The Favorite: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance (The Syndicate's Revenge Book 2)

by Mara McQueen

  "I want to go home!" She'd stomped her foot like the seven-year-old brat she'd turned into. "I want my toys! I miss my cousins! And I want chocolate!"

  "Oh, really?" Her father had raised his mighty eyebrows. "You have a chocolate factory hidden underneath your bed?"

  All she had under that lumpy mattress had been dusting rags and a few books with missing pages.

  "Grandpa Baron gave me chocolate. And told me bedtime stories," Ava had mumbled. "I want to go live with him."

  "We're not going back." Her mother had sent her one of those looks that usually made Ava clamp up; not that day. "Baron can't even protect his own home, he definitely can't protect us."

  "But I don't like it here," Ava had said between tears. "It's cold. All the time. Why can't we go back? Please!"

  "You keep this tantrum up and you'll be on feeding-the-chickens duty for a month," her father had said.

  Ava had gasped and shut up. She hated going near the chickens; they pecked at her ankles and hounded after her, and her parents knew that.

  Ava had quickly learned that going against what her parents said would get her in trouble. So she didn't. She adapted to a life of working, daydreaming, and not getting any answers, especially when it came to the reason they'd run away.

  "Why does it matter now?" Her mother had sighed when Ava had dared ask her the dreadful question again, at eighteen, when she should have been going through the secret Syndicate initiation to become an official member instead of scrounging pennies together to buy a used textbook. "Are you in a rush to be taken away to the Brotherhood Capital? Because that's what's waiting for you out there. As long as you're here, you're safe."

  Ava had hated that safety.

  It hadn't been some quaint storybook life where she lounged and laughed in the sunlight and stood in front of the fire with hot cocoa at night. It had hard, lonely work, day in and day out. Rise with the sun, fall back into bed exhausted at night.

  From glittery sneakers, Ava had gone to unraveling her old jeans when they were too beaten up for more patching so she could twist the threads into shoelaces. You made due with what you had and you always, always thought outside the box.

  Things had gotten better over the years. First, they got electricity, which had been a blessing for her father, who already had bad eyesight. Then came the running water, along with the washing machine, which also meant no more running out of the outhouse when a spider got too friendly.

  All the bills came with other peoples' names on them; Ava still didn't know how her parents had managed that. But the Syndicate controlled North America, the Brotherhood had a stranglehold on most of Europe and Asia. If they wanted to remain hidden, they had to be careful.

  Then, finally, they got a beaten up computer and Internet. It was slow and laggy, but it was a light in a sea of grey. Her parents were outdoorsy. Loved the so-called simple life that left them with blisters, varicose veins, and too many cuts to count. Best of all, they had each other. They'd gotten away from Clan life. They were content.

  Ava was miserable. She wanted out, and she knew the only way was through being good at something other than fishing and gathering berries.

  At twenty-three, her clock was done ticking and the alarm had started to ring. Her parents must have heard it, too, because they agreed to let her go to college.

  Three months later, everything had gone horribly wrong.

  She lost her parents. She lost her house. She lost whatever semblance of freedom she'd had.

  Worse? After all those horrible sacrifices, here she was, in the Brotherhood Capital.

  So Ava paced, clutching the pendant around her neck which had her parents' pictures inside. The last photos she had of them. The rest had been turned to ash, along with her shack, in the dead of night. At least Azor was safe.

  Her heart pounded. Were her cousins safe? Was she?

  God, there had been so many bodies in that garden.

  Ava dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing the image away. But it hooked itself into her mind, digging deeper and deeper, along with another sinister thought.

  Maybe some of those bodies belonged to the Syndicate men who'd killed her parents. The ones who'd dragged her back and forced her to marry Darius.

  Ava didn't know who they were, but she'd seen them at the wedding. They deserved to die. Painfully.

  She licked her parched lips. When was the last time she'd drank a drop of water? She did not need to be dehydrated on top of everything else.

  The grand doors at the front of the room opened. A salty sea breeze floated in before a short, stubby man with a thin mustache hurried her way.

