REDEMPTION: A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE (The Salvatore Syndicate Book 3)

by Jax Hart

  “Villainous Poet is going to be number one at the box office for a year I just know it. We will live forever. Our story will live forever. I’m totally geeking out.”

  I lift Chloe’s hand, kissing the back as the church doors are opened. The chapel in Palermo is magnificent and fitting. Instead of funerals and prayer masses, it’s finally seeing the wedding of the century. A Salvatore and a Fiorelli united under God in holy matrimony and not because it’s some sub-plot in a family feud.

  Chloe and I smile as the trumpets announce our arrival. She walks me down the aisle, taking her place by my side as “best person.” Dare, Rafe, Johnny and Seb stand after her, my princess. We all straighten as more trumpets play, announcing my queen’s entrance. No one walks Romina down. She’s so regal it’s unneeded.

  On her finger my fire burns. The ruby is always alight. Her eyes meet mine with so much being conveyed. We made it. From that day of death in the coat closet of a funeral home to today. A day of hope, new life, a new journey we’ll take. I always imagined this day I just never thought it would take so damn long.

  Tati and K fuss over little Romeo as they cradle him. Red didn’t want bridesmaids. And they were more than happy to take care of Romeo for the day.

  “Finally, it’s you. Only you.”

  “Don’t remind me of your last wedding,” she warns.

  “This is my first wedding, Red. That one wasn’t even legal.”

  “I love you,” she whispers. I kiss her hands, then wrap them in mine.

  “I’m never letting you go.”

  “I know.”

  “Last chance to run.”

  “The chase is over. It’s all rainbows and unicorns now.”

  “… and red-carpet appearances.”

  “I never thought I’d marry a real-life gangster, Hollywood heartthrob.”

  “I am an original.”

  “That you are. Now marry my ass before it’s time to feed, Romeo.”

  I lift my hands to her veil, so I can see her face and my heart thumps even harder. “It was Chloe’s idea.”

  “Of course, it was.”

  Her hair is parted, half is red and the other bright blue. One of her moss colored eye stares back, the other is bright blue. I’m marrying both my loves today. Baby Blue and Little Red. I bend down to whisper in her ear, “Can we get kinky tonight? I want Blue on my wedding night and Red tomorrow morning.”

  “Greedy bastard.”

  “That I am.”

  I start to sweat already feeling my dick stir at the thought of seeing her as Blue tonight. Damn, I’ve missed her.

  The priest begins, praying in Italian as we bow our heads. From the corner of my eye, I look out at all the people who stood for me. Johnny, Rafe, Seb…, Dare and the entire Creed MC flew in from Oregon to attend.

  I shake my head as I stare up at the elaborate paintings on the church ceiling. Someone up there blessed me, how else can you explain so much love for a dark soul like mine?

  But its’ not dark anymore and never will be again.

  “Will you take this woman to be your wife?” The priest asks in Italian.

  “Per sempre.” Forever.

  “Per sempre,” my Red, whispers back.

  “You know what?” I whisper to Chloe, “I think this is where the book ends.”

  “And we all live happily ever after?”

  “I always knew you were the genius in the family, squirt.”

  “You made all my dreams come true. Romina for a mom.”

  “And you’ve made mine come true.” I take Chloe’s hand in my free one. Together we turn and raise them all high as the Salvatore Family is officially unified and greet our guests who clap and whistle for us.

  I guess monsters and villains get their “ever after’s too.”

  MORE FROM JAX

  Check out THE CHASE, a standalone dark, romantic comedy with a taste of suspense! The Chase has cameos from Roque and Johnny! Special excerpt included! Keep scrolling!

  THE CHASE

  Prologue

  I’m an arrogant prick.

  I make no apologies about it.

  I was born into a wealthy family in the suburbs of New York. My father didn’t just work on Wall Street—he was Wall Street.

  Manhattan is my playground, and I’m the biggest bully in the schoolyard. My best friend at Princeton was Johnny Lamatti, the son of the head of the Lamatti crime family.

