Dark Throne: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals)

by Shanna Handel

  Rocco and Sergio found me behind the wall, stunned, not knowing what to do as I watched the first of the flames ignite. I’d shot off the last firecracker, planning to sneak back to my car’s hiding spot in the woods and ride off to the castle, no one knowing who caused the chaos.

  On my next encounter with Luca, I would, of course, tell him, threatening more acts of retribution if he kept messing with me.

  But as I was getting ready to turn away and run, I saw the orange glow, smelled the smoke. My stomach sank into my boots as the realization set in that I’d done something terrible. Something really, really stupid. And this time, my impulsiveness had put people’s lives in danger.

  I had no idea what to do. I was almost relieved when Rocco and Sergio came running around the corner and found me.

  Now, I still hold the lighter in my hand. I drop it to the ground. “Uh, hey guys. How’s it going? How about that cake Sophia made? Pretty good, right?”

  Their eyes flash with anger, as they flank me, one grabbing each of my arms. Sergio growls. “Time to face the consequences, Princess.”

  “Yeah. It’s about time someone took your spoiled ass down a peg or two.” Rocco snaps.

  “Spoiled? I don’t think so. I do just as much work for my family as you do for yours.”

  Not to be outdone, Sergio adds in. “Yeah, you might play Cinderella once in a while, but no one’s ever taught you to play by the rules.”

  “Rule number one being, never step foot uninvited, on Romano property.” Rocco’s voice is lethal.

  I want to toss back a biting comment, but my words lodge in my throat, remembering Luca’s threats. Someone did try to teach me to play by the rules. By spanking me, and punishing me with his controlling touches at my own party. But I didn’t listen to him, and now I’m being dragged through a crowd of angry men who are demanding retribution.

  My gaze searches for him.

  Of course, my first thought is to look for Luca, for his protection.

  Why would it be any other way?

  I hate that I need him, that I want him to save me.

  And yet, his are the only eyes I search for.

  Finally, he bursts forth from the crowd.

  Our gazes meet.

  Something passes between us in that moment and a strange thrum of electricity dances down my spine.

  He storms over, looking me up and down. A chill runs through me at the anger in his eyes.

  “You’ve outdone yourself this time, haven’t you, Princess.” He gestures behind him. “What do you have to say to these men? Men you’ve pulled from their beds, thinking they were under threat of gun shots, then almost burning down their home? That fire could have spread to the gardens and then who knows how far it could have gone?”

  I give a shrug. What can I say? “Sorry?”

  Sergio and Rocco release me, a look of smug satisfaction on their faces. “We’ve already contacted her father.”

  “What? When?” This is news to me. Not that I thought I’d get out of here without my father hearing about this…did I? But to have him come here, now?

  Rocco answers my questions as if reading my mind. “We saw you drive around to the back of the house. We called your father, let him know you’d stolen his car and snuck out. He’s on his way now. We didn’t even know about the firecrackers, then. When he gets here, I say we declare war. Finally, we can seek retribution on the Russos.”

  “This time, they’ve gone too far.” Sergio sneers at me.

  I stare down at the ground. “It was just a prank. Kid stuff. You know I wasn’t trying to burn the place down.”

  Luca steps forward, cupping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I can’t name the emotion that’s flashing in the blue storm clouds of his irises, but it sends a shiver through me. “Tensions run high between our families. It only takes one spark, like your firecrackers tonight, to start a war. One you and I won’t be able to end.”

  He drops his hand from my face. One hand goes to his hip, the other runs through his hair in frustration.

  My stomach grows cold, icicles forming in my veins. I’ve got to try and fix this. I can’t let them take out my foolish actions on my family. “Technically, I went too far. This has nothing to do with my family. I’m the one that caused the fire. Hold me accountable for my actions.”

  Luca gives a growl. “Trust me. I will. But your actions today have set off a myriad of repercussions.”

  “I…didn’t think of it like that.”

  He snaps. “Do you ever think?”

