
Stolen Bride

Mafia Shotgun Wedding, Volume 1

Jayde Payne and Simone Rivers

Published by Simone Rivers, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

STOLEN BRIDE

**First edition. April 14, 2020.**

Copyright (C) 2020 Jayde Payne and Simone Rivers.

ISBN: 978-1393503156

Written by Jayde Payne and Simone Rivers.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Also by Jayde Payne

Mafia Shotgun Wedding

Stolen Bride

Stolen Beauty

Stolen Princess

Mafia Soldier's Second Chance

Broken Savior

Broken Promise

Broken Destiny

Owned By A Mafia Boss

Bloody King

Bloody Queen

Bloody Royals

Watch for more at Jayde Payne's site.
Also by Simone Rivers

BWWM Romance: The Woodcox Rockstar Brothers

One Hit Wonder

Unmanageable

Broken Record

No Strings Attached

Mafia Shotgun Wedding

Stolen Bride

Stolen Beauty

Stolen Princess

Mafia Soldier's Second Chance

Broken Savior

Broken Promise

Broken Destiny

Owned By A Mafia Boss

Bloody King

Bloody Queen

Bloody Royals

Standalone

The Woodcox Rockstar Brothers: The Complete Series

Watch for more at Simone Rivers's site.

# Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Jayde Payne

Also By Simone Rivers

Grace

Grace

Nathan

Nathan

Grace

Nathan

Vincent De La Rosa

Nathan

Grace

Grace

Nathan

Nathan

Nathan

Grace

Grace

Nathan

Further Reading: Stolen Beauty

Also By Jayde Payne

Also By Simone Rivers

About the Author

About the Publisher

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# Grace

"Goodnight, princess."

"Are you sure? I can finish rolling the pasta tonight--"

"I said put it down, Grace. Come on, come on." Uncle Anthony reached across the kitchen counter, moving the pasta off to the side. "You know the guys are coming over. I don't like them being around you."

"Why not? I won't say anything stupid, I promise," I murmured, stepping away from the pasta.

"I'm not worried about you saying anything stupid. I'm worried about one of those assholes trying to make a move." Uncle Ant scoffed before he gave me a pat on my shoulder. "None of them are good enough for you, Grace. Not a one. Nobody's good enough for my--"

"Daughter. Yeah, yeah, I know." I finished my uncle's sentence with a smile, trying to ignore the emotions welling up inside me.

Daughter.

Uncle Ant had been calling me his daughter since the day my parents died.

I was ten years old when it happened. I'd been sitting beside my mom on the couch with my nose stuck in a book for school. I barely even noticed the two men stepping into the living room.

The first gunshot made me drop my book on the carpet. I looked towards the booming noise to see my father's head hitting the mahogany table as he fell, lifeless, to the ground.

There was a second gunshot. The sound rang in my ears as I dove into my mother's side, hoping she could save us both.

It turned out she couldn't.

My mom's body slumped across the couch, her long dark arms reaching towards me. I screamed and screamed and screamed.

I thought that I would die. I had to be next. But the men in our living room never turned their guns on me. They never even spoke a word.

Instead, they left me all alone and disappeared from my life forever.

Once they'd gone, I called my uncle, crying so hard into the receiver that I had a headache for days afterward.

I would have called 911, but daddy always told me not to.

No cops, no cops, no cops.

My uncle had other ways to handle problems.

Within an hour or two, my uncle came to take me away from it all. Men in suits handled my parents' bodies and cleaned up the scene of the crime. He did not permit me to watch and made me keep my eyes on him and him alone.

He wouldn't let me look back. Not even out the windows as we drove away.

During the ride to my new home, he explained what had happened. A rival gang had put a price on my father's head. One of his own men had double-crossed him. The men who'd murdered my parents were long gone by now and had already collected their cash.

The only reason they hadn't killed me, too, was because there wasn't any money in it.

Uncle Anthony told me that he'd always wanted a daughter, a good girl that he could raise right and show off on her birthdays and at her wedding. He said I could be his daughter now, if that's what I wanted.

I said yes.

Ever since, Uncle Ant and I have been closer than close. He's spoiled me rotten and given me everything I've ever asked for. He's made sure I understand all the rules of this world, too.

No cops.

No snitching.

No problem.

I flashed a genuine grin back at my uncle. "You're just trying to get me out of here, huh? Are you guys gonna' talk shop?"

"We're gonna talk shop because that's all these guys talk about is shop. You ask them how their wives are doing, and they tell you about the latest gun shipment out of Mumbai." My uncle waved his hand. "But don't you think about any of that, princess. None of that shit should ever concern you. What you need to focus on is how to make a better whiskey sour, because your aunt said your last round was weak."

"What the hell? My whiskey sours are perfect." I frowned, crossing my arms. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"Hey, pay attention to what your aunt tells you. Her whiskey sours have been at the table of many a peace treaty. That's gotta mean something." Uncle Ant laughed and shook his head. "Now, you need to get to bed, because I can't handle these fucking mobsters trying to flirt with you. I swear to God, Grace, if they try that shit, I'll shoot them all in the head myself."

I bent to kiss my uncle on the cheek before making my way out of the kitchen. "I love you too, dad."

* * *

How To Make A Whiskey Sour

How To Make The Best Whiskey Sour

Tips & Tricks For Serving Whiskey

I scrolled through the various choices as pop music blared from my laptop's speakers. I took my drink mixing skills to heart. Deep down, I thought something was off with my recipe.

How was I supposed to know what the perfect whiskey sour tasted like?

I'd never even been drunk.

My uncle never let me taste a single drop of alcohol, at least not on his watch. My only opportunity to drink was when I hung out with my best friend, Becca Davis. The problem was, drinking with Becca always seemed like such a bad bet. Becca would often drink way too much. It made more sense to stay sober enough to get us both home.

As I reminisced about the last time I helped Becca stumble back to her apartment, my phone vibrated against my desk.

I checked the caller ID.

And speak of the Devil.

It was Becca Davis.

I laughed, as I swiped my finger across my phone screen to answer the call. "Hey! I was just thinking about you."

"Uh oh. The mafia princess is thinking about me?" Becca sounded nervous. "That can't be good."

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes as Becca's chuckled on the other end of the line. "Why are you calling me, anyway? I thought you'd be out with your new boy toy."

"Eh. The new boy toy was talking about taking the next step in our relationship. You know, getting all serious. He wanted me to stop seeing other guys."

"And what's so bad about a serious relationship, Becs? Didn't you like this guy?"

"Yeah, right? How about this, I'll get into a serious relationship the same day you spread your legs. So, it'll be right in-between the months of Never and Ever."

"Becca, Becca, Becca. Always with the low-blows."

"Grace, Grace, Grace. Always with the no blowjobs."

I laughed at her response as I pulled the phone closer to my ear. "One day, you will tire of this fucking around, babe. And then what? You know how these mafia guys are. They have women they fuck, and women they marry. Don't you want to get married?"

"If I ever got married, God fucking forbid, it wouldn't be to one of these gangsters. I'd get a good guy with a legal job, a 401K, and a good relationship with his mom. But not too good. He needs to worry that I'd kick him out of the house. His only other option should be sleeping on the street, not sleeping over at his mommy's."

"Yeah, that makes sense." I sighed as I leaned back further in my chair. "Even so, I'll end up with a guy in the business. I mean, I'd like somebody clean, but--"

"But how are you going to introduce them to your not-so-clean family, right? It's like, 'hey, I love you, I want you to meet my family, oh and by the way, my uncle sells guns on the black market and sometimes steals shit'?" Becca scoffed. "There's no fucking way that will work."

"No fucking way," I repeated. "And speaking of fucking, you do know that I want to have sex someday, right? Just because I haven't found the right guy yet--"

"Oh my God, we've been over this a billion times. Yes, I know, Grace! It doesn't make you asexual, just picky. You're the pickiest twenty-one-year-old who ever lived. Just have sex already! Go to a bar! Go to a nightclub! Get the job done!"

"No, thanks. I think I'm gonna keep waiting on my Prince Charming."

"Hmm. More like a gangster Prince Charming. Good luck waiting on that." Becca blew out a raspberry. "Anyway, you want to go out tonight? Drinks on me."

"My uncle told me to go to bed...but he also said he didn't want me around the house while he was meeting with the mobsters..."

"Ah. Your uncle is trying to protect you from lowlifes. That's sweet. Now, let's meet some lowlifes of our own, yeah? You in? Say you're in!"

I took a few moments to consider Becca's invitation before I nodded. "I'm in."

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# Grace

"Shots! Shots! Shots!"

Becca was already downing drinks at the bar. I stood right beside her.

I'd been nursing my shot for the past thirty minutes. I glanced around the nightclub as Becca drank, taking in the sights of the glowing neon signs. The shot glasses vibrated with the thumping of the music. Frenzied, gyrating bodies filled up every corner of the place.

I'd never been to this club before, which was weird since Becca had dragged me to every nightclub and bar within city limits. But it was even stranger that my uncle hadn't mentioned any new construction. We were still on his turf, so to speak, and my uncle was always the first guy people went to for dealing with liquor licenses or potential hotspots for drug deals. This club's dark lighting was ideal for a molly handoff or two.

My curiosity got the better of me. "Becca, is this place new?" I shouted.

"Yeah, they opened last weekend. Whoo!" Becca grabbed another shot glass. "I fucking love it so far! These drinks are strong as shit!"

"How did you hear about it? From your dad or...?" I asked as I stared over at Becca's frame. "I never heard my uncle talk about this place."

"Hmm. Yeah, my dad mentioned it." Becca shrugged. "It's owned by some guy named Nathan Moore. He used to run drugs around Europe. He's a disrespectful asshole who does whatever the fuck he wants to do, mafia approval or not. A real arrogant prick."

I raised an eyebrow at Becca. "Wait, is that why you came here tonight? You wanted to meet this asshole, fuck him in the bathroom, and get back at your dad? Again?"

It wouldn't be the first time she'd flouted her father, and I couldn't blame her. Becca's dad wasn't anything like Uncle Ant. He'd been so cruel that Becca's mother had tried to run away with her when Becca was just a kid. Her mom had made plans to start over with Becca in Canada, far away from their old lives. A place where they could be safe from him.

Becca's dad found out about her mom's plan to escape. The very next day, her mother went missing.

No one heard anything about Becca's mom for months.

Not until an unlucky fisherman found her mom's body at the bottom of a remote lake.

Becca had never been an idiot. She knew why her dad killed her mom. She'd known about the plans and even whispered them to me excitedly during sleepovers and movie nights. Becca couldn't wait to leave for Canada someday. She couldn't wait to be safe from him.

Now, with her mother dead and Becca being her father's sole heir, it looked like Becca would be trapped in this life forever.

Whether she liked it or not.

Becca placed her drink back down on the bar. "Nope. I don't fuck guys like Nathan Moore. He's got so many mafia girls chasing him around, trying to claw their way up the social ladder."

"And you don't like the competition?" I frowned. This was ironic coming from Becca.

"No. A guy who gets his dick wet every night is shit in the sack. How the fuck would he know if he's any good or not? Desperate girls don't mind faking an orgasm or two."

"Yeah, you're probably right. He's--Hey!" Someone cut my words off by knocking into me. Hard. I had to scramble for balance against the bar. My foot slipped out of one heel.

"Watch where you're standing, bitch. You made me spill my drink." The stranger turned to face me and gave me an appreciative nod. "Well, well, well. Pardon my fucking French. If it isn't Ant's daughter, little Gracie. How's life been treating you? Good?"

I sighed and gave the stranger a wordless nod. Then, I turned back towards the bar. I hoped against hope that he'd take it as an obvious sign to fuck off.

But he didn't.

"Yeah, it looks like life's been treating you good. What with that hot body you've got. Did your daddy pay for those perfect tits? Or did you get those from your mom?"

"Fuck off! Don't talk to her like that." Becca stepped between the stranger and me. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Careful, Ms. Davis. A threat coming from you is like a threat coming from an army. I might just have to retaliate." The stranger's voice became harsh.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his hand reach towards his waistband.

Shit.

He could have a fucking gun.

He probably did this shit on purpose, wanting to start trouble with Becca's family.

I pulled on Becca's arm, drawing her to my side."Don't do it, Becca. It's a fucking setup."

"You should watch your pretty little mouth." The stranger removed the gun from his waistband, but he held it against my forehead. "I might get mad and blow your fucking brains out, like what happened to your real mommy and daddy."

A tremble made its way through my body. I couldn't have stopped the reaction even if I'd tried. My ears buzzed. I felt dizzy.

Despite growing up around my uncle's business, I was still afraid of guns. Uncle Ant often even joked that I wasn't afraid of girly shit like spiders, snakes, and roaches.

But guns?

I wanted to cry on the fucking spot.

"Put down the gun, you stupid fucking piece of shit." A different man's voice cut through the tense conversation, and the cold muzzle drew away from my skin.

"Yo! Sorry, boss. I wasn't gonna shoot this bitch. I wanted to scare her off."

"This mob shit will scare off the customers. Is that what you're trying to do? You want to fuck with my bottom line you bottom feeder? You're lucky this room is so fucking dark." As if to prove how dark the bar was, the man stepped forward. The bar's recessed lights revealed his profile.

