Mafia King: A Mafia Royals Novella

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Who?

  The Five Families.

  They wanted my loyalty.

  And I told them I wanted to toe the line between the FBI and the Five Families in order to help.

  HELP.

  They said they didn’t want help.

  But they needed it.

  So, I fell on my sword.

  And now?

  Punished.

  “You’ll do it,” her father said with a grin, his hair pulled into a sleek man bun as he sipped his glass of red wine or whatever the hell it was. His smile was amused, all white and cheerful like he had something to be happy about despite the devil owning his daughter’s soul. “And you’ll do it well. Otherwise…” He trained his revolver on me and shrugged. “Target practice.”

  “You have chickens for that,” I deadpanned.

  He laughed. “No, I have you for that.”

  “How…comforting.” I shifted in my seat. “Look, I get that she needs protection, what with her sudden desire to push every rebel button in the history of rebellion, but I’m still working for the FBI. Asking me to be her personal guard and keep the Families out of the shit is crap, and you know it!”

  “First off…” He stood. “We already told you to cut the shit and tell the FBI no. They’ll understand, they’re used to our…”—he shrugged—“methods.” He sighed. “And, second, she needs someone outside the immediate family. Someone who isn’t a dad or a cousin or an uncle who’s breathing down her neck.”

  I hated that he had a point. Every time he trained an associate on her, she pushed a little bit harder.

  And I lost a bit more of my free time.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “How long?”

  “Two more weeks.”

  I perked right up. “That’s it?” And then my death sentence was done?

  His grin was cruel. “That’s it.”

  I nodded. “Well, two weeks is…it’s almost a kindness. Thank you. I’ll just be seeing myself out now and—”

  “In Mexico.”

  I froze, a chill ran down my spine. “Mexico?” Where everything was legal?

  “Family vacation. Aka Junior and Serena are eloping,” he added as a massive hand came down on my shoulder. “You’re Family. We need a vacation, her cousins are eloping, she needs to be reined in, so…of course, you’ll come and help out.”

  I’d never been more tempted to run in the opposite direction of another human, and I’d trained at Quantico. “For two weeks.” I just had to repeat it.

  “Tomorrow, ten a.m. The jet won’t wait for you, and if you miss it, neither will my bullet…clear?”

  I gulped, clenching my fists a dozen times before nodding my head once and gritting out, “As glass.”

  “Great! See you in the morning!” A cheerful shove toward the door, and then I was walking out of his house.

  The house I’d been living in for months—nearly a year.

  The house that offered a double agent protection.

  The house that the devil, too, resided in.

  And just in time, her jet-black Lambo roared into the circular driveway.

  Oh, good.

  Let’s just hope she was clothed and sober.

  She really was the worst.

  The car jerked to a stop, turned off, and then there she was, every small, curvy inch of her as she hopped out on her red stiletto heels and turned toward me, a smile building on her lips as she tugged off her black sunglasses and sauntered toward me smelling like seduction and addiction.

  Yay.

  Her red lips parted.

  I needed to look away.

  There was too much temptation and sin in that small part.

  And I knew if I even once gave in to the thoughts in my head…

  She’d eat me alive.

  And I’d fucking let her.

  God, I hated her.

  For her power.

  Her control.

  For being the smartest woman in the room and knowing it.

  Really, the list was long, exhaustive, and depressing to a spy like me.

  “You still alive?” she asked.

  I glared. “You still a virgin?”

  “Aww, you feeling horny, old man?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I’m not old.”

  “And I’m not a virgin.”

  I smirked. “I’ll just add that to the long list of things to tell your dad after the two weeks are over, then.”

  “Two weeks? What do you mean, two weeks? You’re done. You were done days ago.”

  My turn to offer a smug grin as I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “We’re going on vacation. And I was just blessed with the job of being your shadow. Happy early birthday.”

  She gasped, stumbling backward. “He wouldn’t.”

  “He would. He did. He’s mafia, what did you expect? A normal birthday party with a piñata while your cousins got married on the beach?”

  “Okay, first off, that’s not normal for a grown-ass woman. Second, he said it was a gift, the vacation. For my birthday. Third, it was only supposed to be my cousins and me, my favorite cousins—you aren’t one of them! And I may have completely forgotten about the elopement.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not your cousin, Tiny!”

  Her nostrils flared. “Believe me, I know. At least my cousins know how to shoot, and fight, and—”

  I grabbed her by the arm and flipped her back against her car, causing her sunglasses to fall to the ground as her body arched up to meet me. “I’m the fucking government. I’m the one who arrests you for doing things…shall we say, improper? I’m your new judge, jury, and executioner. If you so much as break any laws, mafia or mine, I will report it. I may not be blood, but I know our rules and I serve the Family, not you. NEVER. You. Do you feel me?”

  Her breath hitched, and then she bucked her hips against mine and whispered, “Oh…was that it, then? I. Felt. Nothing.”

  I jerked back, only to have her hand grab at my dick. “Ah, there it is... Pity, for a man so large, you seem so very… Small.”