  Rude. I’m trying to apologize here. “Excuse me?”

  He closes the distance between us, his eyes blazing. “Do. You. Ever. Think? Or do you just get an idea, and follow it blindly without ever first contemplating how it will affect other people? Or your own safety.”

  I shake my head. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you? Always sneaking away from the castle without the protection of your father’s guards? Coming onto our property, then, even after my warning, showing up again, this time shooting off firecrackers in the hopes of rattling our men? It sounds exactly like you. You just don’t think, Esme.”

  Fury lights in his gaze. I shrink back, afraid he might toss me over his knee right in front of this entire crowd.

  Luca grabs my arm from Sergio’s grasp. “Come with me.”

  He tugs me through the crowd, a few low whistles and chuckles following me, only serving to add to my public humiliation. We walk through the courtyard to the right wing of the house. He finds the door he’s looking for, dragging me through the doorway into a hall. It leads to the entry of the kitchen.

  Even though I’m in a world of trouble, I can’t help but look around the dimly lit room. Kitchens are kind of my thing. Growing up in one, close at Sophia’s side, I have a slight obsession with them and now, I want to see his. There’s a fireplace in here, a butcher block topped island that would be perfect for baking.

  It’s pretty. Smaller than ours, but I like it. There’s a cozy feel, armchairs beneath the windows, plants hanging from the ceilings. Not at all what I pictured.

  He pulls me into a dry goods pantry, flipping on the light. The shelves are neatly stocked, labeled jars of jams and jellies and canned vegetables stand in lines, their creamy labels bearing the Romano name. Fragrant bundles of herbs hang from the ceiling, drying for future use. Homey. He pulls the door shut behind us.

  He turns me to face him.

  I offer a smile. “Pretty nice place you got here. I thought you guys were more into the caveman vibe. I half expected a dead deer hanging in the middle of your pantry—"

  He cuts off my nervous prattle with a roar. “Esme!”

  I give a little shrug. “I guess…I could have…thought this plan out a little better.”

  With a shake of his head, his words come to him, sharp and venomous. “Well, this time, I’m going to make you. I’m going to make you think long and hard. And maybe if they know you’ve been punished, we can smooth things over between our families.”

  “Punished?” I squeak, the coziness of the pantry forgotten.

  “Yes. Punished. By my belt whipping your ass.” His broad hands go to his trim waist and I find my limbs shaking as his fingers undo the metal clasp of his leather belt.

  Hooooooold on…

  In all the times he’s threatened me, or warned me off, he’s never before mentioned a belt. My throat feels tight and I have to clear it before I protest. “Not so fast. I mean, I know I made a little mistake, but—”

  “A huge mistake. One that could put a rift between our two families. A rift that only ends in war.”

  I really messed up. Like, totally completely effed this up. That belt, though. It’s wide and thick and leather and now he’s tugging on his buckle, the belt moving through the loops of his pants with a whoosh.

  Perspiration dots my palms, my fingers clenching into fists. My heart pounds in my chest. I have to get out of here before that thing comes anywhere
near my ass. “I…uh…I’m sorry, but I really gotta…run!”

  I take off toward the closed door.

  His arms shoot out, grabbing me around my waist, pinning my back to his chest. He throws his foot up on the edge of an empty overturned wooden crate.

  “Let me go.” I wrap my hands around his, trying to push them from my waist. It’s no use, his grip is like a vise.

  He tosses me over his thigh, pressing his hand into my lower back, pushing me down until I hang over his leg, my hair falling all over my face. The tips of my toes float in the air, no longer making contact with the floor. My hands go to his calf, gripping it to keep myself from falling over.

  He grabs the end of my cloak, tugging it up and over my back. “Still wearing this pretty silk dress I see. It’s thin enough you’ll feel my leather biting your ass with it on.” I hear the sound of his belt whoosh through the air. I close my eyes tight, bracing for the impact.

  The belt comes down with a mighty whack! The sound reaches me before I can process the impact of the leather as it lands across my curves. But a second later, I howl.

