A Mafia Royals Romance
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Rachel Van Dyken
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339K
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9
Chapter One
Prequel: Royal Bully
Who’s Who in the Cosa Nostra
Nixon and Trace Abandonato. Nixon is the boss of the Abandonato family; he’s a bit psycho, has a lip ring, and in his mid-forties, looks like a freaking badass. Think if Jason Momoa and Channing Tatum had a baby. SURPRISE, Nixon! Trace is the love of his life. Nixon’s daughter, Serena, is his pride and joy; she’s the heir to his throne. His adopted son, Dom, is ten years older than Serena. At twenty-nine, he’s ready to step in if he needs to, but he really doesn’t want to—not that he’s thinking about a family of his own. His youngest, Bella, was a most welcome surprise.
Phoenix and Bee Nicolasi (formerly De Lange) have one son, Junior, and he’s everything. The same age as Serena, he only ever has one thing on his mind: her. But pursuing her is like signing his own death sentence. The one rule that the bosses gave all the cousins, all the kids: no dating each other; it complicates things. They all took a blood oath. But he’s willing to risk it all for just one taste.
Which brings us to Chase and Luciana Abandonato; their love story is one for the ages. He had Violet first, gorgeous Violet Emiliana Abandonato. And then he had twins—God help him. Asher (Marco) and Izzy. All are attending Eagle Elite University. Violet is more into books than people. And the twins, well, they are polar opposites. While Izzy is quiet and reserved, taking after her uncle Sergio in the tech support part of the mafia, Asher was an assassin at age twelve. He takes care of everyone even though he’s younger than Serena and Junior. He feels it’s his job to make sure everyone is safe, including his girlfriend, Claire. She’s his soulmate, and he’ll do anything for her. And don’t forget the baby of the family, Ariel, who everyone dotes on.
Tex and Mo Campisi. He’s the godfather of this joint—gorgeous; he’s a gentle giant unless he’s pissed, and his wife, Mo, is just as violent as he is. They have two sons, Breaker and King. Breaker just started his freshman year at Eagle Elite, and he can’t wait to release his own flirtations onto the campus. He’s a force to be reckoned with—just walks around with chicks and shrugs. King, on the other hand, is vying for top whore at his own high school; I mean, they say high school is supposed to be memorable, right? He just can’t remember any of the girls’ names, so he calls them all Sarah. It’s a thing.
Sergio and Valentina are also Abandonatos. While Val is quiet and reserved, Sergio is the resident doctor of the Families. He’s also really into tech and loves spying on people. They have two gorgeous daughters. Kartini has her daddy wrapped around her little finger. He just hopes he survives her last two years of high school without shooting one of her boyfriends. With Lydia, he knows she can take care of herself. She already beat up the class bully, making Sergio quite proud.
Dante and El don’t have things easier; they’re one of the younger mafia families. He’s the head of the Alfero family. And he has two twin girls at age nine who are making him pull his hair out. Raven and Tempest are adorable, but they’re feisty like their mom. He lets them have more screen time than he should, but they say he’s their favorite in the world, sooooo… he lets it pass.
Andrei and Alice have been through a lot. Their name single-handedly brought the Russian Mafia into the Italian fold. Andrei is both Petrov and Sinacore, meaning that the oldest Italian mafia family is now part of the Cosa Nostra. Forever. Their son’s name is Maksim, and weirdly enough, he’s a total flirt. He takes nothing seriously but can flip a switch in a minute if someone he loves is threatened. Anya is his little sister, and he would do anything for her. She seems fragile but studies Krav Maga, so nobody messes with her.
These are the Families of the Cosa Nostra.
Welcome to the Family.
Blood in. No out.
Claire
I was hiding behind a potted plant, next to a beer keg, and a drunk frat brother who looked about one second away from needing an ambulance. I drank out of the red solo cup—liquid courage even though I wasn’t much of a drinker—while I watched him.~
It’s not like I was the only one.
Everyone watched him.
We may as well be servants in his Kingdom, and he knew it.
Asher Abandonato.
It had been years since any of the Families had sent one of their own to school—one of the last guys—Dante had left a bloodbath in his wake. Rumors fed the gossip circles until it was decided that Dante basically chopped off fingers, thumbs, and toes, laughing all the while he did it, and then destroying everything in his wake—and don’t even get me started on Dom; he was the last, some may even say the worst.
And ever since then, nobody was allowed to party at The Spot, or Space, or whatever they were calling it this year.
Mainly because even bleach couldn’t get out the bloodstains, and because others viewed it as some sort of Holy Ground.
Murals were painted inside the once-famed party spot, just another way to cover up blood.
What kind of massacre took place at a university?
