Mafia Princess: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Valenti Family Ties Book 1)

by Selena

  Mafia Princess

  Valenti Family Ties

  Book One

  Selena

  Mafia Princess

  Copyright © 2020 Selena

  Unabridged First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in cases of a reviewer quoting brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, and events are entirely coincidental. Use of any copyrighted, trademarked, or brand names in this work of fiction does not imply endorsement of that brand.

  Published in the United States by Selena and Speak Now.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945780-87-5

  Cover © Kadee Brianna of Everly Yours Cover Design

  For anyone who’s ever been afraid that letting someone see your damaged parts will make them run.

  You are seen. You are worthy.

  Table of Contents

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  twenty-three

  twenty-four

  twenty-five

  epilogue

  Also by Selena

  One

  Trigger Warning: This book contains themes some way find triggering, including a character who endured child/sexual abuse. While these scenes are not graphically described, I know that even vague details can be disturbing to some, so proceed at your own risk. Only you know your limits. Please read responsibly.

  King

  I stand in the doorway to our Manhattan brownstone, inhaling the scent that used to be the smell of home. Now, it’s more like nostalgia, like when you hear that song on the radio from a simpler time, and it punches a hole right through your gut. It’s not the song or the smell that gets you, it’s going back for a second, to a time when you still thought your parents had all the answers and made the right decisions so you didn’t have to worry about knowing right from wrong and knowing they’re both valid choices. In the end, I suppose the sum total of a man is whether he chooses right more often than wrong.

  I’ve done plenty of wrong, but maybe I’m still naïve enough to think I can do right sometimes, even in the profession that’s been chosen for me.

  “King? Is that you?”

  Ma’s voice starts the nostalgia loop all over again. I haven’t seen her in six months, and though that shouldn’t be long enough to make her feel like a memory, it is. A lifetime has passed in those months—my sister’s life, to be exact. Ma refused to join the family for any of the it—the search for the body, the final acceptance that we’d never find it, the funeral, the grief over the gaping hole left in our lives. I can’t really blame her. She specializes in cocktails and parties on yachts and high-pitched, tipsy giggling fits with women she pretends to like but wouldn’t hesitate to viciously destroy if she overheard a piece of gossip that could achieve that.

  Pain is not her drug of choice. Glamour is.

  She wraps me in an embrace, and the scent of a childhood that seems a distant memory swirls around me, a boozy mixture of old houses, Chanel No. 5, and gin. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she murmurs against my chest before pulling back to look up at me. “You look just like your father. So tall. And handsome! Just look at you. You’ll make some girl a very lucky woman someday.”

  I snort at that. “I doubt it. I couldn’t risk it. I don’t know how any man in the Life can get married, knowing he could be putting his family in danger with one wrong move—or leaving them without a father.”

  “A man doesn’t have to be killed to leave a woman without a husband,” she says with a little pout.

  “Come on, Ma,” I say, dropping my bag off and heading into the den with her. “Are you really playing the victim here?”

  “Are you saying your father didn’t move halfway across the country and leave me here on my own?” she challenges.

  I sigh. “No. He did.”

  “I just never thought you’d all take his side and go with him,” she says, giving me a wounded look as she settles herself onto the sofa, folding her legs prettily beside her as if she’s posing for a picture. “Make us a drink, would you, love?”

  “Sure, Ma.” I pour us each a gin and tonic. After the flight, I could use it. I take the recliner, not sure what else to say to her. On the one hand, she’s my ma and I love her. On the other… Well, there’s too much shit to unpack on the other.

  “You told us to go with Dad,” I remind her at last. “Remember? You said you wanted to be alone and find yourself.”

  “Well, I’d never been on my own,” she protests. “I went from my father’s house to your father’s. I’ve never been a single gal in Manhattan. It looks so glamourous on TV.”

  “Ma, if you didn’t love him, why’d you marry him?”

  She takes a long swallow and closes her eyes in contentment before speaking. “My father wanted me out of the Life, and Uncle Al knew this up-and-coming Italian businessman who would provide for me and keep me out of immediate danger. And your father can be charming when he puts his mind to it. Just ask all his little teenage comares.”

  I shake my head and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I know the mafia arranges marriages sometimes, but my parents loved each other at some point. Not something I’m dying to dissect right now, with a big day coming up tomorrow.

  “Ma, can we talk about this job?” I ask. I’d never show it, but my stomach has been fucked up for days. I barely know Al Valenti. He’s mom’s uncle and the boss of one of the New York families. But I’m not sure anyone really knows him. He’s quiet, a watcher, not the boastful hothead people picture as the leader of a successful mafia empire.

  My service was promised to him in some business deal long before I knew who he was. What job he gives me depends on factors I don’t even fully understand, including who my mother is, our family’s image, money, and our status with him. Probably no one really knows what goes into the assignment except his consigliere.

  “You’ll do great,” Mom says, smiling proudly at me. “Uncle Al loves you.”

