Shane: A Mafia Love Story: Dark Erotic Romance

by Saxton, R. E.

  The last time, she’d had the buffer of other attendees at her stepmother’s funeral to protect her from Vadim. And her stepbrother. She shivered at the thought of Aldo Peretti. If he was at this forced meeting, she was going to give him the rest of the bottle of pepper spray and hope it blinded him for life.

  Both goons slipped into the car with her. Feeling just a dash of compassion at the sight of Bruno’s red eyes, she handed him a bottle of water and a cloth napkin from the wet bar beside her. He grunted in acknowledgement.

  She sat without speaking to either of them, though aware of the appreciative gleam in the dark-haired man’s eyes when he examined her shapely legs. Mia had to force herself not to curl them under her to try to hide.

  The trip didn’t last long, and she was prepared to face her father when the car stopped and the nameless goon opened the door. Instead of his brownstone apartment, they had stopped in front of a palatial house. Casting a confused gaze around the property, she saw it was completely enclosed with high metal fencing topped with sharp spikes. “What’s going on?”

  “The boss asked to see you.” Bruno had no accent.

  “Where are we? This isn’t my father’s house.” Unless it was? Perhaps he had moved in the past two years?

  The brunette frowned. “Your father? Who is your father?”

  It was her turn to frown. “Vadim Kasilli.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know him.”

  A frisson of apprehension raced down her spine. “You don’t work for my father?”

  “No,” said Bruno.

  She swallowed, regretting accompanying them. “Who is the boss then?”

  “Shane O’Mara,” said the one with dark hair.

  The name was vaguely familiar, but she didn’t know why. “What does he want with me?”

  Holding out his arm in a mockery of chivalry, the brunette grinned. “Why don’t we go find out, miss?”

  She hesitated for a second, intuition screaming at her to get away, but where could she go? The property was encircled with that fence, and it was probably electrified too. If the one goon had a gun, they almost certainly both did. The idea of willingly strolling into the manor was no better than trying to make a run for it though.

  Apparently, they grew exasperated with her, because Bruno grasped her arm to drag her forward. Annoyed by his manhandling, she dug in her heels and tried to wrench away. “Let go of me, you barbarian. I can walk.”

  The gun prodded her lower back. “Then do so, miss, before Mr. O’Mara grows too impatient.”

  The fear in the goon’s voice fed her own. Mia forced her feet to move as she walked between the two thugs. The beauty of the marble steps didn’t impress her any more than the ornate ivory columns. She was too busy dreading her meeting with the mysterious Mr. O’Mara to be impressed by the architecture of his palatial home.

  The entryway and halls passed in a blur of elegant wallpaper and gleaming marble floors her flats tapped against briskly as the goons hurried her along. When they finally reached the end of a long hallway, her heart was racing from a combination of fear and exertion, since she’d had to take two steps for their one.

  “Knock, Wallace.”

  Knowing the brunette’s name didn’t put her at ease. She clenched her hands into fists as he knocked before opening the door. Mia glared at Bruno when he herded her inside roughly.

  She was several steps into the room before she stopped walking. The hardwood floor under her feet formed a star-like pattern, and the black walls were striking. So were the black-and-white nude photographs on canvas adorning the walls. Finally, she could find no further distraction from the man seated at the desk in the center of the room.

  Swallowing thickly, Mia examined the man who had sent for her. He was a handsome devil, with thick black hair, a light tan, and green eyes the shade of sea foam. Those eyes were regarding her intently, and she abruptly recognized him. He was an occasional visitor to Lovelle’s, always with a beautiful woman in tow. Usually tall, blonde, and leggy. Everything petite Mia wasn’t. She couldn’t fathom why he had sent for her.

  He pushed back from his desk to stand, and she caught her breath at his broad-shouldered build. As he stalked closer to her with the air of a hunting panther, she finally exhaled raggedly, her spine stiffening of its own accord in reaction to the look in his eyes.

