Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  Matteo is in real estate in Chicago, high-end apartments, and he has no qualms spilling everything about the rich and spoiled. I lose myself in his stories as we proceed through one delicious dish after the other. I wonder if Salvatore has dinners like these often. I could get used to this.

  “Friends, family, little people—” Salvatore looks at Ava and the other two children around the table, a boy and a girl, sitting at the far end by their parents, “this has been a hoot. Coffee will be served in the ballroom, and I think we do need a break before we bring out the cake, no?”

  Everybody mumbles their agreements. My own stomach feels like it will burst, so yes, please, I need fresh air, and a few moments to digest all the food.

  People stand, Sydney and Nathan disappear, the kids run around everybody’s legs, happy to finally be able to move again.

  Eric holds a warm, strong arm around my waist and even that simple touch makes my nipples harden. He doesn’t miss it through the thin fabric of my little peach-colored dress.

  “Girl. I’m gonna tie you up later and spank that mischief out of you. You’re gonna have a word with me, huh? I’ll show you where that cockiness gets you.”

  “You don’t scare me anymore, Mr. Reed.”

  “Marry me.”

  My gaze darts to his. “Okay, a little scary maybe.”

  He laughs. “One day you’ll say yes. No one tells me no for long.”

  “You’re—”

  “Reed!” A heavy, blond man I haven’t seen before waves, half-panicky from afar and gestures toward Christian, drunk as a bat, who looks like he’s about to topple.

  “Wait here, baby, I’ll be back in a sec.”

  And he’s gone. He shoots like a missile through the room, grabs the black-haired mountain of a man before he falls and steers him toward a chair. I have half a mind to run after him and see if I can help when a firm hand wraps around my upper arm.

  “I’ve been waiting to get a moment alone with you, Miss Raymond.”

  I recognize Salvatore’s voice immediately and my whole body goes slack with fear. My mouth is too dry, and my throat too clenched to make any sounds. I stumble with him as he pulls me toward one of the large sliding doors, exiting to a deserted patio.

  “So, how are you finding the evening?”

  We’re still moving. He’s steering us out on the lawn, out of sight from the rest of the party. The grass glitters with dew, the moon the only source of light.

  “It’s interesting.”

  He laughs. “Only that? You’re not finding these mongrels a bit too much.”

  I try to pull my arm out of his grip. He doesn’t budge. We’re still moving and I’m starting to get afraid.

  “Not really, no. There’s only one person here I find to be too much.”

  He stops abruptly. My back is to a tree. Salvatore is blocking the only escape route.

  “Is that so? Who might that be?”

  I don’t answer, just glare at him, flinching when his hand comes up to push a stray hair off my face.

  “You find me offensive?”

  “That would be putting it lightly.”

  “Anna! You hurt me. Have I not been the perfect host tonight? I invite you into my house and you bash me.”

  “I wasn’t invited. You ordered me here.”

  He tilts his head. “Mmm yeah. That might be the case. But still, why the hostility? I like you, Anna. I hoped it could be mutual.”

  “You wanted me dead.”

  “True.”

  “Do you still want me dead?”

  He takes a step closer, his eyes softening, taking in my face. I step back and end up against the tree. Salvatore puts his hand next to my head and leans in. I’m transfixed by his dark eyes that seem to express so much and still are so cold.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t want you dead. I think you’ll liven up the place quite a bit. I will keep my eye on you, though. I am not the forgiving kind, and if anyone, and I mean anyone threatens me, my famiglia and what I’ve accomplished, they’ll be gone. Like that.” He snaps his fingers right in front of my eyes, the abrupt sound in the silent night making me jump. “Do we understand each other?” His black eyes turn infinitely darker, the threat he oozes lethal and real.

  I don’t answer. He is a monster. There’s no answer I can give him that doesn’t sound like I’m either lying, or bending over for him, and I’ll only ever bend over for one man.

  “Let me go,” I manage to grit out, my voice low and almost a growl.

  He does. He removes his hand.

  “Of course! Enjoy the rest of the evening.” He takes a step to the side, leaving the path open.

  “Oh, I intend to.”

  I turn and walk back, as graciously as I can in my high heels on the soft grass. Behind me I hear him chuckle.

  I won’t budge. He has everyone in a vice grip. I’m here. I’ve survived his assassination attempts. I’ll survive being in his clan too, because that’s what I do, that’s who I am. I’m a survivor.

  In the center of the ballroom stands Eric, shoving his fingers through his hair, spinning on his heels, searching. When he sees me, he darts through the room and throws his arms around me. He looks over my shoulder and tenses up. I know he sees Salvatore and puts two and two together.

  “How are you, baby? I’m sorry I left you. You wanna go?”

  I glance behind me, at a smirking Salvatore who stands within hearing distance, and then back up at my man.

  “I’m great. I want to hang around and get to know everyone.”

  He looks confused for a moment, but then he kisses the tip of my nose, shoots yet another look over my shoulder and steers me with him.

