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

by Mara McQueen

  "I always am," he said, gaze still locked on Ava, not sounding the least bit nice.

  Annoyed? Angry? She couldn't tell, but there were shadows in his eyes and a thunder in his slow steps as he approached her.

  This man was magnificent, even to Ava's untrained stare. Now that she wasn't staring at him through the haze of fear, she noticed just how beautiful he was.

  His long, dark hair seemed to suck out all the light in the room and keep it for itself. He had a lean, masculine face that had been made for a royal. He moved with the easy confidence of someone who'd already proven what needed to be proven and had nothing and nobody to fear. With a body like that, why would he? He was all lean muscles, strength, and precision.

  His sharp cheekbones spoke of nobility, but his eyes were dark. Calculating. A killer's gaze, trained on Ava.

  What exactly was she supposed to say to her fiancé’s murderer?

  "Where are my cousins?" she asked. Her voice played around them on a loop, beating against her chest.

  "With their future spouses." His deep, raspy voice filled the space, echoing against hers. "They're getting married into the Brotherhood, too."

  Shit. "Because of me?"

  Ava would never forgive herself if Ella, Enzo, Nat, and Toni had to face the same future as her.

  "No." His sharp jaw ticked. "Because of me."

  As soon as the massive doors slid shut, sealing Ava alone with him, he began circling her. But it wasn't the slow, calculated look of someone sizing up an opponent. He looked like a predator prowling around his prey. Power and control radiated off him with every even step. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin.

  Screw that.

  Ava had cowered and pretended for an entire year. She hadn't exchanged that miserable life to come here to be gawked at by her supposed enemy.

  No, you came here to marry him.

  "Do you always have an army behind you?" Oh, good, her voice had decided to shake.

  But she couldn't help herself. This was his domain and Ava had barely woken up in it. Among strangers. Dangerous ones, too.

  "Did you think I needed an army back at the wedding?"

  No, he'd cowered two hundred Clan members with a look and a grin. Ava shook her head.

  "That was your new personal guard," he said; Ava could swear she felt his hot breath ghosting across the nape of her neck. "I planned on introducing you, but you seemed occupied."

  Her guards. Her insanely expensive clothes. Ava was getting a lot of things she'd never asked for and didn't want.

  What had she gotten herself into?

  He kept circling her. Ava's skin suddenly felt hot.

  "Had enough of a look?" she asked with confidence she didn't feel.

  "No." He continued to prowl.

  Each one of his steps pressed against her senses, making Ava so aware of him. How did he do it? At the wedding, now, he just commanded all the attention just by existing.

  “Condolences on your loss,” he said, voice snaking over her shoulders, sending shivers down her spine.

  Ava might not have been Clan all the way, but, as Ella said, the Caputos were no wusses.

  “Think you mean congratulations.”

  He finally relented and stopped in front of her with a surprised laugh. "Not a fan of Darius?"

  “The absolute biggest.” She blew off an errant curl blocking her view of the Prince. “I am absolutely gutted at losing him, as you can see."

  “Then why did you agree to marry him?”

  "If I say it was for his money, would you believe me?"

  His eyes narrowed slightly, even as they seemed to finally see her. Not the Syndicate's First Son's Daughter he'd brought back to the Capital, but Ava.

  "Then I do apologize for ruining your plans." He smirked. "A crying shame Darius dropped dead before putting that ring on your finger and leaving you half his fortune."

  Ava laughed; for the first time in many, many months, it wasn’t for show. The Dragon had a sense of humor. Who would've thought?

  She relaxed the tiniest bit. She'd learned not to crave riches the hard way. "I guess I'll have to settle for half of yours, then."

  "You sound really believable."

  "Hey." Ava huffed with a smile. "I could be a gold digger if I want to."

  "Sure. That's why you're barely glancing at the dresses." He jutted out his chin at her. "Why did you agree to marry him, Ava?"

  His tone was perfectly polite, but she heard the underlying message—he wanted the truth.