  He wore a white uniform, with gold trim. He and Ava almost matched.

  She swallowed her sigh. Had she been expecting the Prince? Yes, she had. Was she disappointed it wasn't him?

  Ava didn't know. He wasn't exactly a friendly face—though she could admit he was gorgeous if she forgot he'd cleaved a man in two—but he was the only person she knew in this new life.

  The man stopped in front of her and kneeled. Was this—was this how Brotherhood members said hello?

  Well, Ava didn't want to be rude, especially since she'd be living here. Best learn the customs now and adapt.

  Fighting the puffy skirt and crinoline underneath, Ava mirrored the man. She kneeled and touched her forehead to the floor.

  The man looked at her with wide, petrified eyes.

  "What are you doing?" he whispered in an adorable lisp.

  "Uhm...exactly what you are doing," she whispered back. This was ridiculous. Why was she having a hushed conversation kneeling on the floor? "Isn't—isn't this how you say hello here?"

  The man shook his head slowly, as if not quite believing this was happening either. "This is how I greet you. You need to stand up...Your Grace."

  Ava jumped to her feet as if scalded.

  Your Grace? Ava had been the Syndicate's First Son' Daughter and nobody had ever called her that.

  New life, new rules, Ava.

  "I don't think I like this," she mumbled, still disbelieving.

  "Your Grace, forgive me for not coming sooner, I didn't want to disturb you," he went on, pretending nothing had happened.

  Ava pushed her hesitation down—this man had Brotherhood gold on him.

  "Hi," she said, voice small and hoarse. She cleared her throat. "What's your name?"

  "Rossen," he said, sounding surprised. Thankfully, he rose back up. "Your Grace."

  "Please stop calling me that." She forced a laugh. She'd lived most of her life with her parents, and knew when they were happy or upset from the way they stretched their vowels. Other people...Ava didn't exactly know how to read them. Or react to them. Or talk to them for more than five minutes without mentioning the weather twice. "I might get used to it."

  "I—I can't," Rossen stammered. "It's—it's the rule."

  Oh. The famed Brotherhood protocol grandpa Baron had warned her about when she was a kid. He could have mentioned the kneeling along the way.

  "Well." She licked her lips again. "Rossen, can you please tell me where I can find some water?"

  She might've been raised in the wilderness, but Ava Caputo had manners. She'd seen the Brotherhood assassins, all regal and ruthless. Even this bare room intimidated her. She didn't want to become the country bumpkin who'd stumbled her way into the Capital, the Brotherhood’s menacing headquarters nobody could find on a map.

  Rossen's eyes bulged for a second before he dashed toward the low table and took out a great big jug from underneath it. He rushed back to Ava's side, presenting it like a grand gift. "Forgive me, we have prepared water and food for you, but we weren't sure…"

  Ava grabbed the jug, muttered a "thank you" and brought its lip to her mouth so fast, she spilled some water onto her chin. Well, nobody was going to look at that stain when her dress was flecked with red.

  "Your Grace." Rossen gulped and went to kneel again. "Please don't tell the Crown Prince I forgot to give you wa
ter. He will—"

  "He’ll understand, because there's nothing normal about this situation," came a voice from behind.

  Ava whirled around, right hand aimed straight at her switchblade's seam. She didn’t like surprises.

  But she wasn't facing a firing squad she needed to defend herself against. Oh, no.

  Ava was staring straight at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life.

  Chapter Five

  AVA

  It wasn't fair.

  Not fair at all that the universe had given this woman those plump lips, silky black hair, braided in an intricate pattern on the crown of her head, gorgeous brown eyes, and a perfect smile, when Ava had been "blessed" with a weird angle in her nose and pointy ears that always reddened when she blushed.

  "Who are you?" Ava whispered, mesmerized.

  "Kimbrana," she said. No, it sounded like a song. Speaking was for mortals. "But you can call me Kimbra. All of my friends do. And I have a feeling we're going to be great friends."

