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

by Kristen Luciani

  “I didn’t realize employees negotiated with their bosses,” he mumbles.

  “This is important. You have to let me call Frankie. He’s all alone now and he’s hurt. You have to let me see if he’s okay. Please, Roman.” I swallow hard. “Look, I have no way of reaching him other than to ask your permission. Which,” I’m quick to say. “Absolutely sucks. But I’m not too proud to ask because he’s my brother and I love him, even if you do want to skin him alive.”

  He looks at me for a long minute, and just when I think I might spontaneously combust because of the heat generated by his panty-melting stare, he shakes his head. “No.”

  My jaw drops. “Why the hell not? I only want to find out if he’s okay. What if those guys found him? What if they know he was with you? They might hurt him, or worse!”

  “Do you understand that I don’t give a damn if he’s okay?” he yells. “Your brother took what didn’t belong to him! And if ‘those guys’ fuck his shit up, then good! He deserves it for what he did! Thinking he could get his revenge all this time later. He took enough. I owe him nothing!”

  A gaggle of tears knots in my throat. Fuck, this is too much. I can’t see my battered brother, I’m alone with this crazy, paranoid thug, and now I have all of these other toxic memories from my past bubbling up from the deep recesses of my heart.

  I have to get away from Roman, away from everything he’s dredged up over the past few hours.

  Christ, I was practically living in poverty a few hours ago, but it was a hell of a lot more tolerable than this shit show Roman has cast me for. My shoulders quake and I hurry to scoop up Bella before stalking out of the kitchen toward the second floor.

  “What happened to breakfast for dinner?” he asks, his jaw tight.

  My mouth drops open and I turn to look at him with as much disdain as I can conjure up. “Are you serious? Because if I’m anywhere near a scalding hot pan right now, there is a hundred percent chance it’ll be smashed against your face!” I take a deep breath, stopping on the stairs. “But don’t let that stop you from enjoying your meal.” I stomp up the steps, hissing loud enough for him to hear. “I hope you fucking choke!”

  I clutch my mother’s hand as we wade into the clear blue water in Turks and Caicos. The sand feels so soft beneath my toes, like a thick carpet warmed by the sun’s rays. I let the gentle rippling waves wash away the angst, the uncertainty, and the sadness. I tilt my head backward to stare up at the cloudless sky.

  It’s a perfect day because we’re together, creating a memory I will cherish for years to come.

  Mama’s thin and fragile hand grips mine tight as we wade deeper, the water rising higher and higher until I take a final step, my foot no longer finding the sandy floor. I gasp, unprepared for what lies ahead…what lies beneath the surface.

  My arms and legs flail about as I sputter. My head bobs up and down like a buoy, and the resort is in the far-off distance. How did I drift so far away?

  And where is Mama?

  I don’t feel her fingers laced with mine!

  “Mama!” I gasp, the waves getting more turbulent by the second.

  The sky, which was a bright cerulean only moments ago, is now dark. The sun, once bright, is now eclipsed by thick, ominous clouds. A heavy wind catapults my body through the waves and I scream, struggling for breath. My lungs constrict with panic, my limbs struggling to keep afloat.

  But the volatile water has other plans for me.

  A rumbling wave gathers speed and height, capturing me in the swirling curl as it hurls itself toward the resort miles and miles into the distance. It rises, higher and higher like an all-consuming tsunami, dragging me along for the ride, certain devastation in my near future.

  I try to shout, to warn everyone on the shore who is seemingly oblivious to the impending danger. But nobody looks up…nobody, not even my family.

  I wave my arms in the air, trying to catch their attention, but they are too busy laughing. Mama, Papa, and Frankie, playing Frisbee in the sand, no clue that their entire world is about to be shattered.

  And I can’t do a damn thing to change the outcome.

  I have no control…

  My world goes black right before the impact strikes and I blink fast, reaching out for the handrail in the stuffy elevator at Memorial Sloane Kettering. I clutch the metal tight, trying to steady myself, but the dizziness assaults my body, sending me crashing to the floor in a cold sweat.

