Mafia Prince

by Bella J.

  I took a sip of my drink, the tension slowly creeping back up my shoulders. “It’s Mancuso. We knew he might turn up here. What’s the deal?”

  Antonio kept staring down at the crowd who walked in with Matteo, worry lines forming grooves on his forehead.

  “Antonio, what the fuck, man?”

  Without saying a word, he lifted his arm and pointed down toward Matteo. My gaze followed—searching, watching, and then…her.

  The moment I saw her face, it felt like every drop of blood drained out of my body. Ice spread down my spine, and the glass slipped out of my hand and shattered on the ground by my feet.

  “Layla,” I whispered. “Jesus Christ.”

  It was her.

  Layla Moore.

  The woman who left after she stole the best of me.

  I was frozen on the spot, staring down at her. My mind couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing.

  Layla-fucking-Moore, in the flesh. And, dear God, she looked exactly as I remembered. The longer I stared at her, the more my heart pounded against my ribs as if it was trying to break through my chest. It felt like my heart knew…it fucking knew the woman who stood there in the ruby red dress, golden blonde hair tied up to expose her neck, was its rightful owner. It was exhilarating, yet painful at the same time, to see her again.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even fucking move. Memories. Words. Moments. Everything I shared with Layla came rushing back like a motherfucking tropical storm, and it would have knocked me off my feet if I weren’t gripping the rail in front of me so damn tight.

  In the distance, I heard Lorik’s voice saying something about tequila and tits. I heard Antonio mention Layla’s name, and then Lorik stepped in next to me just as Matteo placed his hand on Layla’s shoulder, fingers brushing against her bare neck.

  “Well, fuck,” Lorik muttered right when everything around me turned to shades of red.

  The longer Matteo’s fingers lingered on her skin, the darker my vision became. I had no idea what the fuck was happening. It felt like I was in an alternate universe, as if everything around me went on mute, people moving in slow motion. Even Matteo’s goddamn fingers on Layla’s neck moved in long, slow, torturing strokes. My heart no longer tried to break through my chest. Instead it was the beast in me who tried to claw its way out. It wanted to kill. It wanted to slaughter. It wanted to butcher every motherfucker who stood in a ten foot radius of her.

  “Dante,” Antonio said beside me, but I ignored him. “Dante. I think we should leave.”

  I couldn’t tear my gaze from her, from the way Matteo touched her.

  Five years. Five fucking years, and it felt like no time had passed. As if the woman who stood right there still belonged to me. As if she never broke my heart. Never left.

  “Dante?” Antonio placed his hand on my shoulder, but I jerked away. “Brother, you need to calm down, and we need to leave.”

  Lorik held the shot of tequila out to me. “I suggest some tequila to tame the urge to go on a murderous rampage right about now.”

  I took the tequila and tossed it back before throwing the glass to the ground. “I am calm.”

  Lorik stared down at the broken glass. “Yeah…yeah, I see that.”

  I remained still, my gaze glued to the one and only woman I had ever loved. And no matter how she hurt me, how those words on that goddamn letter ripped my heart out, the way Matteo touched her made me want to tear him the fuck apart.

  Questions that should have been running through my mind…didn’t. Questions like why was she back? Why did she leave? Why was she here with Matteo? Those were questions with answers that fucking mattered, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck. All I cared about…was her.

  “This is not good, man,” Lorik said beside me.

  Antonio touched my shoulder again, and that was the exact moment Layla looked up, her gaze meeting mine. That was also the moment my entire world came crashing down around me. Every bone in my body ached, my lungs unable to expand because I forgot to fucking breathe. Moments, seconds, minutes, hours. A week could have gone by, and I wouldn’t have noticed because all I concerned myself with was staring at her, to not take my eyes off her in case all of this wasn’t real.

  But then Matteo’s hand dropped from her neck, his knuckles dragging down her arm. The movement caught my attention, forcing me to take my eyes off her.

  Rage. Fury. Anger. Jealousy.

  I could feel the blood in my veins start to simmer, the need to kill and destroy scratching against marrow and bone. Suddenly, I was very much aware of the gun tucked away at my side, the weight of the weapon begging me to clutch it in my palm, then aim and pull the fucking trigger.

  Matteo looked up, meeting my glare, a smug grin spreading across his motherfucking ugly face. That grin was like a giant “fuck you” directed right at me, and when he leaned down, placing his lips against her cheek while his eyes were still focused on me, I fucking lost it.

  “Dante, no!”

  Antonio tried to stop me. But how did you stop an enraged animal with a lust for blood? I rushed down the stairs, adrenaline scraping against my veins as images of Matteo’s headless body filled my mind.

  As I stepped onto the dancefloor, I looked at Layla. Her amber eyes were wide with panic, her lips slightly parted.

  She knew it. She knew it as well as I did.

  I was coming for her…because she was mine.

  Chapter 5

  Layla

  This was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for. The moment when I would look into the depths of his deep sienna-colored eyes and know my entire life changed because of him.

