Ruthless Prince : A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Dark Syndicate Book 1)

by Faith Summers

  Ruthless Prince

  Dark Syndicate

  Khardine Gray

  Faith Summers

  Copyright © 2020 by Khardine Gray

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Ruthless Prince

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Untitled

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Epilogue

  Ruthless Prince

  Dark Syndicate Book 1

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Khardine Gray

  Writing as

  Faith Summers

  Prologue

  Massimo

  17 years ago

  “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” Father De Lucca mutters before he pauses for a moment.

  I gaze at him standing at the head of my mother’s grave. The solemn expression on his face deepens, and the pinch in his brows tells me he feels our loss too.

  I remember him telling me stories about my mother when she was little. He was the priest who married my parents. I doubt he thought this day would come.

  No one did. Not this soon, or so sudden.

  Father De Lucca pulls in a breath, looks around the gathering of mourners, and continues. “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, who is able to subdue all things. God has received one of his angels today… I commit Sariah Abriella D’Agostino’s body back to the earth from whence she came, and I wish for a blessing on her beautiful, kind soul.”

  I stare and note how my father looks at him on those final words. I wonder if Father De Lucca found it strange too. That my mother would kill herself.

  Pa is standing paces away from him. A tear runs down his cheek as a light sparks in his eyes, probably from the kindness in the blessing.

  The light fades a moment later, and he returns to being the broken man. I’m twelve years old, but I know what broken looks like. It’s how I feel.

  Up until now, I’ve never seen Pa cry. Never. Not even years ago when we lost everything and were thrown into the streets with nothing but the clothes on our backs.

  My grandfather gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. When I glance up at him, he gives me a reassuring look. The type that everybody else has given since this all happened.

  Grandfather has one hand on me and the other on Dominic, my youngest brother. My other two brothers, Andreas and Tristan, stand at his other side.

  Dominic hasn’t stopped crying, not once since we told him Ma wouldn’t be coming home. He’s only eight years old. I hate that he has to go through this. We all teased him for being the baby and clinging to Ma. But then, we all clung to her in some way.

  The only other funeral I’ve been to was my Abuelita’s. But at six years old, I was too young to understand death. Back then, I didn’t feel the way I do now. Like the collision of numbness and anger inside me will rip me apart.

  Maybe I feel like that because it was me who found Ma in the river.

  I was the first person to see her dead.

  I was the first person to confirm our worst fears after she’d gone missing.

  I was the first person to know that the last time we saw each other was goodbye forever.

  We all looked for her for three days. It was while I was walking by the riverbank at Stormy Creek that I saw her, just drifting there in the water amongst the Cattail reeds. Her eyes still open, glassy. Her skin pale. Lips… blue. Her body rocking gently from side to side in the water. I’ll never forget the way she looked. Like a lifeless doll with her white blonde hair flowing out around her, her dainty features still looking so perfect. But lifeless. No more.

  Inside I’m still screaming.

  They said she must have jumped off the cliff. That’s what I heard the grownups saying.

  Suicide…

  Ma killed herself.

  It doesn’t feel real.

  It doesn’t feel right.

  I’m pulled from my thoughts when Father De Lucca nods his head and Pa takes a handful of the dirt to throw down into the grave. When he finishes scattering the dust, he gets down on one knee and holds out the single red rose he’s been carrying since we got here. We all have one.

  “Ti amo, amore mio. I will love you forever and ever,” he says. My parents always declared their love for each other. Always.

  I know he feels the same guilt that surrounds us. We all blame ourselves for not being able to save her. As Pa casts the flower into the grave, Father De Lucca says a prayer and Grandfather takes my brothers to give Ma their flowers.

  I remain where I am. I can’t will myself to move. I can’t say goodbye yet. I don’t want to say goodbye at all.

  I know what will happen next. We’ll leave and they’ll fill the grave with the rest of the dirt. Covering Ma up forever. My legs tremble at the thought and that weakness returns to my body.

  People start throwing in their flowers too, one by one. Some look at me, others just follow suit dropping their roses: lilies, dahlia’s. Ma’s favorites.

  I’ve been holding on to the rose in my hand so tightly the thorns have cut my palms. I almost forgot I had it. I look down at the stains of blood on the stem and leaves. The rich crimson color stark against the dark green.

  A heavy hand rests on my shoulder, startling me. When I look up, I find myself staring straight into the pale blue eyes of the devil. The man who took everything away from us.