  “Chell,” Frankie whispers on the ground next to me. “You’ve gotta get up. It’s time.”

  “But I can’t,” I say, my eyes stinging with tears. “I’m not ready. She’s not ready!”

  “We have to go,” he whispers, a single tear slipping down the side of his face. “She’s waiting for you. Don’t let her wait anymore…”

  He helps me up as the doors open and I hang onto the handrail for balance. Fear grips me, the gravity of the situation making my knees wobble as I gingerly step forward, tumbling into a thick patch of foliage at Washington Square Park as my dog Princess darts past me in hot pursuit of the pink Frisbee I just tossed.

  “Get it, girl!” I squeal, clapping my hands as my mother lets out a breathless wheeze from the bench nearby. I turn to look at her, gasping as she falls over onto the side of the bench, her face ashen.

  “Mom!” I shriek as her eyes flutter closed, her body spasming. “Somebody, please help us!”

  EMTs appear from out of nowhere, gathering her onto a gurney and loading her into an ambulance that skidded to a stop right in front of our bench only seconds after I let out that bloodcurdling yell.

  I clutch the sides of my head, an empty feeling in the pit of my gut making me shudder. I catch a glimpse of my pink Frisbee laying on the lush green grass in the distance.

  A dark green minivan careens around a corner and big, sad brown eyes stare at me out the side window, a tiny paw slapping against the glass.

  “Princess!” I shriek, clutching the bedsheet tight in my fists. “No!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Roman

  I throw off the comforter, jumping out of the bed and grabbing my gun off the nightstand. I stumble in the darkness, stubbing my toe against the leg of a chair. I swallow a yelp, creeping toward the door with my hand outstretched. I pull it open, careful not to make a sound since I have no fucking clue what the hell is happening beyond my bedroom.

  Luckily, there isn’t any more screaming.

  Sounds like tortured sobs have replaced the piercing shrieks that just jolted me from the X-rated dream I was having about my gorgeous captive.

  I take a step out of my room and turn my head in the direction of the crying.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  My heart jumps, the force practically launching me off the floor. “Dante, for fuck’s sake!” I say in a loud whisper, pointing my gun at him.

  He throws up his hands, jumping backward. “Jesus Christ!”

  “I could have shot you, moron!”

  Dante grins. “Eh, you’d have missed. Besides, why the hell do you need the gun? The alarm didn’t go off. Your girlfriend just had a nightmare.”

  “She’s my hostage, dammit!” I whisper-shout.

  “Yeah, but you still have a hard-on for her,” he teases. “Don’t try to deny it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Go back to bed.”

  “I’m hungry,” he whispers. “I didn’t eat before I passed out. I want a snack.”

  “Can I please check things out without having you on my ass?” I hiss. “Go back to bed!”

  “You know, being a murderous kidnapper has turned you into more of a prick than you already were.”

  “You wanna see murderous?” I growl. “Then stick around!”

  Dante lets out a soft snicker. “Okay, okay. Go ‘comfort’ your girlfriend. Then when you’re done, I’ll invade your fridge.”

  “You already did that, by the way,” I mutter as he backs into his room.

  I sweep a hand through my hair, dropping the h
and with the gun clutched in it. He’s right. There’s no intruder. I’m being overly paranoid right now.

  This kidnapping shit is new for me.

  Usually I just slash and walk.

  I can usually rid myself of my victims pretty fast.

  This one will be with me for a while. And I’ve already pissed her off enough for one night. After she stormed out of the kitchen, I heard the shower in the bathroom run for a good half an hour. Then, silence.

  Not even a single bark.

  I figured she let Bella into my room to shit in the rest of my sneakers but surprisingly, they were spared. Of course, she might have hidden a little steaming surprise for later.

  It’s what I would’ve done in her position.

  I hold out my fist and softly knock on the door before pushing it open a crack.

  I can see Marchella’s silhouette as she stands by the window, staring out at the moonlit sky.

  She turns with a gasp, the beams of light dancing on top of her dark hair like a halo.

