Dark Crown: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals Book 1)

by Shanna Handel

  It’s too much.

  “No, Vincent.” I push him away. “I need to be alone.”

  I need to be away from him. To breathe the air. The think in solace. I take off toward the castle, my cloak flying behind me.

  My lungs burn with effort. My eyes burn with tears.

  12

  Vincent

  There was no stopping her father. Gambling had such a strong hold on him. He was going to bury himself in debt either way.

  I wanted to keep him safe. For her sake. Had he gone to the Romano family, here in Italy, or gone back to the Bachmans when he was in New York and couldn’t pay, he’d be wearing concrete boots, standing at the bottom of a river.

  I couldn’t let that happen. It would have broken her heart.

  With his debts owed to me, he would be safe. She would be cared for. Her father would live.

  I gave him the money. Waited until he was maxed out. Then told him how he could pay.

  By giving me his daughter’s hand in marriage.

  I didn’t want anyone else to have her.

  I couldn’t bear the thought of her in another man’s arms.

  When I heard that Esmerelda’s granddaughter—the girl who dared to kick my father to defend her own blood—was living right here in our village, I almost choked on my bourbon.

  The next day I had my men scout her father’s place and confirm it was her. My heart soared at the news, but I was climbing the mafia ladder, busy building my empire and my army.

  I left her alone, my men’s eyes always watching her. Keeping her and her father safe. And I continued to lend her father the money.

  Waiting. Working. Biding my time.

  When I claimed my rightful place as the head of the Russo family, I was ready to take her for my wife. But something deep inside me wouldn’t let me march in that shop and demand her hand. Not yet. I let her live her life. Finally, it took my grandfather being on his deathbed and insisting that the only way he could die peacefully was if I took Felicity for my wife, for me to act.

  I’d been enamored by her since childhood. But that had nothing to do with my lending her father funds. That was meant to protect her. And now, I don’t know how to tell her. Or if she will even listen.

  We round up the men. Throw them over the saddles of our horses Wild West style. Brando will take them back to Romano. With their heads still attached. Save one.

  As a warning.

  Again, I’d have done similar surveillance on their land had I gotten a whisper of their intent to store arms.

  But to lay hands on my wife?

  There is no excuse, no way I will spare the man his life.

  The Giant will pay for his sins. The image of him pinning Felicity to the ground flashes in my mind. My blood boils.

  He’s mine.

  He’s at the edge of the woods, tied to a tree. Waiting.

  “You touched my wife, she will be the last thing you touch.”

  “Forgive me—I,” He goes to speak, to argue, to plead.

  I cut off his words with a kiss of my knife, my blade sliding across his throat. I toss the knife to the ground, leaving it for my men to clean up.

  Returning to the castle, I shower before I find my wife. I dress in her favorite blue button-down shirt and charcoal gray trousers, slicking my hair back in the way she finds so handsome.

  It’s dinner time. Felicity is not at the table. After the traumatic afternoon she’s had I just need to lay eyes on her, to have her here with me, dining and laughing as we always do.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush to her room. I twist the knob of the door. Locked. “Felicity. Open the door.”

  No answer. I bang on the door with the side of my closed fist. Still no answer. I bang harder.

  There’s a thump from the other side of the door. She’s thrown something at it. At me. “Go away! I’m not coming down.”

  “Yes, you are.” I pause and think. She’s had a stressful, scary day. Maybe a little…softness? “Open this door or so help me God, your ass is going to be as red as this carpet.” Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly soft.

  Silence.

  Angry footsteps.

  The turn of the lock.

  She’s come to her senses. Battle won.

  The door opens.

  I’m hit square in the middle of the chest with a hardcover book. “What the hell—”

  The door flies shut, the lock turning before I can react.

  She’s thrown a book. At me. Bending over, I retrieve the book from the floor. It’s the one she was reading on the plane. The French version of Beauty and the Beast.