  Riccardo Balesteri. A man Pa used to call his best friend. That’s who we knew him to be before things changed and he became a monster.

  Pa doesn’t involve us in business, but there was no one to shield us from anything that day two years ago when Riccardo came to our home with men and threw us out.

  I didn’t know what happened, but I remember the arguing. I remember Pa pleading with him to be reasonable and Ma crying as she tried to get Dominic and Tristan out of bed. It was Andreas who took me and calmed me down when I tried to help. The men just laughed at me.

  Now, this man is here at my mother’s funeral. With a smile on his face.

  “Dear child, I’m so truly sorry for your loss,” he says.

  His words are similar to what has been sa
id to me all day, starting when we entered the church this morning and as we arrived at the cemetery. Everyone who said it, though, meant it. They were genuine. This man is not.

  The click-clack of what I know is a gun steals my answer. Not that I would know what to say. I haven’t spoken much since I found Ma in the river.

  I look up to see Pa holding out two guns, aiming them at Riccardo. Grandfather places a protective arm around my brothers while the remaining guests stare on in terror.

  The only person who doesn’t look scared is Father De Lucca. His face is stern and becomes harder when Riccardo tightens his grip on my shoulder.

  “Get your hands off my son,” Pa demands, tilting his head to the side.

  Riccardo laughs. The sound ripples through me. He squeezes my shoulder so hard I wince and my knees buckle.

  “Giacomo, trust you to make a scene,” Riccardo answers in a sing-song voice.

  “I said get your hands off my son. Now!” Pa shouts.

  In answer to his demand, Riccardo applies more pressure to my shoulder. His fingers dig past the fabric of my suit and burrow into my skin.

  “Let me go,” I growl, thrashing against his grasp. He’s too strong though. I’m helpless. I can’t do anything.

  “So disrespectful at your wife’s funeral,” Riccardo taunts. “I wonder what Sariah would think if she wasn’t six feet under. Maybe the disappointment you are as a husband made her jump to her death. Yes, yes. That must be it. Maybe she preferred death to being with you.”

  Enraged, Pa steps forward with his guns, but Riccardo retaliates by pulling his own, pulling me closer and placing the steel barrel to my temple.

  I cry out, dropping my rose and gritting my teeth. That makes Pa stop in his tracks. His eyes widen with fright and my soul shivers with fear. This man is the devil. Pa always told me to never underestimate. It will get you killed. So, I won’t do it now. I won’t underestimate or assume that Riccardo won’t kill me.

  Tears run down my cheeks when he smooths his hand up to my neck and holds me tighter.

  “You fucking dog,” Pa shouts. He still has his guns raised though. “How dare you show up here today to gloat. Get your fucking hands off my son.”

  Riccardo smiles and leans closer, close to my father’s outstretched guns, daring, as if he knows Pa won’t kill him.

  “Look at you, thinking you’re hot shit. You can’t kill me. You know that.”

  “Do you want to test me?” Pa snarls.

  “Fool, if you could, you would have done it already. But… you know you can’t. You know the moment you do, you’re dead. Your boys are dead. Your father is dead. Your family in Italia is dead. Everybody you know will be dead. The creed of the Brotherhood protects me and mine.”

  Pa seethes. Defeat enters his eyes. The same defeated look he’s carried for the last few years as one bad thing happened after another.

  “Leave us,” Pa replies.

  “That’s right. I thought so. You know you can’t do shit to me. You’re powerless and useless, helpless as shit,” Riccardo continues to taunt. “You lost everything. She was the last good thing you had left.”

  He looks at the grave. Through my tears I catch the first glimpse of sadness in his eyes. He releases me and steps back, lowering his gun.

  “Leave us, Riccardo. Go away. Go the fuck away,” Pa says.

  “Came to pay my respect to the angel you should never have had. That’s all,” Riccardo answers. “And maybe to see your face. That look on your face as you accept you’ve truly lost everything.”

  With a crude, sardonic laugh, Riccardo turns and walks away.

  Pa lowers his guns, puts them back in his holsters, and takes hold of me, pulling me in for a hug.

  “Massimo,” he breathes against my ear. “Are you hurt?”

  I swallow hard. “No,” I answer. He pulls back to look me over. Sees the rose on the ground and picks it up.

  We stare at each other. The sadness in his eyes grips me so bad it hurts.

  “I’m sorry, my boy… I’m sorry for everything,” he says.

  “Why does he hate us so much?” I ask, my lips trembling.

