Tempted by the Sinner: A Possessive Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  She had no clue what she’d just stumbled into.

  “This box is a warning,” I said. “And not the kind of warning I can ignore.”

  “What do you mean? What the hell does that mean?” She shook her head and I could tell the fear was starting to get to her.

  “Come on,” I said. “I’ll explain in the car.”

  I turned and started walking again. She didn’t follow, not right away. But as I got a few yards away, I heard her heels clacking again as she raced to keep up.

  If she were smart, she’d turn around and run away. She should go home and pretend like she never saw anything, never entered into a deal, never met me before in her life.

  If she had any clue, she’d get the hell away.

  The box was a nuclear bomb, dangling in the air. It was a doomsday weapon about to explode.

  It was poison in the veins of the city.

  And she was right in the center of it all.

  8

  Mona

  I thought he would take me back to his house, but it became clear that we were going somewhere else. I stared out the window as we pulled into Old City, into one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the city where million-dollar homes were the norm.

  I shook my head and tried to get the image of the snake skeleton out of my mind. He’d turned pale when he saw it lying there in the box, the bones bleached white. I thought I saw fear in his expression, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by something different.

  Anger, I thought at first, but then I realized it was determination.

  “You told me you’d explain,” I said, breaking the silence.

  He glanced at me and I could tell he was chewing it over in his mind. I leaned a little bit closer, my heart racing. I was looking forward to our little dinner together, I thought I might be able to get a few drinks in him and maybe pry some information out, but this was better. He was off his game a little bit, and that snake thing was a big deal.

  That snake was probably something I never should’ve seen.

  “Come on,” I pushed. “This doesn’t have to be in the article if you don’t want it to be.”

  “You can’t write about this,” he said, staring straight ahead.

  “I won’t then,” I said.

  “No, Mona, I’m serious,” he said. “You can’t write about it, not because it would piss me off, but because it would endanger your life.”

  I leaned back in the soft leather seat of his fancy sports car and stared at him.

  “What does it mean, Vince?”

  He grunted and gripped the wheel tighter.

  “What do you know about cartels?” he asked.

  “You mean, like, the Mexican drug gangs?”

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Not much,” I said. “Just that they’re big and powerful down there.”

  “They’re big and powerful all over the Americas,” he said. “One particular cartel has been aggressive these last few years and has been gaining a lot of ground. They’re called the Jalisco, and we’ve been buying their product almost exclusively since we stole a deal with them away from the Russians.”

  I frowned a little. “Drugs?” I asked. “I thought you were a legitimate businessman?”

  He stared at me, his expression flat. “You want to fuck around, Mona?” he asked. “This isn’t a fucking game.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. “Go on,” I said.

  “I don’t know exactly what the box means, but I can tell you that it’s from them,” he said. “That snake is the calling card of the Jalisco. They send it as a warning when there’s something serious going on. When a snake skeleton shows up like that, and you don’t pay attention and do what it says, then someone ends up dead. The Jalisco don’t do second chances.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t get it,” I said. “You’re in business with them, right?”

  “Right,” he said.

  “So why would they want to hurt you?”

  “I don’t think it’s directed at me, exactly,” I said. “And I have some theories about what it means.”

  “They should just come out and say what they want.”

  He snorted. “Not how they operate,” he said. “They’d rather play games from the shadows, push things this way and that way, cause a little havoc, plant a little fear. That’s what they’re all about.”

  “They sound like great people to be in business with.”

  “They’re reliable,” he said. “They show up with the agreed-upon quality product, they don’t make last-minute changes, they don’t demand more. We do business and that’s it. But this snake shit…” He trailed off.

  I watched him but it was clear he didn’t want to finish that sentence. I sat back and leaned my head against the headrest.

  Mexican cartels and dead snakes. This was already so far from what I expected to find with Vince.

  I knew he was a gangster going into this. I knew there’d be some violence, maybe a little danger. But the mobs hadn’t been all that active over the years. Gang violence was at an all-time low, and I figured things would stay that way.

  But now I realized violence was down only because the pot hadn’t quite boiled over yet.

  It was coming, though.

  Vince parked in front of a simple brick facade home with a bone-white stoop, black railing, navy shutters, and a black door. He parked and stared at me for a second before clearing his throat.

  “You’re about to meet someone,” he said. “Few people in your profession ever get to meet him. I’m warning you right now, if you open your mouth at the wrong time, if you say the wrong thing, he’s going to hurt you.”

  I blinked rapidly. “Who are we meeting with?”

  “My father.” He turned away and got out.

  I sat there in the passenger side seat as he walked around the car. He moved in slow motion, in long, confident strides, and I gaped at him as shock reverberated down my skin.

  I never in a million years thought I’d actually get to meet Don Leone in person. I saw him at the party where I met Vince for the first time, of course, but I wasn’t actually meeting him at the time. We just shared a mutual space, that was all.