  A message?

  “I’m well aware you think of me as a beast right now. But that’s no excuse for your behavior. Open. This. Door.”

  “Never!”

  “Fine.”

  Three steps to the left and I’m pulling open the small drawer of a hall table. Taking a brass key from its depths. Returning to the door.

  There’s no sound as I slide the key into the lock. One twist and…I’m in. I close the door behind me.

  She sits on the bed, wide eyed with surprise and fear. Her expression quickly turns to anger.

  She takes a pillow from the bed. Throwing it at me. “Get out!”

  “We need to talk, to unpack this day. It’s a lot, I know, but throwing books—”

  My words are cut off as I’m struck in the face with a slipper. Game over.

  I’m over to her in three strides.

  We need to talk. And there’s only one way to get through to her. I grab her arm, pulling her body over my lap. She struggles and fights, swatting at me with her balled up fists.

  “You are going to listen to me, and listen good.” I pull up her skirt, exposing her bare legs, her silk panties.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Oh, I dare. You need to hear this and spanking your ass is the only way to get you to listen.” I bring my hand down, hard on the center of her ass. “When I say open that door, you open it, young lady.”

  “After what you did, lending my father money? I don’t have to do anything you say!”

  My palm smacks against her ass. “Your father was a gambler.”

  “Don’t you think I know that now!” She wriggles against me, kicking her legs.

  I swing my leg over hers, pinning her in place. I bring my hand down again, striking the center of her ass again, this time hard enough to get a little whimper out of her. “He would have gambled away his money no matter who loaned it to him.”

  She tries to push me away. “You don’t know that. You aided and abetted.”

  I pin her wrist to her lower back. I lean down, my voice smooth and steady. “Think, Felicity. What would have happened had your father gone to someone else and borrowed money he couldn’t repay?”

  She stills for a moment. I take her silence for agreement.

  Then, her tongue lashes out. “You, you, you’re an ass! That’s what you are.”

  “That’s enough.” I tug down her panties, bringing them to the middle of her thighs. I make good on my promise. I spank her hard and fast, my hand coming down on her ass, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, until her skin is as red as our Persian rugs.

  She cries out, wriggling her hips.

  I stop, my hand resting on her hot, punished flesh. “I lent him the money, knowing if he owed it to me, I could keep him safe. I took you for the debt, but I also took you to keep you safe. If your father ever secretly went to someone else for his loans, who knows what would have happened to you.”

  Her voice quivers. “You…you wanted to keep me safe?”

  “Yes. Of course. After we were married, I gave him money to get his store back up and running. Then I forced him to get help for his problem.” I think of the support group I made him to go to the day following our wedding, the one-on-one daily sponsor I pay for daily phone calls from.

  She gives a sniffle, shooting a pitiful look over her shoulder. “You—did all that…for me?”


  “You mean everything to me. And I know what your father means to you. I check in with him weekly, making sure he’s staying on the path. He’s been doing excellent, keeping his demons at bay and his business successful.” I give her ass another hard spank, wanting to drive my point home, to make her think clearly. “How else do you think he’s been running the store without you? Without going into debt again?”

  “I can’t believe…” her brow furrows as she processes my words, “you did all of that. For me?”

  “Yes. For you.”

  Everything I do, I do for you.

  She gives sniff. “I’m still…mad.”

  Anger returns as I think of her sneaking beyond my walls, putting herself in danger. “So am I.”

  She tilts her head back, finding my gaze. “Why are you mad?”

  “You broke my biggest rule. You left the castle without me, without an escort.”

  She gives a gulp. Looks away. I grab her chin, turning her head back toward me. “Didn’t you, little girl?”

  “Yes. I broke your rule. And you’ve punished me for it. So let me up.”

  “I punished you for refusing to come to dinner when you were called. Not for leaving the castle.”

  She gives a little shiver. “Oh…uh…Vincent…I’m sorry.”

