Liar's Lullaby: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mazzeo Mafia Book 1)

by Nicole Fox

  Another reason why I’ve always been attracted to the wrong men.

  “Fuck you, asshole.”

  He smiles. Slow, arrogant, gorgeous.

  And my clit throbs in response.

  I wince at the rush of sensation and clamp down against it. No matter how strong my will is, my body seems determined to sabotage my good intentions.

  I can’t afford that right now.

  “I’d watch your words around me,” he warns, the smile still in place. “Men have died for much less.”

  “That kind of threat might work with everyone else, but it won’t work with me.”

  “No?” he says. “Well, then, maybe I was wrong earlier. Maybe you’re not a smart girl after all.”

  “I told you not to call me that,” I snap again.

  Same as before—he just chuckles.

  That pisses me off more. I slam my elbow into the mesh grille, rattling it in its frame.

  “You’re lucky you’re on the other side of this cell,” I hiss.

  His gray eyes flash silver in the near-darkness. “Actually, Charlotte, I’m beginning to think the opposite.”

  I frown, wondering what the fuck he means by that.

  Fuck that.

  Fuck this.

  Fuck him.

  I stare at Lucio and he stares right back.

  Not once do his eyes dip down to the rest of my body. Another man would have already undressed me in his head a dozen times over.

  But this man… he seems completely disinterested in that.

  Why does it feel like a slap in the face?

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do to me?” I ask when the silence starts getting uncomfortable.

  “Yes.”

  My breath hitches up just a little, but I try and maintain my composure. Men like him never respond to weakness.

  “Great. I’m ready to go whenever. Bags are packed and everything.”

  He doesn’t laugh this time. Just stares at me—unblinking, unmoving.

  “I have a proposal for you,” he says.

  Dread pools in my stomach.

  “I’m not fucking anyone,” I say before I can stop myself.

  He doesn’t react apart from raising his eyebrows just a little. The scar that cuts across his right eyebrow is illuminated in the darkness.

  It’s extremely distracting.

  “Who said anything about fucking?” he asks. His tone betrays his amusement.

  “I know how guys like you operate.”

  “Oh, is that so?” he asks, taking another step forward towards the thin grille that separates us. “And tell me, micetta: how do guys like me operate?”

  Just shut up, Charlotte, I warn myself. The more you talk, the harder this gets.

  But I’ve never been very good at taking my own advice.

  “You use women like objects. Like possessions,” I snarl. “You use women when you want and discard them when you’ve had enough. If you plan on passing me around to your men, you can go fuck yourself. I’m not a whore.”

  “No, you’re definitely not a whore,” he agrees. “To be a whore, you have to be likeable.”

  My jaw drops.

  This…

  This fucking…

  I’m purple with anger. Trembling. I ought to rip this cell from the wall and—

  Breathe.

  Inhale. Exhale. Again. Again.

  Little by little, I regain control of myself.

  When I do, I see the flash of amusement in his eyes.

  He can see the war raging inside my head. He likes it. He wants to encourage it.

  Don’t give him that satisfaction. Just breathe.

  “Do you want to hear my proposal?” he asks once I’ve calmed down again. “Or would you rather lounge here for another few hours?”

  “What is it?” I grind out.

  “A child has been… left in my care recently,” he tells me with an odd hitch in his voice. “I need someone to look after her for me.”

  He wants me to look after a child.

  What the…?

  “She’s six, and you’d be responsible for taking care of her. Putting her to bed, feeding her, washing her. Whatever she requires,” he continues.

  I’m still trying to process the ridiculousness of his proposal.

  When I’ve been quiet for several long seconds, he clears his throat impatiently.

  “Well?”

  “Are you being serious right now?” I demand.

  “I’m a serious man, Charlotte.”

  “You want me to be a nanny?” I ask, still dumbfounded.

  “If that is the term you prefer, sure.”

  I stare at his face, and it slowly starts sinking in that he’s completely serious.

  “I… how would this even work?”

  “You’d have a room on the compound. It would adjoin Evie’s room, naturally,” he explains nonchalantly. “I’ll give you a monthly allowance for her expenses.”

  I see his lips move, but I’m still stuck on a few glaring details.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I say, raising my hands as though he has me at gunpoint. “Hold on a second. You want me to… move in here?”

  “It’s a full-time position,” he tells me.

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as you’re useful to me.”

  I should’ve expected an answer like that.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I stole, like, forty dollars’ worth of food from you,” I point out. “The punishment hardly fits the crime.”

  “Unfortunately for you, I’m the judge and the jury, micetta.”

  He keeps speaking Italian—at least I think that’s what it is—in this cool, rippling voice. The language is pure gibberish to me, but whatever the hell micetta means, it’s worming its way into my brain each time he uses it.

  Micetta.

  He says it possessively. But also tenderly.

  I shudder.

  It’s just another ploy. Another manipulative tactic.

  Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that it works.

  My hands feel clammy and my head spins with frustration.

  Nothing makes sense. Nothing is going the way I expected.

