Forbidden Love: Book 1 in the Mackenzie Series (Leave Me Breathless World)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Alessandra closes her eyes and inhales deeply. “I don’t understand what is happening, Caprice, and for the life of me, I am trying to understand. I know you asked me to not ask you questions but I need to know. Please tell me what it is that we’re doing, why we’ve smuggled our way out of the United States to Ireland.”

  “Father arranged a marriage for me to Sergei Kolosov. He’s a Russian arms dealer, one who is notorious for harming his wives. He is an animal who slaughters people for the hell of it, just because he can. The moment I am with this Sergei, you’d be put in my place, doing what I have done for years.”

  Her brows furrow in confusion as she tries to put the pieces together. I raise my hand, signaling her not to speak.

  “I know you aren’t a stupid girl, and you know there are reasons that Father and I do not see eye to eye. We both know of what his business dealings are. We are the Mafia, after all. What you have never been privy to is that Father loves to offer my body up as an appreciation gift to the men he does business with.” Alessandra’s eyes go wide as I tell her the ugly truth. “I am not his daughter. I am a tool for him, as are you.”

  “Why would he do such a thing?”

  I’ve asked myself the same question for years. The answer is a simple one. “Because he can. Because his business and the mafia are more important than we are to him. Sadly, that is not the worst thing that he’s done to me.”

  “Part of me doesn’t want to know what else he could have done . . . but I need to know. I don’t understand why Father would do this to you . . . I don’t understand. He’s a good person, he’s our Father!” she says as tears flood over her cheeks, spilling down her neck.

  “Little sister, I love you to death but you and I will never agree that our father is a decent man or a good person. A good person doesn’t rip your daughter from your arms an hour after she’s born and hand her over to her sperm donor of a father, the one who was only able to get me pregnant in the first place because our father pointed him in my direction.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Remember when Father sent me away to University?” I ask. It was a few years ago so she was younger. I wonder if she remembers it. She nods. “I wasn’t actually at University. He put me up in another one of our homes while my daughter was growing inside of me because Rafael made it a point that he wanted my daughter. I didn’t know any of this back then. I didn’t know that she would be taken from my arms. I thought that I’d have her . . . that I’d be able to hold her and be her mother, but it didn’t work out that way.” I mumble the last bit, the strong feelings of guilt and pain hit me as forcefully as a sledgehammer would.

  “Couldn’t you have said no?” Her tone is laced with venom, acting like I wanted what my father was doing. I think about sugar-coating it, but I won’t. I can’t fucking sugar coat this because it’s making me so angry at this point. I’m telling her things that I’ve kept bottled up for years and she wants to act accusatory toward me.

  It’s time to tell her the painful truth of it all, trying to not let my emotions show in my voice. “It didn’t matter if I said no. It would still happen, and it did. It happened many times.”

  2

  “If the mafia replaced the government we’d probably have half the corruption and twice the fun.”

  ~ LibertyManiacs

  Liam

  “Liam, your father needs to speak with you immediately,” Maeve informs me. She’s an enigma, many different things mixed into one. She’s the boss bitch, manages the entire household staff, gardeners, and much more. She’s well into her nineties and has worked for the Mackenzie family since she was a young girl. When I was a wee tyke she was my nanny, cooked my meals and did practically everything for me after my mother died. That is until my father re-married, but that took a turn for the worst.

  “Can you tell him I’ll be down in five minutes? I need to finish typing up this email.” I ask her. I look up after a few moments to see her standing in the doorway of my office, her arms crossed and glaring down at me like I’m about to get a talking to.

  I straighten up in my chair, lean back and stare at her. “Well, say whatever it is that’s on your mind, you old bat.”

  She smirks for a split second and then her expression contorts into a stern scowl. “I would just love to know why you two insist on sending me up and down these godforsaken stairs. These bones aren’t as young and strong as they used to be, Mr. Mackenzie. Use your damned cell phones and stop making me cross oceans for you bloody bastards!”

  I chuckle in response. “I have no problem texting him. He’s the one who’s stuck in his old ways. Maybe you should have a chat with him about that, Maeve.”

  “His father even used the damn intercom system. Old bastard won’t even do that!”

  “You tell him!” I suggest, chuckling into my hand.

  “I sure will.” She turns and starts to exit my doorway, but then stops. I already know what she’s about to ask because we’ve been doing this for far too long.

  “Whatever you’re cooking tonight is fine, Maeve. Thank you.”

  “Alright, Mr. Mackenzie.” Maeve walks from my doorway into the hallway and out of my sight.

  It’s an average summer day here in Ireland, one where the rain is tumbling down upon us. We’re so used to it at this point. I’m just hoping that it’ll let up so I can enjoy walking around the city tomorrow. It’s frowned upon for me to walk around the city, or rather my father isn’t supportive of my “carelessness” as he prefers to call it. Dublin is my home, and whomever the motherfucker is that attempts to harm me will be sorely disappointed when a bullet ends up being put between their eyes.

