Mafia King: A Mafia Royals Novella

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Ash?”

  “Are you shitting me right now?”

  I groaned. “Yes, because I just love interrupting sexy times with my two friends just so I can shit with you. Look, I’ll tell you later why, just know that, right now, my last job before I join this little funhouse you guys call a Family is to find something out. And the only way I can do that is to get closer to her. And, right now, she looks ready to impale me with all ten fingernails.”

  “Dangerous game, bro.” Ash sighed. “Fine, give us five minutes, then get your ass over here.”

  I whistled. “Only five? Ash, I’m fucking disappointed.”

  “Ha!” I could almost see him flipping me off. “Trust me, she won’t be. I can’t help it if I please her so fast, she sees stars before I’m even ready to—”

  “Yup, yup, good talk. Gotta go.”

  I hung up to his laughter.

  And most likely her moans.

  I shuddered and then checked my watch.

  Five minutes.

  And I was going to her cousin for intel.

  And telling him the whole story of why I needed her.

  But leaving out the part where I actually admitted that I never stopped wanting her for the last year.

  With every stolen look.

  Every fight.

  Every scowl.

  I’d wanted her.

  I’d just have to shove that want deep down and do my job so I could get out of the FBI alive.

  And into the Family—my family. For good.

  I mean, how hard could it be?

  “Hey, ass face,” Kartini called. “Our tequila here yet?”

  I groaned and fell face-first onto the couch, only to feel a slap against my ass, then another as she sat on me and sighed. “Why are they so slow?”

  “Ask God.” I moaned into a pillow.

  And nearly groaned when her hand found my ass again, this time to squeeze.

  Maybe seduction wouldn’t be so hard, after all.

  On her.

  But for me?

  That was another matter entirely.

  Chapter Six

  Kartini

  I expected to get drunk, listen to music on the beach, and maybe have a one-night stand.

  Instead, I was trying not to stare at Tank while he did pushups two hours later in the living room and nearly died when a bead of sweat ran down the middle of his back and into his dark Nike shorts.

  His muscles had muscles. He was every girl’s fantasy wrapped up in one sexually pent-up package.

  I may have licked my lips when he groaned and flipped onto his back for situps—damn those abs. Damn them to hell because…just…damn.

  I reached for him like an idiot, my fingertips flinching at my sides as if they needed something to hold onto, and that something was all eight abs.

  Then berated myself for being tempted.

  He hadn’t come to save me.

  He came to watch over me.

  To keep me safe.

  “Too late,” I wanted to say. Even though I knew it wasn’t his fault, I had to blame someone.

  And I blamed him.

  I blamed him as much as I wanted him.

  It was a serious problem.

  I stared at the shot glass in my hand and then tossed it back. “When’s dinner?”

  “Am I your chef now, too?” he grunted from the floor.

  I gulped, swallowing against a very dry throat. “No, G.I Joe…” I had to look away again. “I mean, when’s Family dinner? We always do Family dinner the first night.”

  He jumped to his feet and grabbed a towel. “Looks like most everyone is getting room service.”

  My heart dropped.

  Why was I being like this?

  I’d been excited for Cabo because the last time I’d been here had been right before the wedding. Things had felt normal, perfect.

  I’d been normal.

  Perfect.

  And I’d thought…I just thought that maybe it would be healing.

  And now, I was sad.

  A bit heartbroken.

  Oh, I knew if I called my dad, he’d be here in a heartbeat. But I also knew he and Mom needed a break, and I was a grown-ass adult.

  Who, apparently, still needed way too many hugs and too much attention.

  I didn’t hear Tank’s approach until he grabbed the phone next to the lamp right where I was sitting and picked it up. “Yes, reservations for dinner in thirty minutes…” His eyes met mine. “Italian sounds good. Yes, for two. Thanks.”

  He hung up.

  And I stared like a woman completely lost.

  And maybe halfway unhinged.

  “We can just have room service,” I blurted.

  His smile was lethal, too pretty to be real as he leaned in and whispered, “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

  I couldn’t breathe. “Y-you’re being tolerable. It’s terrifying. Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Tank—”

  “Can’t you just say ‘thank you’ and drop it?”

  “Absolutely not,” I blurted.

  He groaned and ran both hands through his hair in what I could only assume was frustration. “Because you sounded sad, and it fucks with me when you sound sad, okay? Happy?” He threw the towel against the floor and then picked it up, mumbling, “Wear underwear.”

  I gulped.

  Because I didn’t have any thanks to my insanely horrible idea back when he’d pissed me off for the millionth time in Chicago.

  And he’d think I was doing it to annoy him.

  I’d just have to lie.

  Knowing that he would be wondering if I listened the entire time.

  My body shivered.

  This was either a really bad idea or the best I’d ever had.

  Dinner alone with a guy I’d wanted, then hated, only to want him again and need to hate so I felt better about myself.

  The enemy.

  An FBI agent, for crying out loud.

  My friggin’ bodyguard!

  I mean, why did I need protection in the first place?

  Then again, I had been rebelling a lot lately. But I just…wanted to feel—something, anything!

  Tank poked his head back around the corner. “Wear white.”

