Bound to the Mafia (Bound to the Bad Boy Book 2)

by Alexis Abbott

  Adrenaline surges through my body as my bullets make sparks on the unit, and I realize Serena has rolled away from me, blade flashing.

  “Serena!” I shout, but she’s already rushing toward the bartender, who looks just as surprised as I am. But I don’t have time to watch their fight: a bullet whizzes by my ear as Price blind-fires.

  Gritting my teeth, I fire twice more at the unit he’s hiding behind, and as I fire, I barrel toward it. Faster than I knew I could move, I leap up on top of the unit and fire down toward where he is, and I see his crouching form turn with wide, white eyes in surprise. He tries to raise his weapon to me, but I descend on him so fast that when he fires, his wrist is already on the ground under my hand, and the bullet ricochets off the sign.

  I have him nearly pinned, and I bring my head down to his nose to disorient him. He grunts in pain as I make contact, but he lands a hard blow to my side where I was already bleeding from the gunshot wound, and I’m forced to release him.

  He staggers to his feet, but I’m back up the next second. He squares up with me, fists raised, and we trade blows like boxers. Our guns have fallen to the side, and I don’t think either of us notice until we’re already swinging at each other, our hatred runs so deep. He lands a blow on my jaw, and it’s got more force behind it than I knew he had in him, but soon I have the chance to move in close and grapple him.

  I bring him down to the ground with all my weight, and as I wrestle him, I catch sight of Serena fighting with the bartender.

  I can’t avoid watching her for a moment, my heart leaping into my throat as I see him lunge, his brutish moves careless, but I swell with pride at the sight of Serena handling herself perfectly: she moves as nimbly as if we’d been training just yesterday, and I watch her dodge the heavy swing of the lead pipe and move up close to the bartender, grabbing him by the wrist with one hand before she brings her knife up under his arm.

  At the same time I hear the blade go into his flesh and hear him scream, Price lands a solid punch across my face, then grabs it, trying to get his thumbs up to my eyes.

  I roll with him, putting my knee to his stomach and wrenching him hard, and we’re deadlocked, our pressure points putting each other in intense pain.

  “I... I was there, you know,” he snarls as we struggle, “at the shooting. I saw the whites in the old man’s eyes when the bullets flew into his house.”

  I start to turn him around and wrench his arm behind him, but the knees me in the stomach and rolls away, and we’re on our feet again, both breathing heavily. There’s a wild look in his eyes as he gets ready for me again, and he wipes away a little blood from his lip.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, “when you’re dead, I’ll make sure Serena isn’t lonely this time.”

  It’s then that I notice he’s standing beside one of our guns, and he dives for it. I start to run forward, but as his fingers wrap around it and he lifts the weapon…

  ... There’s a solid whump as Serena swings the lead pipe across the side of his head, and Price falls to the ground, clutching his head as his mouth is fixed in a silent scream.

  “Bruno!” Serena calls as she tosses me the pipe, and I catch it solidly as I stride forward, flashing a smile at her, the bartender dying behind her.

  “The gang fight isn’t a bad cover,” I say as I loom over him, knuckles white as his reddened eyes glare up at me, still dazed. “I think it’ll do for you.” I lift the pipe above my head and take aim.

  “Say hello to Lorenzo for me.”

  I swing down.

  SERENA

  “Serena!” rings out a clear, excited voice from down the hallway. Rafaela comes rushing toward me to give me a hug. Bruno steps aside for a moment to let us reunite, watching with an amused smile. Rafaela looks at me with her big brown eyes twinkling and her cheeks flushed and I can tell she’s already a couple drinks in. “I heard about what happened. Holy crap, chica, that’s some seriously fucked-up shit.”

  She then turns to Bruno and gives him a hug, too, surprising both of us. Rafaela is a huggy person, but she’s usually a little more reserved than this. I laugh at the shock on Bruno’s face as he hesitantly pats her on the back. Raf looks up at him and says very gravely, “I can’t thank you enough for keeping Serena safe. That’s my best friend, you know. If anything happened to her I would fall apart.”