  I throw one last glance at Salvatore, who stands with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes intent on mine, then I turn back to Eric. I am good actually. As far as dysfunctional families go, I’m sure there are worse. Maybe being a mobster’s wife won’t be so bad anyway? Especially not with this miracle of a man by my side. I cling to him tighter, reveling in his warmth, and his strength.

  “But after,” I whisper, “you can take me home, tie me up, and spank all this cockiness out of me.”

  “Oh my fucking God, Anna. You tease!”

  “I am, and you love it.”

  “Oh, I do. I love you so fucking much!”

  I rise on my toes and kiss him on his cheek.

  “I love you too. Let’s leave after dessert,” I whisper.

  I’m rewarded with a smile so beautiful it makes my heart clench. I plan to pull that out of him every day for as long as we both live.

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to the whole, wonderful, supportive crew at Blushing Books for helping me make my dreams come true. I especially want to thank my brilliant editor, Sandra Havro; and my cover designer, Eris Adderly for the steamy, awesomely delicious cover.

  My daughter, Olivia, for patiently helping me make a playlist that suits the mood of this book. It can be found on my website.

  Thank you beta readers, ARC readers and all my future readers for wanting to share the adventures of Eric and Anna with me.

  Nicolina.

  Shame

  Russo Saga - Book Three

  Published by Blushing Books

  An Imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia Corporation

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  ©2019

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the 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 permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Nicolina Martin

  Shame

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-033-3

  v1

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  Thi
s book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  I dedicate this book to all of us women in the world who need a little bit of Carmen’s strength in our lives. Know your limits. Respect yourself.

  Chapter 1

  Lucas

  I keep the engine running. When they come back out, we might need to be out of here within a second.

  The Salvatore hit squad. The most feared men on the West Coast.

  I don’t really know them. Only by name and looks. Christian, tall, dark, a proud Roman nose, messy hair, and absolutely terrifying. I never start a conversation with him. Ever. I don’t fucking want him to even notice me. Eric, also tall, but with a more refined look, blond like me. He seems civilized, but his looks don’t match his wicked mind. Ray, as broad as he’s short, missing a front tooth, with a large scar across his face. He’s always grinning at me, as if we share a secret. Which we don’t. I think he’s just out to unsettle me, the rookie. After two years, I’m still nothing to them. I’m air. And last, but not least, Sean, a giant, oozing threat, a nose broken too many times to count, used to be a boxer, all muscle. Could be good looking, but he has a permanent scowl on his face, as if someone’s wronged him.

  They all know I wanna come with. I don’t wanna be the driver forever. I can shoot. I work out, hard. I practice Krav Maga, have done so since I was fourteen, at a seedy dojo in a suburb, because I want to be ready the day they ask me, the day some other poor fucker gets driver duty.

  The casino owner has a gambling debt himself. He’s as stupid as they come. What the fuck are you thinking when you gamble at all? It’s beyond me. Few win anything, many end up by Salvatore’s feet, weeping, begging for their lives. Some strike a deal and live to see another day, some disappear. I have no idea what fate awaits this particular person.

  The back door of the building flies open and the four men exit, one after another, laughing, joking. Sean lights up a cigarette, and so does Christian. No one seems to be in a hurry, or worried about being seen.

  I jerk as Ray slams his fist on the roof of the car. “Lucas, you little twat. Getting bored in there?”

  Rolling down the window, I stick out my head. “Went well then?”

  “We should have let you in on the fun, let you break some bones. He won’t be walking anytime soon.”

  “Yeah, when’ll you all let me?”

  Ray looks at Christian. “Whaddaya say, oldest son of Russo. You’ve killed since you were in your teens, you think this young man is dry behind his ears enough yet?”

  Christian Russo drops his cig on the sidewalk, crushes it under the sole of his shoe, taking his time, before he fixates his black eyes on me. “I think he’ll puke at the first sight of blood.”

  “How old are you, son?” asks Sean.

  “Twenty. How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  He glances at the others, then back at me, narrowing his eyes. “He might be a lost case, but sure, let him in on the fun next time, I’d say. See how much he can stomach.”

  He stares me down, but I meet his hard gaze without so much as a flinch. I’m not afraid of them. The only one who intimidates me for real is Mr. Salvatore himself, but he hired me, so he must’ve seen something in me, right?

  I don’t wanna fucking drive for the rest of my life, I want to be a part of the gang. I want to be a mobster. My dad was a small-time thief, a junkie who did more stints in jail than anyone could count. I swore I’d make something better of my life, stay the hell away from drugs, make money, find me a girl and a decent place to live. I still live in a dump, but I can almost taste it now, I’m getting there, day by day, mission by mission.

  Christian Russo rips open the door and falls down on the seat, sticking a toothpick between his teeth. “We’ll take you with us next time, kid. Now get us the fuck outta here.”

  As I pull out, I can’t help wondering what state the guy is in inside those brick walls. Has he called for help yet? Will he dare go to the hospital even? I’m both thrilled and disgusted at the same time. I fought my way through school, bullied for my dirty, sweat-smelling clothes, the poverty, for not bringing lunch to school, but I’ve never actually been in a fight where I’m the instigator.