  I shoved her hand away and grabbed at her tits. “Same, Tiny. Same.”

  Her eyes widened in rage, but I was already walking in the other direction despite her cussing and yelling.

  Two weeks in hell.

  Two weeks with Satan’s mistress.

  Two weeks left, and my fate with the mafia would be decided.

  I just hoped I survived the cursed princess.

  And the mean streak she seemed to have developed overnight.

  A job.

  It was a job.

  And I was trained for everything.

  So Kartini Abandonato?

  Not a problem.

  Never.

  If anything, I was about to raise hell with her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  I smiled the entire drive to my friend Ash’s house.

  Time to spar.

  Time to imagine blood on my hands.

  Time to feel.

  Time to let go of the numbness.

  And exist.

  Outside of whatever fucking Kartini Abandonato had to offer.

  Chapter One

  Kartini

  One Year Ago…

  I was dancing on my dad’s shoes as if I were still fourteen or younger when, really, I was seventeen going on eighteen. Wow, another year younger, and I’d be in the Sound of Music.

  Sigh.

  My dad was my everything.

  Strong.

  Brave.

  Compassionate.

  Oh, yeah, and he was sort of like a made man, killer, and doctor to the Five Families of Chicago.

  Shrug.

  But I never really saw him as this evil person; I couldn’t. Not with his gentle smile, his fierce protectiveness, and the way he always looked at me like I was his world.

  And every single time, I believed it.

  Because my father may kill the bad guys to keep me safe, he may save the assassins by stitching them up, but one thing my fa
ther was not was a liar.

  “You’re getting too old,” he grumbled, spinning us again as we danced at my cousin’s wedding.

  I loved that even in his early fifties, he looked better than Brad Pitt. People always asked me why my dad was so young. Well, folks, he’s not young. He’s just an Abandonato, through and through.

  I mean, seriously, what did they put in the water? I giggled as I looked around at all my tatted-up uncles, the bosses, the badasses of the Cosa Nostra.

  They were the law.

  And it treated them well.

  Just like aging.

  I sighed as Breaker and Violet came out onto the dance floor. My cousin and her husband were perfect for each other, happy in every way I craved.

  As much as I knew what was expected of me in the Family, I also had this small hope that it wouldn’t just be about killing for blood, protecting, dying one day—that it would be about an actual family.

  Mine.

  I wanted kids.

  Not one.

  Not two.

  I literally wanted a plethora of them—something I was sure would send any sane man screaming into the night. But that was the guy you didn’t want—the screamer. Nah, I wanted the yeller, the one who announced to everyone and everything how much he loved me, how much he loved his kid despite having a continuous trail of ketchup down his designer shirt.

  I wanted the warmth.

  The love.

  What my parents had raised me in.

  And what I’d craved growing up—more siblings, despite all the family I already had.

  With a sigh, I pulled back from my dad as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Are you okay?”

  “Dad…” I shrugged. “Are any of us ever just okay?”

  His eyes darted from left to right, and then he rolled them. “You’re too smart.”

  “I’m your kid.”

  “Yes.” His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened. “You. Are.”

  “Dad—”

  “Don’t Dad me.” He pulled me close again. “Let them all see how much I love my daughter. Let them know how precious you are, how I would move mountains, oceans, skies—you are mine, and one day, you’ll look at someone with those gorgeous blue eyes and see the world. One day, it won’t be me on the other end of that awestruck look you’ve always worn on your face. One day, I will walk you down an aisle, I will give you to another man, and I will feel lost. So fucking lost, Tiny. Because how does a protector? A man? A father? Trust something so precious in the hands of someone who’s not his own?”

  Tears filled my eyes as I smiled up into perfection. The man I would measure everyone against—my daddy. “You can’t, Daddy. That’s why you have the gun and get to pull the trigger if they fail.”

  He barked out a laugh. “That’s my bloodthirsty girl.”

  “Up top.” I held my hand up for a high-five and earned one from Dad before we both burst into laughter.

  “Serg.” The Petrov boss, Andrei, approached in all his golden, godlike beauty—damn, he was fine. “A quick word?”

  “Yup.” Dad leaned down and kissed my forehead again, whispering, “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Please.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m the epitome of perfection.”

  Dad stared.

  And Andrei? He shook his head and murmured, “Girls terrify me.”

  Dad just laughed. “And yet, you have one.”

  Andrei looked heavenward. “My point exactly.”

  His little girl wasn’t so little anymore, but she did just turn sixteen. I imagined the fact that she was driving kept him up at night more than all the kills under his belt.

  “Stay safe,” Dad reminded me, his full lips pressed into a smile. We both knew that out of my younger sister and me, I was as pure as the newly fallen snow—I lived for his approval.

  Gladly.

  And he knew it.

  God, I’d rather die than disappoint him.

  “Promise.” I waved with my fingertips then made my way over to the cash bar. My brown hair was pulled into a loosely braided bun at the base of my neck, and pieces of hair tickled my skin as I attempted to walk across the grass in ridiculously high electric-blue heels.