  I’m not sure Uncle Al loves anyone, but I know I can’t let him down. I can’t let our family down, either. It’s up to me to represent the Dolce branch, to make my father proud. Ma, too. She’s a Valenti by birth, and I know that even if I don’t carry that name, I’m supposed to be tougher than I am. I’m supposed to be as tough as someone who grew up in the Life, even though I didn’t. I’ve always known I’d have to leave the nest, that I was duty-bound to step into the Life when I turned eighteen, but knowing and experiencing are two different things.

  “I’ve never killed a man,” I say, voicing my greatest concern.

  Ma waves a hand as if to brush away my fears. “You’re eighteen, King. Just out of high school. Al doesn’t expect you to be a seasoned veteran.”

  “He doesn’t?” I ask,
relief gnawing at the edges of my nerves.

  “Course not,” she says, tittering into her drink. “You grew up in the lap of luxury, and he’s the one who put us there. He knows the life you’ve led. You’ll probably have a babysitter for a year or two before you even get your hands dirty.”

  “A babysitter?” I ask, bristling at the insult. I may not be a hardened criminal, but I have my pride. It doesn’t help that my own mother is laughing at the thought of me being dangerous.

  She’s right, though. Sure, I’d fight to the fucking death to protect my family, but that’s instinct, not ruthlessness. The thought of killing a stranger in cold blood doesn’t do anything for me. The truth is, it scares the fuck out of me. My greatest fear of all is that when the time comes, I won’t have it in me to pull the trigger. I know how much a life is worth. I know what the loss of one life can do to a family.

  I won’t have a choice, though. If Al Valenti says someone needs to die, and it’s my job to make it happen, then I make it happen or take their place. High school is over. I’m no longer a bigshot. I’m just a lowly soldier now. I don’t make the calls or the rules. My job is to take orders. So that’s what I’m going to have to do. My personal preferences and feelings have no part in this life.

  So, I’ll forget I have them. I’ll tuck away my weaknesses until I forget they exist. Feelings are a weakness. Love is weakness. I warned my sister of that, but she didn’t listen. In the end, she chose love anyway, and love claimed her life. Nothing’s going to claim mine, not love or fear or hesitation. I know what I have to do. I have to walk into my initiation tomorrow like I already am the man Uncle Al wants me to be, not the fuck-up I am. I have to make sure that I’m so good at my job that the Valentis think they need me. Everyone knows what happens to members of the mafia who aren’t useful.

  Tonight, I will ask my mother these questions. After this, I’ll never speak of them again. I will be Ma’s son tonight. I will still belong to this fucked up family with a dead sister, a mother who couldn’t be bothered to come to the funeral, a father who promised his first-born son to the mob, and three brothers I had to leave to their own devices. Tonight, I’m a Dolce, with all my failures and regrets hanging around my neck like a noose.

  I know I’m lucky Uncle Al still wants me. Not everyone gets a second chance. Not everyone gets to start over a new man with a new family. And I’m not going to fuck this one up. Tomorrow I will close the door on this life and become a Valenti man, and I will devote my life to being the perfect mafia soldier.

  Dutiful. Loyal. Heartless.

  two

  Eliza

  A voice rumbles through the wall of excited, drunken giggles and squeals and chatter going on around me. “Miss?”

  I ignore my bodyguard. God, he’s such a… I’m too drunk to think of the word.

  Prude? Boomer? Buzz kill?

  Tommy groans and grinds his dick against my ass, his hands tightening on my hips, his lips attached to my neck like a leech. I know better than to go down that road again… Which is exactly why I’m entertaining the idea.

  My motto might as well be, “Smart enough to know better, still too cool to care.”

  I didn’t even really like Tommy to begin with, but he was just dangerous enough to give me a little thrill, and that’s what I was after. The thrill wore off pretty quick when I realized he was dumb as a brick. He’s just a sack of muscles with a gun strapped to his hip. I was bored in a month.

  But then Daddy said I had to break up with the idiot, and suddenly, Tommy Fatone didn’t look like a big, dumb, easy conquest. He looked like a goldfish in a bowl to a kitten, and that kitten was me.

  “Hey, asshole,” Vince barks, grabbing Tommy by the shoulder and hauling him off me. “Mind hoovering someone else’s neck? Boss’ll have my head if she comes back with a mark on her.”

  In any other business, he might be kidding. But his boss happens to be Anthony Pomponio, the head of one of the five New York mafia families, who also just so happens to be my father. So, in this case, losing his head is a literal danger. Especially if Daddy finds out who left the hickeys.

  “We’re just hanging out,” Tommy protests. “I know we can’t do nothing.”

  Didn’t stop him from trying when we were together, but whatever. All the boys know the mafia princesses have to be “pure,” and they’re all obsessed with trying to deflower us. Tommy would never admit that to someone higher on the food chain, though. He’s just a soldier, a grunt for my family. The only person worse suited for me would be a Valenti, the family mine has been at war with for a decade. And even I wouldn’t go there. I may be defiant, but I’m not dumb.