  She took a step forward, out of the blinding light shining through the massive doorway. She floated into the room, draped in fine silk and blinding jewels. A woman rushed behind her, wearing the same white uniform as Rossen, blonde hair tied up in a neat little bun.

  Next to Kimbra, they all looked like beggars. Especially Ava, and she was wearing the finest dress Darius' money could buy.

  Mercifully, Kimbra didn’t kneel.

  "Hello," Ava said. Even added a jerky wave, like they were in junior high and she needed to make friends. She guessed, at least. Thank God she'd ran around with her cousins and learned diplomacy from grandpa Baron during those first six years of her life, or she'd be a social mess. "I'm Ava."

  Kimbra looked as surprised as Rossen had been. But her smile grew. "Hi! Allow me to introduce Bethany."

  The blonde woman nodded. If Ava wasn't mistaken, Bethany was giving her some polite stink-eye. Or her dress, more like.

  Ah, yes. The blood.

  "Kimbra?" She licked her lips. "Do you—do you know if my cousins are okay?"

  "They're safe," she said slowly. "That's all I know."

  What did safe even mean for Brotherhood members? Were they bleeding out in a hospital or were on a plane heading back home?

  Ava sighed in relief all the same.

  Better than nothing. She'd lived most of her life from scraps, she could do it again.

  "You know where I can find some clothes?"

  Kimbra looked relieved. "Oh, thank the gods. I was starting to get worried you were one of those Clan members."

  Ava didn't know who those members were, but she was Clan in blood only. She shook her head.

  "Come on." She headed toward the mirrors. "We need to get that off you."

  “Yes, I think the corset’s trying to break my ribs.”

  Kimbra blinked at her. "I've heard what happened at the wedding. Are you still in shock?"

  "More numb than shocked." After the year she'd had, Ava was ready for anything.

  Kimbra looked at her for a long time. Enough for Ava to start squirming. What? It was the truth. Shock had to wait, but her body wasn't in the tippest of tops.

  "Oh, he is going to just love you," Kimbra clapped her hands excitedly, that stony poise of hers melting.

  The Crown Prince? If anything, he'd looked annoyed when he'd talked Ava into changing her entire future. “I’ve met him. I’m not so sure.”

  Kimbra scoffed. “I’ve known him since he was waving a stick around instead of a sword. Trust me, I know what he likes.”

  So he was a threatening little bastard even as a kid. Great. “Does he like killing people?”

  He hadn't seemed to enjoy it much back at the wedding, but he'd taken a life. Threatened more.

  Killing someone because you had to? That was the Underworld way of life, even Ava knew that. She wanted to hunt down those Syndicate men—maybe her heart did beat Clan, at least sometimes.

  But she didn't like that she wanted heartless revenge. She could never stand someone who enjoyed destroying others. That's what she'd hated most about Darius. He hadn't given a damn about anyone's life but his own and he'd loved to cause misery.

  "Listen." Kimbra sighed. "Meeting during a massacre isn't ideal, even in the Underworld. I know the situation seems like horrible now—"

  Ava's brows rose. Horrible didn't even begin to describe the last twenty-four hours.

  "—but you'll see he's a good guy, deep, deep down. Once you get to know him. He does what needs to be done to protect us all and the rest of the world. You're his responsibility now, he will protect you, too. With his life, if he has to."

  So Ava had become just a responsibility. Great.

  She huffed a sad, pitiful little laugh. "All my life, I've been told I needed protection from him and your Brotherhood."

  Kimbra's face darkened. "The Underworld members come in all shapes and moralities. You will need to be protected."

  That's what Ava kept on hearing. Nobody had ever said she needed to protect herself, though. She knew she didn't look all that threatening, but she had some skills. She could survive in the woods with nothing but a switchblade and had a knack for getting lost when she wanted to. She couldn't face a highly trained assassin, but out in the real world, she'd do just fine if the apocalypse ever came.