  Pa shakes his head. “Don’t worry about him. Don’t, my boy. Today is not about him.” He straightens and holds the rose out to me. “Massimo…give your mother the rose. It’s time. Time to say goodbye. We will get through this. We will. Please… never think your mother didn’t love you. She did with all her heart.”

  I know it’s true, but part of me wants to ask him why she would leave me without saying goodbye. Except I know the answer. Life became too hard after Riccardo took everything from us. That’s why.

  “Give your mother your rose, amore mio,” Pa repeats, pushing the rose closer to me.

  I take it and then those steps I dreaded. My legs grow heavier with each one. I stop right by the opening to the grave and release the flower from my grasp. As it falls, my heart breaks all over again.

  Riccardo was right. Ma was the last good thing we had left. She was truly an angel.

  I gaze off into the distance and see the vague outline of him walking down the path leading back to the car park.

  He called my father powerless, useless, helpless. He blamed Pa for my mother wanting death, but it’s not his fault. Everything that’s happened to us is Riccardo’s fault. All of it.

  In the moment this thought strikes me, I vow vengeance. As I watch his retreating back, I promise myself that I will fix this. No matter how long it takes me, I will spend the rest of my life if I have to, helping my father rebuild. And I will make Riccardo Balesteri pay for everything.

  Right now, we might be powerless, useless, helpless, but we will not be that forever.

  It doesn’t matter how long it takes.

  He will lose everything too.

  Chapter One

  Emelia

  Present Day

  “It’s going to be our last night here for a while,” Jacob states, looking around our little booth in the diner.

  We’ve been coming here for so long that the place has become a second home.

  “I know,” I agree.

  A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I think of all the times we’ve spent here and the years we’ve been friends.

  This is also the last night I’ll be seeing him for a very long time. Playfully, I toss a cheese ball at him. He catches it with his mouth. We both start laughing, and people at the nearby tables glance our way.

  “Have you finished packing?” Jacob asks, setting his arm down on the table.

  “I don’t know what kind of question that is,” I bubble, shaking my head at him.

  He’s my best friend. He should know better than to ask me something like that.

  I leave for Florence in the morning in prep to start my sophomore year at the Accademia delle Belle Arti. My dream is to become an artist. I’ve been excited to go to Florence since my father booked the tickets. I’ve always wanted to study in Italy, just like my mother did. Jacob and I finished our freshman year at UCLA a few weeks ago. My bags have been packed since.

  If Mom were alive, she’d be really proud of me. Going to the Accademia is the last thing I’ll do to follow in her footsteps. It’s going to be amazing.

  “Sorry, my mistake.” Jacob chuckles. His large brown eyes sparkle. “It was more the case of me asking if you’re ready to go. But you were probably born ready.”

  I laugh. “I was. I’ll miss you a lot, but I can’t wait to leave,” I confess.

  It will be exciting to start my classes because some of the best teachers in the world will instruct me, but I won’t deny that the chance to escape LA and my father’s controlling hand doesn’t appeal to me as well.

  Although I’ll have bodyguards accompanying me and I’ll be staying with my uncle, this is the first time I’ll be going to Italy without Dad.

  “I get it. I just hope your old man doesn’t have a heart attack.” He smirks.

  “I know. I keep thinking he’s going to change his mind.�
� Like he nearly did about me going to college.

  I wanted to go away to study right from the get-go, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. We only settled on UCLA because it was close to home. He wouldn’t hear of me living on campus either. The best things about going there were the courses and getting to see Jacob.

  It took the miracle of Uncle Leo’s assurance that he’d look after me and profound begging to get Dad to allow me to go to Florence.

  “Fingers crossed he won’t. You worked hard to show him you’ll be fine, and you worked hard for the placement.” Jacob nods, looking proud of me.

  “Thank you.”

  I know what it means to be a Balesteri, and specifically to be the daughter of a mob boss. My father is a powerful man. As such, he has enemies. I already experienced an eye opener when my cousin, Porter, was gunned down in the street a few years back. My family isn’t average. Neither is Jacob’s. We’re both old enough and smart enough to know where we come from. Jacob’s father works for mine, so we’re well aware of the dangers we could face just for being who we are.

  I love my father dearly and I know he just wants to protect me, but sometimes I feel like I’m living in one big gilded cage. Going to Italy will give me a chance to be free. Truthfully, I’m hoping that if everything goes well, Dad will allow me more freedom so I can travel around without constant supervision. Or his watchful eye.