Given: Highest Bidder

by Willow Winters

Epilogue

  Zander

  “They’ll be expecting you,” my father’s voice comes out clear on the phone.

  “I understand that,” I answer him simply, walking out of the kitchen, with the phone to my ear. It’s the Gala of the Year, the third one with that title so far.

  Veronica Marsett is hosting it for her charity, and over four hundred attendees will be there. Most of whom I know firsthand, and half of them will be expecting me to address them. To notice them publicly and pose for photo ops. To rub elbows, as my father used to say when I was younger.

  These are the scenes that matter most. It’s all about who you’re seen with.

  But with my Arianna, my sweetheart hardly sleeping, I doubt she’s going to want to go. And if she’s not with me, I’m not going.

  I don’t want to be anywhere without her by my side. Because my father’s right. It’s all about who you’re seen with. That’s who matters. And right now, she’s the only one who matters to me.

  Even if he saved me. He can wait. Business will always wait from now on.

  “You’re really going to snub them?” Oddly enough, my father’s voice holds only a trace of admonishment.

  “It’s not a snub, she’s not feeling well.”

  My father’s silent on the phone for a moment. The glow from the fire in the back of the library lights the dim room. The floor-to-ceiling curtains are closed tight on the far end, but the ones closest to me are open, just enough for someone to peek through.

  I keep the phone to my ear as I peek out and see the snow settling on the ground. Early February has brought enough snow to lock us in for weeks, but I’m fine with that.

  I turn around to face the large leather sofa as my father starts talking. It groans as Arianna shifts her weight on it to get comfortable. Her hand rests on her swollen belly, but she’s sleeping soundly.

  I hate that she can’t fall asleep in bed with me; I guess I’ll have to start sleeping out here.

  “There are deals to finalize and if you’re seen with the right investors, that will make their bids rise.” He tells me things I already know, but I simply don’t care anymore. There’s so much more than money. More than power. There’s love.

  Arianna’s belly rises with a deep breath as she slowly rolls onto her side, dragging a cream chenille throw with her as she goes.

  There’s a feeling of being complete. Of not wanting anything more than what you already have.

  A soft sigh of satisfaction falls from her sweet lips.

  “I’m sure they’ll understand,” I speak softly into the phone, but Arianna’s eyes flutter open. A small smile spreads on her face when she sees me.

  It’s a genuine smile, one that makes me reciprocate.

  My feet move of their own accord, drawn to her. I crouch down to the floor beside her and plant a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “I have to go,” I tell my father, cutting off whatever reason he’s trying to convince me of to go.

  “Wait!” I’m surprised from my father’s sharp voice, it takes me aback and I flinch, pulling the phone away slightly.

  Arianna rises on her elbow, wiping the sleep from her eyes and staring at the phone. She’s not used to my father’s temper and to be honest, it’s been a long time since I’ve had to deal with it. I won’t let her witness this. I rise to my feet, straightening my shoulders and preparing to tell my father off.

  He’s been agitated lately with me leaving more and more work in his hands, or simply to let go. There are plenty of investors, and I’m not interested in certain deals anymore. Not when I have so much to protect now.

  My lips part as I suck in a breath, prepared for the worst, but I wasn’t anticipating the words that come from the other end of the phone.

  “The baby shower, that’s next month?” my father asks me, clearing his throat and waiting for a response.

  A deep crease settles in my forehead as I turn back to look at Arianna over my shoulder.

  “It’s next month, yes.” I wait for a moment, still feeling tense and on edge as Arianna stands up, holding her stomach as though it will fall if she lets go. She’s so beautiful, carrying my child. There’s been a glow about her since she found out.

  “I’d like to go,” my father says with firm conviction.

  “It’s not for men,” I say and the words spill out of my mouth with disbelief.

  “Sure it is, we’ll go at the end... Your mother loved that.” I’m taken back by his confession. “You go at the end with a gift for her and help load all the things. It’s what you do,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s probably the last thing I did right with your mother. But I know it’s a good thing to do… and I want to help you.”