  Two sons.

  Two different families.

  One born with a silver spoon in his hand and the other, a Beretta 9mm. The two of us rule everything in the five boroughs of New York City and a bit beyond. I taught him how to launder his cash in the Stock Exchange and he taught me how to be a badass motherfucker.

  Which makes me a deadly combination of sophisticated class and street brawler.

  Everything comes easily; too easily.

  I only work hard in the gym and at the office, but that all changed the day I met Selina De La Cruz. I’ve never chased anything the way I’m chasing after her.

  I’m in ruthless pursuit.

  She’s sex on a stick.

  She knows it.

  I hunted her down. She thinks that she’s safe, but the girl is in for a huge surprise. I’m taking her tonight.

  No more games.

  No more running.

  My best friend, Johnny, is already on it. He gave the orders.

  Selina will be taken and delivered to me.

  Bound.

  Gagged.

  And totally at my wicked mercy.

  Foreword

  I was running late.

  Mrs. Van Heusen was going to fire me if her Bichon, Mr. Pickles, peed on her carpet again. She’s a pain in the ass but pays me well above minimum wage to take care of her precious pet.

  As soon as the subway screeched to a halt and the doors opened, I sprinted out and up the steps, hoping I’d make it to her apartment in time. I had printed up new flyers advertising my business and asked permission to post a few in the lobbies of some of the ritziest high rises on the block.

  I hurried inside the rotating doors and into a small alcove, all while balancing my coffee and ripping off a piece of tape to put up my flyer. I glanced at the cheap, fake Gucci wristwatch that I haggled with a street vendor over and finally got him down to ten bucks.

  Five minutes.

  Hold on, Mr. Pickles, hold on, I prayed while I whizzed back outside.

  It was mid-summer in New York, and everyone was miserable. Unless you were one of the lucky ones who escaped to the Hamptons every weekend. I was not a lucky one. Especially not that day.

  My head was down, I was fiddling with my phone checking texts while sipping my drink… all I could think about was poor Mr. Pickles, pacing and whining as he waited for me to take him to the doggie park. When wham—I collided with something hard.

  The jolt of the impact surprised me, and the McDonald’s latte I had gripped in one hand spilled all over what looked like a twenty-thousand-dollar, cream-colored suit.

  “Shit!” I exclaimed, more to myself than to the man who had my lukewarm coffee running down both pant legs where it pooled at his feet on the hot July pavement. I looked up quickly, with an apology on my lips.

  But I froze.

  It was just my luck that not only was he one pissed off man, but also one of the biggest pricks on Wall Street.

  “What the fuck?” he cursed, as he stepped back. He held his hands to the side. His chiseled jaw was clenched as he stared down at his ruined clothing, not even sparing one glance at me.

  “Yeah… um… you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk.”

  His eyes darted to the McDonald’s cup still gripped in my hand. I couldn’t afford the Starbucks one that I really craved. I only indulged in those five-plus dollars of heaven if it was a holiday.

  His classically handsome face drew tight with disdain. I bet he’s never even been inside a McDonald’s.

  I instantly disliked him, with good reason, base
d on everything I had read about the man.

  “Un-fucking-believable. I’m going to be late for a meeting. A crucial meeting because of you.”

  He still hadn’t even looked at me. It was as if I was a leper or a ghost; my presence known, but unseen. He was about to say more when his cell rang; he ignored it for a second to warn, “Don’t go anywhere. I expect you to reimburse me for this.”

  I reared back as if he slapped me and held up my empty cup. “Seriously? I can’t even afford the socks you’re wearing. You might want to get over it. Besides, it was just an accident.”

  He didn’t reply, but the angry splashes of color on his cheekbones went a shade deeper.

  “Pendejo,” I muttered, under my breath.

  Screw him.

  I’m not going to apologize.

  I knew who he was.

  Who didn’t?

  The man’s face was everywhere in New York City.

