His Prize: An Arranged Dark Mafia Romance (Cruel King Book 3)

by Callie Vincent

  I have the lunch of a five-year-old.

  “Enjoy!” Miss Rankoff chirped.

  I watched as she practically skipped out of my bedroom, not quite shutting the door behind her. I hated it when people did that. Either leave the door open or close it. Don’t crack it. That always made me feel like someone was trying to listen in.

  And I didn’t take kindly to shit like that.

  Once I heard her footsteps heading down the stairs, though, I set the tray onto my bedside table. I snuggled down beneath the covers and pulled them over my head, ready to let sleep drag me under. I didn’t want to wake up until my body had healed. I didn’t want my eyes to open until my beauty was back and Israel wanted me again.

  But instead of sleep, my mind started swirling. It started working and analyzing and planning something fruitful. I slowly raised myself. I found myself reaching for a piece of that sandwich. And as I sat back in bed, a plan unfolded in my mind—a plan to steal even more power from my uncle and send a message that told people never to mess with me. Ever.

  Unless they wanted to pay with their life.

  “You’re going down, Pava,” I murmured.

  And as I took a bite of my sandwich, I threw the covers off my body.

  I need to get to the files in my bag.

  Alice smiled. “Well, I’m glad we’re finally alone for this date, Israel.”

  I looked around us at the table I’d been able to snag for a quick lunch.

  “Aren’t you glad?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  She smiled. “And it’s a shame, really that your ex-wife had to bombard our first date like that. I’m sure she won’t be bothering us today, though.”

  I kept a smile on my face. “Of course not. And she was never my wife. The marriage was null and void when she used someone else’s name to marry.”

  “I still can’t believe she did that to you. You deserve so much better. And trust me, I know that from experience.”

  “I know, yes.”

  She tried to reach for my hand, but I didn’t make any move to reach for hers. However, when she settled her hand on top of mine, I wanted to rip it away. I wanted to shove her to the ground and get back to Bonnie. She needed me. She needed all the help she could get right now. But, it took everything I had to smooth things over with my father and snag another date with Alice, so the entire Esposito family didn’t gun for our heads in boxes.

  So, I had to tough this out.

  “I heard her accident was pretty bad,” Alice said.

  I slid my hand away. “Have you taken a peek at your menu yet?”

  She smiled. “Not with this handsome man in front of me.”

  I chuckled. “Well, try to stop staring long enough to pick up your menu.”

  “Do you like what I’m wearing this evening?”

  “You always look dashing, Alice.”

  “But, do I look dashing now?”

  She stood from her chair and gave me the slowest of twirls, and all I saw was what she wasn’t. Her hips weren’t as thick as Bonnie’s. Her hair wasn’t as long or as thick. Her smile wasn’t as genuine, and her eyes weren’t as clear, nor were they as beautiful as Bonnie’s. Her legs weren’t as long, and her countenance wasn’t as comforting. Even the way Alice swayed her hips wasn’t as enticing as Bonnie. In her pajamas. First thing in the morning.

  Why did I ever date this woman again?

  “You look wonderful,” I said.

  Alice giggled as she sat back down. “I’m just glad that your ex won’t be bothering us today.”

  “I promise you, she won’t.”

  “Though, it is a shame that the accident didn’t finish her off.”

  My jaw clenched. “Come again?”

  She picked up her menu. “Oh, I know it’s a terrible thing to wish, and I pride myself in being classier than that. But, let’s face it: she’s competition for me. And it’s a shame that accident didn’t rid me of the bit of competition I still have left for your heart.”

  Trust me, there’s no competition. “We should keep the conversation between us. No use continuously bringing up another woman. She’ll steal the show without ever being here.”

  “You’ve always been so intelligent and astute. It only adds to your appeal, you know.”

  Kill me now. “I appreciate that.”

  I picked up my menu to put another barrier between us. Anything to buy me time to figure a way out of this shit without pissing off yet another family. It seemed that no matter where I stepped, there was always someone to anger. Always someone to disappoint. Always a new threat. And I was tired of it. I was also tired of talking about this accident. I was tired of being reminded of it. I should’ve never let that woman drive home alone. I should’ve put her in my passenger’s seat and done exactly what she wanted.

  I should’ve told Gary to go home so we could head home together.

  The anger I had toward anyone who wanted to hurt Bonnie was insurmountable, but I also had no way of getting rid of that energy. Bonnie was much too beat up to enjoy at night, and work wasn’t bringing me the relief it usually did. I needed an outlet for all of this unused energy. I needed to pour it into someone or something before I burst at the seams.

  “Israel?”

  My eyes danced around the menu. “Yes, Alice?”

  “May I ask you something?”

  I put down my menu. “Of course. Though, I’d recommend the duck confit. I hear it’s splendid here.”

  She giggled. “No, no, no. Something different from that.”

  “Oh? Go right ahead.”

  She stood and came to my side. “Did you really want her to live?”

  I looked up at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, come on, silly goose. You can tell me. Did you really want Bonnie to live?”

  “I’m not sure why I’d want her to die.”

  She swatted at me. “Because you arranged the accident, sillyhead. Why else?”