  My body’s frozen in place as Arianna walks toward me, one hand rubbing soothing circles over her swollen bump and the other bracing a hand on her back.

  “Sure,” I answer my father. The vision of what he must’ve looked like back then plays in my mind. Maybe they were happy then, all those years ago.

  “It’s settled then. I’m sure I’ll see you before then?” The words come out as a question.

  “Sure,” I say again, wrapping an arm around Arianna’s waist as she leans into me, her eyes wide with questions, but her body relaxed.

  “Very well then, I’ll talk to you soon.” There’s a silence between us for a moment, and for the first time in years, I feel the urge to tell him I love him. As though it’s real, but I don’t. Maybe another time. The line goes dead, and I pull the phone away from my ear to stare at it in my hand.

  “Are you alright?” she asks and her voice is soft, tinged with concern.

  I toss the phone down onto the sofa a few feet away and turn her in my arms. Her belly rubs against mine as I pull her in close. “Of course.”

  She eyes me warily, her one eyebrow lifting with skepticism.

  “Everything is wonderful.”

  That sweet smile plays at her lips again and she nods as she says, “It is, isn’t it?”

  I kiss her lips softly, but she deepens it. My greedy sweetheart. I’m more than happy to give her more. I’d hand her over the world in exchange for what she’s given me.

  When she breaks the kiss, I whisper between us, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Zander.”

  Good Girl: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  by Willow Winters

  Prologue

  Ava

  Kane

  I was the mafia princess. I thought I was safe.

  I was the muscle and moneymaker. I was supposed to be untouchable.

  I still remember smoothing my dress and putting on my earrings the day it all happened.

  I remember wiping the blood off my face and feeling the heat of the fire the night it all went down.

  I pull at the chain around my neck and hate what I’ve become.

  I wrap my knuckles with tape before laying hit after hit, hating what I have to do.

  They’re all dead. Now I have no one.

  They’re all dead. Now I have no one.

  I feel so alone, but I won’t stop fighting.

  I feel so alone, but I won’t stop fighting.

  They want me to be scared of them, so I’ll play the part. I can use that to my advantage.

  They’re terrified of me, and that’s good. I’m going to need that fear to survive this.

  The plane descends and lands with a loud thump that shakes the cargo hold, but I keep the sick feelings at bay. I hope that bastard’s here.

  I hear the plane land and I know it’s almost time. I hope it’s him this time and not just another shipment.

  He’s the reason I’m shackled and beaten. Used and degraded. I won’t stop fighting to breathe until I have my revenge.

  He’s my chance at redemption and a new life. I’m not gonna lay down and die; I’m making a name for myself.

  They keep saying I’m a good girl.

  They think I’m a bad boy.

  None of them really know who I am.
<
br />   None of them really know who I am.

  They can keep calling me a good girl though, right up until the moment I slit their throats.

  Chapter 1

  Kane

  My fist slams against the bag. I see my uncle’s face. I throw a right hook. Next, a left jab. Over and over I slam my fists into the leather until my muscles scream with pain. And then I push myself harder. I feel my knuckles crack under the weight of my hits. The sound of my fists making contact with the heavy bag doesn’t do anything to relieve this tension, though. I want to hear the crunch of his jaw. Fucking rat. That coward destroyed my family, and ruined my life. And I can’t do shit about it. I can’t turn back time.

  I hit the bag again and again, trying to get this weight that’s crushing my chest to leave me. I hear my father’s voice, the screech of the tires. The gunshots. I grab the bag and slow my racing heart. A deep breath fills my lungs, but it only serves to fuel my anger further. They hunted us all down because of my fucking coward uncle. And I can’t do shit to change any of that.

  “Kane!” Marco shouts; his voice echoes in the empty room. I hear the door swing shut and his boots smack against the concrete floor of the warehouse. I wipe the sweat off my face.