  I finish typing my email and send it then get up and go down to my father’s office. Our home is a bit different than most, massive bedrooms span over the estate. We actually have a bedroom upstairs converted into an office for me. Typically, my father would be handling all of the business transactions, however, we know that the reins will be passed down to me within the next few years and rather than going in blind, he’s preparing me for the brunt of work now. I grew up watching him, sitting in the corner of his office assessing the way he spoke to people and conducted himself.

  “You sent the wolfhound at me, hmm?” he jokes as I approach him and take a seat on the leather chair across from his desk.

  “You just had to go and rile her up. If you ask me, you did it to yourself. You can just text me and tell me to meet you down here, or use the intercom system. No reason to be making her go up and down the stairs. Anyway, what was it you needed to discuss with me so suddenly?”

  He crosses his arms and stares at me. “There are rumors that the DiGiovanni girls have gone missing.” DiGiovannis are the Italian Mafia. For them to go missing doesn’t just happen.

  “How?” I ask.

  “They’ve vanished. Been missing for the last week. His oldest, Caprice, is engaged to Sergei Kolosov.”

  I twist my face in disgust at hearing that foul creature’s name. “You know that isn’t a marriage made of love.”

  “None of his marriages ever are. It was purely a business decision. That I can guarantee.”

  “Is their foul play involved?” I ask, curious to know what my father does.

  “I don’t believe so. Knowing what I do of Gabriele, it wouldn’t surprise me if this was their choice. He treats his sons and daughters very differently. I would never treat your sisters that way . . . and if I did, you’d need to kill me.” My sisters, a very sore subject in our household. I haven’t seen them since they were about six months old if they were even that old in the first place. For over twenty-five years we have been apart, solely for their protection.

  My father and the Russians have had a longstanding war, and Valentin Volkolv has made it a point to state the moment my sisters circle back around he will be killing them. It’s his way of taking an eye for an eye.

  The story is a long and detailed one but to sum it up their mother was engaged to Valentin,
but at the time Russia had been in multiple wars and Valentin didn’t want her to stay in Moscow. He felt that it was too dangerous for her and indeed it was. My father ended up falling in love with her, marrying the woman who was betrothed to his best friend. Valentin couldn’t accept the fact that she had wanted my father instead of him, and after my sisters were born my step-mother was shot in the head. She’s still alive— if that’s what we can call it. Hooked up to machines upstairs in her bedroom. Valentin has harmed my family enough but he doesn’t see it. He wants more revenge and because of it, I have never been able to see my sisters, hug them, or even get to know them. I miss them tremendously and hope that one day we will be able to reunite.

  “What is it that you want me to do?” He has to want me to keep an eye out or something. Otherwise, I don’t know why he’d tell me.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just notifying you of what’s been going around. If you hear anything, I am sure you will tell me.”

  “I will,” I confirm.

  3

  “To escape fear, you have to go through it, not around it.”

  ~ Richie Norton

  Caprice

  “This is where we’re staying?” Alessandra asks me, turning up her nose at the small studio apartment. It’s really not that bad, definitely a few levels down than what we’re used to but it’s quaint and more importantly, it’s safe.

  I take a gander around our apartment seeing the cheap butcher block that lines our kitchen counters. It’s maybe two feet long if we’re lucky. There are quite a few stains on it, but I can guarantee the blood is from an animal and not a human.

  We have a small two-person table sitting along the wall in the kitchen accompanied by a fridge-freezer combination and a stovetop. Unfortunately, we don’t have an oven here. Looking to the left and only a mere ten feet away is our living room which doubles as the bedroom. If you open the wardrobe doors it’s hiding our bed, much like a pull-out couch. Alessandra turns her nose up at it as I show her how to use it.

  I make the decision to explore the rest of the apartment and swear I heard her gag. The apartment isn’t as horrific as she thinks. I’m not just saying that. Sure, it may smell a little atrocious but it’s nothing a good clean won’t get out.

  I realize I didn’t respond to the question she asked me a few minutes ago. “Yeah. We’ll make it work, and more importantly, we’ll make it ours.” I tell her, forcing a smile on my face. As I tell her I’m trying to convince myself that we will make it ours but already the fear sets in.

  “How did you even find this place?” she asks, and for a moment I think about lying to her. But what would be the point in doing that? Hiding things from Alessandra won’t do her any good, especially now that all we have is each other.

  “A friend of a friend knows someone who helps people in situations like our own,” I confess, waiting a moment to see if she’ll press me for more information but she doesn’t. She simply nods and walks over to the wardrobe hidden bed and yanks it down as I showed her a bit ago.

  “You said you were going to rest but you’ve done no such thing, so are you about to run amuck and go job hunting?”

  I laugh at how assertive she is. “I am. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” she grumbles, surveying our space.

  “You have a good point. I’ll grab some food on the way back. In the meantime, try to get some rest. Hopefully, I’ll have a job when you see me in a couple of hours. Wish me luck!”

