Lavish: A Reverse Harem Miniseries (Mafia Queen Book 2)

by Stunich, C. M.

  Pretty things blind with glitter; I wouldn't let that happen to me.

  “Come in and have a drink with me first and I'll tell you,” he said, sweeping up the steps as I took a deep breath and followed after.

  Inside, the house was everything a home should be—warm, cozy, inviting. The moldings were stark white with matching paneling on the bottom half of the wall and a deep gold chevron pattern on the top. Chandeliers dripped above our heads, decadent but tasteful, and in the kitchen, I found Lucky pouring hot cider into two mugs and gesturing for me to take a seat at a breakfast nook in the corner. The view was … breathtaking.

  Red, orange, and green trees dotted the landscape just beyond the traditional lines of a red and white barn, the blue snake of a river weaving through the earth just behind it. I could even hear cows from where I sat.

  “I'd heard you settled in a pastoral little place,” I told him as he carried over a spiked cider and set it in front of me. The hot heat of bourbon glazed my tongue, followed by the sweet-yet-tart bite of apples. “But to be fair,” I continued after I swallowed, “I didn't quite believe it.”

  “Not sinful enough for you?” Lucky said, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of one of the chairs. “Not to worry then—I keep all my naughtiness at my apartment in the city.”

  He slid into the chair across from me, smelling like apples and aftershave, this bright, fresh scent, as crisp as the autumn day outside.

  When he smiled at me, though, I saw that flash of mischief, the coyote peeking through.

  “Sometimes I even bring it out to play in small town wineries.”

  “Fortunato,” I warned and he raised both eyebrows at me. When we locked gazes across the surface of the table, I swear, I could feel him inside of me, him and Caj and Marcell … three powerful men succumbing to my whims.

  I forced myself to take a sip of my drink.

  “Non fare il porco,” I told him as I let the bourbon warm up the chilly tips of my fingers and my nose. There was one part of me that needed no warming up however …

  “Don't be a pervert?” he asked me, his full mouth twisting into another smile. Lucky ran his tongue across his lower lip and sat back, looking like some catalogue model from the 1920s. It was hard to believe he'd actually had a man killed for making fun of his nickname. “So we're just going to avoid the fact that we had group sex last night?”

  “You want to talk about it?” I asked him, sitting back in my chair and staring into those brilliant eyes of his, the golds, greens, and blues all mixing together into something breathtaking. “Then tell me: how did it feel having Caj's cock pressed right up against yours?”

  “Mm,” Lucky said, tapping his fingers on the table and rubbing his hand over the lightly stubbled surface of his jaw, “it was interesting, to say the least. Mostly, I was concerned with the way you felt. Caj doesn't mean anything to me.”

  “Just a rival it'd be nice to be rid of?” I ventured, watching him watch me.

  “Rid of? No,” he continued, leaning back in his chair. The way he sat, with one arm draped casually over the back, the other tapping an easy rhythm against his knee, I was once again reminded of our childhood together. “The Bellincioni family has an entire network of international pirates under their belts. Want something shipped off the East Coast? It's best to be in their favor.”

  “I see,” I said as I finished my drink. “Business trumps pleasure?”

  “Doesn't it always?” Lucky asked, rising to his feet and holding out a hand. I looked at it for a moment and then took it, but I wasn't exactly convinced that he believed his own words. No, if any of the three men I'd slept with last night were romantics, it'd be Fortunato Moretti for sure. “Follow me,” he whispered, pulling me close for just a brief moment, just long enough to brush his lips against my ear. “There's something I want to show you.”

  Lucky pulled away before I could fully react to our closeness, but he didn't let go of my hand, guiding me through the house and out a back door.

  I was not prepared for what I found there.

  Outside, standing on Lucky's back porch were Marcell and Caj—two men who absolutely did not look like they belonged in the middle of a New York countryside. They were both wicked slick and dangerous, leaning against the wood railing and looking like it wasn't at all unusual for the underbosses of two mafia crime families to be visiting a rival's house.

  I paused, crossing my arms over my chest as I surveyed the two men.