I thought that my heart would beat its way out of my chest.

Holy fuck.

He was gorgeous.

His auburn hair was just long enough to frame his face, and his glimmering eyes looked like they could set anything on fire with only one look. He was tall, very tall, and his torso was well defined underneath his shirt. As I took in the different features of his frame, I decided he couldn't be a day older than thirty.

"Sorry, Nate. You know how I get. And like you said, the room is dark. No one even saw--"

"Fuck you. You're fired."

"What the fuck? Nathan, come on--"

The gorgeous man reached for the gun and wrenched it from the other man's hands. "Either you leave right now, or I shoot your brains out. I don't give a fuck if anyone sees it. I'm tired of your shit."

"Alright, alright. I'm leaving. Fuck." The stranger shuffled away from the bar. "I'll see you at the drop tomorrow though, right?"

"You show up, and I'll throw your body in a fucking lake. Don't talk to me. Ever again. Now go." The gorgeous man pointed the gun he'd just stolen at its previous owner's face. The creep ran towards the nearest exit.

Becca moved in front of me and struck a seductive pose."Thanks for helping us out with that," she said to make the beautiful stranger turn around. "I don't think I caught your name--"

"Sorry. No time for foreplay tonight. Come back tomorrow, and maybe I'll let you suck me off in the bathroom." The gorgeous but rude man barely registered Becca before he walked off in the opposite direction.

"Asshole," Becca smirked. "You know what? I think we just met Nathan Moore. What do you think?"

"I... I don't know what to think." My heart still pounded inside my chest. "I... um--"

"Oh my fucking God, Grace. Did Nathan Moore make you wet? Have you ever been wet before in your life? It's okay, babe. I promise the feeling is natural." Becca offered me a faux pout.

I scowled. "Fuck you."

"Grace and Nathan sitting in a tree, f-u-c-k-i-n--"

"Fuck you!" I shouted and pushed away from the bar. "Come on. Let's go home. We don't need more shit tonight."

"Yeah, you're right. If I wanted to get drunk and have someone point a gun at my head, I could've just stayed at home." Becca winked at me as she strutted for the club's front door. "You're okay, right Grace? With the whole gun thing? I know how you get sometimes."

"Yeah, I'm okay. I need to leave." I follow her out of the club and back onto the city's streets.

I don't feel up to explaining how my gun-phobia pretty much disappeared as soon as I laid eyes on Nathan Moore. Once I saw him, I couldn't think of anything else. My mind was seared by the play of dark and light on his angular face and those eyes of his that seemed to glow in that darkened room.

I kept my attention on the staccato clicking of heels on the sidewalk as my cheeks heated with confusion and a strange, heady desire.

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# Nathan

"Sorry, I'm late." I stepped inside of the nightclub's back room office and handed off my tuxedo jacket to a pair of waiting hands. "I had to handle something with John at the bar."

"Not a problem, boss. We've been having a good conversation with our friend here." David bent towards a man who struggled against his arm restraints. "Well, I've been having a good conversation. It's been a little one-sided since our friend's not doing much talking."

"Hmm. Interesting." I took a drink from a woman and moved towards the restrained man. "You're not saying much, huh?"

The man's body went still.

I sipped my drink and sighed. "That was a yes or no question. Nod for yes. Don't move for no. Do you like to talk?"

The man stayed just as still.

And I finished the rest of my glass. "So, you don't like to talk. Funny. Then how the fuck did half of my shipment gets picked up by a street gang? No one else knew where that batch was going. No one else was in the room during that deal. Just you, me and David."

The man didn't budge.

Something about his stillness made me see pure red.

I crushed the shot glass in my palm, not caring about the blood that dripped down my skin. "I'm gonna give you one more chance to come clean. We both already know that I'm gonna blow your brains out, don't we? But is this the way you want to die? You want to go into the next life with a fucking lie coming out of your mouth?"

"Tell the truth, buddy. And maybe he will only put a bullet in your head. That's the best way this ends. I've seen him do worse." David reasoned with the man in the chair. "You're not getting out of this, so don't make it any harder than it has to be, yeah? Just tell the truth."

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. Do. You. Like. To. Talk?" My question came out staggered, the rage inside of me already at its maximum capacity. "Nod for yes. Don't move for no."

The man took in a visible breath.

And then, he remained still.

I felt something break inside of me. Something familiar that snapped behind my eyes.

Before I knew it, my arms were around the man's neck, pulling and tugging, even as he screamed behind a gag of makeshift towels.

The screaming didn't matter.

The screaming had never stopped me before.

I squeezed until his body seized.

It wasn't to break their neck. The trick was to cut off his fucking air supply. Without medical intervention, he'd be dead within minutes, and it'd feel like he was drowning the entire time.

Yes, drowning. Even while he feels a breeze on his face, even while seeing he was still on dry land. His mind would waste its few remaining seconds trying to comprehend the paradox. He'd die with that look on his face like he wanted to ask me how he was drowning when his feet had never touched the sea.

This was the death he deserved.

It was the death all traitors deserved.

That's what my father had taught me growing up. He was never the highest man on the gang's totem pole, but he wanted me to learn everything there was to learn about this lifestyle. It was important to him that his son know what it took to keep his family fed and what he had to do to keep our lights on.

I was twelve when my father was killed during a job.

And I was angry.

So angry that my mother didn't know what to do with me. She'd tried to keep me at home, but I kept running away. Eventually, the state got involved, and I ended up being shipped between foster homes like a fucking cardboard box. But when I turned eighteen, all bets were off. The state released me right back out onto the streets, and that's all I've known ever since. Streetlife. Street people.

People like David. People who respected brute strength and the sound of slotting a bullet into the chamber.

It didn't take me long to form my own gang. After a few years of mastering the drug trade overseas, I found that my outsider reputation traveled fast. I was a new name, but I was reminiscent of the old days when men like us operated with a set of rules and a sense of conduct. I did none of that desperate shit like gunning down innocent women and children.

And if someone owed me money, I always gave them a fair choice. They could either pay me back with loyalty or blood.

But if they were a fucking traitor?

Well, then. I only accepted their blood.

"Another one for the icebox," David smirked. "Why do they always pull this shit with you? Why can't they ever just be honest?"

"I don't know, David. Maybe I'm just too fucking nice." I shook my head and felt the anger dissipate from my bones. "Got any news for me? How's our shipment from Canada doing?"

"No news on Canada yet." David released the restraints from the corpse's arms. "Rumor is Vince is trying to form alliances. He's been talking to the other gangs. We expect him to come to you with a deal, too."

"I'm not interested in any partnership with these..." My mind searched for an appropriate word as I took a deep breath. Couldn't find one. Oh well. "They don't know what the fuck they're doing. They've been stumbling around in the dark for decades."

"Yeah, that's why Vince is trying to fix things. Trying to rewrite the maps and all that."

"Rewrite the maps?" I took a step closer to David. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Oh, you know. Define the turfs. Figure out everyone's angle. Everything now is loose, but if the gangs agree to work with Vince--"

"Those goddamn stupid motherfuckers." I clenched my teeth, as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. "David, don't you see it? Vince isn't trying to make deals with anyone. He wants to control everything and be the fucking kingpin. He wants everyone to kiss his fucking ring and those who don't go along with him--"

"Like us?" David suggested.

I nodded. "Yeah, David, like us. We're fucked if Vince gets away with this shit. I built this place by bribing a shit ton of cops, but if Vince wants us gone? All he has to do is get a few of his turfed-up mafiosos to breathe down those same cops' backs, and it's fucking over."

"So, how do we stop him?" David threw the corpse over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. "You can't just go to war with a guy like Vince. At least not without more firepower. And manpower. And I thought we were closed to new recruits."

"Maybe we can talk sense into these idiots. Make them realize that they're signing up for a dictatorship, not a partnership." I eyed the dead man on David's shoulder. "They may not like me, but they respect me. Maybe it'll work."

"Maybe." David shrugged, and the body seemed to shrug right along with him. "Or maybe we'll end up in the icebox, too."

"We're all headed for the icebox. It's just a matter of time." I grinned at David. "Who do you think we should visit first?"

"Hmm. Let's try Quentin."

"Why Quentin?"

"Because at least if he kills us, it'll be quick." David grinned and headed to the back exit. The body bumped against his frame.

"Towel?" The quiet woman held out a fresh towel already in her hand. "You're bleeding, Mr. Moore."

"Thank you." I took the towel out of her hands and dabbed at the stains on my palm.

I'd forgotten that she was even here.

My attention then went towards her figure, slim but with curves in all the right places.

She was beautiful, too, with natural blonde hair and a bombshell smile.

She seemed attentive. Obedient. A woman who'd make the perfect wife for the men who lived this lifestyle.

Which meant that she wasn't the woman for me.

While I respected my father more than any other man in my entire life, I'd always believed that his biggest mistake was being too much in love with my mother. He could've risen through the ranks if he'd dedicated more of his time to the gang instead of to the woman he had at home. His love for her, and hell, even his love for me, made him weak.

I'd seen this weakness in the eyes of other men, too. How much they loved their women. How much they loved their families. Love made them hesitate during a shootout. It made them turn down the most dangerous and lucrative jobs. It made their eyes well up with tears as they suffocated in this very room.

I wasn't interested in having a weakness, and so I wasn't interested in having a wife. Or a family. Or anyone around me who had the power to slow me down.

My type of woman didn't ask a lot of questions and had no interest in being with me for more than one night. She wouldn't expect a sleepover or a call in the morning. She was looking for a good time in exchange for a night out with a rich, dangerous man with a fast car.

The woman who stood before me? She would break down in tears if you didn't send her flowers after the first fucking date.

She was way too precious for my tastes. Maybe David would be interested, though. "Are you single? You're not fucking a lot of guys, are you?"

"No, Mr. Moore. I'm not fuck--I'm not sleeping with anyone." She softened her tone and offered me a small smile.

What a fucking prude.

Just the way David liked them. "You know how to make a stiff drink? Something stiffer than what you gave me when I walked in."

"Yes." Her answer was quick. "I can make anything you'd like."

"David likes a good rusty nail. Go make two of those. Offer a sip to him with that innocent smile of yours. He'll be putty in your hands."

"Oh." She looked down at the ground. "I wasn't interested in David. I was interested in--"

"I know what you were interested in. It's the same thing all you mafia girls are interested in. But you're not gonna get it from me. Unless all you wanted was a good, hard fuck? Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to go down on you so good that you're screaming my name?" I looked the woman up and down. "Or did you want a ring?"

"A ring." Her response was low.

"You want a ring. That's what your daddy taught you. It's too bad. I think you'd look gorgeous sitting on my cock tonight." I winked at the woman even though her focus was still on the ground. "If you're trying to marry into this business, I'd go make those rusty nails, if I were you. I have a good feeling about 'em."

"I'll be right back, Mr. Moore." The woman nodded and walked out of the room.

Finally, alone, I wiped my slick, ruby hands on the white towel.

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# Nathan

Quentin was a bastard. I was reminded of it every time I was forced to be in his presence. His trade of choice? Women. He owned the deed to every strip joint and the underground sex scene in this city. He was a glorified pimp who made a profit each time one of his "employees" spread her legs.

I could never respect a man in a business like that. I wasn't impressed by his high mansion's ceilings. Nor was I impressed by the tiger skin rugs on his floor, the tacky gold-plated desk he sat behind, or the bikini-clad woman with her legs strewn over his lap.

I knew the women he "employed" to do his dirty work had more balls than Quentin ever would. He was just another wealthy asshole. The world was filled with assholes just like him.

I tried to keep it cordial. "Quentin. Thanks for granting us this meeting."

"Oh, you know I love seeing you, Nathan. It's no problem at all." Quentin flashed me a toothy grin. "Sorry about making your friend wait in the other room. We had a security breach the other day. Son of a bitch tried to pull a gun on me."

Did you piss yourself?

I kept the question to myself as I waved my hand. "It's not a problem. David understands."

"Yes, he seems like an understanding man." Quentin sighed and tapped his fingers along his desk. "So Nathan, my friend. What brings you here? Are you having trouble with women? Or are you looking for something a little more exotic? Maybe something a little... younger?"

Quentin lifted his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. I suppressed the urge to vomit on the spot.

"No, I'm not interested in your pedophile shit." My anger swelled, but I knocked it back down. "Look, Quentin. Have you heard anything from Vince yet?"

"What would I have heard from Vince?"

"Something about partnering up, maybe. Something about redrawing turf lines--"

"Oh. Yes. Vince came to me about that."

"... And?"

"And it sounded like a good deal, but I still told him I needed a few days to think about it. I like to make people sweat." Quentin laughed as he pulled the bikini strap away from the woman's body, revealing her voluptuous breasts. "Now, Nathan, are you sure I can't interest you in anything? Why this lady right here has been trained by the best. She can handle a good, rough fuck. As hard as you want."

"But no cutting." The woman chimed in with a wiggle of her finger. "None of you mafia guys know how to cut right. I almost bled out all on the fucking sofa last time."

"Fucking bastard. Almost damaged one of my top products." Quentin moved his hand over the woman's knee before he bent to kiss her shoulder.