  I’d often wondered if leaving was the right thing to do. But deep down I knew I had no other choice. I thought I was strong enough, that I had what it took to survive a life without him. And for a while I had everything under control, thinking I had successfully managed to escape him in order to protect what was most important to me.

  But I was wrong.

  I was so fucking wrong.

  I should have known there was no way to escape a man like Dante Valenti. Not in this world.

  The day I fell for Dante, that was the day his dark world dug its claws into my soul, and no matter how far I had run, how hard I tried to get away from it all…it found me. It found me, and now everything was at stake.

  And the way Dante stared at me, the flames of anger raging behind his dark irises, I knew there was no way I’d be able to survive the war ahead. And that was okay. I was already ruined. There was nothing left of me to salvage. My heart, my soul, my very existence had faded away…one needle at a time.

  But even though I had no chance of survival, I would do what needed to be done…until my dying breath.

  Chapter 6

  Dante

  A few feet. That was how far I stood from her—the woman who held my heart in the palms of her fucking hands. And even after all the pain she had caused me, I still thought she was the most beautiful creature God had ever given a pulse.

  Seeing her again was something I would never be able to describe. The sight of her did things to my insides, spreading a wave of heat all through my chest, right to the hole where my heart used to be.

  I couldn’t tear my gaze away from hers. Those amber eyes which reminded me of each and every sunrise we watched together sucked me right in. I was completely caught up in the moment…until Matteo pulled Layla closer against him.

  Every molecule, every cell inside my body exploded into an inferno of rage. I reacted. Like an animal protecting its territory, I wanted to attack and destroy. Claw and tear apart.

  I stepped forward, my malicious intent obvious in my stance, my anger directed at the motherfucker in front of me. There was no stopping my instinct to eliminate the threat.

  I pulled my arm back, my fist desperate to be coated in Matteo’s blood. But Antonio grabbed my elbow, pulling me back. “Dante, don’t!”

  All I saw was red. All I wanted to do was kill
. I wanted to tear Matteo Mancuso to fucking shreds.

  Antonio pulled me closer. “You need to stop, brother. This is not the time or the place.”

  I clenched my jaw, my murderous glare aimed at Matteo. “Let me go, Antonio.”

  “You should listen to your brother, Dante,” Matteo said with a giant grin on his ugly motherfucking face. It was like a goddamn invitation for me to plant my fist against his jaw.

  My nostrils flared, and my lungs expanded along with my rapid breaths.

  “Dante.” Like the song of a siren, her voice pulled me from the rage-induced fog I was in.

  I looked at her and narrowed my eyes. “What the hell are you doing here, Layla?”

  Matteo wrapped his arm tighter around her, and a growl echoed up my throat. “As you can see, she’s here with me.”

  I ignored him and kept my eyes on her. “Why?”

  She bit her bottom lip, reminding me of how many times I’d bitten that same lip, sucked and nibbled it. Soft, red lips tortured me with memories of how they felt against mine.

  Layla squared her shoulders. “As Matteo said, I’m here with him.”

  “The hell you are. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  Matteo cleared his throat. “I think what Layla is trying to say is that we’re here to have some fun, you know, as a couple.”

  This time I turned my attention to him, every muscle in my body taut as I tried to restrain myself from pulling out a knife and cutting his throat. “I suggest if you would like to keep that ugly motherfucking head of yours that you back the fuck off.”

  Matteo stepped forward, pushing his jacket back, showcasing the gun at his side. A piss poor display of warning. “Is that a threat, Valenti?”

  I moved closer. “You can bet your ass it is.”

  “I get that you and Layla share this whole history together, but it’s exactly that…history. She’s with me now, so move the fuck along.”

  I glanced from Matteo to Layla, who seemed uncomfortable as she shifted from one leg to other, the slit in her red dress draping perfectly along her thigh. She met my stare for a second before looking away.

  I noticed her flicking her fingernails. It was a nervous habit of hers. It used to drive me up the fucking walls whenever she did it. But right now it was a clue—a clue that things weren’t as they seemed. Something wasn’t right, and I was going to figure out what it was.

  I lifted my hands in a display of mock surrender. “Fine. Whatever. You two have a good time.” I took a step back and pinned my stare on her, silently conveying the message that we weren’t done. Not by a long shot. You didn’t disappear for five fucking years, then just reappear out of thin air and expect all questions to remain unanswered.

  I turned my back on her and Matteo and headed up the stairs.

  “Dante, I think it’s best we leave.” I heard Antonio’s footsteps behind me.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t want trouble, Dante.”

  I stomped up the final step. “Too fucking late.”

  The little nipple patch waitress came skipping by with a tray of shooters. I grabbed two, tossed them back one after the other, and didn’t even feel the sting of the alcohol since all I could focus on was the burn of jealousy and a shitload of fucks I gave at that point. Less than five minutes ago, I was the kind of man who had the natural talent to easily not give a fuck. But now? It seemed like I gave a fuck about a lot of things.

  Her.

  Why she suddenly decided to come back.

  Did she know who and what Matteo was?

  And if she didn’t, exactly how much trouble was she about to get into?

