Sold to the Italian Mafia Boss: A Dark Mafia Arranged Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 6)
Sold to the Italian Mafia Boss: Chapter 10

Bullets rain down against the steel targets, a veritable current. The thunder of their landing booms through the woods, startling a murder of crows out of the cypress.

“Good,” I say, flipping on the safety and shoving the rifle back to Gio. “I’ll take a shipment for the house.”

Gio flashes his car salesman smile, falling into step beside me as I pull on my gloves. “It’s on back order, boss.”

“Make it happen. I don’t care how much it costs.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Gio loads the rifles back into the car, looking like a cat that ate the mouse—as always. He’s been in the organization as long as I have. It was my idea he turned into a faux traitor and became an informant for me. Kate McNamara isn’t the first instance of it working out pretty damn well. “So, you fortifying this place up for the girl, or what?”

He pulls out a cigarette, and I take the one he offers, letting him light it for me. When he looks up the hill through the trees at the villa, I turn to as well. It looks grand up there on the hill, flanked by black, snow-creased mountains. And Kate is in there now. Sleeping? Working? In the bath, maybe? My body tenses at every possibility. I still feel her hands on me, changing my bandage. I still feel her sleeping with her back to me, a novel angry wife. I still feel her, waking with a startled gasp in the night, letting me slide an arm around her, letting me pull her close, and hold her until she fell back asleep.

She is made of steel. I hate her for it. Because it’s impossible not to respect her. Impossible not to—against everything in me, against all logic—care for her.

“The girl,” I say to Gio, “amongst other things.”

“Mm.”

“What?” I glance at him, exhaling a plume of pale smoke. “Say what you mean.”

“Word on the street is that her father is cooking up something big. After the Russians got in, people think your security is, well…lacking.” He flashes his jackal grin. “I guess that’s why the big show, with purchasing better guns, hiring more muscle. But it makes you look weak, Luca; you know it makes you look weak.”

I shrug. “I’ve looked worse. When I inherited this empire from my father, it was in ruin. Now it flourishes. All but Liam McNamara’s debts have been called in and paid out. I have Americans on my roster, with only more to come through Kate. And any who I can get a sweeter deal to will leave Liam. He’ll be destitute, stranded, with no army to protect him.”

Gio considers me, the cinder at the end of his cigarette glowing as he inhales deeply. “And then? You’ll end him?”

What would Kate think? What will she think? “He’s the reason my father is dead.”
“Mm.”

“Gio,” I say, cutting him a look. “Speak your mind, please. You’re one of my oldest and most trusted allies. You know I value your counsel.”

Gio tosses down his cigarette butt and grinds it under his heel. “There is talk.”

“There is always talk.”

“More, now.”

“Now?”

“Since your…wedding.” His smile is slippery as ever. “Some think that once you start hitting the Irish pussy, you’ll become one yourself.”

I stiffen, clenching my jaw. If anyone else said some shit like that to me, his teeth would be in the snow. But Gio…he might be unorthodox, but he has a point. A point I think I already knew to fear. “The girl is a means to an end.” I’m careful not to call her by name—I’ll need to be more careful about all of it from here on out. “Nothing more. She’s meaningless, but for her name, her connections, and eventually, her womb.”

“Is that so? I hear she put on quite the show with Arthur Black. Took the lead on the meeting. Made the threats, made the calls. I hear you just sat there, letting the lioness make your kills for you.”

“Enough,” I say sharply. “You’re crossing a line.”

“You said to speak my mind.”

“I mean, report facts,” I say, casting down my cigarette and turning to face him squarely. We’re the same height, but Gio always hunches and always carries himself like he’s better suited to back alleys and shadows. I cock my head at him, holding his eyes hard. “I don’t mean for you to editorialize. That’s just fucking gossip. And who the hell was at that meeting that’s reporting to you, hm? A waiter? One of my guards?”

“Easy,” Gio laughs, throwing up both hands in surrender. “You know I have nothing but love for you, brother. Nothing but love. You know I am telling you this to help you. Your image matters. If people start sensing that you’re answering to her, there’s going to be trouble. They might start to worry you’re losing your edge.” His eyes dance. “They might start to worry that when the time comes, you won’t want to finish the job. A lot of people on this side of the continent want Liam McNamara dead, boss. It’s not just personal for you. It’s personal for all of us.”