And as he maneuvered himself closer to her, I noticed that there was a glistening, platinum band on his hand.

A wedding band?

My eyes then scanned her left hand, and I spotted a similar band on her ring finger, shining just the same.

Ah.

Top product, indeed.

This must've been Quentin's wife.

And he was offering her up to be fucked?

What the fucking fuck?

I needed to get out of this madhouse. "Look, Quentin. You can't partner up with Vince--"

"Can't?"

"Shouldn't. You shouldn't partner up with Vince. It's not a partnership. He'll just redraw the turf lines, so he has his hands in everyone's pot. Just a little at first, but it'll get worse and worse over time until there's no turf left--"

"Hmm. That doesn't sound like Vince. He was nothing but pleasant."

"Yeah, because you rolled over for him like a--" I cut myself off. "Look, he might seem pleasant, but I can promise that he won't accept no for an answer. The only reason it felt like you had a choice is that you made the right one. We can't just let him take over--"

"Take over? You think I'd let Vince come in and sit on my throne?" Quentin's tone shifted into something darker, deeper. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Nathan fucking Moore? You know-it-all prick. And I know what you really think of me, too, you two-faced bitch. You think you're so much better than me? Why? Because you move guns instead of bodies?"

"Because I don't put little girls up for sale." The anger was right back in my veins. I turned my head towards the woman in Quentin's arms. "Because I don't let strangers fuck my wife."

"Oh, fuck you. Fuck you!" Quentin hissed as he pushed his wife out of his lap. He then made a "gun" with his index finger and pretended to cock his imaginary weapon. "You've got ten seconds before I have security come in here and blow your fucking brains out. And the only reason I don't do it right fucking now is that I'd rather not get your fucking brain matter all over my brand-new carpet. Now, get the fuck out of my house, you piece of shit."

"Glad we had this talk, Quentin." I moved my chair away from his desk, as I rose to my feet. "Always a pleasure, you fucking asshole."

"Get out, Moore! Get the fuck out!"

I politely nodded towards Quentin's wife for a final time before I headed for the closest door.

* * *

David sat in the driver's seat of my Lamborghini. He shrugged. ""Well, at least we didn't die. Not dying is good, right?"

"Not dying is good, not dying is very good..." I bobbed my head along for emphasis. "But we're still fucked. Quentin's convinced that Vince isn't a real threat because Quentin's a fucking idiot."

"So, what are we gonna do, boss?"

I closed my eyes as I rested my head back against my seat. "I think we have to go to war, David."

"Go to war? What? With Vince?"

"With Vince. With everybody who's aligned themselves with Vince. We have to keep the turfs how they are. We have to keep the lines the same. Not just for our sake, but for all the gangs. If we let Vince have this shit, it's over. We won't work for ourselves anymore, we'll all fucking work for Vince."

"...Okay." David's response came slower than usual. "If you think that's what we have to do, then that's what we have to do. I'm with you, boss. I'm with you all the way."

I cracked an eyelid, just enough to look over at David.

And fuck.

He had that look on his face already. That same old hesitation that ruined so many good men. That same hesitation that ruined my dad, too.

"How's it been going with that girl from the club?" I asked even though I already knew the answer. "You've been on a few dates by now, right?"

David grinned. "It's been going good, boss. It's been going really good."

"I'm happy to hear it." I wasn't happy to hear it, but I lied anyway. I didn't feel like dragging David down with my shit. Besides, if we were going to war with Vince, I had other things to worry about. "Let's head back to home base. I need to think some shit over."

"You got it, boss." Moments later, the car was veering through traffic. David's driving skills were both reckless and fluid.

As we swerved from lane to lane, I planned my attack on one of the biggest Mafiosos in town.

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# Grace

I stood in front of my bedroom mirror and smoothed down the sides of my fuchsia dress. The fabric was form fitting and beautiful, something my aunt had brought home to me from her last trip to Paris. I wasn't allowed to go because my uncle was afraid to let me out of his sight for too long.

I twirled around, enjoying how the dress swayed with each motion. By the time I faced the mirror again, my aunt's reflection was right behind me, clear as day. Her appearance startled me a little, making me jump away from the frame.

She brushed back her soft blonde curls with a hand. Her laugh echoed through my room. "Sorry for scaring you, love. You look lovely in fuchsia. I envy you being able to wear bold colors, they wash me out." She gently placed her pale hand on my brown shoulder.

"You're beautiful in anything you wear," I told her.

She smiled. "Do you feel beautiful, Grace?"

"Yes. Thank you so much for the dress, Aunt Wendy."

It had been easy to see Uncle Ant as my dad since he reminded me so much of my father, but I could never bring myself to call Aunt Wendy "mom." I wondered if that made her sad since she and my uncle had no children of their own. Still, I tried to be the best "daughter" that I could for her, minus giving her the "mom" title.

"Did you enjoy your last trip? All the tourist stuff in Paris must seem boring to you by now."

"Oh, Paris never gets boring, love." Aunt Wendy said in a dreamy voice. "Maybe one day, when your dad isn't so neurotic, he'll let me take you. You'd love it, Grace. The food. The culture. It's nothing like how it is here. None of this gangster bullshit. I swear, even their crime is more refined. Pulling a gun is always the last resort, unlike with your dad, who pulls out a gun as soon as he can."

Aunt Wendy winked, and I smiled right back. "Hey, is there a reason dad's letting me get all dolled up today? He won't let me wear nice stuff when he has the guys over."

"Well, today's a little different. Vince is not one of the guys. He's an old friend. One of the few men in this world that Ant respects." My aunt took a step closer. Her hand grazed over the side of my dress. "I told him with this low key meeting would be the perfect opportunity for you to work the room. Besides, how else are you gonna make a better whiskey sour if you never get the chance to serve any?"

"True." I accepted my aunt's logic. "So, what? Is he going to make me put the drinks down on the table and run out of there as fast as I can?"

"Oh, no. With meetings like this, between two heads of families, we women stay in the background. Tempers tend to not run so hot when someone's wife or daughter is in the room. It helps them make better choices, for all of us."

I'd never been allowed to stay in the room before. My aunt often accompanied my uncle during his business deals. But my uncle rarely allowed me to step foot in his meetings, much less stay long enough to listen in on a discussion.

My hands shook.

My aunt then took my hands and gave them a squeeze. She turned me around to face her. "Don't be scared, Grace. Staying in the room is just a formality. I doubt things with Vince will get heated, and you know that Ant would never let anything bad happen to you."

"I know. I'm just--"

"We've both sheltered you from the real world, from our world. And God knows you've already seen enough from an early age..." My aunt trailed off. "But you are still our daughter, my love. You come from generations of this lifestyle. And I think it's time you learn what it takes to be a part of this business, starting with this meeting."

"What if I don't want to be a part of this business?" I asked.

"Oh, love. Women like you and me, we were born for this. We don't get to choose. But maybe, if you're lucky, you'll end up with a man like Ant. Someone who loves you and respects you."

"Someone who lets me go to Paris on his dime?" I joked.

"Ha! Very funny." My aunt rolled her eyes and stepped away from my side. "All right, time to go. And don't forget to keep that smile on your face, darling! You never know when your future husband is watching."

I plastered on a huge, fake smile, and followed my aunt out of the room.

* * *

"Vince, we meet again! I swear, I saw you last week." My uncle motioned for Vince to sit down across from him. "Is there a reason you called another meeting so soon?"

I glanced at the man my uncle was speaking to. I'd never seen him before. I could tell he was someone important by the way his gangsters hovered near the door before he dismissed them. They looked like they would take a bullet for him, no questions asked.

"Thank you, sweetie." Vince took a drink out of my hand and placed it on the table in front of him. He gave me a big smile. "So, the rumors are true. Anthony Smith has the most beautiful daughter in the mob. No wonder he keeps you under lock and key."

"Leave her out of the conversation, Vince. Let's focus on the task at hand." My uncle took a sip of his own drink. "What brings you back over to my neck of the woods?"

"You told me that you would think about my previous offer." Vince shrugged. "I wanted to know what you think."

"Hmm. Not interested." My uncle put his glass beside Vince's. "No disrespect to you, Vince. I think what you're doing is beautiful. It's about time someone cleaned up the turf lines. But I'd rather not get involved on the ground level. I hope this means we can still be friends and do business together."

"Still be friends..." Vince hummed after he spoke the words. "Hey, Ant, how's your brother doing?"

I stilled behind my uncle's chair and held my breath.

"You know how he's doing, Vince. He's been dead for eleven years, God rest his soul." My uncle made the sign of the cross over his chest. "What the hell are you bringing that up for, huh?"

"Because I thought we were friends, Ant." Vince leaned forward in his seat. "Do you remember who paid off your brother's debts? Do you remember who cleaned up the mess he left behind when you were too busy crying and grieving?"

My uncle leaned towards Vince. "I'll always be grateful for what you did, and I paid you back as soon as I could. What more do you want from me? I'm not going against you. I'm here for whatever you need--"

"You don't understand, Ant." Vince shifted away from my uncle. "If you're not with me, then you're against me."

"What's that supposed to be? A threat?"

Vince lowered his hand to his jacket pocket. Within seconds, there was a gun pointed right at my uncle's chest. "It's not a threat. It's a promise."

"You son of a bitch--"

The sound of the tray of drinks crashing to the ground interrupted the conversation. Soon, both men were staring me down as my palms shook with nerves.

I didn't even realize that I'd dropped the drinks.

I couldn't take my eyes off that gun so close to my uncle's chest... so close to taking away someone I loved...

Again.

"Stop. Please. Stop." I rushed to my uncle's side. "Please. We'll give you whatever you want. Please."

"Grace, don't! You don't understand what you're saying--"

"What do you want?" I wiped away the tears that had already dripped down my cheeks. "Please. Just tell me what you want."

"Power," Vince answered without missing a beat. "You got a drink recipe for that, sweetheart?"

Women like you and me, we were born for this. We don't get to choose.

My aunt's words swirled around in my head.

Just because my uncle wasn't willing to make a deal with Vince didn't mean that I couldn't. I was just as much a part of this mafia world as my uncle was, as Vince was. As my mind raced towards a solution, my stomach churned.

Once I spoke, there was no going back. If Vince accepted my offer, my fate would be sealed forever.

Vince's gun was still focused against my uncle's dress shirt. My heart shattered into a million pieces.

I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I watched my uncle die. And who's to say that this monster would stop at my uncle? What if he went after my aunt, too? I couldn't lose them the same way I lost my parents. I couldn't imagine anything worse.

I turned to Vince and gave him a fake, megawatt smile. "I can give you power."

"And how would you do that, Grace?"

"Well Vince, I don't see a ring on that special finger. And... speaking as the sole heiress to the Smith empire, I think it's well within my right to... consolidate." My voice shook. I tried to blink away my nerves.

God. I needed this to work.

"Grace, no!" My uncle bellowed. "I'd rather die! I'd rather fucking die than let you be with him--"

"Oh, come now, Ant." Vince's expression looked almost cheerful as he placed the gun back into his jacket pocket. "It wouldn't be so bad, would it? I think you'd make the perfect father-in-law--"

"You're more than twice her age, you piece of shit!" My uncle moved out of his chair, lunging for Vince. "If you're going to shoot me, then shoot me! But you're not getting your hands on Grace!"

Vince evaded my uncle's attack. My uncle landed with a soft thud at Vince's feet. As my uncle struggled to regain his composure, still rested on his hands and knees, Vince made his way over towards me.

"You're a smart girl." Vince grabbed my chin and stared down into my eyes. "A very, very smart girl. My first wife was a smart girl, too. So smart she thought she was smarter than me. Now, she's six-fucking-feet under for biting the same hand that fed her ass for fifteen years."

Vince moved even closer as a sickening grin came across his face. "Don't play games with me, sweetheart, because I won't hesitate to cut off your pretty, little head. But if you're a good woman, and you keep your head down, and you mind your own fucking business, then I think this could work out. I think we're a good match. What do you think, Ant? Are we a good match?"

"Vince! You--"

"It doesn't matter what he thinks." I glanced over towards my uncle, still on the ground, before I looked back at Vince. "It only matters what I think. And I think you're right. I think we could be a good match." I felt bile rising up my throat, but I suppressed the growing desire to vomit. "I mean, I at least think that we're a good match. You have a Black Card don't you?"

Vince laughed. "Money, money, money. That's all you women want. Well, I've got plenty of that. But you're only getting your hands on my Black Card if I can get my hands on you."

Vince's hands went down towards my ass and gave it a firm squeeze. "And I can't wait to get my hands on you, sweetheart. How about we do this the old-fashioned way and wait for our wedding night. You busy this weekend?"

"This weekend?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my tone. "But what about the planning--"

"My Black Card will take care of all of that." Vince whistled appreciatively. "Goddamn, your luscious skin will look amazing in white. And you're going to look even more amazing when I bend you over after the reception."

I cringed at Vince's suggestion, but I didn't let it show on my face. "Can't wait. This weekend it is, then. I'll see you there."

"See ya there." Vince winked before he slapped my ass, hard. He nodded over towards my uncle and stepped outside of the entryway.

