Savage Beast: A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Sinfully Savage)

by Kristen Luciani

  “I don’t know your name, puppy,” I murmur. “But how about we call you Bella? My mama used to call me that all the time. It means ‘beautiful’.” I wiggle my fingers under her chin. “You sure are beautiful. And I’ll bet my mother led me right to you because she knows that I need something soft and cuddly more than ever right now.” I smile, feeling lighter than I have for a long time.

  I feel like someone is looking out for me, like I’m not alone.

  I let her lick me for a few more minutes as I contemplate my next move. Much as I want to take her home with me, I have to take her to the police station. They must have a way of tracking down her family. She must have a chip they can scan. Maybe the family has already reported her missing. The thought of giving her over to the cops makes my heart clench, though.

  Maybe I can keep her overnight. I can give her a bath, feed her, play with her, give her a nice warm bed. At least she can have a good night’s sleep before I take her to the station. Who knows how easy it is to find dog owners anyway? What if they need to put her in a shelter while they investigate? That would be horrible!

  Bella takes a few more steps toward me, close enough that I can scoop her up. She nuzzles her head against my leg and I stroke her back a few times. When she’s close to climbing on top of me, I reach around her gaunt body, about ready to pick her up when a searing pain shoots through my shoulder. My body lurches forward and Bella darts out of the way as my hands fall to the pavement, planted on either side of me. I clench my teeth, the pain crippling the muscles in my arm. I crawl toward the side of the building to use it as support, and Bella follows me. I smack my hands against the brick, clawing at it as I struggle to my feet.

  I make it up halfway before a cold, numbing sensation spirals up my right calf and I collapse back onto the ground with a loud moan. Bella is now on top of me licking my face, and my head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, way too heavy for me to move it around. I let out a pathetic whimper, my energy supply depleting at an alarmingly rapid rate.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I moan, my voice thick and heavy. My face slips down onto my now-immobile hand. I can vaguely feel bits of gravel sticking to my cheek and I want to brush them off. I want to be able to move my hand. But the numbing spreads to my left side, paralyzing my limbs. I manage to flip myself onto my back before my eyes droop closed for good. I force them to stay open, to see someone…anyone…who might be responsible for this.

  For killing me.

  Because if this isn’t me loitering at death’s doorstep, I don’t know where the hell else I could possibly be.

  Just before my eyes float closed for the final time, I see something familiar and my throat tightens, emitting only a gurgling sound instead of a full-fledged scream.

  Holy fuck.

  Those eyes…

  I try to cry out.

  But my mouth can’t form words.

  My lips won’t move.

  And my voice is silenced.

  My eyes float open and I see white.

  White and glaringly bright, recessed ceiling lights.

  I swallow hard.

  Fuck, is this heaven?

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a second to adjust, then crack them open a bit once again, this time remembering not to stare. I roll my head gingerly to the right and left as I take in the space. I can see a desk and a few chairs in one corner of the room. Stark white walls. Covered windows. My hands run over a soft, buttery leather texture beneath me.

  Okay, if it is heaven, then I must be in some angel’s office.

  Or maybe God’s…

  I rub a hand over the spot in my shoulder that feels like it’s on fire and my fingers graze a bandage of some kind. I squeeze my eyes shut, bringing my hands to my temples and cringing when a sharp pain shoots down my right arm.

  Where am I?

  And why am I here?

  My brain struggles to focus, to make sense of the images wallpapering my mind. Splintered memories scatter behind my closed eyes and I take a deep breath, trying hard to focus.

  Little things begin to make sense.

  The sunshine. The Little League game.

  I remember running. Fast and hard.

  To escape.

  Almost like I knew what was going to happen…

  I try to raise myself up to identify any other clues about where I might be, but my body is sluggish, my limbs lethargic. It isn’t cooperating at all with my frenzied mind. Gripping the sides of the leather cushion I’m sprawled out on, I push upward, a woozy feeling crashing over me. Bile rises in the back of my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying for the nausea to pass. I swallow a few deep breaths and that seems to settle my stomach.

  But then again, I still don’t know why I’m here in the first place or who brought me here.

  That realization alone is enough to send my belly back into upheaval.

  I shudder against the back of the couch, voices in the hallway getting louder, closer, and more heated.

  My ears prick up at their words. They obviously must think I’m still asleep.

  One of the voices sounds vaguely familiar, although I can’t imagine how I’d know it.

  I struggle to hear more.

  “…meeting…Sal called…be here in an hour…kill them both…”

  I let out a little gasp, fear clutching me. Kill who?

  Me?

  I try to swing my legs around the side of the couch where I’m lying, but they barely graze the floor. I have to try harder. If they don’t know I’m awake, there’s a chance I can get away. True, I have no clue where they’ve taken me, but a chance is a chance and I have to take it.

  When I press my feet into the hardwood, my ankles buckle and I fall forward onto my knees, crashing onto the floor. I swallow a scream because the impact hurt like a bitch. My hands fall next to me on the floor and I crawl toward the door, listening against it for any indication that someone is still out there.

  Silence.

  It’s golden in this case.

