Mafia Heir Read online

  Mafia Heir

  L. Steele

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

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  1

  This is the prequel to Mafia King

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  * * *

  Michael

  * * *

  Her lips, her scent, the taste of her fills my mouth, sinks into my blood. Her skin so soft, her curves that call out to me to touch her, her lush lips that part as I lean in closer. Her chin trembles. She tips up her face, and her green eyes peek out from under the fringe of her thick eyelashes.

  "Amore mio," I whisper, "tesoro mio." I lower my head until my eyelashes tangle with hers, until my nose bumps her, until we share breath and our lips almost meet. "Sei il mio cuore."

  Her lips curve.

  I brush my mouth over hers once, twice, and the taste of her, like strawberries and sunshine, punches me in the gut. I cup her cheek and the feel of her soft skin against the calluses of my palms reminds me just how fragile she is. How breakable she feels against the toughness of my body. I wrap my fingers about her neck, and her gaze widens. Her dark hair flows about her shoulders, pours over my forearm as I rub my thumb into the center of her throat.

  "You’re gorgeous, my Beauty." I lower my nose to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder and sniff. The scent of her, like moonflowers that open late in the day, engulfs me. My heartbeat instantly speeds up and a groan rumbles up my chest. "Sei così bella che mi fai morire." I kiss the hollow at the base of her neck, then work my way down her chest. She whimpers, wriggles under me, and I chuckle,

  "So impatient, Beauty?" I raise my head and stare into her beautiful green eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

  "Anything you want, my lord."

  "When you call me that…" A groan rumbles up my chest. "I can’t refuse you anything, you know that? You could ask me to die for you and I’d gladly do it. I’d walk through fire for you, amore mio, I’d throw myself off the highest mountain. I’d kill for you. I’d die a thousand deaths, if you’d only call me that again."

  "My lord," the witch’s smile widens, "my master," she gazes deeply into my eyes, "the only one to whom I’d ever submit."

  "The only one to whom you’ll ever acquiesce again."

  "And if I don't?" She tilts her head and suppresses a grin, "What if I decide you aren’t the one for me?"

  Anger burns through my veins and heat flushes my skin, "If you dare leave me for another, if you ever look at another man, if you ever let anyone else touch you... I’ll kill him, Beauty. I won’t stop until I’ve ground his face into the dirt, until I’ve pulled out his eyes for looking at you, broken his mouth for daring to speak to you, until I’ve pulled out his guts, smeared his blood on the ground and," I glare at her, "made love to you on the remains of his body."

  Her breath hitches and her pupils dilate. I stare at her. She’s turned on, no doubt about it. My thirst for violence seems to fulfill a need deep inside of her—one she doesn’t bother to hide from me either.

  "You’re not disgusted by my cruelty?" I tilt my head, "My penchant for brutality seems to turn you on, Bellezza."

  "And what if it does?" She purses her lips, "What if I say that it is the savagery at your core that attracts me? That it is the ferocity to go after what’s yours that appeals to the darkness in me. That," she tips up her chin so her lips are almost on mine, "it is your forcefulness, your need for destruction, your ruthlessness in not holding back what you are thinking, your vehemence in saying what’s on your mind, as you use your dominance to overpower every challenge in your path, that resonates with this yearning deep inside me to be taken, to be subdued, to be—"

  "Mine," I growl as I glare into her eyes, "only mine." I close my lips over hers and her entire body shudders. A moan bleeds from her and I know then, I need her, want her, must have her, right now. I tear my mouth from hers, peer into her face, "Promise me," I order, "that you’ll never hide any secrets from me, that you’ll never turn your back on me, that you’ll never ever leave me."

  Her green eyes widen; color fades from her cheeks. "Michael, I…"

  "Michael, get up, you need to see this."

  I snap my eyes open, stare into the face of my brother and Second, "The hell are you doing here, Luca?"

  He glances down and I follow his gaze to where I have the blade of my knife pushed up against his throat.

  "Shit, Michael," he drawls, "take it easy, fratellone. It’s only me."

  "Well, that’ll teach you to surprise me when I sleep."

  "I tried calling you." He stares at my hand pointedly until I remove it. I slide the knife into its sheath and slip it under my pillow, next to my gun. I never go anywhere without both of my weapons; definitely, never sleep without them. Still, when it comes to crunch time, I prefer the knife to the gun… No wonder, I had instinctively reached for it in my sleep. It's a knife that saved me all those years ago when my father came after me. A humble kitchen knife, but it had done the job of stopping him from almost killing me.

  I had turned eighteen, had come into my own as a man. It was the first time I had snatched a weapon and defended myself against him. It hadn’t been my last. It’s why I have trained myself to use a knife to defend myself. Never go anywhere without it on my body. It’s why I carry that knife—the very same knife from my mother’s kitchen—with me always. A memory of her that I keep close to me, a reminder that I hadn’t been able to save her. A regret that I will forever carry.

  "Hey, Michael, you okay?" Luca scans my features, "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

  The ghost of my mother, which never leaves me… Which reminds me that I will never forgive myself for not intervening in time to save her life. Though none of that explains the dream I just had.