As soon as Vince was gone, I moved towards my uncle. My hands traced over his shoulders. I wanted to make sure he hadn't been too injured from his fall. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Grace...what have you done?" My uncle's voice sounded tortured. "Baby, what have you done?"

"I had to. He was going to kill you." I was crying again, but this time I didn't bother wiping any of the tears away. "What was I supposed to do? Just let you die? You wanted me to watch you die?"

"It's my fault, baby. I should've brought my piece in with me. I didn't expect Vince would ever turn his gun on me. On me!" My uncle's anger resonated through his tone. "But we'll fix it. We can fix it. I'll send over some of my guys--"

"No! Don't!" I bury my face in my uncle's chest. "Just let it go. Please, dad. If that man finds out that you're trying to move against him... if he hurts you... either of you..."

I won't have anyone left.

A sob ripped right through me. I kept the rest of my thoughts to myself.

And it seemed like my uncle understood as he pulled me tighter into his grip. "Grace, I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you from this. I knew this was coming. One day all the shit I ever did was going to catch up. I figured it'd be a bullet to the head. Not watching you... watching my daughter... give herself to..."

"If it's the only way to keep you safe, then it's worth it." I sniffled. "I don't care. I'll marry him if it keeps you and Aunt Wendy alive."

"Oh, princess. I'm so sorry."

He cradled the back of my head and held me as if I were a little girl. I never felt more like his daughter than I did at that moment.

I'd do this for him. I'd do anything for him.

I stepped away, wiping my eyes. He gave me a sad smile. We made our way down different hallways, towards different parts of the house. And all the while, I'd wondered if this was the last time that we would ever be so close.

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# Nathan

"What the fuck is this shit?" I stared at a bouquet of red roses on top of my desk. "Did the delivery guy get the wrong address or something?"

"Uh, no, boss. Those are for you." David reached into the bouquet and retrieved a heavy card stock envelope. "Here, I think it's some kind of invitation."

"Invitation?" I raised an eyebrow and took the letter. I took a moment to read the damn thing. It was ornate and written in gold:

You are cordially invited to the wedding of

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# Vincent De La Rosa

&

Grace Smith

We request the honor of your presence for this joyous occasion.

I skimmed through the back of the invitation, reading over the date, time, and venue.

I handed it back to David with a shrug. "Nice gesture, but why the hell would he invite me? We haven't spoken face to face yet, and I know he plans on roping me into his turf rezoning shit."

"This might just be that time."

"Be just what?"

"Vince. Roping you into his shit." David studied the invitation. "I don't know if you caught the girl's last name or not, boss. It's Grace Smith. As in, Anthony Smith's daughter. Well, his adopted daughter, at least."

"Yeah? So, what? They're both in the mafia. Am I supposed to be suspicious?"

"Ah, yeah. I forget that you don't keep up with the street gossip." David chuckled as he placed the invitation back on the desk. "Grace Smith is not your average mafia princess. Her daddy practically kept her in a gilded cage when she was growing up. Not too many of us regular guys even got a glimpse of her. So yeah, it's a little strange that a girl who rarely got out of her dad's line of sight is now getting married to Vincent De La Rosa."

David paused and looked back at me. "Vince isn't a shy guy, boss. Back when his wife was alive, he'd show her off to anyone who looked. If a guy like that was getting married to Ant Smith's daughter? The whole town would've known about this wedding months ago."

"What are you saying, David?"

"I'm saying that this wedding came out of nowhere, and just when Vince is trying to get all the gangsters on his team, too." David tilted his head to the side. "I'm saying that this is an old school power grab. Medieval shit. This is the Smiths and the De La Rosas teaming up for life."

"And Vince wanted everyone to know it. He wanted everyone to see it. Shit!" I swiped the bouquet off the desk, not caring as its glass vase shattered against my office floor. "You're right. This isn't a wedding invitation. This isn't even a wedding. It's a fucking victory lap. He wants us to know that he won."

David shook his head. "He hasn't won yet. He still doesn't have us."

"Ha! Right. And what the fuck are we supposed to do? I still haven't heard from our guys in China. What, you want us to show up to the wedding--just you, me, and a few of our guys--and do what? Take Vince out in broad daylight?"

"That'd send a message, yeah." David jutted out his chin with his mouth turned down.

"A message. Maybe a warning, too." I mulled over his suggestion. "Maybe this little wedding is the perfect place to make a name for ourselves. Can't imagine too many people will want to fuck with the guys who killed Vincent De La Rosa at his own wedding."

"All's fair in love and war." David grinned. "The gangs won't like it at first, but after we get our shit from China, we'll be able to handle the heat. Just be ready to lie low after it's all over, boss."

"Yeah, we'll see about that." I grabbed the invitation off the desk and looked over the information again. "Maybe I will lie low. Maybe I'll lie low like six feet under."

David didn't respond, but I felt his eyes watching me.

I continued to stare down at the paper in my hands.

This wedding would make or break us.

Probably break us.

But it was also our best shot.

I memorized the date, time and venue before I set the invitation back down on my desk. Then, I left my office without uttering another word.

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# Nathan

I hated weddings. They were such a waste of time. The bride and groom had most likely been fucking each other and living together for years before the ceremony. So, what was the point? A piece of paper?

The whole thing made even less sense for a goddamn mafia wedding. What good would a piece of paper be during their divorce? They could never take their shit to court.

I kept my opinions to myself as David and I settled into our seats. Vincent, the asshole that he was, had arranged for all the local mafia heads to sit in the front row. We had better seats than his own gangsters, for fuck's sake. He really wanted us to see this shit.

The gun tucked away in my jacket pocket was heavy and weighted one shoulder. I never got nervous, but there was something in the air.

Something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

There was no way that Vince knew what we'd been planning. I trusted my guys to keep their mouths shut. David would never turn on me. I'd taken care of him over the years. At this point, we owed each other our lives.

But something felt off about today.

Fuck.

Maybe it was my nerves.

I turned my attention towards the center of Vince's garden. The wedding party already stood in place beside an arch of white flowers. There were girls in pink, flowing dresses, huddled together. One of them looked like she'd been crying for hours.

Interesting.

Why would she be crying like that at a wedding? Was she having an affair with Vince? But learned she wasn't good enough for him to marry? Or maybe she was having an affair with the bride?

Wait.

I leaned to the side to get a better look at the weeping bridesmaid. Something about her seemed familiar. Had I seen her at my club?

The string quartet behind the arch began to play and interrupted my thoughts.

And that's when I saw him.

Vince.

He made his way down the aisle with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He even took a few seconds to nod towards the front row of gangsters before he shifted into place, right in front of the pastor.

I shot a look over at David. He only gave me a subtle tilt of his head.

Good.

That meant the plan was still in motion, and none of our guys suspected any of Vince's goons knew a goddamn thing about what would come next.

I folded my arms across my chest, wanting even easier access to my weapon.

And as the music started up yet again, everyone's heads in the garden turned to look towards the aisle. I followed along with the rest of the crowd, sparing a look down the aisle, not giving a fuck about what the bride wore on her wedding day.

The bride.

Grace fucking Smith.

I'd never seen her before, but I knew why her old man kept her under such a heavy lock and key. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life. Her dark hair shone in the garden's sunlight, and her warm, coffee-colored eyes sparkled nearly just as much as her bejeweled, wedding dress.

And her dress...

Fuck.

How perfect must her body be underneath that stunning dress?

I had visions of being the one to fuck her after the ceremony. I wanted to fuck her so good that she'd never want another man inside of her again. I wanted to fuck her so hard that she wouldn't be able to walk straight for a week.

It was the feeling of my cock getting hard in my pants that brought me right back down to Earth.

What the fuck was I doing? I came here to kill a man. Not to daydream about fucking his wife.

Although, if things worked out, Grace Smith wouldn't be Vince's wife. She wouldn't be Vince's anything.

I wondered if she'd ever ridden shotgun in an Aston Martin.

I wondered if she'd ever had her sweet, little pussy eaten out on a dashboard.

By the time she made it up to the wedding arch, my cock had insisted she was already mine. Grace stood next to the man I'd marked to die today. An angel alongside a devil. He would never enjoy her beauty and innocence.

I couldn't think of anything else but her. Every word Vince recited sounded foul to my ears. I restrained from pulling out my gun while everyone was seated. My enemy stood next to Grace. I visualized the back of his head exploding.

The pastor turned to Grace, "Do you, Grace Smith, take ..."

A booming gunshot rang out.

Shit! The plan was not until the reception.

"Go! Go! Go!" I recognized the voice of one of my men, followed by the rapid sound of heated gunfire. "Take that motherfucker out right now!"

Screaming ruined the peaceful garden. Panicked wedding guests ducked to the ground and sprawled on the manicured grass. The mafia heads and the gangsters evacuated the garden without returning fire or getting involved in the fray.

They stayed true to one of the oldest rules in our world: If you're not involved, don't get involved.

My men were instructed only to take out Vince's original team. None of his new allies would be targeted. I was sure the mafia heads would realize this soon enough. It was personal between Vince and me. I wouldn't worry about their retaliation at the moment.

Retaliation would come later.

During the chaos and bloodshed, I aimed my gun at Vince. The groom was a coward. He held Grace in front and used her as a human shield. His shit-eating grin was still there. His full pasty face pressed against her dark cheek. He barked out, "Don't beat yourself up, Nathan. You thought this was a good play? I hate to break it to you, but your playbook is old as shit. Your not the first asshole to target an enemy at a wedding. Fuck you."

"You fucking coward. Let go of the girl." I kept my weapon trained on Vince's face. "You afraid I'm a better shot than you?"

"No, you're a shit shot. That's why you're not firing right now." Vince laughed again. "If you weren't a shit shot, you would've killed me as soon as you got up. But you're afraid of fucking up this one's pretty face, aren't you? Afraid of getting a little innocent blood on your hands?"

"Please, please, please..." Grace trembled as she spoke. "Please don't shoot me. I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do anything--"

"Nathan! Now!" It was David's voice, coming from behind. "Shoot him right fucking now! We're out of fucking time!"

My finger froze over the trigger, as I calculated the real risk in front of me.

What would happen if I missed?

Grace might get hurt.

And I hesitated for the first time in my fucking life.

I didn't want to hurt her.

I couldn't hurt her.

No one could hurt her.

I heard another gunshot.

Then I heard David groaning on the grass.

"Boss! Behind you!" David screamed out in agony, as he pressed a palm over his bloody forearm.

On instinct, I turned my head just enough to glimpse the man who shot David. And this time, I didn't hesitate. I aimed right for the man's torso and let one bullet fly after another.

Grace screeched. It sounded like fingernails clawing a chalkboard. "Dad! No!"

Shit.

I'd fucked up, but I was out of time. I needed to take Vince out now, and I needed to get out of here.

I turned back to Vince and fired off two shots, hoping I could blow his head clean off.

He tilted away from Grace, with blood and brain dripping down his forehead.

I couldn't take my eyes away from the sullied arch and the wailing bride.

Leverage.

I fucking needed leverage.

I had only meant to take out one mob boss. What if Grace's uncle didn't survive the night?

They could forgive me for killing Vince, but killing Ant Smith, too?

While killing one mob boss made me dangerous, killing two made me a reckless murderer. A man who couldn't be reasoned with, who had to be put down. There would be a price on my head by morning.

With the idea of leverage still brewing in my head, I grabbed Grace's arm and dragged her down the aisle.

She resisted and tried to dig her heels into the ground.

I placed my gun right beside her temple. "Calm the fuck down. Can you do that for me?"

"Let me go! I can't leave my father--Dad?! Dad, please! Get up!" Grace cried out.

I pushed my gun into her skull. "Don't worry about your dad. Vince has the best black market surgeons in the city on call. They'll be here any minute."

I forced Grace further and further away from the scene. "We have to get the fuck out of here, alright? Because Vince's guys aren't like me, gorgeous. They'll shoot right through your chest to get to me. They don't care."

"Car's out back." David was now by my side, his hand pressed against his wound. "Assuming the driver didn't take a bullet to the head, we should go."

"Yeah, yeah. Think positive thoughts..." I let my words trail off as I felt a heaviness growing in my arm. It was like a child was pulling me towards the ground.

Grace was losing consciousness. She almost collapsed in the garden. I swooped her up and threw her over my shoulder. David and I continued on our way towards the waiting getaway car.

The driver had the doors open. Once inside the black van, I laid Grace down on a bench seat. David gave me a quizzical look. "What's with the girl? Spoils of war?"

"Leverage. I shot Ant Smith. I'm pretty sure I fucked up."

"And you thought that kidnapping his daughter would help?"

"Because he won't come after me, all guns blazing, if I have his kid. He wouldn't risk her life like that." I shrugged. "And, if he's dead, then his army is useless. I've got their next commander in the backseat of my car."

"If you say so." David shrugged right back. "Just don't make a habit of it. If I wanted to work for a guy who kidnapped girls, I would work for Quentin."

"Relax. This is all part of the plan." I turned my face towards the tinted car window. "I've got this."

"Yeah, feels like you've got it handled." David's voice sounded strained, and I could tell that he was fighting to talk through his injury. "Fucking hell, man. I need to get back to home base. I think the shell broke apart in my arm."