  My ass is on fire!

  “Oooh! Luca! No!”

  But he’s already bringing the belt down again. I cry out, another trail of fire lighting my flesh. He must have doubled it up, making it short enough to smack my ass with it while I’m teetering over his massive thigh. I don’t know how he’s pulling it off. All I know is that he’s not happy. And my ass is paying the price.

  The belt comes down again. It strikes my skin, making tears pop up in my eyes. I suck my breath in between my teeth from the searing pain. “Luca, I’m…I’m sorry! Really, I am.”

  I think of the fire, the men running around the courtyard, the damage I could have done. My guilt intertwines with the pain and I feel tears forming at the corners of my eyes threatening to fall.

  He moves behind me and I cringe, waiting for the belt to fall again. Instead, I hear it drop to the ground. His arms wrap around and he pulls me up to him, holding me to his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Luca. Truly, I am.” I give a sniffle, trying to hold the tears in, but it’s no use.

  I start to cry.

  “I know you are.” His hands smooth down my hair, tucking it back from where it’s hanging over my face.

  My nose is running, tears running down my cheeks. I press my face into his soft shirt, I’ll surely leave the cotton damp.

  He wraps his arms around me, holding me close.

  The way he’s handling me now is…different.

  Gentler.

  He murmurs. “We’ve got to get you out of this mess.”

  I pull back, finding his gaze. “We? You’ll…help me?”

  Those blue eyes flash, their energy reaching down in my core. “Of course I will. But you have to trust me. There’s only one way out of this…” His words trail off but his tone sounds as if the words would have been something along the lines of, you’re not going to like it.

  I’ll do anything to fix this. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “Do you trust me?” His eyes are soft, kinder than I ever remember them being.

  But…he’s Luca. Right?

  The boy who lived to torment me.

  The man who’s humiliated me, numerous times today.

  How can I trust him?

  What choice do I have?

  “I…don’t know what to say—”

  His lips meet mine, cutting off my words with a kiss.

  This kiss is not like his other, hard, punishing kisses. There’s a depth of emotion behind this kiss. It makes me feel as if I’m melting, or floating, my mind leaving my body, a warm sense of pleasure flowing through my veins.

  He pulls away too soon.

  “Kiss me again.” The words sound like a plea. And maybe they are. Because all I want are his lips on mine. I’m surprised by my own forwardness. “Please, kiss me again.”

  He slides his hands along my cheeks, cradling my face. He stares at me, as if he’s trying to send a message through his gaze. “I need you to trust me, Esme. Can you do that for me?”

  His words are calm, gentle, caring. I’ve never seen this side of him. The words won’t come, won’t form on my tongue, but I’m able to give him a nod.

  I’m rewarded with a kiss.

  “Good girl. Now come with me. Your father will be here by now.” He takes my hand, tugging me through the pantry back into the kitchen.

  My father.

  I give a groan.

  Vincent is going to kill me.

  Hand in hand, I follow and he leads as we make our way through the dark stone halls of the compound. There are so many twists and turns, I’m not sure I’d be able to find my way back to the kitchen without him.

  With each step, the weight in my gut grows heavier. I’m dreading confronting Vincent and Luca’s father, John Romano. I’m sure his burly brothers will be there as well, all of them waiting for me.

  That’s a lot of angry males to face.

  Luca tightens his grip on my hand. Is he the only one who can protect me? Will he be able to fix my mistakes as he promised? And if so, how?

  Do I trust him?

  I don’t know that I have a choice, other than to trust him.

  He’s my only hope.

  What does he have planned? What is the one thing that can create peace between our families? What gesture will it take for his family to forgive my actions?

  We reach a closed door, painted a glossy black. Wrought iron sconces hang on either side of it, gas torches burning a soft orange glow from each one. Luca lifts his hand, banging on the door three times.

  We wait for a response and I can’t seem to hold my nervous tongue. “Is this some kind of secret boys club? You guys have a knock and everything? What’s the password? No girls allowed?”