  “You’re not planning on paying me, are you?” I stammer.

  As if this is just a funky twist on a job interview and we’re merely hammering out the details of the position.

  “You’d be living in my home rent-free,” he says coldly. “And you’d get three meals a day. The way I see it, it’s a win-win situation.”

  “How the hell is this a win for me?”

  His smile spreads wide. “You won’t have to steal from me anymore.”

  I bristle at the arrogance. It makes my decision easy.

  “I have a life, you know,” I growl. “I’m not leaving it for you.”

  His hair catches the light. It’s dark, thick, lustrous. My fingers itch to run through it.

  “I’m giving you an opportunity here,” he says. “You’d be wise to take it.”

  “My answer is no.”

  He stares at me unfazed. I don’t see disappointment, and I don’t see annoyance, either.

  There’s only confidence and the stubborn will of a man who’s used to getting what he wants.

  “Very well,” he says. He’s already turning for the door.

  I seize the grille, panic gripping my throat and making my words come out hoarse. “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “I have business to attend to,” he says without so much as a glance at me.

  “You’re just going to leave me here?”

  “I think you need a little more time to consider my proposal,” he says, a self-satisfied smirk dancing across his lips.

  “You can’t do this!” I yell.

  His only answer is the resounding echo of the door slamming shut.

  5

  Lucio

  As I walk back out through the wine cellar, I have the odd sensation that I’m walking in the wrong directi
on.

  Those wild blue eyes…

  The fight in her tight little body…

  She’s made for this world—for my world—even if she doesn’t know it.

  Marco is standing at the entrance of the cellar as I near the staircase. He moves forward to meet me, his eyes cast down with deference.

  “Make sure you let her use the restroom,” I tell him. “But no food or water.”

  “Understood.”

  “And don’t underestimate her,” I warn. “She’s a lioness in sheep’s clothing.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  I nod in satisfaction and head upstairs to the ground floor. I make my way to the main common room to see Evie.

  I can’t think of her any other way other than that—just Evie.

  Not yet, at least.

  It feels too weird to even think of her as “my daughter.”

  Let alone to say the words out loud.

  Adriano is there, seated far enough away from the child to seem out of place. Franco is the one sitting beside her on the couch. She appears to be showing him the contents of her bright pink backpack and jabbering excitedly.

  But the moment she sees me, she clams up.

  Her eyes hit the carpeted floor and the scrunchie she’s holding slips from her fingers.

  Franco stands up immediately. “Boss,” he says respectfully in greeting.

  I don’t answer. My eyes are fixed on the little girl with sunshine hair.

  I walk over to her and pick the scrunchie up off the carpet.

  “Here you go,” I rumble.

  She takes it silently, but still refuses to meet my eyes.

  I realize how out of my depth I am.

  Commanding hundreds of men? Effortless.

  Slaughtering enemies with my bare hands? Easy.

  But talking to a six-year-old?

  Apparently, I’ve found my weakness.

  I straighten up and glance at Franco. “I have business to attend to. I need you to stay with her while I’m away.”

  Another man might have made it clear what he thinks of the assignment. But Franco is a consummate professional.

  “Of course, boss,” he says with a nod.

  “Where are we headed?” Adriano asks.

  My brows knit together as I shoot him a sharp look. “You know damn well the shipment is touching down at the airstrip in half an hour.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Adriano assures me. “I just assumed, y’know…” He waves his hand vaguely. “With everything going on here, I thought you’d sit this one out.”

  “I’m still the fucking don,” I snarl. “The kid’s appearance hasn’t changed anything.”

  He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it and lets it fall closed again.

  Instead, he stays silent as we make our way out of my sprawling mansion and towards the massive warehouse that adjoins it.

  I’ve got a number of different vehicles waiting for me. I choose the Gladiator Rubicon and jump in the driver’s seat. Adriano rides shotgun.

  “You could let me drive this beast once in a while,” he suggests.

  I smile. “In your fucking dreams. I’d get it back in a million little pieces.”

  He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I flip the Ferrari one time and you never let me forget it…”

  Chuckling, I zoom out of the warehouse towards the black gates at the end of the long drive.

  The same gates Evie supposedly walked up to with the note in hand.

  “The cameras didn’t catch anyone else with her?” I muse out of nowhere.

  “Huh? Oh, no,” Adriano replies. “I checked a few times. Whoever they were, they made sure to stay well out of range.”

  “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

  “You doubting she’s your kid?” Adriano asks. “Because we can always get a paternity test done.”

  “No. I know she’s mine,” I say confidently. “I just don’t buy the rest of it.”

  “I agree,” he says, drumming his fingers on the center console. “It’s fishy as fuck. But we’ll keep our eyes open from now on. And who knows? Maybe the kid will let something slip once she relaxes around you.”

  “If she ever relaxes around me.”

  Adriano glances at me. “Give her some credit,” he laughs. “She didn’t burst into tears at the sight of you. Can’t say the same for some grown men we’ve come across.”

  I smirk at that. The notoriety I’ve garnered over the last few years comes in handy sometimes.