  Was she safe?

  Fuck me. That was just too much shit to care about for a heartless bastard like me. But because of her…I goddamn cared.

  I took a seat on a leather couch and ordered a drink. Antonio sat next to me. “What the fuck is going on?”

  I shrugged, then spotted Matteo and Layla walking up the stairs. “I have no idea. But I’m going to find out.”

  “I don’t want trouble.”

  “Yeah, you said that already.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are.” I took my drink from the waitress and leaned back, my eyes glued to Layla, who stood next to Matteo at the bar. I caught her glance my way a few times, but her expression remained completely unreadable. It was fucking amazing how she managed to act as if there was absolutely no history between us, no unanswered questions. It pissed me off to see how easy it was for her.

  Lorik sat across from us with another round of tequila. “Well, I figured since Armageddon is just around the corner with Layla dating Matteo and all, we might as well get trashed on hard liquor.”

  Antonio glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

  Lorik picked up a shooter glass. “It’s not my intention to. But I will say,” he leaned back in his seat and gestured my way, “I’m going to love watching Dante kick Matteo’s ass.”

  Antonio sighed. “Unbelievable. No one is kicking anyone’s ass.”

  “Uh, yeah. Of course Dante will be shoving his foot up Matteo’s butt. The SOB is walking around with the woman who turned Dante into a walking dildo for the last five years. It would be all kinds of wrong if he just let Matteo get away with it.”

  “Lorik,” Antonio started, “sometimes I have to wonder what it is my sister sees in you.”

  Lorik grinned. “Oh, that’s easy. Apparently, Albanians have bigger cocks than Italians.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Antonio pulled his palm down his face, and I snorted. Lorik was one of a kind for sure.

  I turned my attention back to the lady in red. She was thinner than I remembered, the open back of her dress showcasing her small frame. Her legs were skinnier too, but still sexy as hell. It made me think of all the times I had those legs wrapped around my neck while I buried myself inside her.

  I was her first. The first man to claim what lay hidden between her legs. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was shy at first. Innocent. Reserved. But just like any forbidden fruit, once you had a taste, experienced the thrill of ecstasy, it had the tendency to make you forget all your inhibitions. The temptation was too strong. Seduction too sinfully delicious. Once Layla allowed it to take control of her—allowed me to take control—she turned into an insatiable woman with a lust, a desire for more than just lovemaking.

  Fuck. Sitting here, thinking about how rough and hard she liked it, made my cock press painfully against the zipper of my pants. Night after night she would spread those beautiful legs just for me. It had always been me. The thought of her ever being with another man set my insides on goddamn fire.

  I could still remember how it felt as if I couldn’t get enough of her. If I could have locked her in my bedroom twenty-four-seven, I would have, because fucking her was my favorite pastime.

  They said a person’s body was the temple of God, but not hers. Her body was my temple, my altar, my fucking religion, and I worshiped it every chance I got.

  The more I sat there thinking about the past, the angrier I became. Especially since I was a glutton for punishment, choosing to just sit there and watch as Mancuso had his filthy motherfucking hands all over her.

  I grabbed another tequila from the table, throwing it back down my throat. I noticed Antonio scowling at me.

  “What?”

  “Take it easy on the alcohol. You’re reckless enough sober.”

  “It’s a fucking bachelor party, Antonio. Lighten up.”

  He eased back in his seat. “The bachelor party ended when Layla walked in.”

  “Nah. I’d say the party just started.”

  I watched as Matteo leaned closer, whispering something in Layla’s ear. She smiled and laughed, making me wonder what the fuck he said to her. My spine tingled with the need to kill the bastard. Did he not know that every smile, every expression on her beautiful face belonged to me?

  I tossed back anothe
r tequila and saw Matteo walk off, joining a group of men on the other side of the floor. Rookie mistake. He left Layla alone at the bar. Was he that clueless? You never left a woman like Layla alone anywhere. It was reckless, irresponsible, and the perfect opportunity…for me.

  I jumped to my feet and ignored Antonio’s plea for me to sit the fuck down. There was only one goal I had in mind, and that was having a very important conversation with the lady in red.

  As I stepped in next to her, I placed my fingertips against the small of her back. Even with the music playing, I could hear her suck in a breath.

  “What are you doing with him, Layla?” I kept my gaze straight in front of me, and so did she.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  I removed my hand from her back and turned to face her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Does it look like I’m laughing?”

  “It looks like you managed to get yourself into a shitload of trouble.”

  She took a sip from her white wine, and my gaze settled on her lips, the way they kissed the rim of the glass. It was one simple act, yet it had the effect of a thousand aphrodisiacs, making my cock harden. Amazing how she disappeared from my life for years, then walked right back and turned me the fuck on within five goddamn minutes.

  Finally, she turned toward me, her amber eyes settling on mine. “I don’t know why you would assume I was in trouble simply because I’m dating Matteo. But I can assure you, I’m in no trouble at all.”

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed her flick her nails as her palm lay on the bar. Dead giveaway.

  “You really expect me to believe that?”