I didn't respond to David. My eyes searched through the heap of lace and glittering dress that framed the unconscious new bride.

There was a spray of blood on her dress from Vince's head wound. It did not lessen her beauty. But it made me want to rip that wedding dress away from her chocolate skin.

That asshole wasn't allowed to be on her, dead or alive. I wouldn't let anyone touch her ever again.

Grace Smith didn't know it yet, but she was only for me. She was mine, from the moment I saw her at that sham of a wedding.

Grace was the reason I'd hesitated to kill Vince. She was also the reason I'd have Ant Smith's gangsters on my ass sooner rather than later.

In the end, she would probably get me killed.

But fuck it.

Grace Smith would be all mine.

No one, not even her, would stop me.

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# Grace

I woke up in a daze. My vision was blurred. My confused thoughts all ran together. It felt like I was waking up from a bad dream--the kind I used to have as a child after I couldn't save mom and dad.

Sometimes I couldn't even save myself.

Eventually, the room stopped spinning. My hands touched silken bedsheets. I glanced around the room.

The bedroom wasn't my own.

I'd never seen this place before. I didn't recognize its white windowsills or baby blue painted walls.

I looked down at my own clothes and didn't recognize those either.

I wore a long, dark blue nightgown. The last thing I remember wearing was a white wedding dress. My aunt and Becca had helped me pick it out. Getting the one encrusted with jewels was Becca's idea. She'd told me I might as well look as beautiful as possible since it would be the saddest day of my life.

The saddest day of my life.

My mind snapped back. I heard the bullets, and I saw the blood on my uncle's abdomen before he doubled over.

My worst nightmare came to life.

I was helpless and ten years old, all over again.

I screamed and screamed.

My body shook all over. I folded in on myself.

Then my world went black.

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# Grace

I woke up again, feeling more grounded this time. I scooted up against the headboard and took in deep breaths.

Wherever I was, I was okay.

At least at this moment, I was okay.

I looked around the room again, the sights still as unfamiliar as the first time. It looked like someone cared about this house, like maybe they'd raised their children here, or had plans to.

This didn't look like a place where people got killed. That had to be a good sign, didn't it?

I heard rushing water coming from the bathroom. Looking towards the sound, I saw a man come over and stand at my bedside.

It was him...

Nathan Moore.

Memories flooded right back. "You." It was all I could say, as I pressed myself back further against the headboard. "Why did you...? What are you...?"

"Did you love Vince?" Nathan cut me off mid-sentence. His eyes bored into mine. "How could you love a man like that?"

"I didn't love him," I answered as I broke off eye contact. "I didn't even know him. I was just marrying him because I was trying to save..."

My words got caught in my throat as I choked down a quiet sob. "I was trying to save my family. I was trying to save my dad, the man you killed."

I closed my eyes with all the force I could muster, not wanting Nathan to see me like this, not wanting him to see me cry. For all I knew, he'd get off on it.

"Killed? You're jumping to conclusions. We haven't heard the word on your old man's condition just yet." Nathan's voice was steady. "How was marrying Vincent De La Rosa going to keep your family safe?"

"He offered my dad a deal, something about working together. I think it had to do with turfs?" I sniffled between my sentences. "But my dad said no, and then Vince threatened to kill him. He said if my dad wasn't with him, then he was against him. And I stepped in before things got worse. I told Vince I'd marry him, and then we'd be the same family. Everyone would have to work together, like it or not."

"Like it or not..." Nathan repeated my last phrase. I felt his hand brush against my cheek. "And you would do that? Sacrifice yourself like that to a man you didn't know? Give him your body for the rest of your life? Why?"

"I don't feel like talking about it right now--"

"Why, Grace?" Nathan's hand moved from my cheek to the underside of my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "Why?"

"Because I didn't want to lose my family. Not again." I blinked away tears, my gaze still focused on Nathan's own. "But it looks like you already took care of that, didn't you?"

"You're jumping to conclusions. We don't know what's going on with Anthony Smith." Nathan bent down, closing the space between us. "And I'm tired of talking about shit that's out of my control. How are you, Grace? How are you feeling?"

"Please let me go home." I shook my head, refusing to play whatever game Nathan Moore was trying to play right now. "I don't have anything to do with this. I didn't know Vince. I don't know anything about what's going on with these turfs. I want to go home and make sure my dad is safe."

"God. You are something special, aren't you?" Nathan brought a finger to my cheek, as he wiped a tear away from my face. "You're beautiful, even when you're crying."

Beautiful.

There was something about that word coming out of Nathan Moore's mouth. Something about him using it to describe me. I felt a stray wisp of desire make its way through my body, and I hated myself for it.

Nathan Moore had killed my uncle. He'd kidnapped me. And maybe he even planned to torture me for information on Vince, a man I knew nothing about.

That word brought me back to that night his club when I saw him for the first time. Back then, Becca had been by my side, and I'd felt safe. Nathan had swooped in to save us--or so I'd thought. He'd only been protecting the reputation of his club, not us. He hadn't even looked at us. We didn't matter to him.

I remembered the raw beauty of his profile under the neon lights in the club. I'd wanted to get a better look at him. I'd wanted him to look at me.

How foolish I'd been. There was nothing safe about this murderer.

"What you want," I whispered.

"You." Nathan moved his hand away from my face and stared down at me. "I want you, Grace Smith. All of you. Just for me."

"You want me?" My voice was husky and laced with confusion. "Do you mean...sexually? You want to have sex with me?"

My stomach sank at the thought. I never imagined my first time would be with a man who'd kidnapped me.

I could feel fresh tears burning behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. If this is what I'd have to sacrifice to get back to my family, then so be it.

It was worth it.

They were worth it.

"If you want me, you can have me..." I offered without a second thought. "But after that, just let me go, okay? Tell me you'll just let me go."

Nathan shook his head. "You misunderstand me. I don't want to just have sex with you. I told you, Grace. I want all of you. Just for me. I want your body. I want your soul. Everything."

"I can't give you that." I'm stunned by his revelation, feeling frozen in place on the bed. "Why would you even want that from me? You don't know me."

I took a few seconds to think about it before I whispered my next questions. "Is this some game? Some twisted trick you play on people before you kill them? You will make me have sex with you, and then you're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"I'll have you know, I haven't killed a single person that I've fucked." Nathan grinned. "But that's not fair data, gorgeous. I don't kill women."

"Congrats." I knew my answer was drowning in sarcasm, but I couldn't help myself. This asshole was smiling, and my uncle could be flatlining. "Listen, Nathan. Let's get this over with."

I reached for the bottom of my nightgown, tugging it over my head.

A strong pair of hands pushed my wrists down towards the bed. Nathan crawled over me. "Is this how you like it, Grace? You like it when a man gets rough with you? Is that why you're such a brat right now?"

"I don't know how I like it," I admitted as I squirmed underneath his muscular frame. "I've never had sex before."

Nathan laughed for a few moments, before going silent.

I didn't laugh.

His expression changed as he studied me again. "Wait. Grace, you're serious? You've never had sex before?"

"I was saving myself for someone special." This time, the tears behind my eyes spilled over despite my best efforts. "I wanted to be a virgin. For him."

"For me, Grace. You wanted to be a virgin for me." Nathan ground himself against me.

I moaned at the unexpected contact between the groin of his jeans and my clit, which hid behind what felt like a thin veil of panties.

"You like that, baby?" Nathan pressed against me again, but this time I bit back my moan.

I couldn't help the involuntary shiver that ran through me, though, and I could tell that Nathan had picked up on it, too. "It's okay if you like it, Grace. It's okay to feel good."

Nathan's hands then moved from my wrists and trailed underneath my nightgown. His fingertips dragged along my skin until they reached the respective tips of my nipples, which were hard and wanting.

And as Nathan ran his fingertips delicately along my nipples, giving my traitorous body what it wanted, I felt like I wanted to die.

Nathan Moore was just fucking with me.

He had to be fucking with me.

I would not survive this encounter. He would pull a gun on me and blow my brains out, right after he got his rocks off.

I cried hard at the thought. Nathan lifted my nightgown up over my abdomen and exposed my breasts. He worshiped with his eyes, and then his mouth.

I couldn't hide my moans as Nathan's tongue licked across one nipple, his hand controlling the other between his fingers.

I could also feel him getting harder inside the fabric of his jeans. He continued to press into me, his movements growing more rhythmic and forceful.

I knew that my clit couldn't handle it for much longer.

I knew that my chest couldn't handle it for too much longer.

I was going to cum.

I was going to cum. Nathan was going to cum. And then I was going to die.

I was going to die by the same hand that killed my uncle.

I was going to cum for the same man who killed my uncle.

This was a level of cruel torture that I'd never heard of and couldn't believe.

Nathan had to be a sick psychopath.

"Cum for me, Grace. Cum for me so I can bury my cock deep inside of you." Nathan's voice growled right beside my ear. "I'm going to teach you how to take my cock right after this, gorgeous. I'm going to be your first and only."

My first and only.

Of course, Nathan Moore would be my first and only. Because he would kill me as soon as he'd had his way with me.

I sobbed as my body trembled with an orgasm. My hips bucked up against Nathan's own.

My hands flew to cover my face, as shame overwhelmed me.

God.

I wanted to vomit. I wanted to die.

I wanted to die. I wanted to die. I wanted to die.

"Kill me," I demanded between the spaces of my fingers. "Please. Just. Kill me. If you're going to kill me, just kill me. And if you're going to force me, I--"

"Force you?" Nathan scoffed. "I'm not forcing you, Grace. You belong to me. I'm not taking anything from you that isn't already mine."

Nathan pressed his hips against my sensitive clit, once more. "Your body already knows you belong to me. Why do you think you came so easily? Why do you think your tits were begging for me to touch them?"

Nathan then kissed the center of my chest. "Because. You. Are. Mine. I knew it from the first moment I saw you at your wedding--"

"You didn't see me at your nightclub?" I didn't know why I cared about where Nathan saw me first. I didn't know why I cared at all.

"No. I didn't see you at the nightclub. I would've remembered you." Nathan kissed my chest again. "I would've had my guys out searching the whole city for you."

"And what? You would've forced yourself on me like this?"

"I'm not forcing myself on you, Grace. I'm giving you what you need. I'm giving you what you deserve for waiting for me." One of Nathan's hands went towards his jeans. He worked open the button. "Good girls like you deserve a good cock. And I will make you scream, Grace--"

A heavy knock on the door accompanied a man's deep voice. "Boss, we've got a situation. Meet downstairs in five? Somebody's here to see you."

"What the fuck? Who the fuck?" Nathan moved away from me, as he gathered himself together. I watched as he shifted his cock in his pants, making it seem like he hadn't been hard just a few seconds ago. "I'll be back, baby. Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

I ignored Nathan's words, as I pulled my nightgown back down over my chest. He bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and left the bedroom.

I watched the door for a few seconds after he left, wanting to be sure that he wasn't coming back soon. He couldn't see what I was about to do next.

I rolled out of bed and tried the closest window. My hands searched for any way to open it.

It was locked.

I tried the other window, repeating the same motions. I had flashbacks to all the nights I'd snuck out of my bedroom to hang out with Becca at a seedy dance club or party she'd been invited to. I thought about all the times my uncle had caught me, too, but he never once grounded me. He never punished me for my curiosity about the outside world, even though he'd tried his best to protect me from it.

He'd tried his best to protect me from men just like Nathan Moore.

The second window didn't budge.

New plan.

I looked around for anything heavy enough to break the glass. Halfway across the expansive bedroom, I spotted an old vase that looked like it weighed a ton. Without thinking, I sprinted towards the object but found myself face down on the carpet.

What the hell?

It was like I'd tripped on something. But what?

As I brought myself back up to my feet, I heard the distinct sound of a chain rattling against the bedroom floor.

No.

It couldn't be.

I glanced down at my feet. A solid, silver shackle connected me to the bedpost.

After a minute of mental math, I guessed it was long enough for me to look out the windows, and go to the bathroom, too. But it wasn't long enough to reach that vase.

Nathan had thought this all out. He was planning to keep me here, but for how long?

I sank to the floor.

How long was Nathan Moore going to hold me captive?

How long was he going to let me live?

How long until he even came back into the room?

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# Nathan

"Well, if it isn't the mafia's own cowboy." Quentin tipped his hat just as I finished walking down the stairs. "How've you been, fella?"

"What do you want, Quentin?" I folded my arms across my chest as I moved to stand right in front of him, face-to-face. "Did you come here to kill me?"

"This... is a lovely home." Quentin gave an impressed whistle as his eyes scanned the foyer. "Tell me, is this one of your properties? Or are you loaning it from one of your European clients? I'd love to know the ballpark figure required to acquire such a lovely--"

"Quentin." My tone was sharp, and I knew that my gaze was just as piercing. "Get to the point."

"Ah, well, I guess manners are truly dead, aren't they?" Quentin sighed. "Well, young cowboy, I've come to you with an olive branch. A peace offering, if you will."

"A peace offering? For what? Do we have a problem with each other?"