  He’d get half of it. “To protect my cousins.”

  His eyes narrowed further; he didn’t buy it. “Why did you agree to marry me?”

  "Same reason. It's not like I was dying to sink myself deeper into the Underworld."

  Had she offended him? Did she care?

  The Crown Prince of the Brotherhood must’ve had women throwing themselves at him. Even Ava had heard stories. But he was a stranger. A gorgeous, tempting stranger, but Ava wasn’t about to let attraction cloud her already shaky judgment.

  But why had he agreed to marry her? He'd risked a lot coming after her. His own life, for starters.

  Of all the reactions in the world, the Prince decided to smile. With a dangerous edge, but still.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, his eyes roamed over her again. "Where's that little knife of yours?"

  What was he calling little? Ava yanked it out of the corset pocket and flicked it open. "This already stabbed one groom."

  "Planning on making it two?" he asked, obviously amused.

  Then he moved, so fast, Ava barely saw him. She only felt a slight pressure against her wrist, but before she'd even had time to yank her arm back, the Prince had her switchblade in his hand, turning it between his fingers.

  "How did you do that?" she asked, disbelieving. He must have been made out of the same bones, muscles, and ligaments as any other human.

  "I think there was a compliment in there somewhere," he said and flicked the blade back in its silver sheath. "You need a bigger weapon."

  He raised his arm and positioned the switchblade right above the pocket in her corset. He pushed it in slowly, gaze not leaving hers.

  It was a simple thing. Metal sliding against fabric, nothing more. But the air around them shifted with that simple touch. All humor vanished, replaced with a tension that settled right in Ava's stomach.

  She stood still, following his every move, as if in a trance.

  She was dealing with a dangerous man. She couldn't forget that, no matter how gorgeous he was when he smiled those real smiles.

  How did one react when faced with a prince with inhuman speed?

  His finger traced up her chest, clavicle, neck, leaving a trail of tingles behind. He pushed her chin up. Ava gulped, even as her eyes narrowed.

  "Why did you bring a weapon to your wedding?" he asked.

  Ava shrugged without shame or remorse. "In case Darius got any ideas on the wedding night."

  He chuckled. "A gun would've taken care of him quicker."

  He stepped back, fingers gliding away from her chin slowly.

  Ava shook her wrists. He unnerved her, even though she wasn't afraid of him.

  If the Prince had wanted her dead, she would've been lying next to Darius right now.

  Which reminded her—"What's your name?"

  All her life, all she'd heard of him was the fearsome Prince, The terrifying Dragon, and the scheming asshole.

  She was stuck with him now, might as well learn what name she needed to curse if he'd turned out to be as much of a bastard as Darius. But she doubted it—he looked like an efficient leader, not a hungover waste of space.

  His sharp brows rose. "Raiden."

  Ava jutted out her hand. "Nice to meet you. For real, this time."

  Without him waving a sword and her on the verge of fainting while people screamed.

  Raiden stared at her hand, as if he'd been caught off guard. Ava's face heated u
p. Did they have a no-touch policy around here? After the whole kneeling thing, nothing would surprise her.

  Just as her hand began to fall—yeah, not awkward at all—Raiden's fingers closed around her wrist.

  The moment their skin touched, Ava inhaled sharply. Whenever she shook hands with people, especially Clan people, they always held on too tightly. Gripped hard, like they wanted everyone in the world to know they were the shit.

  Raiden didn't. He didn't play those silly little games weaker men loved. He was obviously powerful, he didn't need to redden fingers to prove it.

  His skin was so soft. Shouldn't he have calluses from that sword of his? A blister or two, that's all Ava asked for.

  She shook his hand fast, before he felt the sudden shivers racing down her arm, and yanked it back.

  "Now that we've been properly introduced." She cleared her throat. "Why did you come after me?"

  Ava didn't kid herself. She wasn't some glorious creature men fell in love with on sight and waged wars over. This had been a calculated move. But shouldn't he be gloating that his plan had worked out? At least a little bit?

