MAFIA BOSSES - The Box Set: An Enemies to Lovers Trilogy

by Chloe Fischer

  “You’re gawking at my wife,” Matteo retorted. “You better stop looking at her.”

  Ariano laughed at his friend then turned his gaze toward Celine, the uncontested love of his life, who stood several feet away.

  “I can’t help but wonder what Celine would look like pregnant,” he replied wistfully, and Matteo was instantly contrite. It was true, Cara was glowing in her eighth month of pregnancy, huge in the stomach but the baby was undetectable from behind at all. It was a boy this time.

  Matteo glanced around for the two-year-old daughter who splashed with the other kids in a kiddie pool nearby.

  “You’ll get your chance,” Matteo replied smoothly. “Or you can borrow one of ours.”

  Ariano snickered.

  “I’ll tell Celine.”

  “What are you boys gossiping about?” Cara asked, approaching them. Matteo wondered if she had overheard their conversation.

  “The weather,” both men answered in unison and she laughed.

  “Sure. Matt, can you go get some more beer from the garage? The coolers are running low.”

  “Of course.”

  Matteo moved toward the front of the house to obey his wife’s request. When he reached the front yard, he was suddenly struck by the changes his life had taken since Cara had come into it this second time.

  It was more than the wedding and the children, but those had been the catalyst for turning Matteo into the man he had become. Giovanni had finally retired his position as Don and Carlo Suzzi had suffered a massive stroke, leaving Ariano to run the business.

  It had been the perfect opportunity for Matteo to step out of his role as capo. Everyone knew that Matteo’s first choice would never have been the mafia. He had a sharp mind and business strategies had always come easy to him. He was destined to make his fortune that way. And so he made it happen.

  He still played a role as an advisor to the capos under Ariano’s reign, but the life of violence and crime had been diminished substantially, much to the relief of his godfather.

  “You have a beautiful family to take care of now,” Tomas told him. “A wife, a child—your mother is over the moon.”

  Matteo couldn’t deny that giving his mother the grandchildren she’d always wanted made him so proud.

  “You’re taking an awfully long time to get the beer,” Cara teased him as she joined his side. “I thought maybe you had decided to have one after all.”

  He hadn’t realized how long he’d been standing there, lost in thought.

  “I was just thinking about how far we’ve come since we were children,” he replied honestly. A look of concern shadowed her eyes and she peered up at him.

  “Do you still think about our youth?” she asked solemnly and he laughed. “I was horrible and I’m so terribly sorry.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I think about what a wimp I was, and what a brat you were and how I should put you over my knee and spank that gorgeous ass – for retribution,” he leered.

  “You weren’t a wimp!” she protested, but his arm reached out to draw her toward him.

  “I was. I was whiny and spineless and if not for you, I probably would have always been that way.”

  Her mouth twisted into a grimace.

  “I’m not sure if that was a compliment,” she replied slowly.

  “It is. You gave me the motivation I needed to be the man I am today. I owe you a debt of gratitude for that. I owe you a debt of gratitude for everything you’ve given me, in fact.”

  She shook her fiery waves.

  “And what about what you’ve done for me?” she demanded. “How many times have you thwarted my father’s attempts to bring me back to Italy?”

  “He never had a chance. You belong with me.”

  Matteo studied her face closely.

  “Do you miss them?” It was a question he had often wondered but had never been brave enough to bring forth. It was difficult to imagine that she didn’t long for her family. He wondered where he would be without his mother, but of course, Cara came from a very different background than him. Still, he didn’t know how he would feel if she claimed that she missed them. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He wasn’t even sure he would have if he could. The thought of Salvatore Vinucci still sent spirals of rage through his body, even three years later.

  “Not at all,” she answered without hesitation. “I doubt I would even be alive if you hadn’t kept me here.”

  It pained Matteo to hear that, but it made him feel closer to his wife. So different were their lives, the way they were brought up. He had his godfather and mother who had tried their best to shield and protect him from the traumas of life. Cara’s family acted as if she was dispensable.

  “I don’t think about them at all,” Cara continued but there was a tinge of wistfulness in her voice. She smiled at him.

  “Come on,” she urged. “You don’t want to keep half-drunk men from their beer.”

  A look of surprise crossed her face.

  “What?” Matteo asked.

  “I- oh!”

  Her hands touched her belly and she bent forward slightly. Fear flowed through Matteo and he quickly pulled her to him.

  “Is it time?”

  She nodded slowly, a wide smile on her face.

  “I think so…” Another twist of pain touched her face but the smile returned.

  “ARIAN!” Matteo yelled, tightening his arm around her waist and moving her toward the car.

  “Where’s the beer?” Ariano replied, stalking around the side of the house. He stopped as he took in the scene.

  “Get your own damn beer. We’re having a baby!”

  Celine joined her husband, her face exploding in joy.

  “The baby’s coming?” she squealed. “Really?”

  Matteo and Cara nodded together and soon the entire party had moved onto the front lawn as Matteo put his wife into the car.