  Last year, his face was plastered to the sides of transit buses and inside subway cars. Rafael Vasquéz Edwards is the man who royally pissed off Tish Thorn, the socialite from Manhattan, who he dated for six months.

  Rumor has it, the man never slept with the same woman twice, until Tish.

  She thought she bagged the baddest billionaire in existence.

  But she was fooled instead.

  Completely duped.

  I read all about it on “Page Six.”

  Their break-up was the talk of the city.

  He showed up at the Met Gala with some Victoria Secret model and publicly humiliated poor Tish.

  But Tish’s daddy is old money and he shared it all with his baby girl.

  She paid for ads that went up all over the city with Rafael’s face and text that read: #donotdate #thisdick.

  After the run of talk shows where she was invited to discuss her broken heart and subsequent revenge on Rafael, Tish was contacted by ABC. They wanted her to be the next Bachelorette. My DVR is already primed and waiting to record that season.

  Not wanting to waste another second on this playboy prick, I turned on my heel, stalking away.

  I made it three strides when I was caught by the elbow and swung around. His eyes widened.

  Mine did too.

  Inches apart.

  Face to face.

  Jolts of electricity ran from where his fingers touched my arm. The feeling made my nipples harden, pointing from beneath my thin T-shirt, and he smirked as his dark eyes took note.

  His eyes continued to slide down my body, missing nothing. Then he had the nerve to do it all again in reverse, starting with my ankles and roaming back over me with those predatory eyes. I lifted my chin, pissed the hell off by him and men in general.

  I dressed how I wanted.

  I worked outside all day and it’s damn hot running with dogs. My denim cut-offs were short, my T-shirt thin, and my boobs supported by the only luxury I allowed myself to have—Victoria’s Secret bras. But I never wore padded ones when my boobs were already obnoxiously huge for my height.

  The tip of my sneaker started tap dancing. I crossed my arms over my chest, blocking my breasts from his view. His hand moved to circle my wrist, preventing me from leaving while he finished his call.

  When the heat in his eyes changed from anger to something else… my blood pressure rose. I’m Latina, curvy, with naturally tan skin and long wavy hair. Men like him see me and instantly want to play out their hair-pulling, doggy-style fantasies. But they’d never date me or treat me like a lady—that was always saved for somebody else—someone with an ivy league degree and old family money. Somebody like Tish.

  Dirtbag.

  He continued to smirk at me while he talked to someone else. His eyes started undressing me. He was having fun at my expense. Toying with me and he knew it.

  Finally, he disconnected and stared at me while the corners of his mouth twitched.

  “Call my PA. He’ll make arrangements for you to…work off the damages. I’m sure we can work something out?” He raised an eyebrow as his eyes told me … just how we could “work something out”.

  “You’ve got some fucking nerve Mr. Hashtag. Maybe you’ll be trending on Twitter as Mr. Dirtbag if you don’t back the hell off and leave me alone.” The cadence of my voice rose with every word. I heard the clicking of phones. Snap. Snap. Snap… Every second of us dueling was captured. He circled me; a predator surveying his prey. I felt his eyes on my back, on my ass, on the back of my thighs… the nerves along my spine were tingling in warning.

  “Like what you see?” I spun around, my own eyes full of fire.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  By this time, a small crowd had gathered, some recording our exchanges with their phones.

  He struck fast and hard. The tips of his shoes touched mine, his left hand reached to the back of my head, while his other one fingered a long piece of my hair before tucking it over my shoulder. Then his finger stroked the back of my arm, up and down as he bent his head to whisper in my ear, “Call me, beautiful. I’m not as bad as they say.”

  “No. You're even worse.” I jerked back, and out of his hold. The absolute, fucking nerve of this guy… I felt my face redden as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet and took out a business card. He held it out by his fingertips. I ignored it.

  My gaze was trapped by his.

  Why did he have to be so fucking hot?

  His cheeks were flushed and his eyes dark. I pretended not to notice that even drenched in cheap coffee, the man oozed sex and power.

