by Frankie Love
Captive Bride
A Dirty Kings of Vegas Mafia Romance, Book 3
Frankie Love
Alice May Ball
Contents
About
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
About the Author
About the Author
About
CAPTIVE BRIDE
A Dirty Kings of Vegas Mafia Romance, Book 3
By Frankie Love with Alice May Ball
As the oldest brother, I know I’ve put off marriage long enough.
So when my father arranges a bride for me – I agree.
No use fighting the inevitable.
She’s mine now.
Whether she likes it or not.
Dear Reader,
John has plans for his wedding night that would make any bride blush. Lucky for us, we don’t mind turning up the heat.
Xo, Frankie and Alice
The Dirty Kings of Vegas is a mafia romance series with love at its core.
We met the O’Malley clan back in the novel McQueen – and here they are again, ready to show everyone who’s boss!
Frankie Love has teamed up with the sinfully sweet Alice May Ball and together they’re ready to roll the dice on love.
Copyright © 2021 by Frankie Love
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.
Chapter One
John
The luck of the Irish is nothing compared to the luck of the O’Malleys. As the eldest of the three O’Malley brothers, I am the luckiest fucking fucker of the lot. As the first-born son, one day I will rule our firm and the whole empire, here in Las Vegas and back in Boston. The gaming, the rackets, the clubs and the streets, I was born to be the boss of it all. Head of the family.
And as soon as I saw the picture of that curvy little minx who was to be my bride, I knew my life was moving up a rung.
Dad told me, “John, focus on the future. You need a family. A wife, then children. An heir, preferably a son.” That thought inspired me. I adore my nieces and nephews. It would be wonderful to bring up children of my own.
In addition to our roots in Boston and on the Emerald Isle, our ancestral homeland, our family needs to be anchored hard into the future. So, I need a wife. Dad reached out to the Boston McCarthys and made arrangements.
I was not enthusiastic at first. Not until I saw the picture of Kiera on Dad’s phone. The reaction came first in my body. My cock saw her and woke up fast.
All I know about her is the one photo I’ve seen, but whenever I think about her, I swell up until I get a long, hard ache. She’s got full, shining lips, and a mouth that makes me want to reach right out and grab her. And curves I want to bury myself in. I cannot wait to get my hands on her. The spark in her eyes fires me up inside.
She will be here tomorrow.
Tonight, my brothers have a stag party arranged for me. A wedding means strippers and a loud, wild night. I could do without it, but it’s expected. Especially here in Vegas.
Today, before the fun can begin, we have business to attend to. The Morettis. Like always.
We three O’Malley brothers cut through the crowd in the golden glow of the low casino lights, through the happy chirrups and burbles of the slots and video poker screens. Paul and Peter are on either side of me and I walk in front, the tip of the triangle. The head of the magnificent three.
Kingpin Casino was named and styled for Dad, the head of the O’Malley family. I’m the next in line. The crown prince. It’s not something I wish for. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, after all. I want to see Dad go on forever.
But you can’t ignore the future.
We head outside. All our muscle and armed security ride in the limos. Paul, Peter and me, we travel in the front seats of separate armored Hummers. I decided that after one of our motorcades was attacked a year ago. It’s faster getting out of a Hummer. You roll straight out of the door. Plus, it confuses the fuck out of attackers.
We talk constantly on our phones over a secure channel. Still, we keep our voices low enough that we can’t be overheard or recorded. Our personal drivers have the highest security clearance in our organization. They’re all totally trusted. But trust is the most precious commodity in our world. We don’t take it for granted.
Paul says, “The Morettis are always going to be our cross to bear.”
Peter groans. “Always trouble. Always them.”
I remind them, “They were top dogs in this town. Until we arrived. They have history. And they’ve dug in. They’ve got a lot of power, a lot of money, and one hell of a lot of muscle.”
“They’ll have to get with the times,” Peter says. “Especially now. Kingpin is a game changer.”
Paul is quiet. Even though he’s the baby of the family, Dad gave him Kingpin to run. With the new responsibility, Paul has grown up about ten years in the last six months. And his marriage to Lucy helped him there, too.
I’m thinking about the change in my own status that’s about to occur.
“We’re the newcomers,” I tell them. “The Morettis built their empire here in the last century. We’d do well to think of how it feels for them. They’ve watched us sweep all their power away and shovel up their business. They thought it would be all theirs forever, and now that it’s not, they’re angry and they’re bound to be hurting.”
Peter chuckles. “Sucks to be them, I guess.”
“Times change,” Paul says.
“Know your enemy,” I warn them. “If we don’t think about them, study them, know them and anticipate them, they’ll take it all back from us.”
We’re a powerful family, but it never does good to lower your guard.