  His gaze skipped briefly to Bruno, and he frowned. “What happened to you?” His voice was smooth and deep, like polished onyx, but with a note that disconcerted her.

  “She maced me.”

  O’Mara laughed. “Did you really?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “He was chasing me. I don’t like being kidnapped.” To her dismay, he didn’t deny the allegation, or seek to reassure her that she wasn’t there under duress.

  Pointing toward the door, he told his goons, “Leave.”

  “You sure, boss?” asked Wallace.

  With a roll of his strange green eyes, he gestured them to leave again. “I think I can handle her.”

  Mia should have felt better to have the numbers more even, back to one-on-one, once the other two had departed, but she found herself even more on-edge. “Why am I here?”

  “Have a seat?” He made the offer, but there was a hint of command underneath it.

  She squared her shoulders. “No, thank you.”

  He arched a dark brow. “I’d think your feet would hurt after a night at the restaurant.”

  Mia pursed her lips. “My feet aren’t your concern. Tell me why your goons dragged me here.”

  “I’m Shane O’Mara.” He extended her hand, seeming amused when she didn’t take it. With a small shrug, he dropped it back to his side. “Very well. We’ll skip the niceties.”

  “There isn’t room for niceties when you abduct someone.” She shifted slightly, suddenly aware of the acute ache from her overworked feet. Damn him for drawing it to her attention.

  He laughed again. “Fine.” Shane walked back to his desk, propping his hip on the corner.

  After a moment of him staring at her in challenge, she finally walked over to the desk, but still refused to sit. “What do you want from me?”

  “You’re aware of your father’s…profession?”

  Mia sighed deeply. “I know he’s the Avtoritet under the Pakhan of the Varnakov bratva, which makes him about number-three in their hierarchy, but I don’t know specifics. If you’ve brought me here to gain some kind of advantage, or obtain information, you’re out of luck. I want nothing to do with him or the russkaya mafiya.”

  “Hmm.” Shane gestured to a wet bar. “Drink?”

  She shook her head. As the silence lengthened, she asked, “What is your profession, Mr. O’Mara?”

  “Shane will do.” He made her wait as he walked to the wet bar to pour a glass of something amber. “Your father and I are in the same line of work, but for different companies, I guess you could say.”

  She didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “You’re a violent thug too?”

  He took a sip of his drink, seeming unbothered by her appraisal. “I wouldn’t call myself a thug, honey. That denotes a different lifestyle from mine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think you’re any different from the typical gun-toting, drug-selling pimp in the gutter?”

  His lips tightened. “I have something most of them would kill for.”

  “What?” When would this posturing end, so she could go home? Her cat needed to be fed, and she was losing the precious opportunity to have the apartment all to herself.

  “Power. I can have anything I want.”

  “Good for you.” She gritted her teeth. “Now, tell me why the hell I’m here.”

  He finished his drink, but didn’t pour another one as he returned to his perch against the desk, though nearer to her this time. “That requires a bit of background explanation. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit?”

  She shook her head, aware of strands of dark hair spilling from her knot and falling around her sh
oulders in an irritating fashion. “Just get this over with so I can go home.”

  “Indeed.” His expression sharpened. “What do you know of the mafia, Mia?”

  “As little as possible.” When she had first realized exactly what her father did, Mia had made a deliberate choice to avoid it at all costs. Her stepmother had helped shield her the best she could, and she had remained mostly ignorant toward the evil her father committed.

  “There are varying groups who oversee criminal activity in our fair city, but the three most powerful are the Irish, Italians, and Russians.” He lifted a brow. “The Russians were a bit late to the party, but they’ve debuted with a splash.”

  She shrugged. “Why should I care?”

  He ignored the question. “As you can imagine, there was a great deal of violence as each group protected its territory and sought to expand. About ten years ago, things got particularly violent. Even the feds in our pockets couldn’t turn a blind eye, so the heads of each family decided a truce was in order.”

