Marrying the Mob Prince

Evie

I’m grateful my husband makes life interesting.

Tony had a 747’s worth of baggage.

While we were apart, I combed the internet. Tabloids painted Tony as a rich boy with a lavish upbringing. His late father was a mafia don, but his mother was a high-society snob, an Italian supermodel who’d posed for Vogue. He had everything going for him-an Ivy League education, trust funds, real estate properties, a trail of brokenhearted women, and all the money he could ever want.

He could’ve been anything.

He chose to be a thug.

Why?

It bewildered me. Nothing in my search pointed to a specific reason, except the year-long hunt for Tony Costa. He’d gone missing, but apparently, he’d been at a rehabilitation center in Switzerland. Photos showed him leaving the facility.

Did something happen to him there?

Dwelling on my husband’s strange behavior wouldn’t finish my jewelry collection, but I couldn’t bring myself to ignore his suffering. I did, however, rip out all the cameras. If he wanted to know how I was doing, he’d have to talk to me. It was the only way we’d get anywhere.

So I went on with my life. I ignored the persistent throb in my chest and visited the club whenever the mood struck me.

Dad and I sped through the gate on his bike. Sunshine coated the property in golden warmth. The forget-me-not blue sky reminded me that beauty was everywhere. I waved at Hugh, a young prospect, smiling as he shouted a greeting. People relaxed on lawn chairs, drinking beer. Charcoal and savory scents saturated the air. Probably Patrick. The fifty-year-old grill master never spared an occasion to barbecue. Every summer, he took part in contests that filled his living room with ribbons and trophies.

I slid off the Harley as Dad stopped. He kept the engine running, one foot braced on the ground.

“I’ll be back later. Won’t be long.” Dad zipped up his leather cut. “There’s potato salad in the fridge. Take it to Pat. He’ll trade you for a couple ribs.”

“All right.”

He zoomed off, the bike kicking up a plume of dust.

Emptiness gnawed at my stomach, but my jagged thoughts sawed through my appetite. I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat, let alone food, so I wandered toward Jennesy’s.

Jennesy wasn’t rich, but she got by. The club stocked her fridge and chipped in for diapers when her baby daddy died. A moldering playhouse stood on a patch of overgrown grass. I passed it and knocked on her door.

My leggy cousin swung open the door, baby hitched on her hip. Jennesy’s apple-like cheeks bloomed with two bright patches of fuchsia. White and pink waves brushed her tanned, muscular shoulders. Army-camo patterned leggings stuck to her thick thighs.

Benjamin clung to her tank top. Blond strands spilled over a sweet face. He shared her nose and her expressive eyes.

“Evie! What a surprise.” She tickled the fifteen-month-old’s cheek. “Lookit, Benji. It’s Auntie Evie.”

Ben smiled, his grin split by the cutest gap in his front teeth. “Hot, hot, hot.”

I laughed.

“That’s his new favorite word.” Jennesy gave him a wry smile as she waved me inside. “I came back from class one day and he was saying it. My dad’s fault. I guess that’s the price you pay for free babysitting. Here, take him.”

Jennesy pushed Ben into my arms. He gaped at me, his finger prodding my cheek. The weight of him felt nice. I kissed the top of his head, following Jennesy as she chatted up a storm, bemoaning the state of her house.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever is fine.”

She fished out Budweisers and used the bottle opener on the wall. The cap pinged to the floor as the beer hissed. Foam sprayed everywhere. She mopped her dripping shirt as Ben shrieked with pleasure.

“Happens all the time.” Jennesy caught Ben’s eye, grinning. “Can you say uh-oh? Uh-oh?”

“Ah…oh.”

“Good boy!”

Ben’s face broke with a ridiculous grin.

I placed him in the high chair as Jennesy grabbed her beer and drank. She closed her eyes and swallowed.

I held up my palm. “High five?”

Ben stuck out his hand, and I bumped mine against his. I clapped, and Ben did the same. My heart thawed and squeezed.

“I still can’t believe something this sweet came from Crash.” Jennesy retrieved a jar of applesauce from the fridge and scooped the golden sludge, waving a spoonful at Ben. “Mmn. Num-nums.”

They’d had a brief fling that Crash ended dramatically by kidnapping his old flame and getting murdered by her husband. It’d been quite the relief for everyone involved, especially Jennesy.

It made me wonder what Tony would do if I got pregnant. He’d probably shove me into another penthouse, throw credit cards at me, and forget I exist.

Depressing.

“So, what did Costa do?”

I silenced my phone. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“Come on, girl.” Jennesy wiped Ben’s sauce-covered cheeks and addressed me with a businesslike tone. “You show up here, unannounced, looking raw, glancing at your phone every two seconds.”

“He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“He’ll be pissed,” she warned, eyes flashing. “Better text him, or you’ll be in for a beating.”

“He’s not violent,” I blurted, unnerved by her suggestion. “He’s a snarky asshole, but he lets me do what I want. He raised my credit limit to fifty grand.”