  Even if it doesn’t make a certain breed of coward shit his pants as soon as he sees who he’s dealing with.

  Still—it’s an improvement over my father’s reputation.

  It took years to erase the damage the old bastard had done to the Mazzeo name.

  As we turn into the private airstrip with my name hanging over the hangar, I notice my crew preparing for the imminent landing.

  The shipment is coming in on helicopter, accompanied by five men from the Mexican cartel we’re doing business with.

  “Incoming,” Adriano points out. I see the chopper descending slowly onto the lit-up landing pad.

  I park the Gladiator and step out. Adriano and I walk towards my men.

  Giovanni notices us first and strides forward with his customary clipboard in hand.

  “Buonasera, Don Mazzeo,” he greets. “Everything is ready.”

  “Once it’s been checked, I want the shipment moved immediately,” I tell him. “I don’t want anything idling in storage.”

  “Of course, boss.”

  Once the rotor blades have slowed, five men disembark. Two of them are lugging a huge, sealed box between them.

  I signal to my men to move in.

  Giovanni leads the approach with four other men at his back. They rip open the seals and scour the contents of the box, while the Mexicans stand back with dark expressions on their faces.

  A moment later, Giovanni turns and gives me the sign for all good.

  Adriano and I approach our counterparts to do the cash exchange.

  I recognize two of the flunkies standing opposite us. The rest are all new faces. They tend to swap out every few months.

  “Don Lucio,” greets the familiar man.

  “Miguel,” I reply. “Everything seems to be in order.”

  “It is,” he says. “Except there is one small matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

  I’ve dealt with Miguel for almost a year now. We have a good rapport, but like all connections in my world, it’s only surface deep.

  As long as the money’s good and the product is right, we are thick as thieves.

  But if that ever changed, I wouldn’t hesitate to slice his throat wide open.

  “Discuss it then.” My tone is significantly less hospitable.

  “My boss is raising the price of his goods. The cost of this shipment just went up to four million.”

  I can feel Adriano tense next to me. He’s hot-headed sometimes, but in this case, he leaves it up to me to react.

  “Four million?” I echo calmly.

  “Sí.”

  I smile thinly. “That’s won’t work for me, Miguel,” I say, my tone dripping with menace. “I have an agreement with your boss. I even have the paperwork to prove it. Not that I place much stock in signatures. After all, putting my name on a contract won’t stop me from blowing your brains out right here on the tarmac, will it?”

  The night around us is silent. None of the men move.

  I don’t blink or look away from Miguel.

  “We’ve had a long and successful business relationship, Don Lucio,” Miguel says. He’s panicking, though his face doesn’t show it. Attempting damage control.

  He knows that fucking with me won’t end well for him.

  “I agree,” I say. “You wouldn’t want that to end, would you? Because I can assure you, I’m a far better friend than an enemy.”

  The man is only a cartel underboss, but he’s shrewd and smart.
<
br />   Smart enough to know when to concede.

  “For you, Don Lucio, there will be no price increment,” he says, with a submissive little bow of his head. “I will let my boss know.”

  “Let him know that if he wants to re-open negotiations, he’ll have to come to the table,” I say. “My table.”

  “Understood.”

  That’s good enough for me. I’m done here.

  “Once the hand-over is complete, there’s no reason for you or your men to hang around,” I say dismissively.

  I turn my back on him and walk away, leaving Giovanni to deal with the remainder of the transaction.

  Adriano stays on the tarmac. I know he’ll find me after the money is turned over and the deal is complete.

  I make my way into the warehouse to check in with the on-the-ground crew.

  It’s fortified with about a dozen men at any given time, but when there’s a new shipment coming in, at least a dozen more are present.

  I’ve grown accustomed to expecting attacks and ambushes.

  But if you’re always prepared, then it’s a party.

  The only kind I really enjoy.

  I supervise the transport of the drug container into the warehouse. When it’s been divided up, I look at the list of clients on the waiting list.

  “Davidoff called again yesterday,” my lieutenant Rocco tells me. “He’s willing to pay in cash, and ten percent above the going rate.”

  I consider that momentarily. “He knows he pissed me off the last time we met,” I remark, still perusing through the docket of eager recipients.

  “You want me to bump his name off the list?” Rocco asks, his lazy eye fixed on me.

  “It was a small offense,” I say. “No need to bump him entirely. Just drop him down a few pegs. That’ll put his waiting time at… six months.”

  “He won’t be happy.”

  “I’m counting on it.” I hand the list back over to Rocco. “The money from Rowland and Kunis has come in already, so you can go ahead and deliver their cuts.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  I hear the helicopter’s rotor blades start up again in the distance. I move outside. Something flashes in the night sky above, right at the edge of what the smog obscures.

  A spark of silver. A satellite, a star—who the fuck knows?

  What it reminds me of is much more clear—a pair of silver eyes.

  Evie is asleep by now, no doubt. Curled up in an unfamiliar bed. Dreaming of her mother, her past life, or perhaps this frightening new world she’s found herself in.