  But this must be the Don’s private residence. This was probably where Vince grew up, full of childhood memories and teenage angst. This was the city’s seedy underbelly, hiding inside a mansion.

  Vince pulled my door open and helped me out. As I stood on the sidewalk, the front door opened up and a man with a thick neck, a bald head, a cheap suit, and a deep scowl stepped out onto the stoop, pulling the door shut behind him.

  “Vincent,” he called out.

  Vince looked over and sighed. “Roberto,” he said. “You’re fast today.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to see my father.”

  I leaned against the car as Roberto’s eyes swung over to me. His scowl deepened as he looked me up and down.

  “Not with her, you won’t,” Roberto said.

  “She’s coming in,” Vince said. “Go tell my father it’s important.”

  “I’m not going to bother the Don with this.”

  “Roberto.” Vince walked to the end of the stoop and stared up at the big bald man. “If you don’t get your ass inside, I swear on my mother’s grave I’ll make sure you end up cleaning corpses from the Schuylkill for the rest of your pathetic, ass-licking life. Now fucking move.”

  Roberto stared down at Vince before shaking his head. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll make your father turn you out then.”

  “Tell him it’s about the Jalisco,” Vince said.

  Roberto hesitated briefly then headed inside again.

  Vince leaned against the railing and rubbed at his eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He looked back at me. “I’m fine,” he said.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  He pushed off the railing and walked toward me, his eyes hot and hard on my body.

  �
�Did you hear what I said in the car?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I heard you.”

  “Keep your mouth shut in there.”

  “We’re not in there yet.”

  He lingered for a second and I could see his frustration.

  “This is a big deal,” he said, his voice low. “This is the sort of fucking thing that will keep me from going back to New York.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “And you care more about getting back to the city than you do about a possible war with this cartel?”

  “More or less,” he said. “Not that you’d understand.”

  I shrugged. “I get the sense you don’t love it here and don’t really get along with your father.”

  He laughed, a harsh and short bark. “You noticed?” he asked.

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  “I bet you’d like that,” he said, leaning toward me. “You want to hear about my daddy issues? I’d rather hear about yours. Or maybe you can just call me daddy and we can move on with our lives.”

  I glared at him. “No need to be an asshole.”

  He smirked at me and put a hand on my cheek. I tried to pull away but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

  “Don’t forget what I said,” he whispered, leaning close to press his lips to my ear. I let out a little breath, choking back a groan. “Keep your mouth shut in there, for your own sake. I don’t want to see you get hurt, my little journalist.”

  He let me go and turned away just as the door opened again.

  Roberto stepped outside, looking even more annoyed and miserable.

  “He’ll see you now,” Roberto said. “Come with me.”

  Vince grunted, opened the car door, and grabbed the black snake box from the back seat. He slammed the door shut and walked up the stoop. I followed, holding onto the railing.

  We stepped into a wide entryway with a high ceiling and a crystal chandelier. Wood paneling covered the walls and oil paintings hung in neat, orderly rows. Expensive and intricate mosaic tilework covered the floor. It seemed like the kind of place a British lord or lady would be happy with.

  Roberto led us through the entry, down a back hall, and cut left. We walked down another hall, our footsteps muffled by a plush, thick red carpet. More oil paintings on the walls, some of them expensive, and a few I thought I recognized. Old Masters, mostly, the sort of things that should be in a museum, but end up in a private gallery instead.

  Or end up hung on a gangster’s wall as decoration.

  Roberto took us to a door at the very end of the long hallway. It took me a moment to realize that the hall was far too long to go through only one house. The Don must’ve owned most of the block, maybe the whole thing.

  The door was large and heavy looking. It was made of some dark hardwood, maybe oak or something like that, with intricate carvings all along the front.

  Roberto knocked twice then opened it. Vince nodded and slipped inside.

  I followed, heart racing.

  Roberto shut the door behind us. I jumped when it clicked closed.

  The room surprised me at first. The carpet was green and patterned. The walls were covered in bookshelves. There was a table to the right, a little bar to the left, and filing cabinets overflowing with papers along the back walls. An enormous mahogany desk sat straight ahead, and an older man with a shock of white hair, a deep red velvet bathrobe pulled around his body, and a deep frown on his face sat behind it.

  Vince skipped the pleasantries. He walked right up to his father’s desk and dropped the box down on it. His father stared at the box then up at his son with a bemused, annoyed expression.

  “Well?” his father asked.

  “This is why I’m here,” Vince said. “Open it.”

  I felt his father’s eyes flip over to where I lingered just inside the doorway, feeling exposed and so far out of my depth that I just might drown. I wanted to ask questions, wanted to ask if the paintings I saw out there were real, if the heavy leather-bound tomes lining the bookshelves were all originals, and if I was going to get out of this alive.

  His father frowned at me then looked at the box. He lifted the lid gingerly and stared inside without betraying anything.