While I’m talking, I pull up that picture on my phone. Kiera. I cannot wait to get her in my arms. On her back. Up against a wall. Over a pool table. My imagination goes into overdrive.
As the motorcade sweeps into the warehouse lot that is our destination, I can’t stop thinking how it will be, having that curvy, fluffy kitten all to myself.
On tap. Ready and waiting.
We stride into the warehouse, three brothers together. Moretti guards move forward to search us for weapons. I brush them aside.
Tony Moretti stands from behind a table. “It’s all right. I don’t think the O’Malley brothers have come on a suicide mission.”
Tony is the Morettis’ number two. My counterpart. Tall and broad, Tony is ten years older than me, and he looks it.
He has a carved antique chair like a throne on the far side of a heavy mahogany table. He’s flanked by heavy-set goons in black mob-guy Armani suits, all wearing dark Ray-Bans.
And standing on the right of the throne is the Morettis’ enforcer, Drago. Huge and ugly as ever, with a permanent snarl on his lips. His left knee and his right wrist are cased in bulky, high-tech splints with pins sticking out.
In the middle of the dark warehouse space, a chandelier – for fuck’s sake – hangs suspended over the antique table on a chain that must be twenty-five feet long. Three high-backed wood chairs are a
long this side, facing the massive, carved throne.
These guys. Seriously. They all see their lives set to a soundtrack of grand opera.
This meet is supposed to be about how they’re going to stop the bee-sting attacks on our businesses. Stop harassing our casino floor staff and security. Stop making phony job offers to squeeze information out of them. The usual bullshit. They’ve been kicking at our defenses. Trying to find out where we’re soft. Where we might be weak.
Tony walks around the table and toward us. He spreads his arms like he’s welcoming us to the Vatican or the Doge’s fucking Palace. His head is cocked to one side with a big, wide, angelic smile.
“John, Peter, Paul.” He comes forward to do the hugging. This part always rubs my fur the wrong way, but with the Italians, you have to do it. “Benvenuto, thank you so much for coming all this way.” He puts wet kisses on both of my cheeks and grins as he watches me fight to keep a straight face.
Finally, we make proper handshakes. He asks after Dad. “Please, give Liam my fondest good wishes. And my father asked especially for me to pass on his warmest greetings.”
I know my brothers’ feet must be twitching in their shoes like mine are. We Irish Americans, we save social niceties for over drinks and food. After the business. We’d have gotten our business done and settled before these Italians were through saying ‘hello.’
The meet is pure theater. Tony on his throne, us sitting across his polished table. When Paul lists the attacks and raids and fire bombings over the last six months, Tony holds up his hands. He talks about ‘tempers fraying’ and ‘misunderstandings.’
Peter says that approaches have been made to our security and staff at Kingpin. Tony treats us to some more waffle, polished like the table.
I tell him, “Adjustments can be difficult, Tony. But we’ve all seen business in Las Vegas explode over the past few years. There’s enough here for everybody. We need to get along better, though. Violence and disturbance hurts everybody’s business. Frightens the tourists.”
Even behind Drago’s black shades, I can see his eyes harden. Not for the first time, I wonder how much of the trouble starts at his door.
Tony makes all the usual promises. He will ‘keep everything tighter,’ ‘curb the over-enthusiasm in the younger element.’ That and a lot of other bullshit.
I lower my voice. “The landscape in Vegas has changed, Tony.” I tell him, “We have to work alongside each other. I want your territory to stay safe.” After I let that sit for a moment, I tell him, “Keep your dogs on your side of the street.”
His eyes narrow, but then he smiles. “Of course, John. That’s what will be best for all of us. Rest assured.”
I wait until he’s finished.
“Tony, your family came out of Boston the same as ours. You might remember how things were done there. None of us want to bring that carnage here. But remember the O’Malleys’ reputation from those days.” I hold his eyes. Make sure he knows what I’m talking about. “I want us to run our businesses peaceably, Tony. Amicably. But don’t doubt me. I’m ready to do it the other way.”
He’s quiet. Then he smiles and congratulates me on my upcoming marriage.
We all stand, and Tony’s handshake across the table is firm. He keeps eye contact and takes my hand with both of his. He looks, sounds and feels sincere.
As we get back into the Hummers and take out our phones, Peter asks me, “What do you think?”
“Those guys? Who even knows?”
My thoughts have moved on. I pull up Kiera’s picture again and sit back in the seat as I thicken up.
The party is in a VIP suite at the Spades Royalle casino. A jazz band and about a dozen strippers are there to do their thing. A tall, shiny blonde with a minute skirt and sheer panties asks me for a light.
She says, “I can tell the weight of your cock with my tongue.”
I thank her for the offer, but I’m really not interested.