  I smooth my hand over her ass. “And how shall I punish you for breaking my biggest rule?”

  Her shoulders give a little shrug.

  I want to tie her to the bed. Whip her with my belt. Punish her until she’s promising she’ll never, ever leave my sight.

  But then, I think of her on the ground this afternoon. Pinned beneath the giant. The look of adoration in her eyes the moment she saw me come to her rescue.

  As long as I live, I’ll never forget that look. The way it made pride and longing well in my chest.

  I lift her up from my thighs. Sit her on my lap. Wrap my arms around her. She snuggles her face into the crook of my shoulder, sighing sweetly.

  “They’re never, ever going to hurt you again, baby. No one will.” My voice is strange in my ears, so thick with emotion. “I’ve taken care of it. You’re safe now.”

  “I gave that guy a good kick before he pinned me.” She gives a little sniff.

  I hold in a chuckle. “I know you did, baby. You were so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

  “You are?” She gazes up at me with those beautiful eyes.

  “Of course I am. You’re brave, and kind, and you’ve brought so much joy to this place.” I whisper in her ear. “Felicity, let me show you how much I care for you.”

  “Kiss me.” Her gaze is soft and warm. Forgiving. Wanting. Loving.

  I kiss her. Long and hard and full.

  Her chest rises. Her arms twine around my neck. Her return kiss tells me I’m forgiven.

  She still wants me.

  I lie her on the bed. Kiss her soft lips, tasting her, kiss her neck, licking and biting that tender flesh she so loves caressed, run my hands over her breasts, palming them and running my thumb over her peaks.

  I peel her dress and her underclothes from her body. Take in the beauty of her naked body. Kiss her shoulders, her soft exhale of breath like music to my soul. I kiss her soft belly. Her hands run through my hair as I find my way to the apex between her thighs. I cover her with my mouth and lap up her sweet juices.

  Her nails scratch at my shoulders. She glides them into my hair, tugging and twisting it as she moans my name.

  Vincent. Vincent. Vincent.

  Kissing and licking her sweet sex, I lose myself in the rhythm of her hips, the moan of my name, the scratch of her fingers. She comes, coiling tightly around me, her hands clutching me. She releases her ecstasy with a soft shudder, lying back down on the bed.

  I kiss my way from her thighs, back over her soft belly, taking each of her perfect nipples in my mouth in turn. Suck and tease until another deep moan rises from her throat.

  My mouth finds hers and when I kiss her, it’s with the tenderness of my love.

  I love her. I love my wife.

  The words threaten to spill from my lips and so I kiss her deeper as I remove the clothing from the lower half of my body. I break our kiss only to find her eyes, staring into them as I enter her. Her arms twine around my neck, her legs wrap around my waist and she clings to me as if she’s clinging to life.

  I love her with the force of the Earth. Deep and hard and true. She breaks away from my kiss to cry out in her throes of passion and again, it’s my name on her lips.

  Vincent. Vincent. Vincent.

  My own climax is a heady release, euphoria washing over me in waves, and with it, that creeping feeling that is rising in the center of my being.

  I have fallen madly in love with Felicity Russo.

  Will I ever be able to find the words to tell her?

  13

  Felicity

  Sophia and I are putting in an order for the upcoming holidays—here at the castle we plan such great festivities, our menu must be solidified three months ahead of Christmas. I want the coriander spiced ham, Sophia, the rosemary turkey. We settle on having both.

  We’re debating over light lemon or heavy chocolate cakes for dessert. Sophia says chocolate and she’s not budging. I concede and make a note to call into the bakery for three hundred mini chocolate rum cakes when Esme bursts into the room. Her hair is tangled, her eyes wide. “Felicity! I’ve just gotten back from town. Your father—”

  I rise from my seat, panic in my heart. “Yes? What is it?”

  She comes over to me, grabbing my hands in hers. “I was at the store and it was closed. When I asked around, the locals said it’s been closed for days. No one has seen your father.”

