by B. B. Hamel
Falling for the Killer
A Possessive Mafia Romance
BB Hamel
Contents
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1. Ash
2. Gian
3. Ash
4. Gian
5. Ash
6. Gian
7. Ash
8. Gian
9. Ash
10. Gian
11. Ash
12. Gian
13. Ash
14. Gian
15. Ash
16. Gian
17. Ash
18. Gian
19. Ash
20. Gian
21. Ash
22. Ash
Also by BB Hamel
Untitled
Copyright © 2021 by B. B. Hamel
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1
Ash
“Ashleigh Brooke Adamson, you will mind your manners or—”
“You’ll mind them for me,” I said, rolling my eyes with a smile. “I know, I know. You’re going to have to come up with a new threat.”
Mother gave me an intense frown and ignored my laughter. She looked out the window of the town car and kept her back perfectly straight.
Evie Adamson, my mother, my second-least-favorite person in the world, was born into wealth and breeding and luxury and loved every moment of it. I guess I wasn’t so different—my family was filthy rich and part of the Main Line dynasty of aristocratic Philadelphia, but while I always pushed up against the boundaries of what was expected of me, my mother accepted and embodied it.
“You know how important this is for your father,” mother said, staring out the window.
It was always about what was good for father and the fund. Adamson Associates was my family’s investment shop and the source for our wealth. My life was built around ensuring that the fund did well and that I did nothing to embarrass my family in high society.
So far, I’d been good. I went to the right schools, made the right friends, went to the best college money could buy only to come home and find out that I would not be working, but would instead get married as soon as possible.
That was two weeks ago, and I was still reeling from the news.
“I’ll do my best,” I said, smile dying down. “Will Stuart be there?”
Mother nodded. Her large, dangling diamonds jingled with her movements. She wore a tasteful dark blue dress and her blonde hair was piled up on her head. She must’ve been a beauty years ago, and she still clutched to youth with the tenacity of a woman that defined herself by her image.
“Of course,” she said. “The whole Plight family will be there. I expect you’ll be polite.”
I didn’t answer, only pursed my lips and looked away as the town car parked outside of the Four Seasons in downtown Philadelphia.
Stuart Plight was a total dick. I knew him from high school, even though I went to an all-girls private school, we still mingled with the boy prep schools in the area. He was the captain of the lacrosse team, which says so much about his personality, and I hated him even back then.
Unfortunately, the Plight family was rich as all hell, and my father wanted to set himself up for a comfortable business arrangement with them. I was informed that I would marry Stuart, whether I liked it or not, for the good of the family.
I told my father he could go to hell. There was a lot of screaming. But eventually, I was informed that I would be kicked out of the family, that my inheritance and trust fund would be revoked, and that I could kiss my own ass goodbye.
So I fell in line, like I always did, because that was expected of me.
Because since the moment I was born, my parents drilled into me every day and every night that the Adamson family was more important than any one person, that our money and our power came before our own happiness, and that we were expected to do whatever we could to increase the family’s status.
As much as I despised it all, I didn’t know any other way to live.
“Come, Ashleigh,” mother said as she climbed out of the car. “Let’s get this over with.” She sounded almost as tired as I felt.
The ballroom in the Four Seasons was magnificent. I didn’t know what event was happening, but simply did what was expected and dressed appropriately. I had on a dress similar to my mother’s, wore tasteful diamond studs in each ear, had on a very simple gold necklace, wore uncomfortable heels, and smiled like an idiot. Mother navigated through the crowd like a shark in the ocean, shaking hands, waving to other socialite women, kissing cheeks and laughing like she cared about the gossip and the niceties. I followed her around like a lapdog, because the thought of doing this alone made me want to scream.
“Hello, Ash.” I turned and saw Stuart standing behind me with a drink in each hand. He was tall, square jaw, perfectly groomed chestnut hair, light blue eyes, and straight, perfectly white teeth. His suit was expensive, and he looked like the kind of guy that killed homeless people for fun. “Want a glass of wine?”
He thrust it at me and I took it, since I’d rather chug down some roofie swill than have to deal with him consciously.
“I guess your family dragged you here too,” I said, crossing one arm under my opposite elbow and held my drink up next to my face where I could easily access it.
“Oh, of course,” Stuart said. “Uncle Barry only retires from the Federal Reserve once, you know.” He grinned, teeth gleaming, and I remembered what we were doing here: his rich, well-connected uncle’s retirement party.
“To Uncle Barry then,” I said, holding up my drink, and knocked it back in several big gulps.