  “Okay, what are you in the mood for?” Kimbra asked, back to being giddy. She flexed her fingers like she wanted to rip Ava’s dress and burn it. “Silk? Cotton? Linen? I think we have some Chambray dresses hidden in here somewhere.”

  Hidden where? Underneath the marble floor? “I want clean.”

  “We can start there.” Kimbra turned to the endless panels of mirrors and pressed her palm against the first one. A blue light shined against the contour of her elegant fingers. A second later, the mirrors slid open, on both sides of the room, revealing rows upon rows of clothing in every color imaginable. No wrinkles, no mothball scent.

  They smelled like spring and looked like old money. Centuries-old money.

  Well. This was different than the musty chest Ava used to keep her hoodies in back home. She felt the tips of her ears redden.

  Even back in New York, where she’d shared an apartment with Ella for the past twelve months, she’d had a hard time with technology—and their closet had been from Ikea. If Kimbra hadn’t been here, Ava wouldn’t have ever found this.

  She was out of her depth and sinking fast.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

  “It took me a while to get used to this new system, too,” Kimbra said, already digging through the racks. “But we had to make this fitting room fit for a Crown Princess. Of course, we need to adjust the measurements to actually fit you.”

  Ava gaped. “All of this is mine?”

  Shit. There were enough clothes here to dress everyone in the largest nearby city back home. For fifteen years, at least.

  Ava had gone through this already. Having too many options, then none. She wasn’t making that mistake again. No getting used to opulence and having. She didn’t know if she could take losing everything for the third time in her life.

  “Don’t worry, this is just the summer wardrobe,” Kimbra said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  This was insane—and wasteful. “I literally don't have enough days left in my life to wear everything.”

  Kimbra looked at her over her shoulder. “You’ll be the Brotherhood Queen. You need to look the part.”

  Ava licked the inside of her cheek. If the Brotherhood wanted to waste their money on Ava’s ass, then fine. She wasn’t going to complain she’d now have more than two pairs of jeans she’d have to mend every couple of months.

  "This is perfect." Kimbra took out a gauzy dress. Red, of course. "Contrast that green in your eyes."

  As long as it didn't involve a corset, Ava didn't care if she'd be stuffed inside a garbage bag.

  Her hands went to the buttons at her back. She needed t
his off. Now.

  "Let me help," Kimbra said, fingers already undoing the top row.

  Bethany grimaced, grabbed Rossen's shoulders, and turned them both around. Nice of them, but Ava had washed away her shyness during her teenage summers, when she'd had to shower in the creek; it hadn't been that bad, but after almost drowning in grandpa Baron's pool back when she thought ponytails were the height of fashion, she hated any water that went above her ankles.

  As soon as the dress dropped at her feet, Ava exhaled.

  She'd lost at least twenty pounds with the petticoat alone. "Shit, that feels good."

  "Wait until you see the Brotherhood wedding dresses."

  "That bad?"

  Kimbra curled her top lip. "Worse."

  Ava smiled, and it wasn't forced this time. She liked Kimbra. “What else happens at a Brotherhood we—”

  An ominous march resounded outside, stealing the rest of her words. Coming closer. Fast.

  A dozen guards marched up to the doorway, perfectly in sync. A black cloud against the light.

  They stepped inside and Ava's breath whooshed out of her.

  The Crown Prince led them. Lord, he looked even more imposing than yesterday. He had the body of a warrior, a shadow that overpowered you at midnight. Was it her imagination or did he seem even taller now?

  His presence filled the room, all stares on him. Everyone kneeled. The reverence didn't seem for show, either. They looked at him like a leader.

  Ava cursed her fate even more. He was perfectly jagged angles, towering over them all.

  He definitely looked like a prince—a pissed-off prince.

  He took one look at Ava's corset and stilled. The guards froze behind him.

  "Everybody out. Now."

  Chapter Six

  AVA

  The Brotherhood members scurried out as if someone had set them on fire. Ava wanted to go with them so badly.

  Kimbra was the only one who lingered enough to tell the Prince, "Be nice," and patted him on the back.