  She shifted again, resisting the urge to sit down in the comfy-looking chair just a few feet to her left. Ten years ago was about the time her father had started dating her stepmother, and she wondered if it was a coincidence that a Russian Avtoritet had married the daughter of an Italian don.

  “They each carved out their territories and divvied up various lucrative markets.”

  She didn’t really want to know the answer, but felt compelled to ask, “What does my father oversee?”

  “Drugs. Particularly heroin, which is making a comeback among yuppies.”

  She shuddered, hating the idea of her father putting drugs onto the streets, especially since that same poison had stolen her mother’s life. “And your group?”

  He smiled, and it was a chilling sight. “The Irish have always had a special affinity with weapons, honey. That’s our main business.”

  She scowled. “You’re the one to thank for that thirteen-year-old who murdered the convenience store clerk last week?”

  He blinked. “Not personally, but it’s possible he got the weapon from one of our distributors.” That fact didn’t seem to bother him.

  “And the Italians?”

  “Sex trade, forgery, money laundering…they’re a multitasking sort.” He smiled slightly, and she refused to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome that made him. “Our little experiment is working quite well. Other branches of our families are starting to emulate our model of cooperation.”

  “Isn’t that terrific?” She glanced pointedly at her watch. “You still haven’t told me why I’m here.” If he thought she could be some kind of leverage with her father, he was mistaken. Vadim cared as little for her as she did for him.

  “You can imagine how disastrous it would be if our truce fell apart. There is a lot of pressure from others higher up in our families to maintain this peace, so when something goes wrong, we have incentive to fix it.”

  “I don’t care,” she bit out.

  He shrugged. “We’ll see. Last month, a group of thugs stole a major shipment from your father. My people intercepted it before Varnakov found out Kasilli had a problem. Your father owes me a debt.”

  She closed her eyes for a second. With a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “My father owes you, so why am I here?”

  “You’re the price he’s paid, my sweet.” He made no attempt to disguise the blaze of desire in his gaze. “And I’m going to get full value.”

  Chapter Two

  Mia’s blood went cold at his words and expression, but she refused to betray her fear. “You’re out of your mind. Whatever he owes you, take it up with him.”

  Shane stood up suddenly, making her very aware of how much taller he was, and the way he loomed over her. “Let me clarify something for you, Mia. I went to a great deal of trouble to make sure your father owed me.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Because I want you, and I have since the first time I saw you at that restaurant. If it weren’t for your family connections, I would have just taken you.” He trailed the back of his fingers down her forearm.

  Mia jerked away, glaring at him. “I want nothing to do with you.”

  He acted like she hadn’t spoken. “With you being a daughter of one of my frenemies, I couldn’t just make you disappear. If it came back to me, there could be a resurgence of aggression. Instead, it had to be neat and tidy. I did your father a favor, and he was eager to settle it. No one wants to owe another something, especially in our line of work.”

  “My father was insane for suggesting I would just settle his debt.” She crossed her arms. “Have one of your goons drive me home now.”

  He shook his head. “You are going to be fun to tame, aren’t you?”

  Mia’s stomach curled with dread, and something less tangible, when he grasped a strand of her hair to let it spill between his fingers. “You aren’t doing anything to me. I don’t care what crooked deal you have with my father.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Make no mistake, Mia. I will go to war if I have to. I will destroy your family and burn down the city to have you.”

  She shivered at the threat, but shrugged. “I don’t give a damn what you do to Vadim.”

  “And your stepbrother?”

  Mia couldn’t hide her distaste. “I’d love to watch you rip him apart.”

  Shane blinked, clearly not expecting that. “I see. Let me try a different approach then.” With the suddenness of a striking snake, he jerked her against him. “You are mine. You won’t be leaving until I release you. I’m going to fuck you a thousand ways, starting tonight.”