Stuart’s smile never left his face. “Looks like you haven’t changed at all, Ash,” he said. “So tell me, did you parents have the talk with you?”
I grimaced slightly. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since my parents informed me of our future nuptials, and I really, really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. I still hadn’t processed everything.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, frowning at him.
“Ah, come on,” he said, his grin growing across his glue-colored skin as he came closer. “I know your parents told you about us getting married. I said to my father that would be suitable for me, you know, since you’ve got such a fantastic body. But seriously, Ash, we’ll have to work on that shitty attitude.”
He loomed over me, leering big, inches away. I clenched my jaw and tilted my chin up toward him. “If you don’t take a step back, I’ll show you my shitty attitude all over your fucking balls,” I said.
He laughed and shook his head. “Come now, Ash. We’re going to get married. There’ll be plenty of time to play with my balls after the wedding. Besides, I’m not interested in tasting you before then. I don’t want you spoiled.”
“You asshole,” I said, and pressed my free hand against his chest, but he snatched it, grabbing my wrist hard. His face never changed, that smile still plastered over his ugly, swollen red lips. He gripped hard, and I gasped in surprise and pain.
“I see your father hasn’t made you understand yet,” Stuart said, coming closer to hide the way he
dug his fingers into my wrist bone. I looked around wildly, but the groups of old rich men and women weren’t paying much attention, and even if they did, nobody would come and help. Stuart’s family was too important, and everyone must’ve known that we were to be married soon. In this world, that meant I was more or less his property.
“Let me go,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You will accept our marriage,” Stuart said. “Your father’s hedge fund and my family’s connections can do some marvelous things. But first, you will accept it.”
“Let me go, you pompous piece of rat shit.”
He leaned in, as if to kiss me. “Come now, Ash. We can have some fun together.”
I felt another figure loom up next to us. “Can I help you two?” It was a man’s voice, deep and resonant.
Stuart released his grip, but didn’t move away. I hid my hurt wrist under my other arm and looked over—
And felt my breath catch.
He was tall, bigger than Stuart. His suit wasn’t quite so expensive, but it fit him perfectly. His hair was jet black and pushed stylishly back, though still messy, like he couldn’t be bothered to make it just right. His eyes were a deep brown, and dark stubble covered his jaw and cheeks, accentuating his sensual lips. His eyebrows were knit down in anger, and he stared at Stuart like he wanted to break Stuart’s kneecaps.
“We’re having a conversation,” Stuart said, glancing at the stranger. “And you’re not a part of it. So, if you please—”
“I’ll walk away,” the stranger said, “if she wants me to.” Then he looked at me, and I felt my breath catch.
There was a long pause. The stranger stared, and Stuart didn’t move. It was like the world hung in the balance, like I held the ocean up on my shoulders. The stranger’s eyes were like heaven, or maybe like hell, but either way I wanted to get closer to them. He was so different from the men I was used to, so different from baby-faced Stuart. This man had an edge to him that sent a thrill through my chest.
“You can stay,” I said, and my voice sounded small.
Stuart let out a disgusted noise and stepped away. “I’ll have you know that you’re interrupting something important here,” Stuart said, glaring at the man. “Do you know who I am?”
“No,” he said. “And I don’t much care. Why don’t you go get us all a drink?”
Stuart gaped and I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh. The stranger took my empty wine glass and waved it at Stuart. “Go on, kid,” he said. “The lady’s dry. Help her out.”
Stuart’s eyes blazed with rage and for one moment, I thought he might step up to this guy and make a scene. But of course he was too polite and well-mannered for that. A well-bred boy like Stuart didn’t fight or fuss in public. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away.
The man watched him go, then turned to me. “You okay?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I thought you looked like he was hurting you.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “That was just my—” I stopped, not sure how to explain that I was being sold to that asshole because he had a good family name. “Just some guy,” I finished.
The stranger grinned. “Well, all right. My name’s Gian.”
“Ash,” I said.
He took my hand and shook it gently, then looked at my wrist. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” I pulled my hand away.
He shrugged and looked around. “You come to this sort of function a lot?” he asked, then looked at me and a handsome, lopsided smile spread across his lips. “Looks like you do.”
I blushed a little, not totally sure what he meant. “Sometimes,” I said. “My parents drag me along. How do you know Barry Plight?”
Gian shook his head. “I don’t. My employer does, though, and he brought me along.”
“Lucky you.” I tilted my head toward him. “Do you work in one of the hedge funds?”
He laughed like I said the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. “Not exactly,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, getting a little annoyed. I was happy he showed up and extricated me from Stuart’s grip, but I didn’t need him to be a condescending asshole to me now, too. I could go find Stuart if I wanted that.