I consider him. It pisses me off to be called out, especially like this, especially about this. But Gio is right, and his assessment is actually quite insightful. Here is my first—and possibly most important—opportunity to start unwinding this narrative before it gets legs of its own and takes off.

“At the end of this, Liam McNamara dies,” I say frigidly, looking from the villa to Gio. He smiles, looking blood-hungry and wild. “At the end of this, I put a bullet in his head. Kate matters only so far as she serves me. Only as far as she serves the organization.”

Gio nods, looking galvanized. Looking like if he had a gun and Liam McNamara in front of him now, he would relish spilling his blood. “Good. I’ll spread the word.”

“I don’t need you to spread the word,” I say, knowing he will anyway. The cooler I play this, the better off I am. The safer Kate is. I try to crush the thought under my bootheel. Try not to let it show in my face, not here, not to Gio. “This will all be over soon enough. And everyone will know exactly who I am and what I’m capable of.”

“And I’ll be at your side. Until the end.” Gio extends his hand, and I grip it fast, our eyes locked. “You’ll fill your father’s footsteps. You’ll outpace him. I’ve always known it, Luca.”

I nod once. “Come on. Let’s shoot some more fucking guns.”

***

When I get back to the villa, I find Ariana has returned. She’s sitting in my office with her boots kicked up on my desk, a cigarette in her mouth, and a glass of whiskey in hand. “Ah,” she says when I enter, feeling the strange urge to close the door behind me. “There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

“I didn’t know you were coming back today,” I say. In truth, I’d half-forgotten about Ari. “Your Russian friends showed up the night you left.”

“Ha. They’re not my friends. You know that.” She sucks in smoke and blows it out both nostrils, pinning me with a hard, unblinking stare. “You married the girl. That was unwise.”

“You think so? After the Russians invaded and shot up the house, I got the sense she was too valuable to waste.” There’s a tension in the air I’m not used to. I feel Ari’s eyes on me, not leaving me, even as I cross to pour myself a glass of whiskey. “And anyway, she’s proven quite useful.”

“Yes, I heard about your little meeting with Arthur Black.”

“It seems everyone has. Word travels fast.” I sigh, going to the desk and leaning against it to look down at her. “Well? Were you able to clear any of Kate’s Russian contacts?”
“Oh, yeah.” She leans forward, pulling a folio out of her briefcase and dropping it heavily onto the desk. “Cleared a good few of them. I’m not sure how willing any of them will be to shift alliances.”

“Who said anything about shifting alliances? I’ll make offers to some and threats to others. We’re poised to get our hands deep into Liam’s network, anyway. Arthur Black is already making the transition.”

“And? What happens when they turn on you?” Ari cocks her head, narrowing her dark eyes to slits. “Those ties are old, Luca. Liam might be falling into weakness and destitution, but he’s not dead yet. And I doubt many—if any—are willing to cross him. You realize what kind of a war you’re waging, don’t you?”

“The same war my father was locked into. The same war that killed him.” I lean off the desk, downing the rest of my whiskey and pouring myself another. “I’m starting nothing.” I put down the glass hard, harder than I mean to. Look into the dark ripples of whiskey. “I’m finishing it.”

Ari sighs, and I hear the shift of her loose blazer as she stands and crosses over to me. She lays a hand on my arm, more familiar, more warm than usual. “Look at me, Luca.” I do. Her eyes are deep and dark and insistent. “You need allies. Allies that you can trust.” She takes a deep breath, hesitating. “Pyotr Petrov—”

“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling away from her. I pace away, raking a hand through my hair. “Is that what you were doing in Russia, Ari? Fucking around with some old war buddy of your mother’s?”

“Don’t be like that—”

“I sent you to work for me,” I snarl, turning sharply to face her. I down the rest of my whiskey and slam the glass down on the desk so hard the crystal shatters. Half the glass, horribly sharp, bites into my palm. I recoil, gripping my palm with the other, blood pouring from my hand. “Fuck.”

“Luca, Jesus Christ.” Ari looks at me hard, setting down her glass and taking me by the hand. I flinch away, but she grabs me again, more sternly this time, reaching into her jacket to produce a handkerchief. “You had men watching me. You had every chance to check in on what I was doing in Russia. You didn’t.”

I say nothing. The rage coursing through my veins is hot enough to scald, and my hand hurts like a motherfucker.