  Dizziness assaults my mind, but I fight through it, knowing the opportunity will pass if I don’t take it.

  I reach up and twist the knob ever so gently, pulling open the door. It’s heavy and I have barely any strength, so I grit my teeth while I work it. I only need a sliver of space to slip through. I puff and pant to create my escape, my heart thumping harder and faster with each passing second. I shimmy through the space, face planting onto the carpet in the hallway and gasping for air after all of the work I’ve just made my body do.

  “You need something? You could’ve just yelled for us.”

  I yelp at the voice, rolling onto my side to catch a glimpse of one of my kidnappers, when my heart damn-near stops.

  “You?” I croak, my pulse throbbing against my neck. “What the hell is going on, Joe? You just…you just…you kissed me!”

  He drops to his knees next to me. “I told you I have a knack of showing up when people least expect me. And my real name isn’t Joe.”

  “Then who are you? Tell me your name,” I rasp, barely able to speak. My head is heavy, my mind thick with cobwebs.

  He stares at me with those piercing eyes, and even in my thick fog, the familiarity takes hold again. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  “Sorry, I’m a little woozy right now,” I snip. “After all, I was fucking drugged and kidnapped!”

  He lowers himself next to me, staring intently as I try to focus. “Even after that kiss,” he hisses. “You still don’t know?”

  My pulse throbs against my throat and I desperately try to focus. Who the hell would do this to me? Is he someone my father screwed over? Someone Frankie messed with? What the hell do I have to do with any of that?

  “Your father tried to crush my family back in Sicily,” he growls. “And now your brother is trying to do the same to me.”

  “Oh my God…Roman?” I choke out the name, a mix of fear, anger, and lust clutching me tight. “Roman Villani,” I repeat in a strangled whisper. �
��You fucking asshole! How dare you come anywhere near me! You ruined me. You and your family ruined everything!”

  His dark eyebrows furrow but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches for me, snaking his arms around my back.

  I swat his hands away. “Don’t touch me, you bastard! I don’t want your hands on me ever again!”

  “You’re gonna have a hell of a time getting back on that couch,” he says in a threatening voice.

  “I have no intention of getting back on that couch!” I shriek. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but I’m leaving! We have nothing to say to each other! And if memory serves, you were too much of a pussy to say anything to me before we got forced out of Sicily!”

  Roman rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, see, that’s not how the whole kidnapping thing goes. The way it works is that you stay put or I hurt you. And I really don’t want to hurt you, Marchella.”

  “Fuck you!” I struggle to make my voice as strong as possible even though panic slithers through my insides. “Why would you need to hurt me? Why am I even here? And why the fuck would you come after me in the park when you’re supposed to be running your illicit criminal businesses?” I pant, my breathing labored. “I don’t have anything to do with you, nor do I want to have anything to do with you! Ever again!”

  “Oh, you have plenty to do with me, Chella.” My throat tightens at his use of my nickname. “And you have a lot of power right now, not that you know it. But I know it and that’s what is important.”

  My head spins like a top at his words. I can’t make any sense of this whole thing. “I hate you!” I scream. “Your family ruined our lives!”

  He captures my chin in his hand and holds it tight so I have no ability to turn my head away from him. “Your father ruined your life,” he hisses. “We did what we had to do to protect ourselves. I don’t know what your piece-of-shit father told you, but he’s the one who destroyed everything because he was a greedy bastard. Still is, from what I’ve seen in the news.”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” I screech.

  “Don’t I?” He glares at me. “You know exactly who and what he is, Marchella. You always did. And you knew Frankie would turn out just like him.”

  “And look at how things played out,” I seethe. “Now you’re the scumbag jerkoff who’s in the business of destroying lives. I always thought you’d turn out a little more civilized.”

  “I guess you thought wrong,” he grunts.

  I roll onto my other side and claw at the wall for leverage, trying desperately to pull my body to a standing position, but as soon as I manage to get part way upright, my knees wobble and I collapse to the ground with a loud thud. I groan, rubbing my ass bone as it slams against the floor, which thankfully, is carpeted.

  This time, Roman doesn’t ask to help me up.

  He scoops me into his arms while mine flail about, punching and scratching him with an energy I thought had been completely drained out of me. Tears sting my eyes as I fight to free myself from his grasp. I fail. Miserably.

  I curse, scream, and spit, but nothing makes him flinch.

  His jaw is tight, and when he shifts me to kick open the door, my face falls against his chest. And despite myself, I drink in his spicy scent, melting into him as it infuses my being. So dangerous and delicious at the same time. I want to breathe him in forever…and hate myself for even thinking that.

  Then my back hits the couch cushions again, and my reality slaps the shit out of me.

  I glare up at him. “I want to know why I’m here and why you drugged me! What does Frankie have to do with this? And where is that puppy?”

  “You really have no idea what went down the other night, do you?” he says in a harsh voice, pinning me to the leather with his storming blue irises.

  How is it possible that only a short time earlier, I’d found myself drifting away into those clear, calm pools of blue?

  They’re so different now — turbulent and full of rage.

  Pure fire.