  She had been frozen with fear for a second, but the paralysis broke when he said fuck. Mia flinched and tried to struggle free of his grip. It tightened painfully on her arms, and she knew she would have a bruise. “Let go of me, you animal.”

  “I can be.” He grasped the strands of hair that had fallen free to jerk her head backward. Shane licked her neck, ignoring her squawk of protest and attempts to wriggle free. “I can also be tender. You’ll get whichever side you nurture, baby.”

  She cried out with shock when he savagely bit her at the bend of her neck. Liquid oozed from the spot, and her eyes widened at the sight of her blood on his lips when he lifted his head. At least he wiped it away instead of licking it off, she thought with a sharp edge of hysteria.

  “Now, if you’ll be a good girl and go get ready, I’ll release you.” His nose wrinkled. “I’d much rather you smell sweet than of grease and sweat.”

  Mia wanted to tell him to fuck off and admit she’d never capitulate, but she maintained silence. If she could get away from him, she had a better chance of escaping this house. He didn’t have to know yet that she had no plans to cooperate.

  He smiled, looking satisfied as he let go of her. With a nonchalant motion, he took a tissue from the box on his desk and dabbed the bleeding spot on her neck. After tossing it in the trash without even looking at the can, he pressed a button on the panel at his desk. “Bruno, come escort Miss Kasilli to her room.” He let go of the button to examine her from head to toe. “You are a delicious little peach, Mia, and I’m looking forward to the first taste. I’ll join you in an hour or so.”

  She didn’t speak, both because she had no idea what to say and because the nausea churning in her stomach made it impossible to converse. Anger was also rendering her speechless. How dare he think he could just take her, and she would fall in line with whatever he wanted? There was no way in hell she was going to cooperate with him.

  When Bruno came a moment later, she walked behind him still without speaking. This time, Mia paid better attention to her surroundings, making an attempt to memorize all possible escape routes as she followed Bruno up the grand staircase to the third floor. They bypassed the second level, so she ignored it, knowing it wouldn’t offer any likely flight options if she couldn’t preview it.

  He stopped before a pair of French doors painted a light yellow. “The bos
s will be up in a while, miss.”

  She sneered. “I can hardly wait.”

  He folded his bulk against the wall, making it clear he was standing guard.

  Mia glared at him. “Do you have any idea what he has planned for me?” The blond giant didn’t reply. “You’re okay aiding him?” His only response was the slight twitch of his body, but he didn’t look at her. She sighed. “Yeah, I figured you were. You’re just like the byki my father always has around.”

  ***

  Shane let go of a tiny bit of the tension he’d been carrying for months, ever since he’d first laid eyes on the sweet brunette waitress. The need to possess her had driven him for too long, and he was so tired of behaving irrationally when it came to Mia.

  If only she hadn’t been Vadim Kasilli’s daughter, things would have been much simpler. He could have wooed and wowed her, and she would have been at his side—and in his bed—months ago. It had taken a five-minute conversation with Arvin Lovelle to disabuse him of the notion it would be an easy conquest. After he’d discovered her lineage and learned she loathed all things related to the russkaya mafiya, he’d known it was going to be a drawn-out campaign, and the smartest thing to do would be to walk away. If only he’d been able to do so.

  It was unlikely she would feel different about mafia men with Irish roots, and he’d vowed he would forget the little brunette who had sparked such an insistent hard-on that he’d had to jerk off in the bathroom like a callow teenager between courses. And he’d still been raring to go after the dinner had concluded, frantically taking the blonde who had been his date in the alley behind the restaurant as they’d waited for the driver to maneuver the car through the packed parking lot.

  Yet he’d found himself returning within two weeks, a different blonde in tow. That one had ended up sucking him off in the car as he’d moaned Mia’s name while coming in her throat. Understandably, she hadn’t been amenable to gracing his bed after that. It hadn’t mattered, because he had soon lost interest in all women except Mia.