  “As long as I’m around, nothing will happen to her. I promise you that,” Bruno replies warmly. Rafaela nods and turns back to hook her arm through mine.

  “How many drinks have you had tonight?” I ask her, stifling a snort. She flips her hair over her shoulder, trying her best to look offended, but she’s still smiling.

  “Not enough. Vámonos! We’re celebrating tonight and you two are the guests of honor!” she declares, leading the way down the corridor.

  We’re on the top floor of a swanky corporate tower, one of the buildings I used to marvel at as a teenager, thinking that one day I was going to be a super-powered businesswoman in a pencil skirt, heels, and a white button-up starched and ironed by my home staff. It seems like a million lifetimes ago that I nursed that dream, and it couldn’t be further away from what I dream about now. I used to long for fortune, notoriety, all the typical status symbols my parents taught me to lust after: fancy high-rise apartment, designer wardrobe, expensive car, maybe even a yacht. But now I just want the simple things: peace, freedom, stability, and most of all, love.

  My heart flutters as I look over and lock eyes with Bruno. He gives me a fond smile, warming the hard features of his handsome face as soon as he looks my way. I reach out and take his hand even as Rafaela leads me by the other arm. In a way, this is the best I could ever ask for. Walking side by side with my man and my best friend.

  “So, who owns this building? I mean, this seems like an unlikely choice for this kind of crowd,” I ask curiously. Bruno chuckles.

  “You would be surprised how far the strong arms of the Costa family reach. The top three floors of the building belong to a shell corporation. A front. Don’t get me wrong, they do regular business, as well. Trades, marketing, all that. But it’s also a Costa headquarters, owned by one of the highest-ranking guys in the family,” Bruno explains.

  “Ah,” I say, nodding. “Big-wig type. Should I be worried about meeting him? I mean, with my dad’s history and everything?”

  Rafaela interjects, “Everyone there is so friendly! Those people know how to party. They got hors d’oeuvres, champagne, an open bar, good music—”

  “Don’t worry. The Costa family will welcome you back just as quickly as they’ll ostracize you. They’re a mercurial bunch, but for now, things should be settled smoothly. Besides, you were never really to blame for your father’s actions. These people can hold a grudge like no other, but even they have to admit at some point that you weren’t involved. You were taken advantage of and duped just like they were. I mean, you were still a kid,” Bruno explains reassuringly.

  “I hope so. The idea of walking into a room full of dangerous people who despise me is enough to make me wanna turn around and run back down to the car,” I lament. Rafaela gives my arm an encouraging squeeze.

  “If it helps, remember that you were also the one to assist in the disposal of Officer Price. He was one of the Costa family’s most hated enemies. And the mafia tends to follow the rule that the enemy of their enemy is their friend,” Bruno adds.

  Sighing, I straighten up and prepare myself to walk into the room. We walk up to a set of double doors at the end of the corridor and Rafaela goes in ahead of us, cheering excitedly. Bruno kisses the top of my head.

  “Everything will be alright. These people are happy to see you. I promise,” he whispers.

  I nod and force myself to smile. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  We open the door and step into the spacious, airy room amid the cheers of a big crowd of well-dressed people holding champagne flutes. They all look genuinely overjoyed at the sight of us, and Bruno raises our arms up together in a gestu
re of victory, making them all cheer louder.

  “Welcome, friends!” calls a pot-bellied man at the front of the crowd. He has thick dark hair, a bristly mustache, and he’s wearing an expertly-tailored suit.

  “Come in, come in! Get yourselves a drink!” says another man.

  “Join the party!” says another. Bruno looks at me grinning.

  “Well, you heard them. Let’s hit the open bar,” he suggests. My stomach turns at the mere thought of a drink, but I follow him to the bar counter anyway, and order a ginger ale.

  “Bruno! Mio amico!” booms a deep voice from behind us. We both turn around to see a huge bear of a man stride up to us and pull Bruno into a manly embrace. With a heavy accent he says, “You look good, fratello. And is this is the girl who helped you take down that bastardo, Price? She’s a beauty! Well done!”

