Table of Contents
Parker S. Huntington
Renata Vitali
Also by Parker S. Huntington
Disclaimer
Trust
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Parker S. Huntington
B.B. Easton
Two Boys, One Prom
Disclaimer
Author’s Note
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About the Author
Books by BB Easton
Bethany Lopez
A Splash of Vanilla
Extended Epilogue
A.L. Jackson
More of You
Deleted Scene
Amo Jones
The Elite Kings: Malum - Pregame
Deleted Scene
Giana Darling
Intimo
License Notes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About the Author
Other Books By Giana:
Kennedy Ryan
All
Author’s Note
The Grip Series
Chapter One: Grip
Chapter Two: Bristol
Chapter Three: Bristol
Chapter Four: Grip
Also by Kennedy
Connect with Kennedy
About Kennedy
Saffron A. Kent
The Unrequited
Extended Epilogue
Also by Saffron A. Kent
Alex Wolf
The Intern
Chapter One: Tom
Chapter Two: Rose
Chapter Three: Tom
Chapter Four: Rose
Chapter Five: Tom
Chapter Six: Rose
Chapter Seven: Tom
Chapter Eight: Rose
Chapter Nine: Tom
Chapter Ten: Rose
Chapter Eleven: Tom
Chapter Twelve: Rose
Chapter Thirteen: Tom
Crystal Kaswell
Tempt Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Tia Louise
Make You Mine
Chapter 1
Vanessa Fewings
Mortal Veil
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About the Author
Odette Stone
Hook My Heart
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Also By Odette
About the Author
Harloe Rae
Daze
Preface
Gent
Miss
Lass
About the Author
Also by Harloe Rae
Ashley Jade
Blame It On The Shame
Chapter One: Ricardo
Chapter Two: Ricardo
Chapter Three: Lou-Lou
Ava Harrison
The Wedding-Night Stand
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
By Ava Harrison
About the Author
Jayne Frost
Gone For You
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Claudia Burgoa
Flawed
Extended Epilogue
Also by Parker S. Huntington
Amelia Wilde
Jingling His Bells
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Also by Amelia
R. Linda
Twisted Love
Chapter 1
Renata Vitali
Parker S. Huntington
Copyright © 2018 by Parker S. Huntington
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Asher Black
Niccolaio Andretti
Ranieri Andretti
Bastiano Romano
Renata Vitali
Damiano De Luca
* * *
Oh, Chloe, I miss you.
Life hurts without you.
* * *
This is a PREQUEL novella to DAMIANO DE LUCA. It ends on a cliffhanger, which is resolved with an HEA in DAMIANO DE LUCA. Happy reading!
The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for. Pray for wisdom and discernment.
Tucker Max
Trust
trəst/
Noun
Firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.
Trust is a series of decisions. It’s your choice to give it, and the people you give it to have the choice to prove you right. One day, the time will come wh
en it’s you you’ll have to decide to trust. When that time comes, trust yourself. Then, let your heart prove you right.
* * *
Trusting you is my decision.
Proving me right is your choice.
Unknown
* * *
They say, one day, it will hurt less. The distance will stop seizing my throat and let me breathe. It’ll feel okay to wake up, pat the space beside me, and not feel her there. It’ll be easier to tell a joke and realize the only person who can understand it isn’t there to hear it. They say, one day, you’ll find someone else, and you’ll feel these same things for her.
They say these things, but not a night passes where she doesn’t cross my mind.
She’s either my curse or my angel.
Damiano De Luca is the hardest challenge I’ve ever faced. He is my only leap of faith. My I-fell-fast, I-fell-hard, I-jumped-first-and-asked-later, and only-he-can-pick-me-back-up first love. He’s my think-of-you-every-night. My wake-up-reaching-for-you heartbreak. My I’ll-never-be-the-same goodbye. My heart’s biggest enemy.
And me? I am his one-that-got-away.
His what-could-have-been.
His first love.
But I don’t want to be his first love. I want to be his last love.
The truth is, this story is not a love story.
* * *
Love all, trust a few,
do wrong to none.
William Shakespeare
* * *
My fingers clutched the leather armrest as the plane skidded across the tarmac at Devil’s Landing. I supposed most small Texas towns didn’t have the luxury of a private airstrip, but Devils Ridge wasn’t a typical small town.
With cute lighthouses scattered across its coastal edges, Devils Ridge would have been quaint and scenic—had there not been a cumbersome mafia presence. It was the second oldest city in Texas, with its first colonial settlement dating back to the 1700s. A couple hundred years later, a new devil settled in Devils Ridge—Ludovico De Luca, the first De Luca to taint the town.