  The angel and the devil.

  How friggin’ ironic.

  “You okay?” I say in a low voice, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

  She stares at me, tears streaming from her eyes as she shakes her head. “No. I haven’t been okay in a really long time, as a matter of fact.”

  I take a tentative step into the room, then stop short as Bella leaps to her feet and growls at me from the foot of the bed.

  I furrow my brow. She’s staring at me like she wants to tear me to shreds with her sharp little chompers and I have to admit, even though she’s tiny, that guttural sound makes me take a step back.

  I hear a hint of a giggle and sneak a glance at Marchella. Despite her sniffles and tear-streaked face, she’s actually smiling. The sight makes my dick tingle.

  Ah, shit.

  I guess I am that twisted.

  “She doesn’t like you.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “I’m an acquired taste.”

  “In other words, if at first you have to choke it down, sputtering and gagging, try, try again?”

  My lips curl upward. “I’ve never had any complaints about anyone choking anything down.”

  She lets out a frustrated huff, turning back to the window. “You’re gross.”

  “Yeah, but in a few days, you might actually find me tolerable. It can happen just like that.” I snap my fingers.

  “Right now, I find you insufferable,” she whispers. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t let me call Frankie. He was hurt badly and you wouldn’t even let me check on him.”

  “Chella—”

  She spins around, holding up a finger. “No, don’t call me that. We’re not friends. Only my friends call me that.”

  “I don’t want to be your enemy,” I say, stepping forward and risking Bella’s wrath. “I never did.”

  “You created this situation, Roman.” She sniffles. “You don’t get to choose how I feel about you!”

  “I’m trying to do my—”

  “Your job,” she snips. “Yeah, yeah. I know all about it. Your loyalty. Sorry to pile on more work for you.”

  “You know, I did a very nice fucking thing when I went to get that mutt off the streets.”

  “Yeah, it was nice,” she says. “And what was your motive, huh? Because let’s face it, guys like you always have one.”

  “I didn’t have an agenda,” I grunt. “I didn’t need to go into that shithole neighborhood and get my goddamn car busted up! I went to do a nice thing!”

  Her brow furrows. “Your car got busted up?”

  I lean against the wall. “Yeah. Some guys broke into it and stole my stereo. They were about to steal my battery and rims, too, before the cops showed up.”

  She lets out a chuckle. “Serves you right. Ever hear of karma?”

  “Trust me, if that’s the worst to even blow back on me, I’ll consider myself damn lucky,” I mumble. I sigh, pushing away from the wall. “And now that you’ve had some fun at my expense, I’m going back to bed. Next time I’ll know to stay the fuck out.”

  My eyes flit over her lithe body, covered only by a thin white t-shirt she must have found in one of my drawers. I wonder if she’s wearing panties, but the t-shirt is long enough that I can’t tell.

  I only came in here to check on her because she was upset, and now she’s got my dick in a complete twist. How the hell am I supposed to sleep now?

  I want to say something else. I want to tell her why I really went back for Bella. I want to tell her that even though I’m holding her captive, I’ve never been as turned on by a woman as I am by her.

  But the walls surrounding her are too high and thick to scale.

  It ain’t worth it.

  This is the life I chose, and they don’t come with happy endings.

  At least, not in the literal sense.

  It’s why I had to ignore my feelings for her in the first place.

  I don’t bother to say goodnight. I just square my shoulders and walk out, trying to maintain some degree of dignity.

  I fist the sides of my head and stalk toward the kitchen. I pull open the refrigerator door since I didn’t eat either. I don’t know why I had to pull that power play bullshit with her before. Was it because I didn’t want her attention on anything but me?

  I could have let her call Frankie. I could have been a decent guy.

  But then I wouldn’t be me.

  I scan the contents of the refrigerator, and the meal Marchella was planning sounds a lot better than what I know I can do with the same ingredients. Besides, my stomach is knotted like a pretzel right now.

  I opt for a beer and collapse onto the sofa, facing the window. I don’t bother with any lights. I just stare out into the night sky. It looks and feels heavy and thick since there are no stars twinkling back at me.