  Who the hell was that woman in my dream? She’d felt so real. Had tasted like life itself. And her scent... That lush, elusive, mysterious scent… Heat tugs at my lower belly. Che cazzo! Why can’t I get those images out of my head. It had seemed so real, felt so real… I had been convinced I had been in bed with her. I shake my head to clear it and Luca’s gaze narrows.

  "You okay, fratellone?" he mutters.

  "Why wouldn’t I be?"

  "You didn’t respond when I called you. Which isn’t like you, at all, by the way."

  I pick up my phone from the nightstand, glance at it. Sure enough, there’s a missed call from him.

  "When you didn’t respond, I came over to wake you up. When I entered the room, it sounded like you were in the middle of a dream… Which, going by the sounds you were making, I can only conclude that it must have been about some woman—"

  I glare at him, and he holds up his hands. "Hey, just tellin’ it like it is."

  "What-bloody-ever."

  I throw off the covers, throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. Hell, if I don’t have a hard-on right now. Not that it matters. There aren’t many secrets between me and Luca. That’s what happens when you are left in charge of your four younger brothers at a very young age. Our father had beaten our mother to an early grave, then he’d turned his attentions on us. I had protected my younger siblings and taken the brunt of his wrath. Luca, being closest in age to me, had had an inkling of what was happening. He had partnered with me, when possible, to care for our younger siblings.

  Our Nonna had stepped in after our mother had died, and while she had done her best… It was really me who had taken on the role of caregiver for our younger siblings.

  Each of them has be
en grateful to me ever since; a sentiment I don’t hesitate to use to my advantage, by the way. And why not? I had taken the brunt of my father’s temper, and yet, I hadn’t been able to save my mother from him. A guilt I’ll always carry with me. If I had only stepped in earlier to help. So what, if I had been very young? I had known what was happening. How our mother had silently borne his anger, his rage, his various affairs that he’d insisted were his prerogative as Mafia Don. All of it had contributed to her heart attack at barely forty. It had left me with a healthy disrespect for marriage and a need to grow up as fast as I could, so I could take care of my family…find my place in my clan…and ultimately, have my revenge for my mother’s death.

  I brush past Luca, head for the shower, "Have the others arrived, yet?"

  "They’re waiting for you."

  "Give me five minutes." I glance over my shoulder, "Why don’t you kick off the meeting? I’ll join you, very soon."

  2

  Michael

  * * *

  When I walk into the conference room on the first floor of my home, I find Luca standing by the window. The sunshine streams in, bathing the entire space in a golden light. It’s November, but here near Palermo, the weather is a pleasant eighteen degrees. The same as it would be in Los Angeles, which is where I had attended university.

  At eighteen, I had been the first to leave home to study. My father hadn't been in favor of it, but my Nonna had finally intervened. I wish I could say I was grateful to her for it, but the fact is, she had stood by all those years and watched as my father had systematically abused first my mother, then me.

  By the time I had left home, the damage had been inflicted on my psyche. Not only had it toughened me up to survive in a new country, it had also woken up the darkness inside of me—one that had been drawn to being cruel, to exploiting other’s emotions, finding their weaknesses, plotting the downfall of those who dared cross me.

  I never forget those who’ve hurt me… Never forgive those who’ve betrayed me… I always repay my debts. In full. That’s one thing my background had taught me. It’s these lessons I took with me when I went to Los Angeles… And I returned, clearer than ever on what I had to do. I would take revenge on my father for what he’d done. I’d bide my time, until I had the opportunity for retribution. Until then, I’d use the lessons he’d taught me to consolidate my influence within Cosa Nostra.

  Sebastian, my half-brother, who is also my enforcer, pushes away from the wall. "Mika" he rumbles as he cracks his knuckles, "not like you to be late to your own meeting."

  "Not like you to be on time, Seb," I retort. "What happened, you didn't get laid last night then?"

  "Did you get pussy for the first time in months…or is it years?"

  "None of your bloody business." I look him up and down, "We both know who the women prefer… And it’s not only because I am Capo."

  "You’re uglier than me, that’s for sure." He smirks. "Don’t you know? The dark Mafia looks are no longer in vogue. You need to learn to look less like you stepped out of a gangster flick, and more like—"

  "A successful businessman?" I take in his camel-colored suit, the blue tie that catches the flicks of ice in his eyes, his dark blonde hair combed back from his face and gelled just right. With his movie-star good looks, he resembles Brad Pitt in his heyday. And it's true that not only women, but people in general, gravitate toward him.

  It’s also why he’s my enforcer. He can get the work done, not by use of fists, but by words…and his wits—a smarter way of getting people to comply, without attracting too much attention. It’s one way to function under the radar, and go about our business without constantly drawing attention to our activities. By working under the radar, my team and I aim to lull our opponents into complacency. Which means, on the occasions when I do use violence, it’s even more impactful.