In the Vitali archives, there were books documenting Ludovico’s descent into madness. After his son’s wife had given birth, he slaughtered them both and raised his grandchild to be crazier than him. The De Lucas bred each generation with no moral code, and I was entering the lion’s den.
I traced my fingers along the wood-trimmed table in front of me. My last name, Vitali, laid etched in the center, along with our centuries-old coat of arms. Laurel leaves. Lion. Torch. Purple. Peace. Courage. Intelligence. Royalty.
There were Italian mafia syndicates all over the world, but the major syndicates were the five American syndicates—Romano, Andretti, De Luca, Camerino, and Rossi. Hundreds of years ago, ruthless wars broke out across the globe. Syndicates fought other syndicates for territories and honor. Two syndicates in Europe wiped out. Thousands dead. Millions wasted. Only then did every syndicate agree to gather for peace talks in Italy.
My family—the Vitali—ran the peace talks. Since then, my family has governed the syndicates, making sure no syndicate crossed the line. The Vitali had our own armies. We had our own deep coffers. And we had our own hierarchy, where my father—il condottiero—was the boss who sat at the top, and I was the lone mafia princess.
It sounded glamorous, but in reality, it was a tyrannical father, an unconventional upbringing, and a life of boarding schools… and now, being shipped to De Luca territory as punishment.
“Miss Vitali?” Seven years ago, Ivo had been the flight attendant on my flight from Italy to my junior boarding school in Connecticut, and he’d stuck with me since. Which was how he knew what I wanted as my eyes shifted across his attire. “No phones, Ren. Your papà gave strict instructions.”
I hated when he used my nickname. It drained my anger like watching Netflix with 3G drained my iPhone battery. “I didn’t ask.”
He tsked and gave me his arm, helping me to my feet until my five-six frame stood eye-level with his shoulder. My cheap, dyed-blonde hair rested in a samurai bun at the top of my head, and between my bare face and the sweats that covered my long legs, I gave the accurate impression that I didn’t want to be here. I doubted I could find any rational syndicate member outside the De Luca family who’d want to be here.
Ivo led me down the stairs and off the plane. “Your things will arrive at the De Luca manor later tonight.” He eyed the town car resting a few feet from the base of the stairs. Tinted windows. Dark and shiny. Vanity plates, whereas most mafiosos preferred unmarked and nondescript. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
What did he want me to do? Blink twice if I needed saving? I nodded my head but blinked twice anyway. You never knew when someone would surprise you.
Displays of affection were as rare to me as beluga sturgeon caviar, but I leaned forward and wrapped my twig-like arms around Ivo’s neck anyway. “I’ll miss you, Ivo. You be good now, alright?”
And I would. Since I was nine, Ivo had shuffled me the thirty-minute flight from boarding school to Maman every weekend. I’d seen him far more than I’d seen my own father, and now I didn’t know when I would see him again.
“I should be telling you that, Miss Vitali. I trust there will be no trouble from you, little one.” He kissed my forehead and waited until the driver opened the car door to leave.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
I looked back, and a tear slipped past my lashes as the plane door closed behind Ivo. I pretended to sneeze into my hand, so I could wipe away the tear without anyone noticing. But when I entered the Rolls Royce, came face to face with Devils Ridge’s Head Devil, and was gifted a knowing sneer, I knew I fooled no one.
Angelo De Luca out-dressed me in his three-piece bespoke suit, his hair slicked back and his manicured nails gripping an oversized cigar. “Well, well, well. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Vitali.” His leery eyes lined my skin with goosebumps as I settled into the back seat, thankful for the middle console separating us. Neither of us spoke as his ogling continued. “So, Daddy sent his bad little girl here for punishment, huh?”
No, Daddy got caught eating between his secretary’s legs for lunch and sent his daughter to Middle of Nowhere, Texas before she could tell his wife. It wasn’t my fault my father couldn’t keep his dick clean the one week I surprised him with a visit. I wondered who Angelo would think was the bad guy in that scenario. Probably me.
I didn’t respond, instead reaching for the tablet attached to the back of the seat in front of me. Angelo’s hand gripped my wrist tightly, proving just how much of a farce his name was. There wasn’t a trace of angel in this man.
I yanked my hand away and forced myself not to cradle the bruised flesh with my other hand. Dad’s phone ban would be a nuisance, but it wouldn’t stop me from finding one and spilling what I’d seen to Maman. I didn’t want to be here. I doubted I could find any rational syndicate member outside the De Luca family who’d want to be here.
I didn’t know why he even bothered keeping up the pretense of their marriage. They didn’t live in the same country. It’s not like they fooled anyone, let alone one another. Dad lived in Italy, where I visited him once a year, and Maman lived a short thirty-minute flight from my Connecticut boarding school, where I visited her every weekend.
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