chance to prove myself worthy of being a made man myself.

  Only a gang war mostly takes place in short, quick bursts. It’s an associate getting gunned down on his way out of a restaurant. Or a cathouse getting raided out of nowhere—after the proper bribes to the PD have been made. It’s not a war, per se. More like a series of very brief skirmishes.

  So, there I was, standing around in the cold outside of Polanksi’s Fine Dining, waiting for Capo Farino to finish up his business with the proprietor. The Ithaca pump-action shotty stuffed inside my trench sucked the warmth from my body. I had a Beretta pistol jammed in my belt, too. In the highly unlikely event the Loggias tried something, I wanted to be prepared.

  Besides, carrying around so much heat made me feel like more than a glorified chauffeur. I was FBI—full-blooded Italian—but I hadn’t earned made man status yet. It had nothing to do with any fault of my own. I just had a reputation for being unlucky.

  Sure, I never won a damn hand of poker, and my ponies never placed, but that didn’t mean I was unlucky. The mob is superstitious. Hell, it thrives on superstition. Both their own, and that of the people it did business with.

  I stuffed my hand into my pocket and felt the weighted dice I kept there. I don’t use them to cheat my family, I want to point out. I just like the idea of having an unfair edge.

  The door cracked open, sending a golden rectangle of light out across the snowy sidewalk. Capo Farino inched his way down the steps. He’s five feet, two hundred pounds of friggin’ dynamite. Nobody messes with the guy, and they say even Don Maloik is a little bit intimidated by him.