  "You said it," Seb bares his teeth. "Don’t everyone rush to emulate me." He smirks as he glances around the room. Massimo, my brother who is next in line after Luca, is dressed in a dark suit and tie. So are Christian and Alessandro, my youngest brothers.

  Luca walks over to drop into the chair nearest the door, where Antonio, my bodyguard…and the only member of my inner circle who isn’t family, stands to attention.

  "Are we doing this, Mika?" He tips back his chair so it’s poised on its hind legs, "I need to leave in the next hour or I'll be late for a business meeting."

  "Is that an euphemism for a hot date?" Christian drawls. "Or wait... Let me guess," he pretends to think, "maybe you simply have a date with your hand?"

  Luca barks out a laugh, "There you go, talking like a teenager, which, oh, wait..." He snaps his fingers. "Makes sense, since you were one, not too long ago."

  "We are grown men in our thirties," Christian retorts, "though Xander here looks much younger than his years, I’ll give you that."

  "And I am younger than you, how?" Xander scowls at him. "Considering we are twins…"

  "And you are younger than me by two minutes."

  "Which means nothing."

  "Which still means that you are the youngest in this group."

  "Like any of you’ll ever let me forget that." Xander drums his fingers on his chest. "Surely, that joke is old by now."

  "Nope." Christian smirks, "It’s only as old as you are."

  "Which means it’s as old as you," Xander shoots back, "and—"

  "Enough," I say in a mild voice, "you two done with your childishness, yet?" I tilt my head. "Bad enough, Alessandro, here, insists he call himself by his American nickname."

  Xander winces, "Bad enough, keep reminding me of that, fratello."

  I arch an eyebrow, and Christian mimes zipping his lips. Xander merely raises a shoulder. The good thing about being a father figure to your youngest siblings is that they respect you. The bad thing is that you treat them with enough indulgence that they get away with almost anything. Not that the two would ever take advantage of my lenience. Not that I extend that specific brand of leniency to anyone else.

  "So," I turn to Luca, "any further news on the guns deal?"

  "We’ve cracked down on the Russians who were targeting our ships, found the leader of the gang responsible for it, and have cut a deal with him."

  "Good," I say at the same time that Sebastian growls. I turn to him, "Something you want to tell me, Seb?"

  "When will we stop pussyfooting around with our enemies and show them that they can’t take us for granted?"

  "Violence is not the only way to make a point." I fold my hands over the back of the chair at the head of the table. "You should know that better than anyone else, considering you have made a career out of it."

  "It’s because I have made a career out of knowing when not to use my fists that I am pointing out to you that the Russians shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. You negotiating a deal with them will only embolden them to come at our shipments again."

  "And if they do, they know I won’t warn them again."

  "So why waste time? Why not attack them and show them, once and for all, who’s the boss here?"

  "I am," I prowl over to stand at the head of the table, "the boss here." I lean forward on the balls of my feet, "And you’d do well not to question my authority again."

  Seb raises his hands, "Take it easy, brother." He smirks, "No need to go all Godfather on me."

  I scowl at him, "Wish you’d take things a bit more seriously."

  "Wish you’d take things a lot less intensely."

  "Intensity is my middle name. It’s my job to see the worst in a situation."

  "Whoa, do you need a woman to bring out your lighter side, or what?" He smirks.

  "Speak for yourself, brother." I crack my neck. "Moving on," I glance toward Luca, "what’s the latest on the mole? Have we found out who’s been spying on us and passing information to the Seven, yet?"

  The Seven are amongst the richest, most powerful men in England. They suspect that my clan had kidnapped and held them for rans
om when they were very young. One of our informants had ratted out the details to the cops in exchange for being allowed to leave the country anonymously. Since then the Seven have never let up in their vendetta for revenge. So far, they have not been able to confirm who was behind the kidnapping either... That is, until someone on my team started sharing our secrets with them.

  "You’re not going to like it," Luca warns.

  "Don’t let that stop you." I raise a shoulder. "I assume that means we have a suspect?"

  "One of the accountants on my team, as it turns out." Christian elaborates, "He was caught trying smuggle data from the London office."

  "The systems there are virtually impenetrable." I tighten my fingers on the chair.

  "Nothing is impenetrable. You should know that," Luca reminds me. "Anyway, we brought him here."

  I straighten. "He’s here?"

  "In the usual place." Luca frowns. "I took the opportunity to work him over."

  "Of course, you did."

  Luca shifts in his seat. "He’s refusing to give anything up."

  "Ah," I crack my neck, "clearly, you weren’t persuasive enough."

  "Why don’t you have at it?" He scowls.

  3

  Michael

  * * *

  I stare across the length of the garden at the man who’s tied to a straight backed wooden chair. He’s at the perimeter of the garden, where the lawn slopes down to meet the sea.

  I have no neighbors for a mile on each side of the shorefront. Which means the people I bring in here for questioning can scream all they want. They won't be heard by anyone else. It's one of the reasons I had chosen this specific building for my residence. It's just outside of Palermo, with a view of the sea I appreciate most mornings when I have my espresso on the terrace of the house.