  Marcell's dark hair was loose, free of product and dancing in the northeasterly breeze. The way he looked at me from those ebony eyes of his, it took all the chill out of the air. I felt like I was being burned—and I loved it.

  Caj, on the other hand, he smirked at me, his wavy red hair falling over his brow, nearly obscuring those jade green eyes of his. He was dressed as casually as I'd ever seen in a dark gray wifebeater and black jeans, a pair of cowboy boots on his feet.

  “Didn't exactly peg a single one of you as the country type,” I said, moving across the weathered wood of the back porch, resting a hand against one of the columns and gazing out across the dewy grass.

  I made sure to keep a careful distance from the three men although my body, she certainly remembered the beautiful heat the three of them had made with me … had made in me.

  “What's the purpose of this impromptu meeting?” I asked as Caj hefted a large rifle into one hand, flashing a white-toothed smile at me when I raised an eyebrow.

  “Just to talk,” he said, his voice this sultry little tease that made my nipples pebble beneath my sweater, “and shoot shit.”

  Caj moved over to me, his walk a smooth, easy gait. He tossed the gun at me—on second glance, I realized it was an AR15—and then continued down the steps and into the grass, turning around to look at us as he walked.

  “If you listen real careful,” he called out, tapping at one ear with a single finger, “we might fill you in on some underground gossip.”

  I stood there for a moment, glancing over at Marcell in his navy blue button-up and dark blue jeans. He was wearing wingtips, but they didn't look out of place with the casual outfit, more like a subtle nod to remind the world that he was, in fact, a very important man, someone to be paid attention to.

  “Underground gossip,” I repeated, blinking against the cool air and feeling the weight of the weapon in my hands like a queen wielding a scepter. If Caj thought he was going to teach me a thing or two about shooting a rifle like this, well, he was in for a world of surprise.

  I'd learned from the best.

  “If you're going to be queen,” Marcell said, that voice of his turning me completely inside out, “then you should know the state of your future kingdom.” With a sensual twist of lips, he stood up straight and glanced over at Lucky for a moment before looking back at me.

  Whatever they were going to tell me, I doubt it would have the power to shock. The moment my father requested that little meeting in his living room, I knew something had gone terribly wrong with his world.

  With a mysterious little smile of my own, I moved down the steps and followed after Caj.

  “That was a brilliant fuck by the way,” he told me when I got a little closer, pausing a few dozen feet away from a wall of hay bales. They were lined up at the edge of the lawn, near the forested portion of the property. I was certain this setup didn't follow any rules for a proper shooting range, but I also knew there was no way in hell a stray person was wandering around in these woods.

  They'd be a damn fool to tease the fates that way.

  If they were around, getting hit by a stray bullet would be the least of their worries: they'd be hit with an intentional one first.

  Caj slow clapped as he grinned at me, tilting his head to one side, his rusty red hair giving him this almost boyish look that was at odds with the expression on his face. When he looked at me like that, like his eyes were gems and his mouth a tainted slash, well, I could remember the night we offered up our virginiti
es to one another.

  That fucking mouth of his had been so hot, so violent, his cock hard and slick with the excitement of my cunt.

  I breathed out and raised a single dark brown in his direction.

  “You're a subtle man, Caj Bellincioni,” I said as he closed the distance between us in a few, long strides, pausing to gaze down at me with that brilliantly seductive gaze of his.

  “Not at all. Clearly I've just presented you with a rifle instead of roses. That's my idea of romance.”

  “You could use a few lessons,” Marcell said, his tattoos these vibrant splashes of color against his hands as he moved up alongside us, pulled a pistol from the holster strapped over his chest and took a half-dozen shots at one of the targets posted on the wall of hay bales.

  Since his gun had a suppressor and he was clearly using subsonic ammo—what good mafia man doesn't?—the noise of it going off was loud, but more like a disturbing click, click than an earsplitting boom. We didn't need ear protection to watch this show.

  “Lessons?” Caj asked, lifting his hands up and putting his palms on either side of my face. When he smiled, the diamond studs on either side of his mouth sparkled in the weak autumn sunshine. “Mm, I don't fucking think so.”