  Her words flipped a trigger in my mind, and I shot up from my seat. I wrapped my hand around her throat and pushed her into the darkened corner before I pinned her against the wall. I heard her gasp, and I clamped farther down around her neck, pressing my knee between her legs. And as I slowly slid her up the wall, forcing her to stand on her tip-toes, I narrowed my eyes.

  “What did you ask?” I glowered.

  She coughed. “Let’s stop beating around the bush, Israel because I’m sick and tired of it.”

  “Watch your next words.”

  She snickered. “Let go of my neck.”

  “Or what?”

  I felt something cold press against my side. “Or, poor Miss Bonnie will live the rest of her days alone.”

  I loosened my grip. “What do you want from me?”

  She cocked her gun. “I have enough money at my disposal to help you buy half this damn city, Israel. And between the two of us, we have enough influence to own the whole of it. We could be unstoppable. We could have enough power to do as we wished whenever we wished without anyone stopping us. You know damn good and well my family owns the police force around here. Everyone bows to us the second we walk into a station, and no one in our family has ever had to be in one because of it. You could have all of that if you give up Bonnie.”

  At any other time in my life, I would’ve accepted her offer outright. We would’ve started the negotiation process, kept up appearances, and I would’ve become—overnight—the most powerful man in Chicago. But, times had changed. Bonnie had changed me for the better, and only one thought fell from my lips.

  “You’d never make a happy home, though. And I’m not willing to be miserable behind closed doors for power once I walk out of them.”

  Alice scoffed. “Then, maybe you’re not the Israel everyone knows.”

  My hand slid away from her throat. “Just like you were never the Alice I loved.”

  8

  Bonnie

  “I can do this. Come on,” I murmured.


  I drew in a deep breath before I jammed the sharp knife into the whole chicken. I wanted to have a decent meal tonight that didn’t consist of childish sandwiches and finger snacks. I wanted marinated chicken, roasted to perfection in the oven. I wanted apple cider root vegetables and whipped mashed potatoes. I wanted to make Israel and myself a decadent cobbler with freshly whipped sweet cream to dollop over it.

  But first, I had to get my knife to cooperate.

  “Come. On!”

  I pressed down on the knife and felt a pain charge through my finger. I pulled my hand back, surveying the bloodied mess that dripped from the side of my left pointer finger. I wrapped my other hand around it and hobbled over to the sink. But, not before I dripped blood all down the front of my apron.

  And when I started running my finger under warm water, I heard something crash to the floor before I saw the chicken on the tile with a knife protruding from its chest.

  “Israel!” I turned the water up to hot and reached for the soap. “Israel, can you come into the kitchen for a second?”

  I looked up to the top of the refrigerator and sighed. If Israel couldn’t hear me, then I’d simply do it myself. I shuffled away from the sink and reached up toward the top of the fridge, where I knew we kept the first-aid kit. I felt blood trickling into the palm of my hand as I cradled it against my chest. I stood on my tiptoes, ignoring the pain wafting up my back as I reached for that clear red box.

  “Come on, just a little more,” I murmured.

  I felt my leg lock up, and I cried out in pain. I bent down quickly to rub at the back of my bruised calf, but my head cracked itself against the edge of the refrigerator. Tears sprung to my eyes as I held my forehead, smearing blood all over my face. And as I stumbled back, unable to stand on that one leg, the small of my back fell against the kitchen island.

  Putting me in a blinding pain that sank me to my ass.

  “Israel, please!” I roared.

  Tears streaked my face as my hand fell to the ground. I stared at the oven as it radiated heat out toward me. I closed my eyes and tried to gather myself. I tried to stuff the pain down so I could practice putting on a tough face.

  You have to get through this. You have to push forward. This won’t be the only time you’re attacked.

  “Israel!” I shrieked.

  As I sat there on the kitchen floor, I refused to let myself cry. I either had to sit there until Israel got home, or I had to find a way to pick myself up. I wasn’t an invalid. If I wanted my freedom back, I had to prove that I could conduct my freedom in a manner that didn’t put my life in danger.

  And that wouldn't happen if Israel found me on the fucking floor with a bleeding hand.

  “Come on, Bonnie. You can do this,” I breathed.

  I shifted onto my knees and used the kitchen island to help me up. But, not without a great deal of pain forcing more tears down my cheeks. I felt helpless. I felt useless. And more than that, I felt like I was losing Israel. Why in the world wasn’t he here? It was six in the evening on a Sunday, where the hell could that man be?

  The diamond heiress.

  “Fuck Alice,” I murmured.

  I understood why he was doing it. We’d had many talks about it. But, I still didn’t like the fact that he had to do it. If I had things my way, I’d put a hit out on his father for a plethora of reasons, and we’d all be done with this mess. This was Israel’s family, though, and I figured he wouldn't take kindly to me interjecting into his problems like that.

  Though, it would be a simple fix.

  “Stop it,” I hissed to myself.

  I leaned against the kitchen island and looked down at the floor. I needed to clean up the specks of blood. There was an entire chicken just sitting there with a knife protruding from its chest. And there was an entire pan of root vegetables flipped over onto the floor.