“I’m in finance,” he said. “In a way. But I don’t work for a hedge fund.” He frowned slightly toward the bar against the far wall. “Looks like our boy’s not coming back. Let’s go get a drink.”
I opened my mouth to politely decline but he already walked off. I watched him go, then looked around for my mother, or my father or brother, but didn’t see anyone I knew. I could go looking for them, but the thought of listening to my mother make horrible small talk all night, or hearing my father drone on about business made me want to be sick.
Besides, Gian was the most interesting person I’d met in a long time, and he scared the crap out of Stuart. For that, I was grateful. And one drink wouldn’t matter.
I joined him at the far end of the bar. We were tucked away in a little corner, behind a stack of cups and olives. The bartender brought him a whiskey and another glass of wine for me, and he did a little cheers.
“So what’s the deal with you and that guy?” Gian asked.
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“Is he usually such an asshole?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling. “Fortunately I haven’t dealt with him much.” And my smile slowly faded when I remembered that would change very soon.
“What’s going on there then?” Gian asked.
“You ask a lot of questions,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “It’s not polite, you know.”
“I’m not a very polite man,” Gian said, shrugging. He sipped his drink and watched me, his eyes on mine, his entire attention drilled down and hyper-focused on me. It was strange and intoxicating. I’m used to men in a certain social sphere that don’t give a damn about women, and are mostly waiting for them to stop talking so they can make some aggressive sexual move, or so they can go on about Bitcoin or cryptocurrency or whatever.
Gian seemed genuinely interested, and I figured I’d never see him again, so I told him the truth about my family and about my weird engagement to Stuart. When I finished, he stroked his chin and leaned back against the wall behind him.
“I’ve heard of things like that before,” he said. “Marriages between families. You don’t seem excited about it though.”
“Stuart’s not my type,” I admitted.
“What is your type then?” he asked with a little smirk.
I blushed and stared down at my wine. It was shockingly half gone. I felt the urge to say, you are, but swallowed that down. Instead, I only shook my head.
He laughed at my reaction. “Lighten up,” he said. “I’m only teasing. Look, if you don’t want to marry the guy, there’s got to be a way out, right?”
“You don’t understand,” I said, trying my best to smile. “The family comes first.”
“I do understand,” he said, eyes blazing again. “Better than you’d think. But if the family were worth that kind of devotion, they’d never force you into something.”
I shrugged a little and ran my finger around the rim of the glass. He was right, of course—if my family were decent people and worth my undying loyalty, they’d never make me marry Stuart to begin with. But unfortunately, they were a bunch of selfish bastards, and I was expected to do the right thing whether I liked it or not.
And I knew I would. As much as I’d fight and complain and make comments, in the end I’d fall in line and marry Stuart. Maybe I was a coward, or maybe I just loved my family, or maybe something in between. I didn’t know for sure, but I was born with this and I knew I’d never escape it.
“Let’s get out of here,” Gian said suddenly.
I blinked at him then shook my head. “I can’t do that,” I said. “My parents are both here and I’m supposed to make an appearance. I think they want to tell people about this thing with Stuart and—”
He
shook his head and leaned closer to me, and I stopped talking when I smelled his cologne, musky and subtle. “You’ll have your whole life to do whatever the fuck your family says,” he whispered, and moved nearer, his lips brushing past my cheek. I sat frozen, unable to do much more than blink and breathe as my heart felt like it might burst up my throat. “Let’s get out of here for a little while. Live while you can.”
I reached up and put my hand on his chest to push him away, like I had with Stuart. Instead of shoving, I left my palm against his muscles. He didn’t try to grab my wrist, and I didn’t pull away.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was my anger toward Stuart. Or maybe it was the whole situation, my entire life prescribed and planned and scheduled down to every single little detail including the man that I’d marry. I could see it already: how many children I’d have, what I’d name them, their schools, their friends, my future. It was already written for me, and all I had to do was keep moving forward, and it would all come true. I’d barely live, and then I’d die.
Maybe it was that this might be my last chance for freedom before I gave in and did what my family wanted.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
He pulled away, smiling, and offered me his hand. There was a question in his eye, like it was up to me, like he wouldn’t force this. I reached out and his rough, callused fingers closed around mine, and he pulled me from the bar.
I floated like in a dream. I didn’t care who saw me slip through a side door with this total stranger. He took me down a back hall, past waiters and waitresses in black shirts and pants, some typing on their phones, all of them ignoring us. We reached an elevator and took it up, and I stood close to him, and when he tipped my chin closer to kiss me, I didn’t pull away.