  Caj leaned in toward me, slowly enough that I could've broken away if I'd wanted.

  I didn't.

  I let him kiss me, push the slick heat of his tongue into my mouth, flick the tip against my teeth, take over my mouth the way he'd taken my body last night. And God forgive me, but it was good, letting the devil kiss me like that.

  Inside, all of that darkness I'd been fighting for so long stirred, like fallen angels in moonlight, and I knew I was going to lose this battle.

  But did losing this battle mean winning the war?

  Fuck you, Bo, I thought as Caj pushed a little closer, melded our bodies with a fucking rifle the only thing standing between us. It wasn't as hard as his cock though, not nearly as demanding.

  “Alright, alright,” Lucky said as Caj snickered and pulled back just enough that his breath fanned across the wetness of my lips. “We're here to talk business, aren't we?”

  He joined Marcell at the white line painted on the grass, a haphazard attempt at defining the shooting range. Lifting his own gun—a revolver this time—he pulled back the hammer with his thumb, took aim, but didn't pull the trigger.

  “Business,” Caj purred, licking my lower lip with a quick flick of his tongue and stepping back. The look he gave me was dripping innuendo, promising hot, sweaty nights and soreness between my thighs. I licked my own lip and stepped carefully away from him. “Isn't this business though, courting the future queen?”

  My mouth twisted into a smile and I shook my head. Caj was charming sure, and he poured sex like a faucet on full blast, but I knew his tricks. I'd played the seduction game with him before, danced that wicked dance.

  I'd be more careful this time.

  “I'm not the queen yet,” I said as I moved over to stand in line with Marcell and Lucky, using a spare bale of hay to set the gun aside. There were a few bulletproof vests stacked there alongside some extra boxes of ammo, goggles, and several sets of earmuffs for hearing protection. Somebody'd prepared for my visit.

  I slipped into one of the vests, put on some goggles, and slid a pair of earmuffs over my head. Caj was approaching, slow and casual, hands tucked into his pockets as he meandered my direction. Cocky fuck, I thought as I slipped the gun's strap over my head, positioned the butt of it against my shoulder and took a step forward.

  “This is happening; you'd best prepare yourselves.”

  The men exchanged glances and then each picked up a pair of muffs, taking several steps back from the line to watch.

  I felt my lips twist into a smirk just before I pulled the trigger.

  I fired several shots into the target with a single finger pull. I felt good while I was doing it, powerful, like I owned the rifle because it sure as fuck didn't own me.

  Dropping it back down again, I removed my goggles with one hand and approached the target. A spray of holes fell across the center of the paper enemy's chest.

  “Nice shooting, Adelasia,” Caj said, slipping up behind me, so close that I could feel the hard bulge of his cock in his jeans. Kinky fuck. Watching me shoot a rifle was turning him on. I wasn't sure quite what to make of that … except for the fact that I liked it.

  “Did you think you might come here and teach me something?” I asked, stepping back and heading to the end of the range. I slipped the AR15's strap over my head and passed it back to Caj.

  It should've made me nervous, seeing the underboss of the Bellincioni Crime Family holding a deadly weapon, but it didn't. As dangerous as I knew Marcell, Caj, and even Lucky were, I wasn't afraid of them—and not because I thought we had some sort of special bond or anything—but because I knew the power I held over them.

  Seduction, perhaps, was turning out to be an acceptable weapon.

  Oh God, Adelasia, you've snapped, haven't you? Clearly you've lost your damn mind.

  I felt myself spiraling out of control, diving into darkness, reviving my past and yet, I couldn't have cared less. And although I wanted to blame Bo and Edlyn, I couldn't. Their betrayal was simply a catalyst, blowing off the lid to a problem I'd long kept under wraps.

  “Teach you? No, volevamo solo informarti,” Marcell said, his voice oozing shadows, beckoning to my own dark tendencies. No, we just wanted to inform you.

  “About?” I asked, taking a seat on the hay bale and crossing my ankles, watching as he stepped up to the line and focused the India ink color of his eyes on the same target, the black and gray shadow of a man I recognized as Antonio Lucchese—the same man Marcell had beheaded and delivered to my father on a platter.