A better question? What kind of mafia family ran their own university and got away with it without having the FBI chase them down?
The Abandonatos were gods.
They owned everything.
Got away with everything.
And were too beautiful for words.
I bit down on my bottom lip as students watched in awe. Asher had taken one step inside the massive room at The Spot, and even the music was turned down—like people were actually waiting for him to make some sort of speech. After all, he was a god among mortals. And we were partying in his domain, at his pleasure.
I sipped the tepid beer and watched.
They were waiting for something.
And I knew exactly what they were waiting for.
Because I’d asked him to come.
On a whim, during U.S. History, when everyone was supposed to be watching the stupid movie, I’d dropped my pencil. He picked it up, our fingers brushed, and I jerked away in fear.
Fear that he was really as dangerous as everyone said he was.
And fear that I would have a violent reaction to his touch like everyone else did.
And I was right.
My reaction was completely uncalled for.
It was lust.
Not high school, oh goodie, I hope he kisses me lust.
But the kind that wraps itself around you so tight that it’s hard to breathe, the kind that doesn’t let up throughout the day, only increases with each breath and each step you take until you’re sick with it.
Ocean blue eyes searched the room.
I stayed behind the plant—what the hell was a plant doing there anyway? They were partying in a room where souls were probably still floating around? The fact that the frat was even able to get in the door was astonishing; someone said they stole a key, and there they were.
The next day in class, Asher asked me for a piece of paper.
An hour later, he handed me a note.
“You’re beautiful,” was what it said.
Who wrote notes in college?
He did.
Beautiful, dangerous, Asher.
With his wavy whiskey-colored hair and his massive build, he could have any girl he wanted. The guy could party with Victoria’s Secret supermodels and fit right in.
So why me?
His eyes finally landed on the plant.
And then on me.
The crowd parted.
With a shaking hand, I lowered the cup.
And then he was there, in front of me, all six-foot-four of him, with muscles bulging in places that seemed impossible for a twenty-year-old.
“Hey,” he rasped.
I had no thoughts beyond asking him what kind of cologne he wore and then dashing to the nearest store, buying it, and spraying my pillow with it like a freak.
“Hi,” I found my voice.
Another step, until we were nearly chest to chest, I looked up into his blue eyes, waiting for something. We exchanged maybe two sentences in the last week. He’d called me beautiful, and I told him I’d be at the party tonight.
That was it.
“Dance with me,” he held out his hand.
I stared at it. “You? Dance?”
“Don’t you?” he grinned. His full smile was like a punch to the gut. No guy had a right to look so beautiful and lethal all at once. I could have sworn I heard a massive female sigh trickle around the room as I gave him my hand and walked with him toward the area where people were dancing.
He pulled me toward the corner, further away from the crowds, and then leaned in like he was going to kiss me. “You need to leave. Now.”
“What?” I jerked back.
He pulled me closer, then twirled me until my back was to him. I could feel his arousal pressed against me. I froze as his lips touched the outside of my ear. “They’re coming, and you’re too pretty to kill.”
“Kill?” I repeated.
“Stop repeating everything I say and listen very carefully.” He gripped my hips with his hands and let out a groan. “Damn, I’ve been watching you for weeks.” He bit out another curse and then seemed to refocus. “Nobody’s supposed to be here, least of all a bunch of college kids degrading Holy Ground that my family is one hundred percent willing to kill over. Your choice is to stay in the line of fire… or leave… with me.”
“And everyone else?” My heart slammed against my chest as drunken people stumbled around laughing.
“You care about them?” He seemed surprised.
“I care about human life, yes.” This was happening, wasn’t it? The rumors were true. Eagle Elite was mafia through and through, right along with a river of blood and tears.
“Interesting,” he said before spinning me around again and pressing his lips to mine. I gasped as his tongue slid inside, mouth hot. I let out a moan as he wrapped an arm around me, then pressed me against the wall, deepening the kiss, but also shielding me. He pulled away, his eyes dark. “My room’s safe… you’ll always be safe with me.”
“Because of your family?” I was almost afraid to say the name out loud, not sure why. It was almost like I could feel the dead souls rise up from the grave, begging me not to curse them even in death. Blood had been spilled here.
“Because I have a gun…” He tilted his head. “Because of my cousin…” I knew who his cousin was, Nixon Abandonato.
And just like I’d conjured him, the door to The Spot jerked open wide, and there he stood, boss to one of the most notorious crime families in the world, and each of the four family bosses flanking on the right and the left.
Youngest mafia bosses in history.
They looked like they could still be attending classes, except for the massiveness of every single one of them.
“You have three seconds,” Asher whispered, reaching behind his back.