  I needed to get out some aggression, but I have to be presentable for the meet, so I grab the towel on the pile of boxes next to me and wipe down quickly. I hear Marco walk toward me as I pick up my shirt and slip it on. I button it up, concentrating on keeping my anger at bay. Aggression would not be good right now. Not when I’m on my own, completely outnumbered, and about to meet the new boss of the Marzano Cartel.

  Abram Petrov. He's become notorious for taking over the industry quickly, and with lethal force. Recently he's acquired the lead cartel in Mexico as well as heavy hitters in France and Russia, where he’s from. He’s a new force that’s not scared to play dirty, and now he’s on my doorstep.

  “I’m ready!” I yell over my shoulder, and stalk toward him. Time to meet the new famila, or Bratva as the Russian fucks keep calling it. Or whatever the fuck he calls his crew. I have to try to earn a position with a mob that’s willing to take in the nephew of a rat. I swallow thickly. I’ve been waiting for a few weeks for this meet-up, staying in the warehouse and lying low with a target on my back. This place used to be a safe house for my family. Now it’s my bargaining chip to get the attention of Petrov.

  His crew came and set up yesterday, but I kept my distance. They know it’s my place and they came to do business here, which is great. But I’m not a part of their crew. I’d rather give them the space they want and a warm welcome without getting involved in their shit. I can’t fuck this up.

  “This is gonna be great. I know it will.” Marco grins at me and slaps his hand on my back. His arm has to reach up to hit me square on my shoulders. I’m six-foot-five and all muscle. Next to Marco I look like a fucking beast. I was the top earner in the famila for a reason. I’m a terrifying fucker to go up against. People tend to pay up rather than piss me off. But even with all the money I was bringing in, they tried to have me killed. They tried, and they failed.

  “Boss’s already impressed with everything you did to those pussies.” My gut twists and my chest tightens with pain. They should’ve known better than to come for me. That shit with my uncle had nothing to do with me. Or my father. And they sure as fuck knew my sister and my mother didn’t have shit to do with any of it. They fucking came for us all the same, though. They should’ve made sure we were all dead. Those fuckers left me alive. And they paid the price. Even if they were the only people I had in this world.

  I grin at him and huff a laugh. I need the boss to like me. I need somewhere to go, someone to be. I grew up in this life. And everyone I knew turned their backs on me. If I hadn’t been so fucked up, I could’ve started the business myself. I have contacts. A few I still trust. But I made this call too soon. Now I need to go through with it.

  I breathe in deep and walk through the hall to the hangar. The meeting’s going down here. I’m ready for this. It’s not an ambush, but they could easily kill me. It’s just me against all of them. They’re not here for that. No one’s touching me after what I did. Revenge will make a man crazy. Unstoppable. Untouchable. But it’s also left me alone. I’m ready to move on and get back to work.

  There are a few small planes in the relatively empty hangar. Stacks of cocaine bricks wrapped in plastic are sitting on a folding table. It's not what I’m used to. I’m more of a blackmail-the-politician type. But shipping and selling will have to do in the beginning, I suppose. Onward and upward or some shit like that. I’ll prove my worth.

  Four men in black and grey suits surround the table, watching the two workers weigh and bag the product. As they hear our footsteps, they turn to face us. The boss, Abram, walks toward me. His underboss walks next to him, but a step or two behind. The other two men with them are obviously soldiers, judging from their broad shoulders. One has a scar across his face. It looks like it came from a slash that should’ve taken his eye out. The other has a tattoo scrolling up his neck. Both of the soldiers read as highly dangerous, nothing like Abram himself. Their dark eyes stare back at me as they put their arms behind their backs and square their shoulders, waiting for orders. Marco walks behind them and back to the table. He’s just a soldier. And he’s completely happy with that. He’s a dumb fucker.

  “Kane,” Abram greets, as he extends his hand to me. He's a tall, slender man, with black hair that's slicked back with oil. I shake his hand firmly and stare into his eyes; they’re so dark, they appear black as well.