  “Oh, thank you,” I laugh nervously, but then the man hugs me, too, before heading off down the bar to mingle with some other people. Bruno shrugs, looking amused.

  “I knew him as a teenager back in Italy,” he explains quietly. “Some of these guys I have not seen in a very long time. But mafia family is tight. They make it their business to recognize their fellow man.”

  “And what about you? I thought you had one foot out the door?” I ask, whispering.

  Bruno takes a long sip of his drink. “We’ll play it by ear. Tonight, as far as anyone knows, nothing is amiss. Let’s keep it that way. Besides, tonight we really should be celebrating. Are you sure you don’t want something a little more… festive than ginger ale?”

  I laugh. “Yes, I’m sure. Just, uh, not feeling very well. But I’m fine.”

  “Okay. We have a lot to celebrate tonight, mia passerotta. Let’s join the party. Take my hand. It’ll all be fine, just follow my lead,” he says, kissing my hand before he leads me back into the fray so we can mingle with everyone else. Every single person we encounter seems over the moon to talk to us, everyone congratulating and thanking us for what we’ve done. I’m still feeling just a tad bit conflicted over my involvement in such a dirty mess, but it’s a little easier to feel better about it when every single person in the room is thankful for it.

  And we do have a lot to be thankful for. We’re both alive and well, for one thing, and Price is not. That man can no longer terrorize the people of this city, mafia or civilian. I keep reminding myself that taking out Price is probably an example of extinguishing one life in order to save countless lives. Room With a View is almost completely rebuilt by now, using the money from the jewel heist, and the grand re-opening is scheduled for next week. Rafaela and Nico are safe and sound, and they seem happier than ever. With Price out of the way, the cops have released their chokehold on Bathing Beauty, and I’ve scheduled its re-opening the same day as Rafaela’s so we can have a combined celebratory drink that night. I just have to get some of the accounts back into order after falling into disrepair for so many weeks, and I need to re-hire my former employees.

  My mom has met and started dating some mystery guy she hasn’t let me meet yet, but either way I’m jumping for joy at this news. She’s not going to be all alone in that old house anymore. She has someone to look after her and love her. So I’m moving out of the Riverdale house as soon as Bruno and I find an apartment in the city that we both agree on. It’ll be bittersweet, of course, leaving the house where I feel closest to my father’s memory, but I can always visit anytime I like. And besides, I’m old enough now that it seems silly to live at home.

  And the thought of moving in with Bruno and having him all to myself with all the privacy in the world 24/7? Well, that’s motivation enough to get me all packed up and ready to go.

  Bruno and I move from group to group, mingling and chatting with different rough-looking men and bejeweled women, all of whom are happy to see us. Bruno speaks Italian with a lot of them while I just sort of nod and smile, but it doesn’t matter that I can’t tell what they’re saying. The celebratory vibe in the room is infectious, and soon I’m feeling downright giddy. Periodically, Rafaela and Nico pop over to talk to us, with Raf excitedly chattering away about how awesome it will be when our respective businesses open back up again. She’s probably hugged me about twenty times in the past hour or so, and it’s all Nico can do to keep her upright and walking straight, she’s had so many cocktails.

  Finally, someone announces that dinner is being served, and we all file into another adjoining room with a massive, long table set up for everybody. The table is laden with a ton of delicious-smelling foods and countless bottles of wine, both red and white. My stomach growls as we hurriedly take our seats, with Bruno and I being directed to the head of the table, taking our places as the guests of honor. After a brief speech from the same paunchy dark-haired man who first greeted us upon entering the party, we all dig in. I heap my plate with pasta and salad and olives.

  About ten minutes into the meal, Bruno suddenly stands up and taps his glass with a spoon, calling us all to attention to make a speech. I look up at him, surprised. Everyone sets down their utensils and falls silent, looking at Bruno expectantly.

  He looks down at me and smiles, his whole face lighting up.

  “Friends, brothers, everybody... I cannot thank you all enough for this fantastic evening. The Costa family knows better than anyone how to celebrate good news when it comes, and so it is my pleasure to deliver some more good news for us to toast,” he begins. He pauses, and the room is dead silent. He turns to me, those green eyes vibrant in the dimming sunset behind us through the big glass pane of the windows.