  How the hell didn’t I see the person behind that gaze? Was I that scarred by losing who I thought was the love of my life that I couldn’t recognize him until he shot me with a tranq dart?

  And hard as I try, I can’t make any sense of this whole thing, including my role.

  I grit my teeth. I don’t want to give him an inch, but from the sound of things, it seems like I’m the only one behind the eight ball. “Frankie said something about a job,” I mumble. “And when I saw him this morning, he was nervous that it might have gone wrong. But then he got a call and all was well again.” I shrug, glaring at Roman. “That’s all I know!”

  “That’s all he said, huh?” Roman leans toward me, his breath hot against my face as he seethes his next words. “Let me set you straight right now, Marchella. Your fucking brother robbed my organization of five-hundred grand worth of blow and I want it back. That’s why you’re here.”

  I gasp, pulling away. “No, he didn’t. Frankie would never do that! You were best friends!” But even as I squeak out those words, the truth settles into my mind. I don’t want to believe it, but the look on Roman’s face tells me I have no choice. Suddenly, Frankie’s avoidance of my questions, his unwillingness to give me straight answers…it all makes sense now. The puzzle pieces are falling together and the completed picture makes my gut knot.

  Frankie fucking lied to me, that goddamn jerk! He’s the reason why Roman came looking for me and toyed with me in the park! Frankie is the reason why I got snatched! Why I’m about to get—

  Oh my God…

  Why the hell did he bring me here?

  I writhe against Roman, struggling to escape his piercing gaze.

  He reaches out, his hand grasping my throat. “Oh, but he did. And it wasn’t coincidence that he robbed my club. It was revenge against me and my whole family, and now he’s gonna pay,” he growls through clenched teeth. “He pulled that job and there’s only one reason why he’s not dead right now. But that can change very quickly if you don’t cooperate, do you understand?” His hand tightens just enough to make me work harder to pull in a quivering breath.

  I dig my fingernails into the thick skin of his wrists but he doesn’t wince. He just smiles. It’s a sinister smile, one that makes every hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Goosebumps shoot up my arms and down my legs as the chill in his gaze settles deep in my bones.

  “You can’t hurt me, Chella. But rest assured, I will hurt you if you pull another stupid stunt like trying to escape,” he hisses. His eyes are dark now, dangerous and menacing. I shift against him, wiggling under his muscled chest. He only presses himself farther into me, and fuck me if I don’t feel a tingling sensation between my legs.

  That traitorous bitch!

  I despise this man! How on God’s green Earth am I even remotely turned on by having him plastered against me?

  I narrow my eyes at him, watching as the anger in his volatile gaze battles with another emotion…lust. My breath hitches and he evidently realizes it too because he lets go of me, pulling away. His face is a mess of conflicting expressions, and he looks exactly the way I feel right now.

  My hands fly up to my neck and I slide away from him, using my feet to propel me as far away as I can get. “What are you going to do to me?” I yelp.

  “If you behave, nothing,” he grunts, getting off the couch and turning his back on me.

  “W-what about Frankie?” I ask, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

  Roman folds his arms over his chest and lets out a deep sigh. “He will have one chance to make things right.”

  “What if he can’t?” I ask, my throat tight, a gaggle of panicked tears in the back of my throat.

  Roman turns to look at me, his eyes icy, piercing my heart as he speaks his next words. “Then someone dies.”

  Chapter Nine

  Roman

  That fucking bastard!

  Frankie did this! He put me in the position w
here I need to hurt him by hurting his sister!

  It was stupid to go after her in the park like that, to toy with her, and to torture myself!

  Frankie Amante humiliated me, did the same thing to me that his old man did to mine! He challenged my ability to lead and pulled the rug right out from under me, making me look like a fucking incompetent idiot in front of the men whom I’m supposed to manage. Those are the men who need to respect me, the ones who need to fear me, dammit!

  Now when they look at me all they’ll remember is how Frankie pulled one over on me, how he was able to infiltrate my kingdom, how I am responsible for him getting away with all of that coke.

  I basically invited our enemies inside and let them ravage my fucking home!

  And if Matteo hears about this before I have a chance to tell him…Jesus.

  It’ll be a goddamn bloodbath because of our history with the Amantes.

  I rub the back of my neck, walking over to my desk and sinking into the chair.

  “What does he need to do, Roman? How can he fix this?”

  Marchella’s voice ripples through me in a way that has me doubting my ability to restrain myself since every time she speaks, every time she parts her lips and stares at me intently with those soul-piercing eyes, the urge to fuck her senseless grabs hold — just like it did in the park.

  Talk about a serious conflict of interest.

  And I still need to figure out what the hell to do about Frankie.

  I haven’t had much time to think since I’ve basically been running from one maiming to the next since I left the Grammercy Tap Room the night before. Doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for planning my next move.

  And now that I have her here…now that my leverage is lying on a couch in my office, fearful that I’m about to end not only her life, but Frankie’s, all I can think about is burying my head between her legs and feasting on her soft pussy.

  Which is exactly what I wanted to do from the second I knocked into her at the bar last night.

  Fuck! I need to concentrate on more than just getting off right now!