  One of the first pairs I’d ever purchased with the unlimited credit card that every Abandonato heir was given.

  People stared, but they always did. I was Kartini Abandonato, Tiny to my cousins because of my short stature—and a daddy’s girl through and through.

  But it wasn’t just that.

  It wasn’t like I was vain, not even a little bit. And it wasn’t even that my mom told me on a daily basis how striking I was.

  It was just the knowledge that I’d hit the perfect mixture of both parents’ gene pools and came out from the deep end like a freaking mermaid.

  From the perfect smattering of freckles across my nose.

  To the naturally full lips and high cheekbones. And, of course, the dimples that had every guy—bad and good—falling all over themselves to help me.

  My legs wobbled a bit on the grass, and I immediately had two guys rushing over, both who’d been staring for the past few minutes.

  “Are you okay?” The golden Adonis held my elbow, his smile wide, his teeth straight and perfect.

  “That was a rough fall…” the other said. He had a strong jaw and hair that fell across his forehead in a perfect messy arrangement of jet-black curls.

  I smiled my appreciation. “Thanks, boys, but I’m a big girl.”

  “Yeah, you are,” dark hair said, earning a smack from golden hair.

  I threw back my head and laughed, then whispered, “You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want my attention. And a little bit of advice, when you get my attention, you also get his.” I turned and pointed at my dad, who was at that very moment pulling back his suit jacket to reveal not one but two guns strapped to his chest.

  I nearly did fall when they both released me with excuses.

  “Yeah, I gotta…go…pee,” said dark.

  “Alcohol.” Golden made a beeline for one of the two open bars, nearly tripping over his feet.

  Huh, they were sexy.

  Now, they just looked like scared little boys.

  I grinned and shook my head, then continued making my way toward the bar near the water.

  “It’s rude, you know…” a rich, masculine voice said from behind me.

  I recognized it instantly.

  Recognized him.

  How could I not?

  If there was one man in the entire world that my dad would murder for touching me without even hearing an excuse—it would be Tank. FBI agent, friend of the Families and the government, made man, and all-around conundrum of goodness and virtue.

  I bet he sported red power ties and carried a briefcase when he wasn’t with us.

  I shuddered.

  Hot.

  Why did Tank in a suit sound so freaking hot?

  I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re still alive?”

  “Haha.” He rolled his eyes. “Where’s your babysitter?”

  “I’m looking at him.” I winked.

  He paled instantly.

  “WOW!” I kept laughing. “At least now I know how you feel about me. Keeping watch over me makes you physically ill, memo received.”

  “No. Yes…” He ran a hand through his rich chocolate-and-honey-colored hair. It was thick, I-used-to-be-a-quarterback-in-high-school perfection. “It’s just…I have enough Abandonatos on my ass right now. The last thing I need is one more using me for target practice.”

  “Oh, he has a guy for that.”

  “Pardon?”

  I shrugged. “For live target practice. Just has him run back and forth, back and forth, until he tuckers out. I mean, naturally, Dad would never actually hit him, but it does make it more interesting. I think the worst he got was hit in the leg.” I examined my pink nails. “Nothing but a flesh wound.”

  “Says literally no sane person outside of the mafia.”


  I just repeated what the bosses said on a daily basis. “We’re all of us, a bit insane, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think. I know.”

  For one brief second, I got lost in his eyes, in the way they drank me in and then shuttered as if he were hiding something.

  As if he had something to hide.

  Everyone had vetted him.

  But it didn’t matter, did it?

  He looked nervous. And Tank never looked nervous. Furthermore, he wasn’t a lingerer, especially with me. Was he trying his hand at being a human shield?

  “You headed to the bar?” I started to move as his eyes darted behind me and then around as if he were checking out the perimeter to ensure we were safe when we had hundreds of men on our payroll walking around.

  We were safe.

  “Yup.” He held out his arm. “Now, let me help you walk before you kill yourself or twist an ankle.”

  “Ah, the perfect gentleman.”

  He snorted. “You have no idea.”

  “You’re right…I don’t. None of us really do outside of when you come and train with the rest of the guys or when you’re in class at University. So, what’s your dirty secret, huh? You really an old man in his thirties pretending to be twenty-five?”

  He stumbled a bit.

  “Um, aren’t you supposed to be helping me walk, not the other way around?”

  “The ground’s uneven.” He was a shit liar. “And, no, I’m not some creeper in my thirties. Not that thirties is that old. You’re just that young, you know? Like when you’re in the first grade and suddenly being ten years old is an adult.”

  “Oh, I’ve always been one of those.”

  “A first-grader?”

  “An adult.” I winked.

  His laugh was rich and amused. “Says the girl who’s having trouble walking in heels.”

  “But the ground’s uneven…” I licked my lips. “Right?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re terrifying.”

  “You’re like the second old man to tell me that today.”

  “I’m not an old man!” He raised his voice a bit.

  I studied his sculpted biceps and massive body, the way his face had darkened with a hint of five o’clock shadow that always made itself known later in the day and sighed. “Sure, whatever you say.”