  It’s been a few days since I’ve spoken with my dad. Come to think of it, I called him yesterday and the call went unanswered. “Let me try to call him. Esme, you go and get Vincent, please.” I grab my phone, dialing my father’s number.

  “Hello? Felicity?” His voice is thin and weak, his greeting followed by a deep, hacking cough.”

  The words flow from me in a stream of worry. “Dad? Are you okay? Why is the store closed and how long have you had that cough?”

  Another burst of hard, hacking coughs come over the line. “It’s just a cold. One I can’t seem to shake. I just need a few more days of rest.”

  It sounds like more than a cough. It sounds like pneumonia. Alarm shoots through me. “Dad, I’m coming there, right now. I’m on my way.”

  “No, sweetheart. You don’t need to—” but his protests are cut short with more coughs. I assure him I’ll be there within the hour. I hang up, run to my room, and start packing a bag.

  Vincent appears, hovering by the doorway. “Everything alright? There was mention around the castle of your father’s store being closed, then Esme came for me.”

  “I just spoke with him. He’s been sick for a few days. I’m worried he has pneumonia.”

  Vincent’s brow furrows as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll have Dr. Lombardi sent right over.”

  My father sounded terrible, but Dr. Lombardi is known in the village for being the best. Still, I find myself wringing my hands. “Thank you.”

  “Consider it done.” His fingertips fly over the screen. He slides the phone back into his pocket. His gaze travels to the open bag on the bed before me. “Why are you packing?”

  I grab a sweater from the drawer, adding it to my pile. “My dad is sick. I must go to him.”

  “We can send you for the day. I can prepare the men to escort you. But I want you back here by dark.” His heavy gaze catches mine. “I want you here, with me. After what happened with the Romano men, I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  “Vincent, I can’t come back until he’s well.” I know when night comes, I won’t want to leave my father’s side. “If you don’t want me there, then bring him here.”

  “I can’t…allow it.” Pride flashes through his dark eyes.

  He fears it will make him look weak to his riv
als, to have my father, a man who’s owed him debt, staying in the walls of his precious castle. He’s said as much to me before.

  I toss a pair of yoga pants in the bag. “Then I have to go stay with him. Surely you understand this?”

  He comes to me, taking my hands in his. “You belong here. You can take a group of my men, visit during the day. I can pay for nurses overnight, doctors, whatever he needs.” His touch is soft but there’s a challenge rising in his voice, his need to assert his authority.

  Exasperation threatens to overtake me. I take my hands from his and steady my tone. “I need to be with him. In his home. And run the store for him.”

  “We can pay people for that.” He gives a cool shrug.

  A rise and fall of his shoulders, as if dismissing the topic, as if closing the subject.

  The small gesture infuriates me. “Vincent, you can’t always use your wealth to get what you want. Some things can’t be bought.”

  Like me.

  My words are ice. They hang between us, my unsaid proclamation that he cannot choose for me. Not this time.

  His gaze goes from storm clouds to rage. “Just go.” He turns his back on me, walking away with fury in his steps.

  Sophia hovers by my side, her hand resting on my shoulder.

  I put my hand over hers as I watch the door close. “He’s angry with me for choosing my father over him. He wants me out of his sight.”

  Sophia’s gaze turns up to meet mine. “No, Felicity. You have it wrong. He’s letting you go because he loves you. He was just hoping you would choose him, your husband.”

  Bitter tears burn in the backs of my eyes. “Why must I choose? My father is sick. How can I not go to him?”

  “You can. And with Vincent’s generosity you can take all the burdens from your father’s shoulders. Visit him whenever you like. And still be here for this family, your new family, and give your husband the peace of mind that you’re safe. Vincent will pay someone to run the store. Pay nurses to care for him.”

  I shake my head, abandoning my packing and flop down onto the bed. “It’s not the same.”