by CD Reiss
“Oh, that’s cute,” Damiano says. “Now, let him know his wife’s waiting for him in the bedroom.”
“He knows you’re here.” I strain against him.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Your fucking car is in the driveway.”
He tsks. “Don’t you know about Foothill Street?”
I do, but everything’s a jumble, and I don’t know how.
Damiano growls in my ear so close I feel his spit. “Let him know you’re here before I make you scream.”
The second Santino knows where I am, he’ll come up here, and screaming that there’s danger will only get him here quicker. There’s not a chance that Damiano’s bullet will miss Santino’s head as soon as it appears.
There’s no force I can apply to get away. He’s too strong. And there’s no risk I can take that won’t risk the baby inside me.
Somewhere, my phone rings.
“What do you want?” I croak.
“I want what I was promised.” The pressure against me lessens. “Emilio Moretti’s second daughter.”
“What?”
Damiano pushes off me. I turn. He’s taken half a step back into the room. The brooch left his eye bleeding and swollen. He may lose it, and he may not care, because it barely slows him down.
My phone’s still ringing.
He grabs me by the elbow and drags me toward the window. I won’t help him do whatever he’s trying, so I let my legs go limp under me, and he flings me against the wall of windows. The glass rattles and shudders as my body hits it, arms up to soften the impact on my face.
Damiano pushes me against the window. Below me, Santino stands at the edge of the sparkling pool, looking up. His phone is between his hand and the patio tile, stopped midair in a time loop—falling, falling, falling as he reaches inside his jacket for his gun.
It’s out, cold and black in his fists, the diamonds of his crown ring glinting in the sun.
My phone stops ringing.
Santino aims for the window.
He’s not going to shoot me.
He can’t hit Damiano from there.
He won’t fire. He’ll come up fast, thinking he’s saving me and cornering Damiano.
He’ll know he’s at a disadvantage, but he won’t win.
He has to know this.
“Come on up, stronzo,” Damiano growls. “Come and get her.”
Santino lowers his gun, looks ahead, and is about to start forward, into the kitchen, up the stairs, and to his death.
I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know how to stop it.
Santino stops.
Good.
Damiano chuckles as if he knows something I can’t see.
Santino’s right hand drops. His grip loosens. The gun falls. He takes half a step back, to the edge of the pool, with his palms out in front of him. He says something I can’t hear.
“That’s right, baby,” Damiano murmurs in my ear. “Get close.”
A woman appears from the kitchen with a gun held forward in both hands, and it takes me a second to recognize her wavy brown hair and yellow sundress.
“Gia?” I croak. Then I shout, pounding on the glass. “Gia!”
Santino looks up at me, and our eyes meet just when the gun cracks. His limbs shake and his chest goes concave where the bullet hits him. His legs are thrown from under him and the force of the shot sends him backward, into the placid surface of his pool.
“No!” I scream.
The water gathers around Santino’s lifeless body.
She hit him in the chest.
Did it miss his heart?
Just a lung?
Damiano lets me go. I tear myself away from the sight of my husband, my lover, my king sinking. I know how to do this.
Surface.
Flip.
Swim.
I have to get down there. See the wound. Stop the blood. Call 9-1-1. I turn and face the man obstructing my path out. Three thin red lines dry on his cheeks as if he’s been crying blood. He’s between the door and me, legs wide and arms out from his body, elbows bent, ready to grab at anything he can reach.
“Please,” is the only word I have.
He licks his lips.
Please.
Secure area.
Check breathing.
Check pulse.
She shot him in his heart.
“Let me by,” I say, trying to get around Damiano on his blind side, but he blocks me.
Administer CPR.
Beg him to live.
“I can save him!” I scream.
“I know,” is all he says before he pulls his fist back and hits my face so hard the world goes black.
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TO BE CONTINUED IN MAFIA QUEEN
Acknowledgments
About the word ‘mbasciata. You may be the sort who’s going to look it up, or you may speak Italian and think I’ve lost my mind, because it literally means embassy. It also means an arranged marriage, but that’s a specific local dialect, so you’ll find it, but you’re going to have to look hard.
The orphanage and institution in Aversa and Trieste are made up. Kind of. They existed in those places, but not in the time span suggested.
Bar license number length and alphanumeric format varies by state. I’m not getting into which state these books are located in because this story is a love letter to a place that doesn’t exist. So, to my lawyer and lawyer-adjacent readers, I appreciate you noticing. You’re my people.
Also by CD Reiss
The Edge Series
Rough. Dark. Sexy enough to melt your device.
He’s her husband but he’s rougher and more dominant than the man she married.
Rough Edge
On The Edge
Broken Edge
Over the Edge
The Submission Series
The USA Today bestselling Series
Monica insists she’s not submissive. Jonathan Drazen is going to prove otherwise, but he might fall in love doing it.
One Night With Him
One Year With Him
One Life With Him
The Games Duet
The New York Times bestsellers.
He’ll give her the divorce she wants on one condition. Spend 30 days in a remote cottage with him, doing everything he commands.
Marriage Games
Separation Games
The DiLustro Arrangement
Twisted. Dark. Gritty. Will knock you off your feet story.
An epic mafia romance trilogy that sets a new bar for just how dark a hero can get.
Mafia Bride
Mafia King
Mafia Queen
Paige Press
Paige Press isn’t just Laurelin Paige anymore…
Laurelin Paige has expanded her publishing company to bring readers even more hot romances.
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About the Author
CD Reiss is a Brooklyn native and has the accent to prove it. She earned a master’s degree in cinematic writing from USC. She ultimately failed to have one line of dialog put on film, but stayed in Los Angeles out of spite.
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Since screenwriting was going nowhere, she switched to novels and has released over two dozen titles, including two NY Times Bestsellers and a handful of USA Today bestsellers. Her audiobooks have won APA Audie Awards and Earphones Awards.
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She resides in Hollywood in a house that’s just big enough for her two children, two cats, her long-suffering husband and her massive ego.
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To find out when her next book is coming out, sign up for her mailing list here or at cdreiss-dot-com.