  “Don’t worry about Ana,” Celine called. “I’ve got her.”

  Matteo had almost forgotten about his toddler daughter and he shot her a look of gratitude.

  “I need the experience,” he heard Celine whisper to Ariano. The Don turned toward her, his eyebrows arching curiously and suddenly Matteo realized that his and Cara’s children were going to have little cousins to play with sooner rather than later.

  He backed the new BMW out of the driveway as Ariano whooped with joy, picking up his wife and twirling her around in celebration. The party guests waved them on.

  “I never thought we’d have a parade for the birth of our child,” Cara joked.

  “You deserve a parade every day,” Matteo said and she laughed.

  As he raced toward the hospital, his hand reached out to caress Cara’s swollen belly and he exhaled with nervous relief.

  We really have come a long way, he thought, driving forward into their future.

  To PREVIEW this best seller by Chloe Fischer, turn the page!

  DIREN – he’s rich, gorgeous, charming…and a total A$$.

  AYLA – she’s stunning, innocent, loyal…and she’s being blackmailed.

  No one believed there was a woman out there who would be able to break through Diren’s jaded walls. Until Ayla proved everyone wrong and did the unimaginable.

  But then Diren discovers that Ayla is hiding a big secret, that she’s just like everyone else who tries to use him, then betray him.

  Now those walls are stronger than ever, and Diren vows to make Ayla pay.

  He refuses to see it, but Ayla had no choice, and her secret is forcing her to choose…between the rock…or the hard place.

  Can she get Diren to see that…before he destroys her, and himself too?

  Prologue

  August 2006

  “Just drive, you stupid bitch! Don’t look back!”

  She couldn’t breathe, panic blocking her vision as she steered the station wagon blindly through the backroads.

  “Pull over here,” he yelled. “And get out!”

>   She peered at him, horrified.

  “What? We’re in the middle of nowhere – ,“ she pleaded.

  “Just do what the fuck I say!”

  The look in his eyes was worse than she had ever seen it and she knew that she had no choice but to obey before it became much, much worse.

  Slowing the car to the edge of the embankment, he shoved her arm roughly and she yelped out, more from fear than pain.

  “Get out!”

  Not needing to be told again, she fell from the driver’s side onto the dirt road as he crawled over the console and slammed the door shut.

  Leaving her on the side of the road, sobbing and hysterical he yelled out at her again.

  “Get your shit together!” he shouted, peering in the rear-view mirror to ensure they weren’t seen. “Do not go home. You stay right fucking here! If anyone comes along, you hide in the damned cornfields. Do you hear me?”

  She nodded, shaking as he pulled away, the spinning tires filling her face with dust.

  She fell to the ground, burying her face in her hands as the tears stung her eyes.

  What have I done? How could I have let this happen?

  Images began to pour into her mind, his hand reaching up, the godawful sound, and the blood…so much blood.

  She was wheezing, the hot sun burning down on her.

  I have to call the police, she thought, stumbling to her feet. I don’t care what he says. We have to call the police.

  She looked around, spinning in circles searching for signs of life, but she was only trying to catch her bearings.

  I will find a phone, she thought, willing herself to be rational. I will find a phone and call for help. It doesn’t matter what happens to me. Everything will be fine.

  She lumbered toward the direction they had come, barely aware of the heat as the rays burned through her dark clothes like searing bullets.

  Bullets and blood and blood and bullets and blood and bullets…

  The constant refrain played in her mind like something out of a horror film, but she could not silence the repeat in her mind.

  She did not know how long she had walked but it was as if her mind had left her body and she was nothing but a numb vessel, moving through space down a lonely country road which seemed to lead nowhere.

  Then the farmhouse appeared like a mirage, beyond a row of dairy cows grazing in the field. She needed to knock on the door and use the phone. She wanted the nightmare to be over before she fell into the abyss which was threatening to consume her.

  How can you eat at a time like this? She wanted to scream at the beasts who barely acknowledged her as she climbed the fence.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  His voice was like a thousand knives stabbing into her back and she turned to look into his inky, void eyes.

  He hung out the passenger side window, ready to pounce if she took another step in the wrong direction.

  “We have to call the police,” she whispered. “We have to – “

  “Get in the car, Ayla,” he said flatly.

  “We have to call – “

  “Get in the car,” he told her again and there was no mistaking the malice in his voice. “I took care of it.”

  She stared at him blankly, the words making little sense to her jumbled mind.

  “What – “

  “GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

  He lunged to open the door, but she scrambled back over the pasture toward the road.

  He watched her carefully as if worried she would flee as he shifted back into the driver’s side.

  When she closed the door, he zoomed back up the lane, his mouth a gash of annoyance.

  “What did you do?” she asked after several minutes of silence.

  “I took care of your mess,” he retorted.

  “What does that mean?”

  He glanced at her through his peripheral vision.

  “What I said. No one will know anything.”

  “How – I mean – “

  “Just shut up, Ayla. You will never speak of this to anyone again, got it?”

  A flood of mixed emotions swamped her as she stared at him.