  I grabbed it from him, ripped it to shreds and tossed it like confetti. I even had the gall to giggle and say, “Consider all this payback for Tish,” as I stepped around him, and slowly exited. I stopped briefly to call out over my shoulder, “Actually, consider it payback for every woman in New York you’ve screwed over!”

  His eyes widened.

  I expected him to get even more pissed and chase me again.

  But he surprised me by throwing back his head and laughing out loud.

  He smiled, and my heart almost stopped.

  Almost.

  But it didn’t.

  When he smiled, fine lines appeared by the corners of his eyes. His perfect teeth showed from behind beautiful lips. I never considered a man’s mouth beautiful before. I flushed and turned back around, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  But he’s the type of man who notices everything.

  “Where do you think you are going?” His voice was…harsh. Sharp. Dominant as fuck.

  I turned around, feeling unease uncoiling and spreading like a thin trail of smoke in my gut. I was confused: half-pissed off and now… half of something else. Something dangerous and I didn’t want to let it run through my veins.

  His laughter had stopped and in its place was a raw intensity… a hunger, as he stared at me. Really looked at me. My nipples ached. The curling smoke traveled low in my belly, creating a deep pressure that wanted to be relieved. It was pure female instinct, responding to an alpha male. But there was something more in his direct gaze that almost had me shivering with need.

  Almost.

  But I didn’t.

  No man has ever made me feel so many things so fast. Running into him was like being trapped inside the vortex of a tornado. He had me spinning round and round.

  I needed to regain control. I’m most confident in myself when I’m doing what I do best—sing.

  I flipped my long hair over my shoulder and turned back around to leave. I shook my hips to the beat of a song I didn’t even have on play yet. I put my earbuds in, not caring if the entire city stopped and listened to me sing. I turned up the volume and took a deep breath; filling my lungs with all the air I would need to belt out the first few lyrics, ensuring he heard me sing “Womanizer,” better than Britney ever did.

  I half-expected Rafael to grab me again.

  But, he didn't. Not this time.

  I glanced coyly over my shoulder. He was still there. Standing by the puddle of my morning coffee
, on the hot July pavement

  He stared after me. His chiseled jaw clenched, but it was his eyes that promised retribution. His hands were at his side; unwilling to touch the sticky liquid dripping off him.

  I should’ve known he wouldn’t let it go.

  Like a fool—I marched to the beat in my head. Unknowing, I had caught the interest of a predator.

  He would wait.

  Plot.

  Execute.

  It was what he did; what he excelled at the most. And I was a stupid girl for not realizing I had sparked his interest instead of shunning it.

  I had no choice but watch her walk—no, strut her stuff, as she danced away from me. She rocked her sexy hips and flicked her long, dark tresses at me while she did it. But her mouth… damn. I stood, dumbfounded by her.

  All of her.

  But her mouth…it was painted a bright shade of red, drawing my eyes to them and holding them prisoner. I couldn’t stop staring while she gave me hell, even though I was the wronged party here.

  I watched her curvy ass and legs until they disappeared from view. I must have still been stunned by her sheer nerve to speak to me the way she did.

  Being a man of immense wealth and power comes with many perks. Respect is at the top of the list. Who in the hell was she? Nothing would stop me from finding out. I signaled to my driver, “Follow the girl.”

  He nodded and pulled away from the curb. I needed to get back to my Penthouse, shower, and change. Not dwell on a five-foot something, sexy Latina with a heaping side of sass.

  I was able to push back my meeting, but the Board was pissed. I’ve only been in control for a year and something as simple as being late would be enough for one of them to question my commitment to the job.

  I nodded to the doorman and rushed inside the cool chill of my building. I was about to continue rushing across the marble lobby floor to my private elevator when something caught my eye.

  It was out of place.

  It didn’t belong

  A flyer was taped next to the small alcove where the mailboxes were. I ripped it from the wall.

  It was an ad for dog walking and pet sitting services.