"No problem, but I'd like to get on your good side before the war breaks out." Quentin grinned. "Well, I'd like to get on everyone's good side before the war breaks out. You may not know this, but at my heart, I'm a man of peace. I'm not interested in violence and retribution. I want everybody to get along."

"So, there's a war coming."

"Yes, but you had to know that. You don't just blow Vincent De La Rosa's head off and not expect any consequences." Quentin shrugged. "But the good news for you, cowboy, is that the surgeons got to Ant in time. He's still unconscious, but he is breathing. Which is why you're still breathing, too."

"What's that have to do with your peace offering?"

"Oh. That was my peace offering, Nathan. Letting you know that the reason you still live and breathe is that Ant is fighting for his life on an oxygen machine." Quentin adjusted the brim of his hat. "I'll keep you posted on Ant's condition. Might even give you a heads up before the cavalry rolls in to take you out. No use in not making this a fair fight."

"And why would you help me? You don't like me." I scoffed. "Don't tell me you expect me to do you a favor."

"No favors, no." Quentin took a step away from me. "But if you make it through this alive, I don't see the downside to endearing myself to the future leader of the mafia families. Vince may not have been misguided about re-drawing the turf lines, but he could have been wrong about who should lead the charge."

"You'd respect me as your leader?"

"Hell, I respect any man brazen enough to kill another man at his own wedding." Quentin laughed as he brought a hand to his hip. "You're plum-fucking-crazy, Nathan Moore. And while I dislike almost every goddamn thing about you, I respect you until kingdom come."

"Thanks for the tip." I unfolded my arms and held a hand out for Quentin's.

"Anytime, cowboy." Quentin took my hand into his own, giving it a firm shake.

"Stop calling me that." I pulled my hand away from his and turned away. "We don't do nicknames, Quentin. We're not friends."

"Not friends yet," Quentin responded in a sing-song tone. His boots clomped on the marble floor as he headed out the front door.

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# Nathan

I turned along the hallway and almost collided head-on into David. He jumped away from me, protective of his bandaged arm. "For the love of all that is holy, boss, watch where you're going."

"Afraid of fucking up your arm again?" I smirked.

"I didn't get my arm fucked up. You got my arm fucked up." David shook his head. "You hesitated, man. I don't know why, but you did, didn't you?"

"I did," I told David the truth as I stepped off to his side. "I hesitated. I'm sorry. That shit won't ever happen again."

"Did it have something to do with that girl?"

"Grace is leverage. I already told you that." This time I lied, knowing full well that Grace Smith was more than leverage to me.

"I'm not talking about the girl upstairs. I'm talking about that girl in Santorini." David folded his arms behind his back. "You know the one. The one we couldn't save."

David looked off to the side once he finished speaking.

My own eyes widened in understanding.

He was talking about Maria.

My Maria.

She was the closest I'd ever been to falling in love.

Our nights had been loaded with sex and drugs and sex and drugs. And our days were filled with shopping trips to designer stores and blowing smoke up each other's asses.

She was my ride-or-die, the woman who was never too far behind. Until one of my rivals busted into one of our chop shops while Maria and I were tossing back shots right above the place.

It was over before I even realized what happened.

An asshole with a gun had busted through our door. And Maria had moved to stand in front of me, using her own body to take the bullets. She was dead on the ground by the time I'd returned fire.

By the time I'd taken that son of a bitch out.

I shook my head as if it would shake the memory of that night away, too. "This isn't about Maria."

"Maybe. Maybe not." David returned his gaze to mine. "Maybe you just don't want to lose another one, boss. Maybe you couldn't take it."

"Are you saying I've gone soft?" I lowered my voice, hoping David would pick up on the subtle threat.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying you can't fix the past, boss. And fucking around with this Grace chick is only going to get us all killed. Especially if you catch feelings for her."

"I'm not going to catch feelings for Grace. I just want to fuck her. Have a good time."

And I want to own her, completely.

I kept the last part to myself.

David nodded. "Then fuck her. And before shit goes down, we'll find a way to get rid of her. Hopefully, we can trade her back to her dad."

"Hopefully." I agreed with David, even though it was another lie. I had no intention of letting Grace go, even if her dad came to me, begging on his knees. She was mine, and she wouldn't ever be anyone else's ever again.

"Oh, and use protection." David clapped me on the back, as he walked out of the room. "You get that girl pregnant, and everyone's going to think that it's Vince's baby. That's the last thing we want--some bastard kid with a claim to Vince's old throne."

"Got it." It's all I said in response, as I stared at the furthest wall in the room.

Maria.

Grace.

I'd never thought to connect the two before.

But David was still wrong. There was one major difference between the two.

Grace was alive.

Maria was dead.

I pushed any further comparisons out of my mind. I then followed David out of the room and headed back upstairs.

Back to the woman I wanted to possess, inside and out.

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# Nathan

"Please, please, please..." Grace whimpered. I could hear it through the crack of her bedroom door. "Please. Don't."

"Oh, come on, sweetie. Don't be like that. You know you're supposed to share." A male voice responded in kind. "Don't you know that's why the boss has you all chained up? He got to have you first, and now the rest of us get a turn."

Grace whimpered again as I made my way through the bedroom door. I watched as a gangster lumbered over Grace's frame, a knife pressed against her neck. Within seconds the blade of the knife glistened, and I spotted droplets of blood trickling down its side.

My own vision was clouded by red, too.

Without announcing my entrance, I approached the gangster from his side. He looked surprised to see me, but he still didn't move away from Grace's body.

I silently held out my hand for the knife.

And he gave me a broad grin, as he pressed the knife into my hand. "Sorry, boss. I guess it's still your turn, huh?"

For a moment, I watched the man's expression.

He wasn't one of my gangsters. Not on my original team. He was a hired gun, someone we'd brought in to help take down Vince. David and I had put out a call for ruthless men. The type who didn't ask questions. The kind who'd just point and shoot.

He must've come from that same, sick branch of creeps Quentin targeted years ago.

I knew he didn't mean me any disrespect. I knew that his actions were part of a loose mafia code. Some factions still abided by those rules.

Grace was an unclaimed woman, after all. She wasn't my wife. Or my daughter. She was just property, something to be passed around and enjoyed. A living, breathing appetizer.

Except that Grace wasn't unclaimed.

Grace was mine.

And this man had just violated one of my golden rules.

No one touches what's mine.

I didn't give him any warning before I jammed the knife straight into the side of his throat. He gurgled on his own blood before falling back against the bedsheets. One of his hands went towards the offending weapon, his fingers gliding against it like he could hardly believe it was there.

He gasped for air as his body flailed. His palm struggled to get a grip on the knife.

And then, it was over. Whether he choked to death on his own blood or asphyxiated, it didn't make a difference to me. I used a knee to roll his body off the bed, letting his corpse land with a thud on the floor.

I then turned my gaze back towards Grace, who was huddled up against the headboard. Her eyes were wide, and she was shivering, unable to keep her hands from shaking, too. She looked between the dead man on the floor and me several times before she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

"Stop." I kept my voice calm as I moved towards her. "Here. Let me see your neck."

She did as she was told and tilted her head to the side, showing me her neck. There was a diagonal slice along her skin, nothing too deep or worrisome. I let out a sigh of relief. I pressed a palm against her cheek. "He didn't slice you bad. Did he touch you?"

"No." She answered as she withdrew her face from my hand. "He didn't get a chance to do anything, before you..."

She returned to her sobbing state, and I moved even closer to her side. "Why don't you fight back?"

"What?" She sounded confused, and let out a small sniffle. "What are you talking about?"

"I figured you might respond to teasing because you're a brat and all. But do you enjoy letting men take advantage of you? You were going to let him fuck you, just because he had a knife and you didn't?"

"Fuck you." Grace's voice was low.

"What was that?"

"Fuck. You." Grace repeated her words, as she kept her eyes on the bloodied bedsheets. "I don't want to talk to you. You're a monster."

"I'm a monster? I wasn't the one who just tried to rape you--"

"No, because you were the one who raped me first--"

"I didn't rape you. That's not what I do." My anger flared beneath my bones, but I did my best to keep it at bay. "I can read people. Comes with the gangster territory. I can read your body language, too. I know when a woman wants me. I heard your body. I felt the truth."

Grace chuckled at that, as her head shook back and forth. "Becca was right. You are an arrogant prick."

"Becca?"

"No one." Grace turned to give me a somber look. "Just someone I'm never going to see again."

"Jesus Christ. You're so fucking dramatic." I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to kill you. Haven't I made that clear enough? If I wanted you dead, wouldn't I just take the knife out of that guy's neck and stick it in yours?"

I kicked my foot at the dead man's body for emphasis before turning back towards Grace. "I'm not a monster. Be careful throwing that word around. I've saved your life twice so far."

"If you're not a monster, you'll unchain me from the bed." Grace suggested as she laid her head back against the wall. "If you're not a monster, you'll let me go."

"I can't do that, gorgeous. If I let you go, there's no telling what your old man will do to me when he finds out--"

"When he finds out?" Grace's head snapped up. Her eyes widened. "Wait, is he alive? Is my dad alive?"

"He's still breathing. They've got him on life support though."

Grace went totally quiet. It felt like minutes passed between us. I watched her expression change, over and over, as if she were conflicted about something deep down inside. She pursed her full lips and then drew in her lower lip beneath her teeth.

That's when she said, "Fuck me."

"What?" I couldn't hide the shock in my tone. "What did you just say?"

"You said you wanted to fuck me, so fuck me," Grace spoke again, and this time she was already pulling her nightgown over her head. She looked back at me with her chin buried next to her chest, between her dark nipples. Her fingers shifted her panties down over her full hips as she wiggled out of them. "Come on. You know I want it."

This was a trap.

I couldn't figure out what she thought she'd be able to do to me, but I knew something was up.

It was too bad my dick didn't get the memo. I could feel myself going hard in my pants at the sight of Grace's naked body. And I almost drooled when she settled her back against the headboard and spread her legs in an unspoken invitation.

Fuck.

"Were you lying about being a virgin? Because there's no fucking way." I was already pulling down my jeans as my eyes stayed on Grace's bare dark gold skin. "There's no fucking way you haven't pulled this shit before. Is that your thing? Telling guys that you're a virgin so they get off faster?"

"No. I wasn't lying. I'm a virgin." Grace returned my gaze. "But that doesn't mean I haven't seen...porn...and stuff."

Grace's eyes averted on the word porn as if it was the dirtiest word in the English language.

Usually, that kind of naivete and sexual innocence would make me fucking sick. But with Grace? It only made me harder. It made me want to be the one to dirty up that innocent mouth of hers. To corrupt her sweet little body with something she'd never experienced before.

I felt my boxers fall to the ground near my feet. I suddenly had an idea. "Close your legs."

"What?"

"You heard me, gorgeous. Close your legs. And lie back on the bed."

Grace complied as she pulled her knees together.

"Hold your hands up above your head," I ordered as I stepped closer to her frame. "Cross them at the wrist."

Again, Grace did as she was told.

My hand reached for my cock. I stroked myself over and over, groaning at the beautiful sight of my Grace on display, how her chest heaved up and down, how I could smell the wetness growing between her legs, even if she'd never admit it.

I couldn't wait to fuck her. I couldn't wait to take what was mine.

But right now, I needed to teach her a lesson.

It only took a few more strokes, before I came. My cum spurted away from the head of my cock, creamy against Grace's brown sugar skin. It coated her nipples and abdomen as I marked her as my own.

When I was done, I reached across her frame and grabbed her panties and nightgown. Now holding them in one hand, I gave her the brightest smile I could. "Whatever you were planning to do--choke me to death, gouge out my eyes--you should know that I'm always going to be one step ahead of you, Grace."

"I wasn't trying to trick you. I was just--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You've made your bed." I gave her another smirk. "But when I fuck you, it's going to be on my terms. This, between us, will always be on my terms. You'll get used to it."

"Okay." Grace nodded, without looking me in the eye. "We can do this on your terms. But why are you taking my clothes?"

"Just a little punishment for whatever the fuck you were planning." I winked. "You'll learn pretty quickly not to fuck with me, but it takes most people a few rounds to realize how serious I can be. Not everyone survives their attempts, though."

I pulled the bloody knife from the corpse's neck. I tucked her clothes beneath my arm before I turned back at the doorway. "I'll see you later, Grace. Have a good night, alright?"

"Wait! Nathan! Wait!" Grace shouted at me, but it was already too late.

I smiled at the desperation in her voice. She already missed me.

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# Grace

I stood in the bathroom and wiped Nathan's cum away from my skin. I felt like I was going to be sick. He wanted things this way. He wanted me to see my body covered in him.

I'd only offered myself up to him as a last resort. After hearing that Uncle Ant might still be alive, it was the best plan I could come up with.

This was the life they had trained me for. My uncle and aunt raised me to be the perfect mafia girl. The sweet and innocent girl a man would want to marry someday.

That's why my uncle didn't want me exposed to his gangsters. That's why my aunt did her best to teach me about a woman's place in this world.

With the prospect of seeing my uncle alive and being with my family again, I'd decided that I would be just that. The perfect mafia girl. A woman who never sassed her man, who was always ready with a smile and a drink, who always let the man lead, who always welcomed her man into her bed.