I know a lot of the guys will take advantage of the full-service extras all the girls are offering. Dad probably will. No reason he shouldn’t, and he’s one hell of a party guy, regardless of his age.
I leave early.
I’m surprised to find how much I’m looking forward to my wedding.
I get into bed early. My cock is up and hard, thinking of the picture of my bride-to-be.
Chapter Two
Kiera
Vegas, baby!
I can hardly sit still. I’m going to Vegas to marry the heir, the crown prince, of the O’Malley family.
When Papa made the arrangement for me to be married, he joked that we’d have to buy a bigger plane.
“There are aunts and cousins whose names I don’t even recognize calling up for their invitations.” He asked me, “Do you want every fucking McCarthy in Boston there to watch me give you away? Because you know I’ll do it for you if it will make you happy.”
I told him, “Papa, as long as you’re there, I’ll be grand. As far as I’m concerned, if I haven’t seen them at the dinner table or over a glass at Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or New Year’s, or Saint Paddy’s, then I couldn’t care less about them coming to my wedding. Honestly, if it was just you and me, you’d be doing me a favor.”
“Ah, we couldn’t leave your brothers behind.”
“I know we can’t. But that’s the favor you’d be doing for me.”
He knew I was only half serious. About that part, at any rate.
Our private jet is ready and waiting. Limos are lined up outside the house to take us to the airport.
People here in Boston talk about the O’Malleys a lot. When they talk about John, they always say how handsome and hot he is, but power gives a man an aura. There’s definitely a buzz about John.
They also say he’s quiet. Reserved. I like that in a man. The kind of man who thinks more than he talks has always been what I craved. I just hope it doesn’t mean that he’s closed off.
He looks smoking hot in the one photo I’ve seen, but I don’t want to let myself get too excited. There are too many ways a photo can be deceptive. Still, the O’Malleys are the top family here in Boston and I’ve heard they’re close to being the top dogs in Vegas too.
Papa is thrilled about the union between our families. We’ve had some tough years, and he’s leaned hard on me, so he’s wanted to see me happily settled for a long time. It will be a wrench to be such a long way from home, but he’s right. It’s time.
Our family business should be stronger thanks to the connection, though I don’t know if I will have much influence with my husband. Mustn’t take anything for granted.
I don’t have a clue how he’s going to feel about me. At nineteen, I look young, even for my age. So I hope he loves curves. I think my best assets are what you don’t see, but if he likes tits and ass, well, I’ve got more than enough of those.
Champagne flows in the plush cabin of our Gulfstream. Everybody is in full-on party mode. My older brothers Thomas and Aiden rib and tease me about being ‘sold off.’ Papa frowns from across the aisle and he looks like he’s going to step in. I give him the look, though. He knows I can look after myself. I don’t have any trouble taking their stupid jokes either.
“Oh, I’m really going to miss you eejits. It’s not hard to see why neither of you has found a wife yet. What self-respecting girl would want to be shackled to the likes of your dumb asses?”
“Oh, she’s full of herself now.” Aiden laughs. “Wait until your man gets you under his thumb.”
Thomas chimes in, “Sure, she’s a lamb to the slaughter.”
We’ve hardly gotten the wheels off the ground and these two have already moved from toasting with champagne to pints of Guinness and heavy tumblers sloshing with Bushmills Malt.
Thomas puts on a serious face. “It’s good that you’ve enjoyed your girly life up to now, little sister.”
Aiden nods solemnly. “It’s going to be nothing but obedient and devoted service from now on.”
Th
omas agrees. “Darning and weaving. Cleaning and polishing.”
Aiden shakes his head slowly. “And long, long nights of relentless savagery.”
“Ah, don’t talk about the nights,” Thomas says. “Sure, it’s going to be a cruel enough awakening for the poor, innocent little virgin. But the less she knows about it, the better.”
“True.” Aiden takes a deep pull on his whiskey. “If she only knew what was coming to her, she’s probably die on the spot.”
“Go on,” I say, “keep telling yourselves bedtime stories about the fierce, destructive power of your manly weapons. And we girls will continue to jolly you along. It’s always one good way we can get a laugh out of yous.” Before either of them can gather their thoughts to strike back, I tell them, “You’ve shown your little dangles of yarn to me at just about every opportunity since you were weans. All I can say is I hope that my John will live up to his O’Malley family reputation.”
It’s true what Thomas said, though. I am a virgin. I have no experience at all with the male of the species. Not in any intimate context. While I won’t let these two get under my skin, I do wonder what I should expect. I try to brush it off by thinking, Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. It does nothing to quiet my fears since I’ve no clue what the best or the worst would even look like.
It seems to me that everything I’ve heard anyone say on the subject is wildly lyrical and probably exaggerated out of all recognition. It’s definitely going to be a day of discovery.