  Like an annoying little sister, she rolls her eyes. “Okay, Amber. Good luck!” She’s using the name on my fake passport and documentation. We’re the Browns, from a small no-nothing town in Alabama. I’m Amber, and my little sister is Alexandra.

  “I’ll be back now, ya hear?” I jokingly say to her in my best shot of a southern accent as I walk out of the front door. I may have spent most of my time in America over the years but where I haven’t spent a lot of time in is the southern United States. I think I’ve been to Atlanta a handful of times but nothing more than that.

  I make my way down the stairwell, hearing the aged wood creak under my footsteps with every move I make. At the bottom of the stairwell is a door that leads out into an alley which will take me along the main drag of Dublin. It’s raining buckets today so I’m glad that I’d thought this out and made sure to have a rain jacket for both my sister and me in our duffel bags. I know where I’m headed to first, the one place where I know we will be protected no matter what, hidden right under everyone’s noses.

  I chose Ireland for a reason— one that many may be shocked I know. Women aren’t privy to the dealings within the Mafia, however, I always made it a point to be listening when most assumed that I wasn’t. My father may be cordial with Desmond Mackenzie but in no way, shape, or form are they friendly. Desmond has even gone as far as to tell my father that he is only welcome in Ireland by invitation. Knowing this information is what told me that we’d be the safest here. In a place where my father would never think to look, right under the Irish Mob’s nose, and with any luck working for them.

  I do not know the Mackenzies personally but all I have heard about them tells me that they’re upstanding people who protect their own, regardless if you are blood or an employee. They hold a code of honor, one that I hope will save us when the time arises. There’s no doubt in my mind that my father will track us down one day and when he does, I will make sure to be prepared.

  Two and a half blocks away and I arrive at my destination, Maeve’s. Rumor has it that this is the bar Liam Mackenzie owns. Er, well, pub. In Ireland, they don’t call them bars, they call them pubs. I need to start remembering these things. Liam is the only and eldest son that Desmond has. I don’t know anything about him but I do hope that he is like his father and holds his values.

  I make my way to the front door and place my hand on the iron handle that covers the old wood. I’m not even inside and can already tell that this is a tasteful establishment where the old meets the new. Upon opening the door my thoughts are confirmed. Old, perfectly finished wooden tables and bar tops grace the space with iron chairs that are accented by plush pillows of green, blue, and white thrown everywhere. Windows line the establishment and I’m sure that on a good day when it isn’t raining buckets, this is lit up from all of the natural light that can get in.

  “Hey there lass, we don’t open for another hour. If you’d care to wait over here that’s just fine with me. Don’t want ya out in the pouring rain, especially in that jacket. You’ll freeze before ya can even get back in here,” a short man tells me. He’s got white-blonde hair with baby blue eyes and a smile that tells you he’s the kindest man you’ll ever meet.

  “Oh. I-I’m not here to eat. I’m sorry. My name is Amber and I’m here to see if y’all need some additional help.”

  He slants his eyes and gives me a good once over. “Help?”

  “I’m looking for a job,” I spit it out, my nerves bugging the heck out of me already. I feel like a million tiny ants are running across my body. I’m so jittery!

  “Ah! Well, lass, lucky for you we’re down a bartender. Do you know how to pour an Irishmen whiskey?”

  “You don’t stop,” I say with a straight face and then laugh at the end. I don’t know the answer to his question but hopefully, he enjoys a good joke.

  He busts out laughing. “Good God, where have you been all my life? The boys will love you! I’m Aemon. You are?”

  “Amber, it’s so nice to meet you.” I extend my hand and just as I think he’s about to grab it for a shake he pulls me into a giant hug.

  “I manage this here pub and can tell you that you’re a shoo-in for the position. But as a formality, you’re going to have to meet with the owner. Lucky for you, he’s upstairs.” Aemon turns his head toward the stairwell that leads to some sort of office. It’s oddly placed and the same windows that line the pub are spread across the office, giving an eagle view of the entire restaurant. “Oy! Liam, got a
good one here for ya!” Aemon shouts.

  The door comes flying open exposing a tall, lean red-headed man. Good God . . . where has he been all my life?

  “How many times do I have to tell you to stop screaming around like a bloody mule?” he snaps, causing me to giggle.

  Aemon chuckles lightly and looks to me. “His bark is worse than his bite. You’ll do fine. Go on up and charm the boss man. I’ll see you tonight!” Just like that Aemon disappears and I’m left staring up at a beautiful man whose eyes are trained on me like I’m his target.

  I guess it’s now or never.

  4

  “A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

  ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

  Liam

  Aemon should be called demon for sending up this beautiful looking creature to my office when I haven’t gotten laid in ages. She’s drop-dead gorgeous and I mean drop-dead gorgeous. One of those women who doesn’t need a spec of makeup on her face. Her olive complexion compliments her sandy light brown hair and brown eyes. “Hi, I’m Amber. Aemon said I needed to come up and see you,” She mutters out, sounding nervous as can be. “But he kind of told me I need to show up tonight anyway, so . . . ”