  His gaze cuts to mine. “Close your mouth. And if you have any hope of reconciling our two families, keep it closed.”

  His momentary soft side is gone. The stare he gives me is cold, harsh.

  My jaw snaps shut.

  A booming voice comes from the other side of the door. “Come in.”

  He squeezes my hand. “Esme. There’s only one way out of this. You have to trust me.”

  I give him a nod.

  We enter the room.

  I’m expecting it to be bursting with Vikings, standing shoulder to shoulder their faces painted in blood, ready to tear me limb from limb.

  That’s not what I find at all. It’s a sweet little room, an office. Shelves of books line the walls, deep green velvet curtains pulled closed over the windows. A fire burns in the fireplace. There’s a bar cart with a cut crystal wine decanter filled with red wine, a side table with a chess board left out, mid-game, the little wooden carved figurines waiting to be called back to action. A few worn leather armchairs dot the room, one holding a concerned looking Vincent, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark gaze resting on my face.

  John Romano, a large man with bright blue eyes and silver hair sits behind a large desk. “Welcome, Esme.”

  He has kind eyes. I wasn’t expecting that.

  I’m finding I’ve misjudged the Romanos…have I misjudged Luca as well?

  Vincent rises from his chair, crossing the room to me. He takes me in his arms, pulling me in tight. “Esme. Are you alright?”

  I’m relieved by the sight of him, overwhelmed by his affection. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m…sorry.”

  He pulls away, his hands going to my shoulders as he holds me at arm’s length. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His gaze searches my face.

  “Yes. I’m alright. I promise.”

  Vincent’s gaze hardens. “Esme. What have you done?”

  My gut wrenches. His words cause me more pain than any punishment could.

  Before I can answer, John holds his hand out to the open chairs. He offers me a smile. “Take a seat. Please.”

  There are two open chairs in the center of the room. I take one, gingerly. Luca moves to the desk and stands b
ehind his father.

  I scan the rest of the room. It’s only the four of us.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  John turns to Vincent. “I don’t have to tell you, Vincent, that my men are riled up. It’s going to take a lot to calm them.”

  Vincent’s voice is harsh. “If they’re your men, you have control over them. Don’t you? Oh, wait—no, you don’t.” He’s remembering the attack on Felicity last year. He’s still bitter. “Command them to be calm.”

  Something flashes through Luca’s gaze, a look somewhere between rage and an emotion I can’t read…it seems as if he wants to do the talking, but he holds his tongue.

  John narrows his gaze. “And if one of my sons set fire to your castle, you’re telling me your men wouldn’t be seeking retribution?”

  Vincent shrugs. “A shed is no castle. And no, they wouldn’t. Not unless I commanded them to. They follow my orders.”

  John raises his brows. “Blindly?”

  “No, but they seek to please me.” Vincent’s being his usual self...a hard ass. He raises his brows. “Your men came for my wife last year. This year, my daughter came for you. We’re even.”

  John’s eyes flash. “No. My rogue teen son sent men for your wife, and one of our guards made a mistake. He paid with his life. Or have you forgotten how you slit his throat, leaving him to bleed out in the forest? His death was your reparations. This is a new attack.”

  My blood runs cold…I had no idea Vincent had killed their guard after the attack.

  Vincent wavers.

  John continues. “Romanos seek revenge. We avenge. I want peace between our two families, but after this, I don’t see how we can achieve it.” John’s eyes meet mine.

  The kindness is gone from them.

  They look…hopeless.

  Too much blood has already been shed. I can’t let a war break out between our families. Not over some silly prank gone wrong. I scoot to the edge of my seat, pleading with John. “There has to be something we can do? Something to keep the peace?”

  He gives me a shake of his head. “I really don’t know.”

  I turn to Vincent. “Vincent?”

  He crosses his arms over his chest. I know he wants peace, for everyone.

  I also know he’s stubborn as hell and doesn’t like losing.