“Because you trust me,” Ari says, looking me in the eye. She reaches for the cart, uncapping a bottle of fine Russian vodka. She pours it over my bloody hand, spilling it to the floor heedlessly, her grip tightening when I attempt reflexively to recoil. “You know that you trust me. So trust me with this. Petrov has always been open to an alliance—”

“Petrov was a scoundrel when my father was alive,” I bite out, finally yanking my hand free, keeping the handkerchief held to it fast. “He was a scoundrel when my father died. He’s a scoundrel now. I want nothing to do with him, and I want you to have nothing to do with him.”

“He is willing to show his good faith.”

I slam my good palm down on the desk hard. Ari flinches at the resounding crack of it. “He can fuck himself with his good faith. I trusted you. You betrayed that trust. When I brought you in, everyone told me not to trust you. I lost men, good men who served my father to keep you on my payroll. I believed you were a good investment.”

“Have I not been?” Her eyes narrow. She crosses to the desk, planting both palms on it across from me, our gazes locked. “You trust that Irish whore more than you trust me, and you just met her two weeks ago.”

“Enough.”

“What, does that bother you? That I call her a whore? She is. She would have sold herself to the highest bidder—” She raises her voice over my protests, cutting a hand through the air. “Just like she sold herself to you. Look at me. Look at me, Luca. You think you’ve played her? You’re a fool. She has played you. She’s wormed her way into your protection, into your affections, and best of all—she’s convinced you that it was all your idea, not hers. She’s a woman, Luca. I know women. We are conniving. We stop at nothing. We don’t care who we hurt. And you, even if you have forgotten it, are her sworn fucking enemy. I don’t care how good the pussy is.”
“Enough,” I repeat, snarling the word. “Watch your mouth.”

She stares at me hard, her dark eyes thoughtful and cold. “You’re in love with her.”

“I am not in fucking love with her.” My hand stings, but I throw off the handkerchief anyway, pouring myself a third whiskey. This day has been all bullshit and little else. And worst of all—it’s her I can’t help but blame. Her I want to blame. Her who should be blamed. She is the trouble. She is the fire in my house. “She is a means to an end. Nothing more. And at least she knows to follow fucking orders. It’s more than I can say of you.”

“Petrov wants to meet with you. Here, in Italy. Rome. There’s a museum event in two weeks. He’ll bring his offer.”

“His offer? There will be no fucking offer.” I shove Ari’s folio from the desk, heedless of the dozens of papers that fly across the floor. Her eyes shift to them and back to mine slowly, with derision, with cool venom. “You stepped out of line today. If you want to keep your job, if you want to remain in my service, you’ll fix this. Tell Petrov to fuck off. I have more than enough to work with in Russia, here, through the girl.”

“Kate,” says Ari coolly. “Through Kate. Your wife.”

“My wife of convenience. Don’t make it sound like it is anything else.” I finish the whiskey and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I want you with Gio.”

Her eyes flash. “What?”

“I want you with him from now on. Every task, every job, every meeting. You take him with you. You don’t step out of his sight.”
“This is a fucking joke.”

“This is a slap on the fucking wrist,” I hiss back at her. “Do you have any idea, any idea at all, how many of my men, how many of my contacts and investors and partners would love to see me strand you? Exile you? Imprison, torture, kill you? You are not liked in this country, Ariana. You are not liked in this house. The instant I sense you violating my trust again, I will give them what they wish.”

She opens her mouth, but I silence her with a raised hand.

“Get out,” I say. “I can’t look at you.”

She clenches her teeth, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She grabs her briefcase and leaves without a word. But once she reaches the hall, she stops and turns, her hand on the doorframe and her face half in shadow.

“She will be your ruin, Luca,” she says softly. “And you’re a fool for not seeing it.” She turns and goes. I pick up my whiskey glass and hurl it across the room, relishing the horrible crash as it shatters against the wall, as glass splinters rain onto the rug. I rake a hand through my hair.

This isn’t right. None of this is right. These moves were all precise, made with calculation. But Gio hears suspicion. Ari is going rogue. And Pyotr Petrov—one of my father’s greatest Russian enemies—now knows I’m in a weak position. Financially I know I look good. But after the storming by the Russians last week, and with the apparently inexplicable knowledge that my numbers are down…I feel vulnerable.

And I don’t like feeling vulnerable. Not one fucking bit.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.