  Back at the residence, the group files through the hallway and disappears into the house. I wait by the door guard, unsure where to go, but then I steer my steps toward the kitchen, figuring I can find a sandwich and a beer. Before I get more than a few steps, the door to Salvatore’s office slams open and a man I’ve never seen before comes charging out, his face white, his features contorted with rage. He storms out the front door, snarling at the guard. Then everything goes quiet.

  The door to the office still stands open and I can’t help glance inside as I pass it. Salvatore paces back and forth, looking like a panther on the prowl. Our eyes meet and he perks up.

  “Just the man I was looking for!”

  I twitch and come to a full stop, careful to hide the trepidation. “Sir?”

  “I’m gonna need you to drive a very important person for me later tonight. Are you up for it?”

  Is he asking? Not really. He’s ordering. Never, ever assume you have a freedom of choice.

  “Of course, sir. When?”

  “You are to pick up a young Miss Moreno at the girls’ house. You know where it is. Tonight at six-thirty. I want to warm up before dinner.” He laughs, but there’s no joy in the sound, only wickedness.

  I stiffen. “I’ll have her delivered for you, sir.”

  “Atta boy. Now get the fuck outta my sight. You’re too pretty. I don’t like it.”

  I hurry toward the kitchen, frowning. He’s such a weird man. Weird and scary. But he owns everybody and everything. He’s gonna be my way out of poverty and boredom. I want something to happen. I’m ready for adventure.

  Carmen

  I don’t recognize myself anymore.

  I stare at the image in the mirror, of the girl I know is me. My normally curly, unruly black hair is hanging sleek, straightened and shiny over my shoulders. I have discreet makeup in earthy colors, where I usually use vibrant shades of green, pink and orange. The dress feels expensive in how it sensually caresses my curves. Black, shiny, not something I’d ever waste money on, but the matron lent it to me. Gold sandals, bare legs. No panties.

  Naked. That’s how I feel. Vulnerable. As if I’m a piece of meat, placed like a slab on a chopping block at the butchers. I don’t know why. He’s just a man, like any other man. Why am I so intimidated by this one in particular?

  Luciano Salvatore.

  Is it because he literally is the whole organized crime on the West Coast of this country? Because he owns the house I live in, with all the girls working for him? Because of the gossip? The girls who get sent there coming back with frozen faces, never ever mentioning what happened? We always gossip about the johns, but no one dares to say anything about Mr. S.

  Yes. I’m afraid. I’ve worked here for three months. Before that, I roamed the streets for two awful years. I should be overjoyed. Not many girls in my situation get a chance like this. Maybe he’ll like me? Maybe he’ll make me a regular? I’ve heard those girls come back with gifts, money. On the other hand, I also heard that some just disappear, and I don’t know what happens to them.

  I don’t recognize myself.

  I look beautiful, but my eyes are huge and haunted.

  I know I’m pretty, but I’ve never looked as elegant, as luxuriously affluent as I do right now. Still, I’m filled with nothing but dread, my stomach in a knot, my heart pounding heavily. I feel as if I’m walking to the gallows.

  Looking around the fairly cozy room, bright, a bit old-fashioned, with old wooden furniture painted white, and fabrics with little roses on them, I wonder if I’ll return here, if I’ll see it again.

  Dear God, let me see it again.

  Dear God, make him
not like me.

  Three harsh raps on the door make me flinch. The matron enters before I even have time to answer.

  “It’s time, Carmen. The driver is here.”

  It feels as if all the blood drains from my face. The matron gives me a look that briefly tells of pity, then her features harden.

  “He’s just a man. They’re all slaves to their cocks in the end. You know the trade. Work that lush mouth of yours. Ride him. Take command. You know what to do, how to make him relax. Make him come again and again, until you’ve spent him. He won’t have time for any games. He’ll be satisfied and send you on your way. Don’t ever show your fear, don’t bare your throat to him. You hear me? You’ll be back here before you know it.” She strokes my cheek. “You’re a stunning beauty. He’ll love you.”

  My stomach clenches. I think I’d prefer if he didn’t. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I force a smile and nod.

  “Think of all the money, love. He pays well.”

  “He’s just a man,” I repeat, then I follow my matron, my teacher, caretaker, my new mother. It’s harsh love, but it’s what I have.

  As I pass the common room, the conversations go silent and all faces turn toward me. I hold my head high. I have no choice, so I better make the best of it.

  He’s just a man.

  Lucas

  At six-thirty sharp, I’m waiting outside the house on the outskirts of the foggy city. The air here is cleaner. To the far west the sun glitters on the ocean. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the warmth on my skin, and the sharp, sweet smell of newly cut grass. A moment later the front door slams shut. I jerk and look toward the source of the sound. A tiny girl, woman I correct myself, comes down the stairs. Her steps are hesitant, her face frozen in a mask of the same trepidation I feel when I get too close to Salvatore. When our eyes meet, my gut clenches. She looks so shy, so young, so innocent. What is she doing here? Why the hell am I taking her to the monster in the white mansion?