  Abram’s a deadly boss. I heard about what he did to the cartel in Mazatlan. I’m not all that happy seeing how he cut ties purely for business reasons. And by cut ties, I mean demolished their businesses, stole everything they had, and murdered them. To call him ruthless would be putting it lightly, but beggars can’t be choosers. I know there’s a target on my back. I need to find a place and lie low. And this is the only option I have right now. So I’m making a deal with the devil.

  “Abram. Or should I call you Boss?” I ask, with the hint of a grin on my face.

  He smiles back broadly. “Boss, I think.” Hearing that allows me to breathe, but I don’t show my relief. He turns and wraps his arm around my shoulders, guiding me to the group of men. It’s an awkward hold on me, because I’m so much taller than him, but I allow it. “Thank you again, for making this transition easier on us. I appreciate the gesture.”

  “No problem.” I nod my head and take a look at the product lined up on the table. That’s a lot of coke. No doubt using my hangar was a decent option for them. And a sign of trust that they accepted my offer.

  “I’d like you to meet Vadik, my second-in-command,” Abram says. I reach out my hand to the underboss and he’s quick to take it with a smile. Another good sign. This man is older. Vadik looks to be somewhere around my father’s age, whereas Abram can’t be any older than 35. Abram’s face has the hint of wrinkles around his eyes. This man, however, has earned his age. Grey hair that’s slicked back the same way as Abram's and deep-set wrinkles on his face. His pale blue eyes are like ice. So fucking cold. This man reads as deadly. Abram could easily fool you into thinking he's less dangerous than he is, lulling you into a false sense of security. Based on everything I've heard about him, he's succeeded in doing that multiple times in the past with former rivals. But this man, Vadik, looks like a killer.

  “Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand. He puts his other hand on top of mine.

  “It is indeed, Kane. I’ve been anxious to meet the man who took down the entire Armeno family in one night.” He smiles wickedly as he says, “You’ve made quite an impression.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” I say the words, but I’m not happy at all. I did what I had to do. I didn’t want to. I had to.

  “I’ve considered your proposal to join me,” Abram begins, while looking me in the eyes. I can feel a “but” coming, and I don’t like it. I keep my expression
impassive as he continues. “I like it. I like it a lot. I think we’ll work well together.” My brows raise slightly and he registers my surprise.

  “We’re going to have some more guests in a moment,” Abram says, motioning with his hand and guiding me to the front of the hangar. The doors are open, and the sun is shining through. It’s a bright, beautiful day. The breeze is refreshing. Too fucking bad there’s so much adrenaline pumping in my blood that I can barely breathe.

  “More guests?” I ask, with a bit of curiosity in my voice. I’m not curious though--I’m pissed. I offered my place to him to use for entry into the US. Not for him to use as a base for his operations. And definitely not so he could invite more people. But I’m sure as shit not going to tell him that. Not right now, anyway. I may be fueled by anger, but I’m not a hothead.

  “Now that our competitor is no more, we have a few business meetings to conduct.” He stops in the open tarmac, looking toward the road. “Have you heard of the Valettis?”

  I nod my head at his question. The Valettis are a tight pack. They're nearly the only famila left that has an actual family related by blood heading up their organization. At least around these parts. I’ve heard good things about them, promising things. But we’ve never met personally. They stayed in their territory and we stayed in ours.

  “Well, they did business with our former competitor and now they’re coming to meet us regarding our new terms.”

  “New terms?” I question. I’m surprised to hear that. I know they can raise their prices now that they’re the lead exporter. But I’m not sure it’s the wisest to do that at the beginning of a business relationship.

  “You’ll see,” Vadik says from my left side with a crooked grin and a twinkle in his cold eyes. I don’t like the way he says it, but again, I don’t give them anything. Instead, I nod my head and stare at the two black Range Rovers driving up the dirt road to the landing strip. My heart beats faster in my chest and it’s harder to keep the anger from showing.