  “Go hang out with some other girl,” Vince says, elbowing past Tommy to hover over me at the bar.

  Tommy gives my ass a squeeze, and I grin up at Vince while he glowers at Tommy like he’s deciding if that’s an offense worthy of the death penalty. I like Tommy that way. He’s daring.

  But he doesn’t have a death wish, so he scurries off to find some other girl who will let him get a whole lot further than me.

  In truth, it’s a relief to have an excuse to keep from taking that particular step. Sex is like this whole big scary thing I don’t even want to think about. You’d think I’d have done it with Tommy or any of the meaningless boyfriends who came before him just for curiosity’s sake. It’s an experience, and I’m all about experiences. But from what I’ve heard from my non-virgin friends, it sounds too complicated to deal with. I like my life. It’s simple. It’s fun. It’s safe.

  Plus, if I ever have one too many drinks, there’s one not-so-little catch named Vince standing in the way of any experimentation. For my Sweet Sixteen, Daddy got me a Ferrari, a birthday bash that everyone worth knowing in the entire city attended, and a chastity belt named Vince. Vince is my third bodyguard—I got my first one, along with a pony, when I turned eight—and his sole purpose is to guard my vagina. His life literally depends on my hymen.

  Because the mafia lives and dies by its prehistoric Italian traditions, Daddy’s job is to pick a suitable husband for me. My husband’s job is to kiss Daddy’s ass for allowing him the honor of marrying the daughter of a don. And my job is to bleed like a stuck pig on my wedding night.

  I shiver at the thought.

  But if I don’t, Vince’s head will roll, and that would be a shame. He’s sweet, despite the stick up his ass. I can’t really blame him for being the way he is. I don’t exactly make his job easy now that I’ve started hitting the party circuit. I’m not going to be responsible for his execution, though. I like the guy. He’s good at being a human chastity belt.

  The bartender slides a round of shots across the bar, the ice glasses melting enough to make them glide in their own liquid like drunken ballerinas. This club just opened, so it’s still hot enough to be exclusive, with its notorious ice shot glasses, glass bar, and crystal chandeliers. I feel like I’m in Elsa’s ice castle, and I’m here for it.

  I snatch up an ice shot glass filled with electric blue liquid and hold it aloft. “To tonight,” I scream into the noisy bar.

  “I think you’ve had enough,” Vince says, glowering down at me.

  Lizzie Salvatore runs her tongue along the edges of her teeth, shooting a predatory grin at Vince. “You obviously haven’t had enough,” she says. “Take one with us.”

  “I don’t drink on the job,” Vince grumbles.

  “That’s too bad,” she purrs, shaking back her honey-brown waves and batting her eyes at him. “I’m awfully drunk, just ripe for being taken advantage of. You could put it anywhere you wanted, and I wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.”

  Vince shifts around, looking uncomfortable, which sends my friends into a tizzy of laughter.

  “Oh, leave the poor guy alone,” Bianca says, hooking her arm through Vince’s muscular one. “You’re making him blush.”

  We throw back our heads and let the sweet, sticky nectar of the gods run down our throats. Then we all smash our glasses on the
floor, which is already coated with a sheen of water from the melting ice other people have dropped.

  Bianca Luciani is my best friend and sometimes enemy, depending on the month or year. She’s the perfect frenemy—totally different from me but with similar life experience; hot enough to hate her for it when we’re at war and be part of our squad when we’re not. As the daughter of one of the other dons, we’re as likely to go to war as our families. But right now, my family has hate only for the Valentis, and Bianca and I share the common goal of getting fucked up, though probably for very different reasons.

  Lizzie… Well, she’s a whore, but she’s always down for a good time, and that’s what I’m after tonight. When she takes yet another shot, I reach for another for myself. Before I can take it, Vince grabs my hand. “Miss,” he says sharply. “You’re only supposed to have three drinks, and you’re well beyond that.”

  I burst into howls of laughter. I must be going on a dozen shots by now. I’m drunk off my ass, but I don’t care. We’re young and rich and we own the city. When anything new opens up in New York, we’re on the list. When a new luxury handbag or jewelry line comes out, we’re on the list. We get invited to the best parties, are the first to know the best gossip. What’s it all for if not to enjoy it?

  It’s not for sticking to a three-drink maximum, that’s for damn sure. Not when I know that any night could be my last. That one day, Daddy’s going to put the brakes on this. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to go all out, balls to the wall, and no one, not even my bodyguard, can stop me. So, I enjoy this night like it’s my last, just as I soak up each night, reveling in my freedom, glutting myself with it, even when I’m puking it out and the fun is long gone. I attack partying with a determination that is beyond hedonism. I want more than to feel good, more than fun. I want life. My life. I want anything I can call my own, even my own mistakes.

  “You’re going to make yourself sick again,” Vince snaps. I grab another shot, swaying on my feet, and throw it down my throat like a dare. I stare back at Vince, whose jaw twitches in annoyance. Without breaking eye contact, I reach for another.