  “H-huh?” I jumped in my seat. “Why?”

  His eyes locked on mine. “Because you look really pretty in white, and because I said so.”

  I stuck out my tongue.

  “Do it again. I dare you.” He growled, eyes flashing toward my mouth as his nostrils flared as if he could smell my lust—feel my need crackling through the night air.

  My stomach fluttered. Normally, I would have taunted him. This time, I decided he looked too predatory.

  So, I just gulped and said, “You’re lucky I brought a white dress.”

  “You’re lucky you get to keep it on,” he said before disappearing, leaving my mouth gaping open and my cheeks hot.

  What in the ever-loving hell was going on?

  And why did I like it so much?

  Was he finally noticing me?

  Or was this a game?

  An angle?

  Trust no one but Family.

  But he was half-De Lange.

  So, technically, family within the Five Families, though not related to me.

  Could I trust him, though? Really trust him?

  My dad had assigned him to me.

  Repeatedly.

  But he’d never once crossed that line.

  Which begged the question…

  Why now?

  * * * *

  “This is nice.” My voice was low as Tank helped me into my chair. A bottle of champagne was already opened and waiting for us when we got there.

  And we had the entire restaurant to ourselves.

  If I were a romantic, I’d say it was a date.

  But we owned the place. Ergo, it was empty because we paid for it to be that way, and it wasn’t Tank who’d done it.

  “Champagne?” our
waiter asked.

  “Yes, please.” I held up my flute.

  He poured some into both of our glasses then introduced himself. “I’m Marco. I’ll be your server the entire night. Please take your time looking over the menu and drop your red napkin to the floor when you’re in need of me.”

  That was new.

  And this could get fun very fast.

  I grinned. “Perfect.”

  Tank gave me a warning stare across his menu and mouthed my name as if to scold me before I even did anything!

  Marco turned.

  I grabbed my napkin.

  Then Tank grabbed my wrist. “Behave.”

  “I was going to put it on my lap.”

  “Bullshit”—he laughed—“you were going to drop it about a million times so poor Marco got his cardio in for the year.”

  I sucked my lower lip. “Am I that transparent? Damn.”

  “No.” His smile was deadly. “I just know you too well…remember? The old man who follows you around, that you use as a human shield?”

  “Aw, you’d die for me?” I teased.

  He sobered. “Without a second thought.”

  Had I been holding my fork, it would have clattered against my plate only to tumble to the floor. “Because I’m your job, right? Because my dad would kill you for not protecting me?”

  Please say, “no.”

  Please say it’s because you couldn’t live with yourself.

  Who was I kidding? He barely tolerated me.

  “I don’t like that look,” Tank whispered.

  “Huh? What?” I forced a smile.

  “The one you just wore that looked defeated, sad. I hate it. I’ve only ever seen it a handful of times because I’m pretty sure you practice your perfect smiles so nobody sees beneath whatever you’re trying to hide, but I see it. I see you.” My breath hitched. My heart pounded against my chest. “And I don’t like that look.” He paused and leaned forward, his muscled forearms resting against the white tablecloth, his tanned skin glowing in the candlelight. “And I’d die for you, yes, because you’re my job.” I deflated immediately. “But also because this world would be a very sad place without Satan’s mistress in it.”

  I choked on my laugh. “Nice.”

  “I thought so.” He winked. “At least, you’re smiling again.”

  I swallowed back the feminine squeak threatening to burst from my lips and said, “I smile.”

  “Sometimes,” he said cryptically, his lips pressed into a knowing smile that had me shifting in my chair. “So…” He pulled up the large, red menu again. “Do you know what you want?”

  “Hamburger,” I said without even looking at the menu. “And fries. All the fries. Extra pickles. And I’d probably choke you for a taco.”

  He shot me a stunned expression. “You’re in a super-expensive Italian restaurant, and you’re thinking about choking me for a taco? Who are you?”

  I beamed. “Expensive restaurants never give enough food. I’ll order lasagna and end up eating seven plates of it before I’m full. But when you order American food at an Italian restaurant, it’s almost like they remember how big we like our serving sizes.”

  He started to laugh. It was gorgeous on him. He was gorgeous. Focus, Kartini, focus. “I oddly get that.” My fingers itched to grab the napkin and drop it. After a few seconds, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, drop the damn napkin.”

  “YAY!” I grabbed it and threw it onto the floor with glee. Best part of my night so far; well, that and the small dimple on the right side of Tank’s cheek.

  Why did he have to be so damn sexy?

  Why did his hair have to have this natural wave to it that looked too perfect to be real?

  Marcus came power-walking over. “Have you decided?”

  “More champagne.” I grinned. “And I’d like a burger, fries, and the calamari.”

  “With a stroke on the side,” Tank added, grinning up at me. “Actually, I’ll have the same thing, but can we get a cannoli, too?”

  Marcus wrote it all down. “Great choices.”

  When he left, Tank leaned in. “If I end up in the hospital with a stomachache and an inability to digest, I blame you.”

  “Aww, poor baby, just hydrate. You’ll be fine.” I winked. “Besides, the alcohol will help digestion. It’s science.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Um, no, actually it’s not. But it’s cute that you think so.”