  “Do you understand?” he yelled again. “Answer me and stop staring at me like a retard!”

  She nodded slowly, gulping back the lump in her windpipe.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I understand.”

  He seemed to relax with her words and his white knuckles loosened on the steering wheel.

  “Okay,” he said, and she got the sense that he was speaking more to himself than her. “We have to get rid of this car and we’re done.”

  She bit on her lip to keep from asking him any other questions.

  “Well?” he asked, sneering at her. “Haven’t you got anything to say to me?”

  She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.

  “Like what?” she asked, blinking uncomprehendingly.

  “How about ‘thank you’, ungrateful little bitch,” he snarled. She winced and drew back as if he was going to hit her, although he made no move to do so.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, tears welling in her eyes again.

  His leer grew and suddenly she found herself more frightened than she was before. He pulled his eyes away from the windshield, his gaze boring into her.

  His calloused palm reached out to pat her bare knee and she cringed at the touch.

  “Don’t worry, sis,” he said tightly. “I’m sure I’ll find a way for you to repay me one day.”

  *******************

  Present

  Chapter 1

  Diren Benning sucked air through his teeth and glanced at his Piaget watch for the third time.

  It was six twenty-five.

  Is she going to piss me off first thing on a Monday morning? He wondered. Diren didn’t put up with shit, and people around him did well to abide by his strict rules.

  I don’t have time for bullshit this morning.

  A small part of him realized that she still had five minutes to go, but as the next two minutes passed, he grew even angrier, as if she was already late.

  A knock on the door drew his head up.

  “Come in,” he snapped. As the frosted glass swung inward, he was already speaking.

  “You should know I don’t take kindly to waiting - ” he stopped in midsentence as a gorgeous tanned brunette stood peering at him from the doorway with apologetic blue eyes.

  “You’re not Sloane,” he heard himself say accusingly in surprise.

  She shook her long layers, a stray strand falling over her eye.

  “No, Mr. Benning. I’m Ayla Dumas, your new assistant,” she told him, stepping forward tentatively.

  There was a demureness about her which Diren found intriguing – and uncommon.

  Is it demureness or is she hiding something?

  It was not an unusual question to enter his mind. Diren’s gut reactions to people were rarely off and had served him well in business. And he always started out with distrust.

  You don’t become a billionaire by ignoring your intuition, he often thought.

  “What are you doing here so early?” he demanded. “Catrina won’t be in the office until eight.”

  “I know, sir, but I wanted to get my bearings before she arrived,” Ayla explained quickly. “I – I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I just wanted to let you know I was here if you needed anything.”

  He eyed her with stoic, slate irises, his gaze trailing down her red silk blouse toward the fitted charcoal pants that hugged her curves perfectly, then slowly back up to her high cheekbones and slightly tilted eyes.

  Great tits, perfect face. I’m sure she and I will have many…interesting times together, he thought. I just hope she’s not as slow as some of the others have been.

  She waited, unspeaking despite the long, tense silence which seemed to ensue between them.

  “I loathe the color red on women,” he told her flatly. “It’s whorish. Don’t wear it again in th
e office.”

  He relished the look of surprise which crossed over her face and for a fleeting second, he noted her jawline twitch in defiance.

  “Of course, Mr. Benning,” she replied sharply, turning to leave.

  Before she could move, Sloane barrelled past her in a swirl of Christian Dior perfume and Versace couture.

  “You’re late,” Diren snarled at the bleached blonde.

  She laughed merrily, turning to address Ayla, who stood uncertainly at the threshold.

  “Ah,” Sloane cooed. “Is this your latest trollop? Go along, tart, and fetch me a cappuccino.”

  She waved her hand dismissively and turned back to Diren.

  Through his peripheral vision, he saw the new girl’s mouth become a fine line.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied evenly. “I’ve not yet started in my official capacity, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that for you – legally speaking, you understand. I think the espresso bar is that way though.”

  Ayla gestured into the outer office but did not wait for Sloane to reply before turning and walking away, her back straight and her chin raised, leaving Diren’s ex-wife to gape after her in shock.

  “Did that little bitch just tell me to get it myself?” she squealed and Diren swallowed a smile.

  If it had been any other visitor, Diren would have fired Ayla on the spot, but there was something truly sweet about watching Sloane’s face twist into a mask of fury as she tried to process the word “no”.

  Maybe that girl isn’t as innocent as she looks, he thought. He would deal with his new assistant later.

  “We have to talk about my alimony,” Sloane announced, flopping onto the settee as if she had already forgotten being slighted. “And I need a coffee. Diren, go get me a coffee!”

  He snorted and sat behind his desk, turning to his computer screen.

  “Sloane, you are not getting one more penny out of me for alimony,” he told her flatly. “These monthly visits are becoming tiresome. And next time you gun for one of these pointless meetings, stop at Starbucks beforehand like the rest of New York.”

  They had been divorced for more than a decade but that didn’t stop his ex from crying persecution at every chance and to anyone who would listen.