  "We've been promised to each other since childhood," he said, steel-hard once again. "You might have disappeared, but the contract our Clans signed still stands. The code demanded I come for you."

  Ava looked at him like he'd sprouted fifteen heads. "You risked a Clan war for the code?"

  Fucking Underworld rules. They'd destroyed her parents' lives, now they were going to ruin hers.

  Ava threw her hands in the air. "This is insane."

  Raiden laughed low in his throat. "Do you always say what's on your mind?"

  "Yes." She just made sure to package it as nicely as she could. Most times. Ava might've hated playing games, but she wasn't stupid.

  "That's going to be dangerous."

  "I'm sorry, did I offend your perfect Brotherhood ears?"

  Ava clenched her jaw. That was the wrong thing to say, even for her. But he did have perfect ears. And she felt flustered and like she didn't fit quite right in her skin in front of him. It was strange.

  "You can say whatever you want when we're alone," he said, and Ava's cheeks heated up even more. Alone? With him? Again? "But there are people in the Capital who are waiting for you to make a wrong move."

  Great. "That sounds welcoming."

  His grin turned sharp. "Had it better in the Syndicate, did you?"

  Ava slashed him a look, brows furrowing. "That's not nice."

  "It's the truth," he said, but it didn't have the same bite to it.

  "My life’s still tied to a stranger. I see no difference."

  She'd been forced to run from this marriage—from Raiden—her entire life. He'd still found her. It was inevitable. If Ava made the best of it, it could turn into an opportunity shrouded in misery.

  Though she couldn't imagine being as disgusted with Raiden as she'd been of Darius. For one, he seemed smart. He was clearly respected, so he must've done something right in his life. And—a big and—he was tempting. She'd gagged at the thought of even holding Darius' hand, but she sure liked feeling Raiden's. She wanted to slip past that dark gaze of his into his mind and uncover it layer by layer, until she found the real him. Raiden, not the Prince.

  He stepped closer. It might've been her imagination, but that icy mask of his was thawing.

  "I came for you because I knew I could keep my promise," he said, eyes locked on her. "I've seen what a broken marriage alliance can do."

  Ava raised her chin higher. She wasn't some sap story. "If you mean me, I'm perfectly—"

  "I mean myself." The smile he gave her seemed sad. Still with a hint of danger—like with everything he did, even breathing—but ghosts clung to it. "My father, the King, broke his marriage alliance and married my mother, the woman he loved. It almost broke the Clan apart. Until I learned how to defend myself, I had to be guarded and hidden, too. School, secret training grounds, everywhere. No child should grow up fearing he'd become a bargaining chip."

  His fingers coiled around one of the curls which had escaped Ava's mess of a bun. More shivers rolled through her, settling at the base of her spine.

  He went on, as if speaking to himself, mesmerized by the way her dark hair twisted in his grasp, "I swore I'd never endanger my Clan or my family like that. So we're both marrying to keep others safe."

  At least they agreed on something. Ava knew what it was like to grow up looking over her shoulder. The fear. The doubt. They burrowed deep and festered.

  She'd promised herself she'd shake that terror off her, live as normal of a life as she could, but it boiled to the surface when she least expected it.

  Raiden had obviously escaped that life. Ava hadn't gotten the opportunity to free herself of it—she'd been dragged out of it, kicking and screaming. It taught her one thing—she needed to adapt. To anything and everything, and always, always have options.

  She squared her shoulders—time for the big fight.

  He let go of her hair, snapping out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

  "I want to go back to college," she said as imperiously as grandpa Baron had taught her.

  Inside, she trembled. It had taken a lot of sacrifices and planning and pleading, but Ava had convinced her parents to let her go to college. Online. It took three hours to download her assignments, but she knew she was getting out of that shack one way or the other, and she couldn't do shit without an education.

  Those Syndicate men had found her three months after she'd signed up for her first class.

  She'd blamed herself. They must have discovered them because of her. Because she couldn't stand still in one place to protect her family.