Nathan was right. If he wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now.

But I wasn't stupid. I knew I was dealing with a dangerous, ruthless man. Screaming, pleading, crying or bleeding didn't affect him. Nathan could walk into this room and kill me at any moment, just because he felt like it.

I needed to endear myself to him. I needed to play nice to stay alive. And if Nathan Moore wanted my body, then he could have it.

But he could never have my soul.

No matter how hard he tried.

I brought a hand up to the side of my neck to observe the cut on my throat in the bathroom mirror. I winced at the painful sting of my salty palm touching the exposed wound.

I sighed as I pulled open the medicine cabinet. It only contained cotton swabs, alcohol, and basic first aid items. I ran the water at the sink and washed my wound, feeling unnerved by the eerie silence.

The only occupants in this room right now were me and a dead man.

I did not want to end up just like him.

When I finished tending to my neck, I walked back over to my bed. I pulled off the covers, leaving only the bottom sheet, and threw them over the dead man on the floor. I refused to sleep on sheets with a man's blood spattered on them. They disguised his human form. I shook my head at the lesson Nathan was teaching me. It was harsh and degrading.

I wouldn't let him break me.

I lay down without covers and curled my body into a ball.

One ankle shackled to a bedpost.

Naked.

With a dead man lying next to my bed.

I closed my eyes and fought to fall asleep.

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# Grace

I woke up in what felt like the middle of the night. No light came through the bedroom windows. No sound awoke me. What woke me was a feeling of heaven. Between my legs.

Someone's soft mouth ran a slick tongue all across my sensitive clit.

A moan escaped me before I could even stop it.

How did this feel so good?

A tremble of fear soon followed the pleasure that coursed through my veins. What if this was one of Nathan's gangsters? Would another body end up on the floor?

The image of men's bodies piled all around my bed made my stomach twist in disgust.

Then, the thought of my own body being tossed on top of the pile made my stomach twist even worse. "Stop. Whoever you are. Stop."

The stranger continued those ministrations. An arm restrained my legs around my thighs, keeping my clit in place against the unknown mouth.

I moaned again as my clit ached. "Please, stop. I belong to Nathan. He'll kill you. He'll kill us. Just stop, please."

"Hmm. Yes, you are mine." Nathan's voice vibrated against my pussy. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Grace. You are all mine. And I'm tired of waiting."

"Waiting for--" I couldn't finish my sentence, as Nathan's mouth went right back on my clit. This time his tongue brushed in quick strokes as he pushed a finger deep inside of me. I gasped with surprise as he circled his digit now buried in my pussy.

It felt like he was pressing against something, and he ran his finger over it again and again.

And I saw stars, even in the darkened bedroom.

I struggled for air as I came. My hands grasped at the mattress sheet. My hips pushed against Nathan's face and hand as my body wanted him to give me more and more of whatever magic he'd been using on me so far.

I'd barely recovered from my orgasm when I felt something heavy sitting right at the entrance to my pussy. Knowing that it was Nathan's cock, I spread my legs further in anticipation.

The darkness was a blessing.

I was relieved that I couldn't see his face.

I could pretend like I wasn't about to lose my virginity to a sick and twisted individual.

As he pushed himself inside of me, I held my breath.

I'd expected it to hurt much worse than it did.

But it didn't hurt so bad.

The pain I felt was my pussy being stretched to accommodate Nathan's girth. That pain faded away, though, as he slid his cock in and out of me, pumping into me at a steady rhythm.

"Beautiful, Grace." Nathan's hands went towards my legs, as he wrapped them around his torso. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"You can see me?" It was a dumb question, and it'd slipped out just as Nathan's cock pushed into me even harder.

God. Why did this have to feel so good?

"Yes, gorgeous. I can see you. You can't see me." Nathan chuckled. "Blindfold."

"You blindfolded me? Why--Ah!" A moan cut off my words, as Nathan's shaft hit the perfect spot inside of me.

"Just trying to work on your perspective. When you see me coming, you tell yourself that you don't want me. But when you can't see that it's me?" Nathan bucked his hips forward for emphasis, resulting in another groan escaping my lips. "Your body tells the truth. You want me, Grace. Just as bad as I want you. Don't you?"

"Yes," I admitted as my mind went back to the first time I saw Nathan Moore. Later that night, I'd gone home and touched myself as I thought about him. I imagined what it'd be like for him to fuck me like he was doing right now. "Yes, I want you."

The best lies always contained some truth. I'd hoped that my moment of honest lust had convinced Nathan that I wanted him as much as he wanted me.

Even though all I wanted was to go home.

Nathan took in a sharp breath, before he slammed his cock into me, hard, fast, relentless. I felt myself coming again as my pussy tightened around his shaft. And I guessed that he was coming now, too, as his thrusts slowed down, eventually ending, altogether.

He then pulled out of me, and I could tell that he'd moved away from the bed. The mattress lifted as he took his weight off it.

His hand touched my face, and he removed the blindfold from my eyes. "Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey." I put on a fake smile as I replied. "Was that good for you?"

"You think I came because I was having a bad time?" Nathan smiled back at me. "You taste fucking delicious. Did you know that?"

"No."

"Yeah, Grace. Fuck. You taste so good that you might ruin my appetite for breakfast." Nathan tilted his head to the side. "Speaking of breakfast, are you hungry, baby?"

I nodded. "Yes. I haven't eaten solid food since the day before my wedding. My aunt put me on a liquid diet. She said it was so I'd look my best for the ceremony."

"You looked perfect that day, gorgeous. The same way you look every day, I'd say." Nathan's eyes shifted to a different corner of the room. "I think we're having quiche for breakfast. Sausage, eggs, tomatoes, all that stuff in there. I don't know. Whatever the cook has on hand."

Nathan shrugged, as he brought his gaze back to me. "That sound good to you? You're not allergic to any of that shit, are you?"

"Sounds good." I faked yet another smile.

"You keep smiling like that, gorgeous, and you'll get me started all over again."

"Sounds perfect." This time, my smile came off shaky, and I could tell. "Hey, um, do you think you could get me some new bedsheets? With all the blood from before--"

"Got it. Everything you need. Check that chair behind you." Nathan was already putting his clothes back on.

"Oh. Thank you." These offerings felt like an olive branch of sorts. "And did you want me to come downstairs for breakfast or--"

"I'll have someone bring your breakfast to you." Nathan finished buttoning up his dress shirt as he spoke. "And you better get dressed fast. If any of these guys sees you naked, I will blow their fucking head off."

"I'll get dressed fast. I promise. You don't have to hurt anyone."

"You don't have to hurt anyone..." Nathan chuckled before he turned back towards the door. "Now, just what kind of world have you been living in?"

Nathan was out the bedroom door before I had a chance to respond.

Once I was alone, I went for the chair behind me. I sorted the bedsheets from the clothes and put on a fresh nightgown. This time, it was silk and deep red, something more expensive than the blue one I'd worn before.

I wondered why I'd been given another nightgown, but the answer to my question came before I finished thinking about it.

The nightgowns weren't just nightgowns. They were a message.

Nightgowns belonged in bedrooms, which meant that I belonged in a bedroom, too.

This bedroom.

I belonged here.

I pushed that rather disturbing thought to the back of my mind as my eyes went towards the trail of blood. I pulled off the soiled mattress sheet, a shiver went down my spine.

It was stained by the loss of my virginity.

I'd heard stories about how virgins bled their first time. It was ironic that the blood on these sheets hadn't all my been own.

I tried to think of the man's corpse as only a lump of bedding as I moved around him to make my fresh bed. I tried to be quick while on his side of the bed. As I was tucking in the mattress sheet, I felt a vibration near my ankle. The strange feeling made its way through the shackle and up the middle of my calf.

I bent down and fumbled with the soiled bedding covering the man's frame. My fingers followed the vibration to its source. I pressed my hand into the dead man's pocket and pulled out a bulky lump.

A phone.

A cheap one that flicked open with the thumb, like a switchblade. I doubted it had wifi, and it wouldn't have messaging apps either. But I didn't need those. I only needed to contact the outside world.

I opened the phone, and my eyes went straight towards the battery icon.

10%.

Fuck.

I took in a forceful, deep breath, and my lungs felt grateful.

Right.

I needed to breathe.

I'd been so enraptured with finding the cellphone, that I'd held my breath.

My mind then raced with possibility after possibility.

Who was I going to call?

I swallowed down my desperate feeling, as my finger hovered over the dial pad.

No cops.

I wanted to call Uncle Ant, but what if he was too injured to speak? Which meant that he'd be weak to do anything about this awful situation, anyway.

What about my aunt?

No.

If my uncle was in recovery mode, then my aunt would be right beside him so she wouldn't check her phone, either.

I needed to call someone who would answer on the first ring.

A smile crossed my face, as the perfect person popped into my head. I knew someone who'd been obsessed with her phone since she was fourteen years old.

Who is this?" Becca sounded so tired. "If this is Ben, I already told you. I'm not looking for a boyfriend. Call me again, and I'll sic one of my goons on you--"

"Becca, it's me. It's Grace." I kept my voice low.

"Grace? Grace!" Becca choked out a sob. "Grace, what the fuck? What's going on? I thought you were dead."

"I'm not dead, Becca. Stop crying. You'll ruin your makeup." I had to keep her calm, even though I felt like crying myself. "I need your help. Nathan Moore kidnapped me. He's been keeping me somewhere."

"Where?"

"I don't know. It looks like a regular house, but I haven't been outside yet."

"Wait. If he kidnapped you, how are you talking to me right now?" Becca's voice was high pitched with worry. "This isn't a trap, is it? He isn't making you say this shit with a gun to your head?"

"No, Becca, it's not a trap, but--" The phone beeped in my hand, warning me about its battery life ending soon. "Listen. This phone is about to die. I'll call you back when I figure out where I am."

"Call me back? No, we have to figure this out right now--"

The phone beeped again, and I took in a shaky breath. "Gotta go. I love you, Becca."

"Grace--"

I pressed the phone's power button. I lifted the corner of the mattress and chucked the phone underneath it. Moments later I finished making my bed like nothing had ever happened.

I couldn't risk Nathan getting suspicious of me.

Not if I ever wanted to go outside.

Not if I ever wanted to get out.

By the time he returned, the bedsheets were clean and I had on a fresh nightgown. I sat in the chair beside the bed.

The dirty bedsheets were heaped over the body of the dead gangster on the floor next to the bed.

Nathan set down a silver platter on the bedside dresser before he gave me a warm look. "Breakfast is served."

"What are you going to do about him?" I pointed to the corpse.

Nathan laughed. "Housekeeping will get to it. Might take a day or two though. All the good incinerators are taken."

I tried to laugh at Nathan's joke, but my stomach twisted instead. How could he joke about stuff like that?

"Thanks for breakfast." I stepped towards the silver platter before I picked up a fork. "I haven't had a quiche since my mom--"

I chose not to finish my revelation as fluffy quiche touched my tongue. It was delicious.

"You haven't had a quiche since what? A week ago?" Nathan laughed again, as he moved to stand beside me. "What? A mafia princess couldn't ask her personal chef to whip one up for her?"

"I wasn't always a mafia princess."

"Ah, that's right. Ant adopted you." Nathan took the fork out of my hand as he took the next bite of quiche. "How old were you when that happened?"

"Ten."

"You were only ten?" Nathan handed the fork back. "Huh. What happened to your birth parents?"

"They were murdered." I stopped my voice from shaking, as I went for another piece of breakfast.

"By who?"

"These guys who worked for my dad double-crossed him. My dad ran a gang, too, but he was just getting started. And some people didn't like the new guy on the block, so, they put a price on his head. On my mom's head, too."

"But not on yours?"

"I guess not." I reached for a glass of water beside the quiche.

"And where were you when your parents were murdered?" Nathan leaned closer. "You didn't see any of that shit, did you?"

"I saw everything. I was in the room."

"Jesus Christ." Nathan's eyes went wide. "Holy shit. I mean, my dad died too, when I was twelve, but I didn't have to see that shit."

"Lucky you." I gave Nathan a weak smirk, as I set down the glass. "How d'you get involved with all of this stuff, anyway? You're not from one of the original families, are you?"

"Nah. My dad was involved with mafia when I was growing up. And I guess I take after my old man." Nathan grinned. "But I think I'm a hell of a lot better at it. For starters, I'm still fucking breathing."

"Do you ever miss your dad?" I whispered the question. I knew I was playing a dangerous game. If I triggered this man, who knew what he'd do?

He'd get so pissed that he'd take it out on me.

But I had to try. I had to know if there was even an ounce of humanity left in Nathan Moore's soul.

"Yes," Nathan answered with a nod. "All the time. But... I'll see him again, one day. So, no worries."

"You'll see him again? You believe in heaven?" I could hardly believe my ears.

And Nathan responded with a loud chuckle. "You think I'm going to heaven?"

"Oh. So, you'll see your dad in hell?"

"I think I'll see everyone in hell. Everyone I know in this life. Everyone I've met on this earth." Nathan shrugged. "Everyone except maybe my mom. Maybe you."

"Maybe me?"