  “Serena. You are the love of my life. In fact, before I first met you as a teenager, I had no idea what love could even feel like. I assumed I would walk this world alone, following a solitary path. But from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there could be no greater dream to reach for than to make you mine. I would cross any ocean, climb a mountain, fight any enemy for you. I would change the world a thousand times over just to make you smile. Mia passerotta, you have always been the guiding light, the beacon that has led me back to shore when I thought I might be eternally lost at sea. Any success, any good fortune that I might achieve is all because of you, and nothing else can ever compare to the way I feel when I’m standing beside you. Serena, with your love I am invincible. Unbreakable. You make me stronger. You make me proud. You make me a better man. And I will do anything and everything in my power to keep you by my side for the rest of my life.”

  He kneels down next to my chair and I feel my heart skip several beats as the room erupts into gasps of surprise. “Oh my god,” I murmur breathlessly, staring down at Bruno. He smiles at me, eyes shining, and takes a little velvet box out of his coat pocket.

  Bruno opens the box to reveal a white gold band with a gorgeous, sparkling diamond. My jaw drops and I feel my lungs seizing up, like I’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe at all.

  “Serena De Laurentis, would you do me the ultimate honor of becoming my wife?”

  Tears burn in my eyes and spill down my cheeks as I break into nervous, joyous laughter and throw my arms around him. “Yes! Of course! Absolutely!” I sob happily. Bruno hugs me tight while everyone bursts into deafening cheers and applause all around us. My heart beat has gone from zero to a million in a moment, and I can’t seem to wipe the smile off of my face as Bruno kisses me again and again, his hands stroking the hair back out of my face as we embrace.

  Suddenly, it becomes absolutely imperative that I share with him the secret I’ve been holding back from him for the last few weeks. He needs to know. Right now.

  While the whole room continues to pour celebratory glasses of wine and chat happily about how amazing the night is, I lean in close to Bruno’s ear and whisper, “Bruno… I-I’m pregnant.”

  He pulls back and looks into my face with wide eyes, shocked. Then he grins, laughing as he kisses me. “Are you sure? Really?”

  I nod vigorously, a giggle escaping my mouth. My whole body is trembling, overwhelmed with the joy o
f the moment. “Yes. I’m totally sure. Bruno... we’re going to be parents.”

  “Mia passerotta,” he breathes, shaking his head in awe and happiness, like he just can’t believe his good luck. “This is all I’ve ever wanted. More than I ever could have hoped for.”

  “I love you so much,” I tell him.

  He slips the engagement ring onto my finger, and miraculously, it fits perfectly.

  “I love you, Serena. Until the day I die,” he replies.

  As we stand up, Rafaela and Nico come rushing over, Raf throwing her arms around both of us. There are tears streaming down her face and she kisses both of my cheeks. The rest of the evening is spent in impossibly high spirits, everybody wine-drunk and joy-drunk as the hours fly by like mere minutes. Finally, around one in the morning, the party starts to wind down, and my pregnant body is begging for me to go home and get some sleep. We haven’t found an apartment together yet, so we’ve been staying at Room With a View in one of the finished rooms. It’s been pretty great, actually, since the place isn’t officially open yet. We have perfect privacy to do whatever we want... which is usually just each other.

  Bruno and I take several minutes to say goodbye and thank you to everyone before heading down the elevator with Nico and a very, very intoxicated Rafaela. Luckily, Bruno stopped drinking about three hours ago, so he’s stone-cold sober by the time we reach the street outside. I offer to drive, since I’m pregnant and therefore absolutely sober, but he insists.

  “I’ll go get the car and drive it around to you. Just wait here with Nico and Raf,” he tells me, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Fine, fine. But you know I’m not that pregnant yet. I can still walk just fine,” I reply teasingly. He gives me a shrug, grinning widely as he heads off down the street to collect the car.

  “Nope. No excuses. You’re not going to lift a finger for the next nine months if I can help it,” he calls out. “Might as well get used to it, mia passerotta!”