  Then again, what’d I expect? This is Manhattan.

  I take a swig from the beer bottle, setting it down on the table in front of me. I rest my head against the back of the couch and let my eyes drift closed. A soft pattering across the floor makes me jump a few minutes later.

  “Hey,” Marchella says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Hey,” I reply shortly, my jaw tight. This time, I don’t let my eyes wander. I keep them focused on hers.

  She nods toward the empty couch cushion next to me. “Mind if I sit?”

  “You’re kind of my guest, so…” I shrug.

  “Thanks,” she says, sinking down next to me. I expect her to speak but she just sits there, quiet, a pensive look on her face. “I shouldn’t have been such a bitch to you before. I know you were just coming to make sure I was okay.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t deserve the welcome wagon.”

  “True,” she agrees, a hint of a smile on her face. “I just…look, it’s been a rough year for me. Way worse than anything we dealt with back in Sicily. I have a lot of things swirling through my brain on a daily basis, things that haunt me every day. Sometimes they decide to destroy my nights, too.” She toys with her hands. “I guess all of the stress from today triggered my mind, making it spin out of control.”

  My lips stretch into a straight line. “You have every right to be pissed off at me,” I mutter. “No need to apologize.”

  “You have to understand how fucked up this is, Roman. You’re planning to keep me here like I’m a bird in a gilded cage until my brother delivers for you. And based on what I know of mafia families, there’s no out for Frankie. You’ll never let him go. You’ll never let me go. Because guys like you are too concerned with watching your backs. You can’t have weak links floating around, threatening your livelihood.” She rubs a hand down the front of her face. “Believe me, I know,” she whispers.

  “Your dad?” I ask. I assume she’s talking about his prison sentence. He was always a fucking loose cannon. It didn’t shock me that he finally got caught, not that I paid too much attention to the news. He was always the guy who went overboard more often th
an not. He never followed instructions, always thought he could do things best without anyone else’s guidance. He had his own way of doing things and if he didn’t like someone else’s plan, he cut them out of it. It made him a lot of enemies back in Sicily, aside from my father, and I’m sure he made plenty here over the years.

  She nods. “I know how you guys operate,” she says softly. “I know you don’t allow risks to impact your businesses. You crush liabilities. Frankie is a definite liability. Why would you ever let him walk away once he does what you ask?”

  I grab my beer bottle and take another gulp. I can’t argue with her. You always handle liabilities. It’s part of the job. Eliminating threats to the kingdom is the only way to survive and thrive.

  It’s why my father got rid of the Amantes.

  “I never told you I was gonna kill him,” I say. This is true, primarily because I really don’t want to kill him. I want him to hand over the schmucks whom he’s working with and let them kill him. He can be bought, I already know that. It’s his weakness.

  But I also know I’m opening myself up to a lot of hell if I don’t ice him.

  The truth is, if I kill him, I’m gonna have to admit to Matteo that I fucked up and that I let our family get taken for a second time by an Amante. It’s gonna tell him I don’t know how to handle a situation without using brute force. And leaders need to figure out different ways to get what they want.

  He’ll never take me seriously if I can’t fix this without bloodshed.

  I thought by sparing Frankie’s life I was being strategic, but the jury’s still out on that.

  I don’t trust him, and if he crosses me, there will only be one way to fix this.

  I can’t risk another blow to my authority.

  “You didn’t have to say anything,” she murmurs. “I know he’s a live wire. He’s always been that way. I think that’s why he and my dad were always so close. He’s exactly like my father.”

  “And you’re your mother. I mean, from what I remember.”

  A faraway smile brightens her face. “Yeah, I definitely am. We both loved so many of the same things, we shared so many of the same personality traits. We were incredibly close. She was like my best friend.” She sighs. “I miss her so much. I felt like once she was gone, I’d lost that parental connection. My dad and I don’t exactly mix. And now that he’s in jail, it’s like we’re not even part of each other’s lives anymore. I feel like I’ve lost them both.”