"Yeah. Maybe you." Nathan stared at me, wordless. "You're as beautiful as an angel. It wouldn't surprise me if you were one."

Beautiful.

There was that word again.

It sent heat to my cheeks, just like it did the first time he'd said it. Worse, it sent a pleasurable sensation through the bottom half of my abdomen.

"Thank you for breakfast." I finished the last bite. "This was really good."

"You're welcome." Nathan bent down towards me and pressed his mouth against mine. He soon parted my lips with his tongue, as he kissed me so hard I could barely breathe.

When the kiss was over, he stepped away from me and turned back towards the door. "I'll talk to you later, gorgeous."

"Yeah. Talk to you later."

As the door came to a close, I lay back down on the bedsheets. As the sensations below my abdomen grew more and more intense, I slipped a hand underneath the fabric of my nightgown.

I knew it was wrong.

I'd never been so ashamed of myself.

But as I rubbed my clit, I couldn't think about anything other than Nathan Moore's hands on me. It was like my body craved him, even though he'd just been inside of me an hour ago.

Was this Stockholm syndrome? Was this what Nathan wanted?

I was so confused. My legs shook with a self-induced orgasm, and I moaned Nathan's name, again and again.

What was happening?

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# Nathan

"Boss, we've got a problem." David's voice carried throughout the kitchen.

I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. "What happened? Is Ant Smith talking?"

"No. We've got a problem at the club."

"What kind of problem?" I was annoyed at the prospect, even as I took a swig from my water bottle. "What's going on?"

"No fucking idea, boss. Just got a crazy call from a guy working down there, talking about a code red." David shook his head. "I asked if the cops showed up or something, but he said it was something worse."

"Something worse than the cops?" I placed the bottle of water down near the sink. "What the fuck could be worse than the cops?"

David shrugged as he turned to leave the kitchen. "Don't know. But I'll get the car ready to go."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm right behind you." I grabbed the bottle, holding it tight in my grip. "Let's go see what the fuck is going on."

We took about twenty minutes to make it to the nightclub. As soon as we rolled up, I could see the problem.

Code red.

This was worse than the cops. It looked like the place had been on fire for at least ten whole minutes.

I heard screams from inside.

Why was anyone still inside?

Confusion flowed through me as David and I approached the building. However, my confusion resolved when I got a good glimpse of the main door.

It looked like someone had fused the lock and melted it down until it was useless. No one could open the door, no matter which side they were on.

"Gun. Something heavy." I told David as I held out my hand. Within seconds, there was a weapon placed onto the center of my palm.

I brought the butt of the gun down onto the lock, hard, over and over, as I tried to knock the useless piece of shit out of its socket. The goddamn thing didn't budge until my hand was bleeding from the effort.

"Got it," I spoke again, as I broke the lock and got the door open. As as soon as it opened, several of the club's patrons flooded out.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" As a female stranger wrapped me up into a hug, she pressed her waist against mine.

"Anytime." I kept my response simple.

She then pulled away from me, and her eyes scanned me from head to toe. "Oh. Wow. You're... you're... um... do you want my number? You could call me anytime."

I smirked as I returned her appreciative gaze.

She was cute. Definitely my type. I imagined how grateful she would be in bed, happy that I saved her life and even happier that I was fucking her.

Just a few days ago, I would've taken her home and wrecked her until she couldn't sit down or stand up straight. But now, I wasn't interested.

The only woman I wanted was somewhere back home, wrapped up in a red silk nightgown. "No, thanks. Just get home safe."

"Okay. Thanks again!" The woman nodded before she ran off towards the parking lot.

"Somebody was trying to burn this place down." David studied another entry point into the club. It was a few feet away from the main entrance. "Some psychopath melted down all the locks and jammed the controls from inside, too."

"Why would somebody wanna burn this place down?" I asked as I walked over to David. "And it took time to melt down every lock. Where the fuck are the police? Where the fuck are the firefighters? You can't tell me no one called for help when this place went up in flames--"

A realization clicked into place as I stared down at another fused lock. "It didn't matter if they called the police. It didn't matter who they called. No one was coming. Someone must've called in a favor. They wanted collateral damage and people dying in the fire. This shit was done so people would die."

"Yeah, but why kill random strangers? None of these people work with us."

I choked out a laugh. "Because someone wanted to fuck with me, maybe. It isn't exactly a secret how I feel about not killing innocent people. They wanted this shit to weigh on my conscience."

"What the fuck, man?" David made a noise that signaled his disgust. "That's so fucked up."

"You think this is how the retaliation starts for what we did at Vince's wedding?" I asked as I looked over at David. "Do you think Vince's guys would do this shit?"

"Well, Vince could call in a favor with the local police. He could tell them not to respond to any calls from this place, yeah." David turned his head back towards me. "But Vince is dead. And people don't typically do favors on behalf of other gangsters, even if they were Vince's right-hand man."

"Then what the fuck was this?" I placed the gun in one of my jacket pockets.

"Just some real bad shit." David stepped away from the building. "Come on, boss. We'll figure it out back at home base. If someone wants you dead, we don't want you exposed to--"

A sudden boom interrupted David's phrase. It came from inside the building. It sounded like something massive fell onto the dance floor, like the staircase inside the club had somehow come loose. But a fire wouldn't have caused that, would it?

Another loud boom and I ran away from the nightclub, pumping my legs as fast as I could, with David close at my side. We didn't stop until we'd reached the car, and we both yelled obscenities at the driver until he peeled out of the parking lot and got us back out onto the street.

As we got further and further away from the building, I could see a large plume of gray smoke stretch towards the sky. Soon after, I saw what looked like fireworks in the daytime.

Someone wasn't just trying to burn my club down.

They were trying to blow it the fuck up.

What the fuck?

"Are you sure Ant Smith is still alive?" I shot a look over at David.

"Yeah, man. Why?"

"Because this looks like someone is trying to send me a message." I glanced out of the car window yet again. "The message being, 'fuck you.'"

"Don't rule out any ex-girlfriends, boss." David cracked a smile. "It doesn't always have to be gang-related. You've got a lot of women out there who fucking hate your guts, too."

"I don't have any ex-girlfriends." I knew that David was just trying to distract me from my club going up in flames, but I wasn't in the mood. "As soon as we get back, I'm gonna send out a few more of our people. We really need to keep our ear to the streets with this--"

I stopped myself, mid-sentence, as a cold chill ran through my bones.

I'd thought that maybe whoever did this just wanted to fuck with me. But it now dawned on me that maybe they weren't trying to fuck with me. Maybe they were trying to draw me out.

And if they had eyes on me at this very moment, I'd be leading them right back to our hideout.

"Boss? What's wrong--"

"Don't." I held up a finger towards David, giving him the signal to shut the fuck up for a second. "Driver. Take three right turns. Anywhere. I wanna see something."

The driver obeyed without a word. I turned my head to see out the back of the car.

There was a vehicle. Black SUV. It trailed behind us at a steady rate, not close enough to be unnoticeable. The vehicle just happened to turn on the same side-street.

I kept my eye on the SUV, as our own vehicle took the first turn.

It followed.

Another turn.

It was still there.

With the last turn, I'd thought that maybe I was wrong. The SUV didn't appear for several seconds. I was ready to call myself paranoid and see a shrink.

Then the SUV appeared. Well behind us.

"We're being followed." I shifted back around in my seat.

"Shit! What do we do?" David was rattled. "No way backup can get here in time."

"We don't need backup. They aren't here to kill anybody." I leaned towards the front seat. "Driver, stop the car. Pull over on the side of the road. And David?"

"Yeah?"

"If this all goes to shit and I'm wrong... thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome, boss." David pulled a gun out from under his car seat. "And I've got your back. No matter what."

"Yeah, I know." I grinned back at David as the car came to a stop. "Alright. I'll be right back. In this life or the next."

"Good one," David responded, but there was no warmth in his eyes. He looked like he was ready for war.

I looked at David for what might've been the last time.

Brother.

I'd never thought too much about it before. It's not like I'd grown up with siblings, and all the fake sisters and brothers I'd had in those foster homes weren't the people I'd ever had any interest in getting close to.

But David? David felt like family.

I didn't have time to think about that soft shit. I hopped out of the vehicle and approached the SUV from its front. I wanted to see how many were inside.

There was only the driver.

Good.

I pulled my weapon and shot into the car. I'd aimed for the man's shoulder, not interested in killing him. I wanted to slow him down since we needed to have a talk.

I heard the man's scream inside of the SUV. He unlocked the driver's side door and fell out onto the side-street.

"Please! Please!" The man held up a hand, as I walked up to his crouched-over body. "I'm not even involved in this shit! I took this job for the money! They said you wouldn't hurt me!"

"No, I'll hurt you," I admitted before I bent down towards the man. "But I won't kill you, not unless you try to fuck me over."

"I'm not going to fuck you over!" The man whimpered as he fell onto his side. "Shit, man! I promise! I was just doing a job!"

"A job for who?" I kept my voice level. "Who sent you after me?"

"I don't know! They wouldn't tell me their boss' name. They told me to show up for the explosion at your nightclub and wait. You'd be there, and I'd know it was you because you look like a male model." The man began to cry. He was curled into a ball on the pavement. "They offered me $10,000 just to follow you! I wasn't supposed to say anything, just follow and find out where you stayed and report back. That was it."

"You think you'll get your money if you don't give them an address?"

"No." The man shook his head. "No, I won't."

"Hmm." I tilted my head to the side. "I can give you the money, you know. But it'll be for something different."

"Something different like what?" The man sobbed. "Please! I don't want to get deeper into this shit. I have a family--"

"You tell whoever sent you that you saw me at the club, at the explosion. Tell them that I saw you first. Tell them the bullet in your shoulder is a warning from me to them." I pulled out my phone and scrolled to one of my cash apps. As the man groveled on the ground, I searched for any nearby open accounts.

I found one open account: $$wendell.$56$

It had to be the same guy who begged for his life near my feet.

These cash apps were a blessing to the underground world. Sending money from shadow accounts to shadow receivers had never been easier. Any man who had been approached by the mafia would be instructed to set-up an account to receive payment.

After a couple of swipes from my account to his, the man below me was $10,000 richer.

I heard a resultant ding go off in the pocket of his jeans. "There you go. $10,000. Do you remember what I told you to say?"

"Yes! Yes! That you were at the nightclub, but you shot me as a warning, from you to them."

"Perfect. And one more thing."

"What?"

"Tell them that I know who they are." I had no fucking clue who'd sent someone to follow me, but I wanted to strike fear into whoever had the balls to try. "And tell them that if they try this shit again, we'll be handling this man-to-man."

"Got it! I got it!" The man rose to his knees, and he scrambled back into his car. "Thank you! You'll never see me again! I promise!"

"I fucking hope so." I turned and walked back towards my ride.

David's eyes were still devoid of all emotion, as he watched me settle back down into the backseat. "So? How'd it go?"

"Wasn't about the nightclub. Somebody really wants to know where I've been staying." I closed my car door with a thud. "They sent a clueless fuck to do their dirty work and follow me home. He doesn't have their name and hasn't a clue who they work for. "

"And you believed him?"

"Well, either he's a fantastic actor or a desperate man. He took the job for $10,000 and mentioned a family. I believed him, yeah. Even if he's a fucking liar, my message will be sent, either way."

"And what was the message?" David asked as the car made its way down the street.

"Don't fuck with me," I answered with a confident air.

And don't fuck with my family.

I kept the last part to myself. The car remained silent the rest of the way back home.

I'm Nathan fucking Moore, and you're either with me, or in a body bag.
Did you love _Stolen Bride_? Then you should read _Stolen Beauty_ by Jayde Payne and Simone Rivers!

He's hiding something from me, and I don't know if I should seek out the truth. Because you're either with Nathan Moore, or in a body bag. When all of his sins come to light, will I still be able to stand beside him?
Also by Jayde Payne

Mafia Shotgun Wedding

Stolen Bride

Stolen Beauty

Stolen Princess

Mafia Soldier's Second Chance

Broken Savior

Broken Promise

Broken Destiny

Owned By A Mafia Boss

Bloody King

Bloody Queen

Bloody Royals

Watch for more at Jayde Payne's site.
Also by Simone Rivers

BWWM Romance: The Woodcox Rockstar Brothers

One Hit Wonder

Unmanageable

Broken Record

No Strings Attached

Mafia Shotgun Wedding

Stolen Bride

Stolen Beauty

Stolen Princess

Mafia Soldier's Second Chance

Broken Savior

Broken Promise

Broken Destiny

Owned By A Mafia Boss

Bloody King

Bloody Queen

Bloody Royals

Standalone

The Woodcox Rockstar Brothers: The Complete Series

Watch for more at Simone Rivers's site.

# About the Author

Hello. I'm Jayde Payne, and I write multicultural romantic suspense novels featuring heroes who are willing to do anything to claim and protect the women they love. My stories feature true bad boys. Mafia bosses. Bounty hunters. Hitmen. Billionaires who are above the law, and alphas who take the law into their own hands. Right now, my books are all BWWM because that's what I like to read and what I want to write. Thank you for checking me out.

Read more at Jayde Payne's site.

# About the Publisher