  I felt like I might pass out. My knees shook, my ankles almost broke. I wished I wasn’t wearing heels.

  “Well?” Vince asked.

  “Well,” his father said. “This is interesting.”

  Vince looked back at me and I could see the exasperation on his face.

  “No shit,” he said. “You know what it means, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” his father said and a hint of annoyance strayed into his tone. “The better question is, does that journalist standing back there know?”

  I saw Vince tense as he looked back at me. I stared at the two men, my heart racing. I could see Vince’s resemblance to his father, in the jaw and the eyes, but where his father was crooked and crinkled, Vince was smooth and masculine.

  “Hello, ah, Mr. Leone,” I said.

  Vince’s father smiled at me. “Hello, Mona,” he said. “Lovely to meet you. Why don’t you come over here and join us?”

  I hesitated then stepped forward at Vince’s nod. I moved over to stand next to Vince and did my best not to betray how absolutely terrified I felt.

  “I understand your hesitation,” Vince said. “But Mona and I have an arrangement. She’s writing an article about me that will not include any incriminating or identifiable information.”

  “And how is she going to write such a thing?” his father asked. “And how in the seven hells is that even worth her time? Think for a moment, son.”

  “Sir, I don’t plan on betraying any confidences,” I said. “He’ll see the draft—”

  “And why is it speaking?” his father said, his voice a snarl.

  I took a step back, my eyes wide. Vince stared at me, his face hard, and shook his head once.

  “She won’t speak again,” Vince said. “But she’s right. She can be trusted, father.”

  “She’s a journalist,” his father said. “She can’t be trusted, no matter how pretty she is. I don’t care how long her legs are, how perky her tits are, she can’t be trusted.”

  Vince tensed and bristled. “That’s not what this is about.”

  “Vincent, if you need something to fuck, we can procure you something,” his father said. “If that’s all you need, there are plenty of women within the family that you can have.”

  “It’s not about that,” Vince said.

  His father shook his head and waved a hand. “I want to discuss business,” he said. “Send the girl away.”

  Vince looked at me, his eyes hard, and he nodded once. “Go wait in the hall,” he said.

  I hesitated. I looked at Vince then at his father. I opened my mouth to speak, but caught the look Don Leone was giving me.

  So I shut my mouth, turned away, and walked to the door. I opened it up and stepped into the hallway. The door closed behind me with a dull thud.

  The hall was empty.

  I leaned up against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my body tight, and had to bite my lip hard to keep from bursting out in tears.

  I wasn’t going to cry. Goddamn it, I wouldn’t cry.

  I was a journalist. Danger was the whole point.

  I just met Don Leone, the most dangerous man in the city, and he knew what I was. He knew and he didn’t approve, which meant my life was in serious danger no matter what Vince said.

  God, this was such a mistake.

  But there was no turning back now.

  I closed my eyes and took steadying, calming breaths, and waited for Vince to come back out.

  9

  Vince

  I found Mona sitting on the floor outside of my father’s office a half hour later. She looked up at me and I could see the tears still shining, though they hadn’t fallen.

  Good for her. Most girls in her position would have broken out
in sobs the second that door shut.

  I lingered over her. “You okay?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  I held out a hand. She hesitated then took it and I helped her to her feet. She stumbled and ran up against me. I held her lower back to steady her, pulling her body tighter against mine.

  “Careful,” I said, my voice low.

  She stared at me then shook her head and pulled away.

  “I’m fine,” she said again.

  “Good.” I walked down the hall and she hurried to keep up.

  “What happened in there?” she asked, her voice soft.

  I glanced at her and shook my head once.

  She took the hint and didn’t ask any more questions. We moved back down the main hall, turned right at the far intersection, and headed through the entryway. Roberto was near the front door, looking bored and annoyed all at once.

  I was pretty sure that was his default setting.

  “Have a wonderful evening, Roberto,” I said as I opened the door and let Mona out into the night.

  Roberto grunted in response.

  I smiled and followed Mona out. I helped her into the car, walked around, got behind the wheel, and started it up.

  She turned to me and I could see the questions forming.

  “Just wait,” I said. “Okay? I’ll answer your questions back at my place. I just need a second to think. And a fucking drink.”

  She closed her mouth and sighed. “All right. But you’d better answer.”

  “I will,” I said and pulled out.

  There were very few things my father and I agreed about. I thought he was too complacent and too quick to form alliances where none were necessary. I thought the Russian deal was stupid and foolish. I thought he needed to be stronger, needed to accept his role as the dominant force in the city. I thought the family needed to expand across the continent.

  Where I was brash, reckless, and strong, he was quiet, calculating, and careful.

  But for once, there was no argument. There was no disagreement.

  Getting the snake was a very, very bad thing.

  I drove in silence and let my mind wrap around the conversation I’d just had with my father. I glanced at Mona, at the slit of her dress riding up her leg. Fucking hell, she was gorgeous.