“Yes,” I said without thinking.
He grinned and then made a motion behind him; Nixon nodded just as the first gunshot rang out.
And then his mouth was on mine again, whispering against my tongue. “Close your eyes, princess…”
So, I did.
I closed my eyes as his hands slid up my shirt.
I squeezed them shut as the sound of gunfire went off.
I lost myself in his touch as he pressed my body against the cement wall, every inch of him hot and ready, his hands dipped into my hair; with a jerk, he tugged my hair back, his mouth made its way down my throat, and that’s when I made my first mistake.
I opened my eyes.
And saw blood.
“Asher…” My voice sounded funny as blood stained the once freshly painted concrete.
“Holy Ground.” Was all he said as he grabbed me and tossed me over his shoulder, walking through the blood, right past his cousin, who seemed to look more amused than sinister.
Wait, were they laughing?
After killing at least a dozen people?
“They didn’t kill anyone,” Asher said, picking up his speed as he walked across campus, with me like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. “All warning shots, more painful than anything, a few kneecaps blasted, a few arms hit clean through, nothing to be overly upset about.”
“OVERLY UPSET?” I pounded my fists into his back. “What kind of psycho world do you guys come from?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” He set me on my feet and then flicked my chin with his thumb and winked. “The only world that matters—ours.”
I gulped.
“So, what do I get for saving your life?” His full lips were swollen. I backed up just as he opened the door to one of the private dorms on campus, the ones that basically cost a billion dollars just to walk into.
I followed him.
In hindsight, a smarter girl would have run, but I was kind of out of choices at this point. I’d already jumped in the minute he picked up my pencil… at least that’s what it felt like.
But more than that, being with him was this heady experience that almost felt like a dream. With trembling legs, I followed him down the hallway.
And then his door was opening.
And I was walking in.
He clicked it shut.
I sucked in a breath when I heard the lock turn.
“Claire,” he said my name like a prayer. “It’s time to collect.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be okay with a high five and homemade cookies?”
His laugh was devastating; it wrapped around me, it pulsed like it was a living, breathing thing. His laugh could knock every girl up within a two-mile radius.
I gulped when he turned me in his arms and tilted my chin toward him. “I like cookies…”
“Yeah?” That’s what I had? Yeah?
“Mmm.” He braced my waist, and then his hands lowered until he bunched my short jersey dress up to my bare hips and nude thong. “And I am hungry…”
“Do you have… chocolate chips?” I mentally slapped myself at his amused expression, and then he was tugging my thong all the way down to my sandaled heels.
“Fresh. Out.” He grinned. “But I can guarantee this will taste better…”
“You sure about that?” I wanted him. I’d wanted him since he enrolled two months ago.
“Positive.” He lowered to his knees—was this really happening? With a wicked grin, he pressed a heated kiss to my thigh, gripping my ass with his fingers, and then.
A loud beeping went off.
What the—?
I looked around his room.
And then something was hitting me with a pillow.
Wait, what?
I jerked awake hot, bothered, angry, and staring right up into Asher’s blue-eyed gaze. “You were screaming.”
“Was not,” I said, a bit breathless.
He grinned down at me. “You often scream during a mid-afternoon nap, Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Ah, I see,” he nodded. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. I heard someone say my name; actually, it was more of a ‘God, Asher, more Asher, I need you, Asher.’”
I felt my entire face erupt in flames.
I’d been obsessed with him for two months.
Two months.
But he was bad news.
Mafia.
On his way to a nice jail cell.
At least that’s what my mom said.
I’d obviously glorified it more in my head if my dream was anything to go off of. Ugh.
“You sure it wasn’t, ‘Go away, Asher?’” I tried to appear unaffected.
And then he stood, walked over to my open door, shut it, and crooked his finger at me. “You look… hot.”
“I’m fine,” I said in a clipped tone as I tried to get the sheets away from my ankles.
With one swift movement, my duvet was on the floor along with my sheets, and he was hovering over me, his lips inches from mine. “Say it.”
“Hmm?”
“Say you want me, say you’ve been staring at me for two months, say you’ve been dreaming about me.” He slid his hand up my thigh, just like in my dream. “Say you’re ready for me the way I am for you…”
I gulped as his fingers found my core. I let out a whimper, and then he really was kissing me while playing me like an instrument—in my bed, in my dorm.
“That’s it, princess…” Everywhere he touched, I was hot, burning for him as he deepened the kiss, tasting like the perfect blend of bad boy. “I’m going to taste you like I’ve been dreaming of ever since sitting next to you in class—and I’m going to do it more than once.”
I did what any normal girl would do.
I nodded my head dumbly and said, “Yes… please.”