  “I’m cute.” I winked.

  He choked on his sip of champagne. “Maybe cute’s too tame of a word.”

  “Feisty?”

  He tapped his glass against mine. “Better.”

  We ate and talked the entire time.

  I couldn’t remember having a better dinner.

  And it helped me forget.

  He helped me forget.

  Like he knew I needed to get out of the hotel room, needed to feel normal even though he had no clue why I didn’t.

  We were both a little tipsy as we walked back to the suite, and I loved that every time I stumbled into him, his arm moved a little bit more around me, keeping me close to him—keeping me safe.

  I gave him a sloppy shrug once we were close to the shore and our room, then yelled, “Tag, you’re it!”

  Adrenaline propelled me toward the water.

  And the need for someone to chase me—to catch me—sobered me up.

  He stumbled across the sand in an effort to grab me as I peeled my cocktail dress over my naked body and went diving into the ocean. The warm waves had covered me by the time he chased after me, already pulling his shirt over his massive chest and gorgeous, lickable eight-pack.

  “Wanna swim?” I called as normally as I could when staring at male perfection and that gorgeous body.

  “Like I have a choice!” he yelled right back, throwing his shoes into the sand and shrugging out of his pants with jerky movements that had me hypnotized.

  I told myself I wouldn’t look.

  But the champagne said it was an excellent idea as he dropped his briefs and gave me a scalding smirk that basically said: “Look your fill.”

  And I was rewarded because, apparently, every inch of him was huge.

  And there were a lot of…inches.

  I licked my salty lips and waited for him to dive in.

  I wondered how he tasted.

  I wondered if he’d push me away or let me sink my mouth onto him with wild abandon.

  And then I wondered how tipsy I really was for even thinking about asking him if I could put my mouth on every hot inch of his body.

  “See, aren’t you so happy you agreed to skinny-dip?” I grinned once he broke the surface in typical Tank fashion—with a gorgeous scowl on his lips and intense eye contact that made me want to flick him on the nose and dive back under the water.

  God, his stares were punishing.

  Punish. Me.

  My body pounded.

  My pulse raced.

  I ached.

  He jerked me against him. “Sometimes, I think you have a death wish.” His green eyes flashed. “We’re both way beyond buzzed, in an ocean, with predators—”

  “Meh, I only see one predator.”

  Another wave crashed, sending me into his naked arms.

  He was so big.

  So warm.

  I shivered and then wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the steely rod of his length pressed against me.

  His eyes briefly closed as his jaw flexed. “You trying to get me killed?”

  “Oh, please, my dad can’t shoot this far in the dark.”

  “Yes, let’s test that theory,” he ground out.

  “Well, your ass was pretty white.” I nodded. “And your dick, well, I was a lady and didn’t look but—”

  “Bullshit.” He laughed. “You were the opposite of good eye contact, more like, oh look, a penis, let’s stare at it and see if it grows.”

  “Well, I mean…water makes everything grow…right?” I countered.

  “No
t cold water.” His smile was everything I craved, everything that made me forget that I was sad, a bit lost, and broken. His smile, just like tonight, was magic.

  “Didn’t seem to matter to me.” I shrugged, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  Our foreheads touched. “You hate me,” he whispered.

  “Hate is such a strong word,” I said flippantly as our bodies rubbed together.

  Another groan escaped his lips as the water lapped around our shoulders.

  And then all chaos broke out as cousins came running toward the shore, stripping and jumping in.

  Ash protectively shoved Annie behind him as she undressed, and then he carried her in.

  Everyone else didn’t give a shit.

  Which I kind of loved.

  “We heard yelling!” Serena laughed, splashing in. “And then we saw two naked-ass bodies.”

  “Guilty!” I called back. “He goes where I go. I get naked; he has no choice.”

  “Yes.” King nodded his head. “Sounds like a good job if naked equals naked.”

  Tank barked out a laugh. “Yes, well, in her case, naked could also equal death so…”

  “Risk-taker.” King grinned knowingly. “I like your style.”

  Tank slowly released me as the ocean became crowded with my cousins, with my friends, family. I loved that they were there.

  Including us.

  Me.

  But I was upset that whatever had just transpired between us was gone as Tank moved over to Ash and started shoving him under the water.

  Annie watched with a wistful smile on her face. I swam over to her and laughed when Ash threatened to kill Tank only for Tank to shove him back down.

  “Boys,” I said.

  “Men,” she countered. “Or have you not noticed?”

  “My cousin? Hell, no. I mean…he’s pretty, everyone knows that, but I don’t look at his pee-pee.”

  Annie giggled as water lapped around her pale skin. “I would hope not.”

  “Pretty sure it’s illegal.”

  “Not in Kentucky.” Maksim floated right on by on his back, dick in the air.

  “EWWWW, MAKSIM!” I kicked his ass while Annie covered her face with one hand.

  He just chuckled darkly and started singing row, row, row your boat, gently across the stream, life is but a penis dream…

  “Something’s wrong with him,” I muttered.

  I was about to shove him under the water when Izzy beat me to it. He gulped ocean water and then down he went.