  Highly suspect—take it slow, Vinny had written on that little scrap of paper, just before my dinner date with Mr. Moran. Highly suspect, huh?

  I watched his broad shoulders as he took aim and fired three rounds, nailing his target in the forehead with each one of them.

  “About?” I prompted as Marcell took a step back and glanced over at me, lowering his gun and engaging the safety. The image of his tattooed fingers on the weapon would invade my dreams for weeks. In a good way, of course.

  “The Villarreal Cartel,” Lucky supplied for him, and again I marveled at their ability to work together so smoothly. Maybe it was something they'd been trying at for a long while? I had no idea. In reality, I knew nothing about what was going on in the East Coast underground. Nothing.

  And if I wanted to stay alive, if I wanted to be queen as these men kept suggesting, I'd need to know everything.

  “They're expanding their business,” Lucky continued, looking up and into the forest, like he could see far beyond the trees with those hazel eyes of his. “After a failed offshoot of theirs known as the Saldaña Cartel went under on the West Coast, they decided to try operating up here instead.” He paused and dropped his gaze to mine. “They're moving weapons, drugs, women, and they're creeping into territories that have belonged to one of the Big Four families since prohibition. They've also got more manpower, more money, and more ruthlessness than any one of the families.” A long pause here as Lucky and I stared at each other, a cold breeze ruffling our hair and clothes. “Than two … maybe even three of them put together.”

  “Just not all four,” I finished for him, tucking my fingers in my jeans pockets to ward off a chill. “I see.”

  “So who's the rat?” Caj asked, very casually, but with this bite to his voice that said he could and would cut throats if needed—and he'd probably smile while he did it. “That's what you're wondering, isn't it? Who sent those men to the winery?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” I said as I looked up and meet the green of his eyes.

  Caj's smile stretched across his face like a scar.

  “Well, that,” he said, coming over to stand in front of me and leaning down to put his palms on either side of my hips. His mou
th brushed against my ear and made me shiver. “That I can help you with.”

  Walking back into Costello Manor after my visit to the Moretti house, it was apparent that nobody—not even my own father—knew I'd seen more than one of the men that day.

  “That Lucky,” Carlo said, putting a hand on my shoulder and leaning in close to my ear, “did he treat you well?” His voice was pitched low, the scent of wine and gunpowder clinging to his clothes.

  Now. What had my father been up to all day?

  “He was a gentleman, as usual,” I said cautiously because really, there was no one in this world I could trust except myself. No one. Once upon a time, I might've said my girlfriends would have my back, but Edlyn had proved me seriously fucking wrong on that account.

  “Good, good,” he said, leaning back and giving me some space. His dark hair was slicked back, his suit pressed and perfect, but there was an air about him that said business had commenced that day and it had been ugly as hell. “I'll arrange a visit with Mr. Bellincioni tomorrow and one with Mr. Moran the day after; it'll be good for you to make the rounds, let each man know he's got a place in your heart.”

  Carlo tossed me a wink and sauntered off in the direction of the back gardens.

  I watched him go and then waited a moment, predicting that Vincent would saunter in to pay me a visit.

  And visit he did.

  “Ah, cucciola, how was your day at the range?” he asked, his wingtips loud against the marble floors as he strode in from the study. 'Well that, I can help you with,' Caj had said. But that was it—the bastard had left me hanging. His reveal would wait for our next meeting, leaving me to sit here and wonder if the man in front of me was the weak link.

  Or if I could even trust Caj to tell me the truth if he was.

  “I can handle an AR15 better than any man I know,” I said with a small smile, watching as Vinny's lips turned into a grin beneath the silver of his mustache. The wrinkles on his face rearranged themselves into a pleasant enough expression.

  “Carlo says you're done for the day,” Vincent continued as the two of us made our way into the dining area and over to the glass covered cake stands filled with food—salami sandwiches, bruschetta, slices of Margherita pizza, and a bowl of panzanella—that Renata had made and set out for us to eat when it was convenient. “No visits to your lovely beaus?”