“No kidding? Wow.” Jennesy’s expression flickered from caution to outright disbelief to delight. She bumped her drink into mine. “He’s wrapped around your thumb, babe.”

“I cut the card in half.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because fuck his money. He only offered it so I’d stop coming here.”

“And yet here you are.” Jennesy sat back, lips curled into a mischievous slant. “Something tells me that if push came to shove, you’d come out on top.”

“You don’t know how stubborn he is.”

“And you’re not?”

True.

Jennesy put down her beer and coaxed Ben into eating more applesauce. “What’s his problem with the club?”

“No idea.”

“Did you ask your dad?”

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t tell me much. Club business.” I stood up, sighing. “Why is it such a big fucking mystery?”

“Speaking of mysterious Italian men, what about Christian?”

“It’s too soon since his wife passed.” I grimaced, placing the empty bottle in the sink. “Sorry. He got a kick out of your messages, though. He blushed when I told him what the eggplants meant.”

Jennesy sighed. “Bless his heart.”

“I’m going to take a walk. Get some fresh air.” I smoothed baby Ben’s wayward curls before I headed for the door. “Text me when you’re free. I need to keep Tony on his toes.”Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

“Of course!”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Anytime.”

She waved at me, and Ben copied her. The sweet image of mother and son stayed with me, another nagging wound that pulsed with every step. I looked at Jennesy’s mobile home, at the siding that was falling off.

Would I be better off here?

According to Tony, stuff didn’t make someone happier, and he was right. Ever since I was blessed with a credit card with sky-high limits, my worries had evolved from paying bills to my unfulfilling marriage. I wanted to fix it.

So I strode to the brick clubhouse.

Music throbbed from the windows. I pushed my hip into the doors, and they flew open.

Empty bottles littered the bar and floor. A shirtless man bent over a pool table, nuzzling a pair of big fake tits. His back muscles rippled as he plowed into a squirming brunette with koi fish tattoos wrapping her stomach. A blonde stood beside him, hand on his shoulder. He straightened, fisted her hair, and smashed his mouth into hers.

Ghost.

He angled his hips and pounded. The club girl’s shouts echoed to the ceiling.

I gritted my teeth and approached the half-naked Ghost, whose tattooed hands played with her breasts. I ignored the girls. They didn’t rank next to the president’s daughter, and they knew it.

“Ghost.” I tapped him. “Let’s talk.”

His sweat-streaked neck craned toward me. Bewilderment widened his salacious gaze, which dove down my neckline. “What about, sweetheart?”

“My husband.”

Irritation flickered across his brow as he resumed thrusting.

“I have something to ask about Costa.”

“Are you trying to kill my boner?”

Yes. Isn’t that obvious?

I crossed my arms. “I didn’t realize keeping it up was that hard.”

“You want to see hard?”

He pulled out, and I glanced down. His laughter was low and throaty. A second later, he was at it like I wasn’t standing there.

Such a pig. “Ghost, I just need a few minutes!”

“So do I.”

“You fuck club sluts all day long. Put it away and talk to me.”

“You’re welcome to watch,” he said, punctuating every syllable with a thrust. “I find it hot-”

“Tony Costa,” I shot out, and he grunted. “He’s taller than you, olive-skinned, curly chest hair that goes to his cock, which is nice and thick, and circumcised, by the way.”

Ghost squeezed his eyes shut, as though warding off that mental image. “Goddamn you. This better be good.” He stepped away, tucking himself into his jeans. Then he slapped the girl’s breasts. “Don’t move.”

Ghost pushed me into the hallway. His jaw clicked as he opened a door and pointed inside.

I strolled into his room, nose wrinkling. It reeked of sex and unwashed male.

Ghost closed the door behind us. He sprawled on his messy bed. He spread his legs wide and swiped a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand.

I shook my head when he offered me one.

“Who the hell do you think you are, interrupting me mid-fuck?” Ghost flicked his thumb on the lighter, igniting the cigarette. “I might’ve led you on, but there’s no need to act like a jealous bitch.”

“This isn’t about you.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

Ghost took a drag, blinking. His raking gaze centered on my chest as I pulled a chair and sat beside him.

“I need to ask you about my husband.”

He made a noise of disgust.

I grabbed his wrist. “Ghost, please. Dad won’t say a word and none of the girls know what happened to Tony. He’s raw about it, and refuses to tell me anything.”

Ghost tipped his head, blowing the smoke to the ceiling. He chuckled. The sound raised my hackles.

“What’s so funny?”

“You had to be there,” he said, winking. “Sadly, I wasn’t a member at the time, but everybody knows.”

“Tell me.”

His boyish smirk widened. “What will you give me?”

Heat stole into my face.

“Nothing.”

“Well, then you get nothing. It’s club business. You want me to break the rules? Drop to your knees and put that mouth to work.”

I curled my lip. “I’ll tell Dad you kissed me.”