  She still carried that doubt with her. But she hadn't killed her parents. Those men had. All she'd wanted was to learn. Find some shred of freedom in her cage. She would not drown in guilt because of it.

  She'd adapt, whatever this new life threw her way.

  "It's online," she went on, voice shaking. She wanted this so badly. "It won't interfere with Clan duties—"

  "Sure." Raiden shrugged. "Enroll in whatever university you want. We have ties to most of the good ones, it won't be an issue."

  "I—" Just like that? Darius had groaned and grimaced for three whole days when she'd brought it up. She instantly relaxed. "I plan on getting in myself. Through very ethical means."

  A corner of Raiden's lips ticked up. "Aiming for a scholarship, too?"

  "Maybe I am," she said primly. "If not, I can sell half of my new closet and pay for my tuition."

  "As long as you don't threaten me or my Clan and stick to the contract clauses, you can do whatever you want."

  After a lifetime of being told what to do, it sounded too easy. "What clauses?"

  "No cheating, no subterfuge, no assassinations. The usual."

  Way too easy. "What else?"

  Raiden furrowed his brows. "That's it. You'll have a copy of the contract soon, you can look over it."

  Ava blinked. It wasn't possible. Nothing in this life was simple. Or free.

  Or maybe her existence had been that shitty until now.

  "Okay." She breathed out. "One more question."

  His eyes shined with laughter. "I'm all perfect ears."

  Ava tilted her head to the side. Maybe being married to him wasn't the sentence she'd feared. She—dare she say it?—liked Raiden. He wasn't treating her like some precious little princess who needed to be kept in a glass case. "What's going to happen now?"

  "Our Clans still need to negotiate a Treaty in front of the Committee because of the wedding fiasco. Then we'll get married." He smiled again, but the ice and edges had returned. "Ready to become the feared Brotherhood Princess and rule the Capital?"

  Chapter Seven

  AVA

  How in all the Underworld was Ava supposed to lead the Capital?

  She knew most clans had hidden headquarters. Grandpa Baron, then Victor, had had a large compound out in the country. Darius had pla
ns to build an island where he could construct a chateau for him and those leeches he called friends.

  But those headquarters were the leaders' homes, where the rest of the Clan was invited for special meetings or celebrations.

  The Capital was a city. Most Brotherhood members lived here.

  And it was huge. And so quiet. And so clean, Ava didn't even care her luxurious dresses trailed on the ground behind her.

  The few times she'd ventured out in her first week on new, foreign ground—always with the guards stomping behind her in-sync—she'd been awed.

  No cramped apartment buildings here. The Capital was made up of beautiful houses, some small, some huge, and long communal buildings, always with golden statues guarding their fronts. Lions, mostly, but Ava had seen a snake or two.

  No matter the size, they were all adorned with beautiful winding lines, metal or wooden, cascading down from the black roofs, melting into curious shapes. Everywhere she looked, another shrub or tree or flower patch caught her eye. Only the main street leading up to the palace—they had a palace—was straight and wide. The Brotherhood must've loved its parades. The rest of the streets wound between the buildings and gardens. And no cars. Anywhere. It was a fairytale come to life.

  A city filled with assassins, gangsters, spies, schemers, and their enablers, but it felt peaceful. Children played in the streets, supervised by uncles and grandmas chatting up a storm on their porches.

  But the playing and the chatting stopped whenever they caught a glimpse of Ava and the two dozen guards who insisted on accompanying her in their red-pointed hats and black uniforms

  Stares followed her.

  After almost an entire lifetime of being hidden, the attention made Ava's skin crawl. Whenever she tried to talk to any of the residents—"This flower's lovely, mind if I take a picture?"—she only got kneels as replies.

  So Ava began walking along the city's limits, right by the massive trees that bloomed purple and pink and the ancient gates. They were mighty and sturdy—and useless today, when bombs could fly with a press of a button, but, hey, they looked good. They made everything seem more imposing. More daunting.