  Man, I didn’t even know that had fallen as well.

  “Dammit,” I murmured.

  My eyes slid over to the pantry, and I hobbled over to the door. I threw it open and reached for the phone, wondering if this would piss Israel off or not. I didn’t have a choice, though. I didn’t want him coming back into this kitchen with blood everywhere and a damn chicken on the floor. He’d know what I was up to, and it would piss him off even more.

  And the goal was to get him to love me.

  Not hate me.

  “Codeword?” The voice on the other end of the line was harsh, and I sure as hell didn’t have a code word.

  “I’m sorry. Come again?” I asked.

  “Codeword. I won’t ask again.”

  “Uh, emergency?”

  The line clicked, and I hung up before picking the phone back up again.

  “Codeword?” It was a different voice this time, and I furrowed my brow.

  “Hi, this is Bonnie Moretti—”

  “Codeword.”

  I shook my head. “Israel is awesome?”

  Then, the line clicked again. But I wouldn't let it stop me.

  “Codeword?” yet another voice asked.

  “I’m Bonnie Moretti, and I’m living with Israel. I need someone to help me clean things up because I’ve bled all over his kitchen, and I can’t clean it up myself,” I rattled off quickly.

  Silence fell over the phone before I heard the line click. And just when I thought I’d have to hang up again, another voice appeared. A kinder voice. One that was soothing and sweet.

  “Miss Moretti?”

  I put the phone back to my ear. “Yes? Yes! Hi! Hello. I’m so sorry. I don’t have a—”

  “Are there people in the house with you?”

  “Uh, no. It’s just me.”

  “You said you were bleeding?”

  I paused. “I was trying to separate a whole chicken and slit my finger open. Now, there’s blood everywhere, and I can’t bend down to clean anything. And Israel isn’t here, and I didn’t know who else to call.” I felt just as weak as my words, and I loathed every second of it.

  “Ten minutes. Get upstairs and stay there. Once you hear us leave, you can come back down. And next time? Follow your recuperation guidelines.”

  Then, the line hung up.

  I slid the phone back into its slot before my forehead fell against the wall. Fucking hell, even some random woman on the other side of that line knew what I was up to and that I shouldn’t be doing it. Was everyone in this damn city privy to my recuperation orders? I didn’t know whether to be upset or offended. I didn’t know whether to be sad or furious. All I knew was that Israel was out on a date, I couldn't get out of bed without help, and I had become nothing more than an inconvenience.

  Again.

  “He’ll never want to come back to you like this,” I murmured.

  If he were out with that Esposito girl again, he’d never want to come back to me. She could stand on her own two feet. She could probably cook a fresh meal for him. She could make love to him any which way she pleased because her body wasn’t beat up from the floor up. I wobbled out of the pantry and passed by the mess I’d made. It would take me damn near ten minutes just to get back up to the bedroom. Where maybe I just needed to stay.

  “Fuck this shit,” I said through my sniffles.

  You have to get stronger. More competent. That’s what Israel wants.

  I pulled myself up the stairs and cursed how sore my body still felt.

  You have to get strong again. None of this weak woman shit.

  I thanked my stars that Israel wasn’t here to witness me having to use the wall to scoot all the way to the bedroom.

  You have to prove to him that you can come back from stuff like this. Because this won’t be the first attempt on your life.

  I collapsed onto the bed, bloodied apron and all. I cried into my pillow, trying to release all of the stress and the tension I’d been carrying around since getting out of the hospital last week. Everything felt so dark and bleak. All I had was some random woman popping in and out during the day to annoy the piss out of me. Oh,
and make me kiddie meals.

  You have to think logically. Don’t get wrapped up in your emotions. Israel wouldn’t want that.

  “Israel,” I whispered.

  I curled up in bed and managed to pull the covers over my head. I heard the elevator whirring downstairs, and I closed my eyes, blocking out everything that was about to happen. All I wanted was for Israel to love me. All I wanted was for us to be a family. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that task would be this hard, and part of me felt like giving up.

  If you give up, Alice wins. Alice gets your prize. Don't do that.

  I didn’t know how much more I could take, though. How many personal blows I could sustain. Now, more than ever, I understood why mafia Dons kept their weak spots hidden. I finally realized now why Israel kept himself so closed off emotionally to people—because this was the kind of torture that I’d never be able to handle. Fuck me, hurt me all you want. But, if someone did this to Israel? I’d spin out of control. I’d have the entire city slaughtered just to make sure he never got hurt again. And that kind of thing was career-ending. That was the kind of vulnerability that got someone pumped full of lead in this line of work.

  Yes, I need to close off emotionally. I have to become a logical creature to survive this.

  And in order to empathize enough with Israel to get him to see that we were perfect for one another.

  “Miss Bonnie?” A familiar voice sounded at my door, but I couldn't move.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  I heard footsteps coming toward me. “I’m the woman from the phone. Do you have anything bloody on you?”

  I looked down at myself. “Yes, my apron and my shirt.”

  “All right, here’s what I need from you: I need you to sit up and close your eyes.”

  “Close my eyes?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you can’t see who I am or who’s helping me with this.”