“That was months ago.”

“Still. He wouldn’t like it.”

Ghost slowly stood, sucking on his cigarette. Smoke blew from his full pout. His body pushed me against the wall, all six feet of him trapping me. The finger holding the cigarette traced my lips. “You’re pissed I didn’t ask you to be my old lady. After one stupid kiss. Wasn’t even worth it.” He leaned in. His putrid whisper brushed my nose. “You really want to know?”

I nodded.

Ghost detached from me and dug into his pants for his cell. He shoved the phone into my hands.

“Watch this. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Needles prickled along my spine.

“What is it?”

His head hung over my shoulder. “Watch.”

I pressed the play button, and the screen blazed with a chilling image.

A man sat on a basement floor. Harsh lighting bleached his wasted physique, throwing the cuts and bruises that marked him in crude gashes. A chain attached to a steel collar wrapped his throat. A thick beard covered his cheeks and jaw and his hollowed eyes were dead, but I recognized my husband. He didn’t have the powerful body he did now. They’d starved him. The sharp angles were softer, less defined.

Still, I found him beautiful.

My heart wrenched and tore in half.

What did they do to you?

I was about to find out.

A sick foreboding gripped my insides as three bikers surrounded Tony, one of them holding a leash. A Rottweiler lunged at Tony, who kept his cheek turned. Its jaws snapped, spraying the air with flecks of spit, but the blond biker pulled him back. The view panned, and the blond man who’d hurt Jennesy and so many other women winked at the camera.

Holy shit-Crash.

Tony’s lips moved.

“What’s that?” Crash mocked, his attention drawn toward Tony. “Are you praying?”

They burst with laughter, the sound gut-punching.

Crash’s lip curled into a sneer. “You are so pathetic.”

His leather boot slammed into Tony’s side.

The chains rattled as Tony let out a gasping groan. He coughed, rolling over.

“My old lady can take a beating better than you.”

“Tell me-tell me what you want,” Tony rasped. “My father will give you anything. Please.”

“I want you to die.”

That was enough to rouse Tony, who groped to a sitting position. “I have no idea who you are! My family-”

“Fuck them,” Crash roared, his shouts joining the dog’s relentless noise. “I offered you to them. Your cousins couldn’t care less. They’re refusing to pay the ransom.”

Devastation flickered across Tony’s wasted features before they hardened. “I don’t believe you.”

“You calling me a liar?”

“Yeah, among other things.” Tony’s desperate gaze scanned the room. “Anybody who calls themself Trash is a loser. It is Trash, right?”

“Crash.”

“That’s what I said. Trash.”

“No. It’s Crash.”

“Must be the ringing in my head from all the beatings,” he muttered, shrugging. “Consider changing it. Trash suits you.”

Oh my God, Tony.

I covered my face and peeked through my fingers.

Crash shouted at the dog. “Fassen.”

Its crazed barking bounced off the cement walls, loud, horrendous. He loosed the leash. The animal lunged. Frenzied growling mingled with the nauseating sound of tearing flesh.

Tony’s agonized screaming stabbed my stomach.

My thumb hit the pause button but the noises wouldn’t stop. I hurled it from me. The phone smashed, prompting a howl of outrage from Ghost.

“You stupid bitch!” Ghost picked it off the ground, furious. “You’re getting me a new one.”

Acid burned in my throat. Bitter and vile. I pictured that dog ripping into Tony’s arm and wanted to purge everything in my gut.

They’d tortured him.

No wonder he hated us.

I wrung my hands as though I could shake off Tony huddled in the dark. How long had he been there? Why? God knows what else they’d done to him. My teeth clenched. Horrific sounds played from his cell.

Ghost’s lip curled as images flickered through his cracked screen. “Haven’t watched this in a while. He’s such a pussy.”

The callousness swept through me like wildfire.

“How can you find that funny?”

His chuckling broke into full-hearted laughter as he continued to watch. “He is so pathetic. I’d make them kill me before they did that to me.”

My heart rate shot to the stratosphere.

I stalked toward him. “Talk about my old man like that again, you piece of shit!”

He sneered. “Costa is a limp-dicked crybaby.”

My fist slammed into his jaw.

Ghost staggered, hand on his chin. His features contorted, and then-

WHAM!

Pain shattered my eye socket. The impact knocked me into a dresser.

“Have you had enough, you dumb bitch?” he shouted, holding up his hand. “Or do you need another one?”

I clung to his furniture, dazed. Warmth trickled down my cheek. I wiped, and my fingers shined with red.

My head pounded, but I grimaced through the ache. I straightened as Ghost took a drag from his cigarette. I imagined putting it out in his forehead.

A pulse beat in my throat, threatening to burst. I wanted to fuck him up. I was soaked in kerosene. Primed to blow up. All I needed was the tiniest spark.

“I’ll kill you.”

He smiled and winked. “I look forward to the foreplay.”

That did it.