Dark Throne: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals) Read online

  Vincent’s younger brother Gio took off for New York with dreams of Wall Street fortunes in his head, but Vincent eventually persuaded Dimitri to bring his huge family here to the countryside, moving them into the palace on the property.

  The palace looks like a smaller version of the castle on the outside, but when Cecily’s mother Flora moved in, she did a complete remodel. The interior stone walls were drywalled, sanded, and painted eggshell white, huge swathes of brightly colored abstract art hung from them. She purchased modern furniture with sleek lines made of leather, metal, and glass. When you first enter, you feel almost as if you’re walking into a prestigious gallery in the city, but with her big family bumbling inside, cooking, laughing, and arguing, it’s totally homey and cozy.

  Dimitri has no taste for mafia activity, preferring to take over as the accountant of the Russos’ amassing wealth. He’s perfectly happy to work at the castle by day, crunching numbers for Vincent by day, then crossing over the grassy field back home to his wife and palace. Cecily’s father is a family man, living to provide and spend time with his wife and children—which he has plenty of.

  Cecily’s parents fell in love at nineteen, the same age Cecily is now, her mother giving birth to their oldest son nine months later. Flora then bore another son, subsequently, every two years after that, until finally, they got their girl and Cecily was born.

  And what a beautiful girl she is. Tonight, she wears pale pink, a dress with a straight cut neckline, thin straps and a tulle skirt. Her big green eyes shine with excitement, her dark curls bouncing against her creamy skin as she makes her way over to me.

  “Here.” She hands me a green, silk beaded mask, then puts on her own pink feathered one.

  Looking in the mirror, she giggles. “We look silly.”

  “It’s fun though. I like it.” I pull on my mask. The beads sparkle in the light. “Do I still look like myself?”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s not that different. Everyone will know it’s you. How do I look?”

  I take in her pale complexion and dark hair, her rosebud mouth she’s painted red for tonight. With the stone fireplace as a backdrop behind her, she looks like a princess in a fairytale. “Like a beautiful little Snow White.”

  She gives a giggle. “I kind of am…only if Snow White had six dwarves instead of seven.”

  “And if those dwarves were giants.” I give a laugh thinking of her big, burly, overprotective brothers, the eldest, Aldo, covered in tattoos. “Thank God Vincent sent them to New York this week. Otherwise you’d have six bodyguards at my party.”

  Unlike their peaceful father, Dimitri’s sons are eager to learn the ropes of the family’s business. One of them will be the next in line to wear the family crown, so they constantly vie for Vincent’s attention, eager to please him.

  All longing to be the next king of the Russo mafia.

  When Cecily’s brood of brothers heard Vincent had a mission for them in New York, a deal to be made with the elusive Bachman mafia family, the Russo boys were on the jet within hours of Vincent’s request.

  Leaving Cecily free to flirt.

  She gives a sigh of relief. “It’s going to be so nice to not have them hovering around me. I swear Aldo shows up out of nowhere anytime I attempt a conversation with a member of the opposite sex.”

  I give a laugh, thinking of her tattoo-covered oldest brother. “Yeah, they’re really good at sending the boys in the opposite direction.”

  “Speaking of boys, what are we waiting for?” Cecily tugs at my arm. “Come on, let’s go to the party.”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  Hand in hand, we make our way from my room. A strange feeling comes over me as we pass through the door and I give my bedroom a backward glance. It’s one of the prettiest in the castle, with whitewashed furniture, a fourposter bed, a dressing table. All the bedding is a dusty rose pink. A room fit for a princess.

  But now, I’m a woman.

  Right?

  I think of how my body responded to Luca’s rough touches and sensual heat rushes through me, one that feels entirely grown-up, making me want to trade out all my pale pink cotton bedding for black silk sheets.

  He’s woken something in me…and I want more.

  Just not from him.

  We walk down the grand staircase of the castle to the ballroom, which I know will be elaborately decorated to celebrate my new standing in the family. They’ve been working for days, staff bustling in and out of the room, Sophia locking the door at the end of every day to keep me from peeking.

  We step into the very same ballroom I’ve entered thousands of times before.

  Now, seeing it transformed, it takes my breath away.

  Cecily takes my hand, squeezing it. She gives a squeal. “It’s gorgeous!”

  “It is, isn’t it?” I gaze around the room.

  The black iron gothic sconces hang from the walls as always, but now they’re strung with sheer pink ribbons, the filmy fabric intertwined with tiny twinkling white fairy lights. Poofs of white and pink tissue paper, cut into petals, have been strung into whimsical balls and hung from the ceilings.

  There’s a long table set with food, the items placed carefully on multi-tiered platters, each plate getting smaller as they get higher, the food more delicate as you make your way up. Tarts and pastries on the bottom, leading to chocolates and Marzipan.

  In the corner of the room, there’s a square table with a white cloth and on it sits a three-layer cake, frosted in pale pink icing.

  My birthday gift from Sophia.

  They’ve moved the massive dining table and all its chairs into storage. In its place is a parquet dance floor. A makeshift stage has been set up before a red velvet curtain and a band dressed all in black plays the notes of popular pop song, sans the words. People are just starting to grab one another’s hands, making their way to the dance floor.

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “I can’t believe they’ve done all this…for me.”

  She gives a giggle, patting my hand. “Of course they did, silly. You mean everything to them.” Coming from a big family, with doting parents and older brothers who would kill for her, Cecily knows love. She’s secure in her place in this world.

  But me?

  I’m still in awe of how much Vincent and Sophia care for me, how they’ve made me feel like I’m their own flesh and blood. Not just some random baby left on a doorstep. Sometimes I find it hard to believe, and Cecily reminds me.

  The men are in tuxes, the women, gowns. They laugh as they talk, drinking champagne from crystal flutes. Everyone has an ornate mask over their eyes.

  Except for Vincent, of course.

  He finds them childish.

  Vincent and his wife Felicity come to my side. Felicity greets me with a kiss on my cheek, her long brunette curls brushing against my skin. She pulls away, studying my gaze through her peacock-feathered mask with her joy-filled hazel eyes. “Happy Birthday, Esme. Is it everything you hoped for?”

  “Yes. You all outdid yourselves. It’s so beautiful.”

  Vincent takes my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length. His dark hair has a few more strands of silver and it looks dashing, the way he’s slicked it back from his face. He gazes me over with pride shining in eyes. “You look beautiful.”

  I wave the compliment away with my hand. “It’s just the dress and a little make-up fooling you.”

  Vincent shakes his head. “No, it’s you. You’re stunning.”

  Felicity’s eyes shine. “You really are lovely, Esme.”

  “Aw, you guys are going to make me cry. Stop it.” I give a laugh, the happiness I feel bubbling from my heart.

  Vincent pulls me into a tight hug. It’s uncharacteristic of him to show affection and I find myself fighting back tears. “We love you.”

  I want to say the words back. My throat feels tight. I return his embrace. “Thank you. For…everything.”

  For keeping me. For caring for me. For loving me.
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  “Enjoy your night.” He releases me, taking Felicity’s hand. “Felicity and I are going to dance.”

  Cecily and I watch them as they move to the dance floor, hand in hand. Vincent takes her in his arms with such authority, such protection, it makes me melt.

  “Oh my God, those two are so cute together.” Cecily breaths a little sigh, her hands going to her heart. “Aren’t they just the sweetest?”

  I nod in agreement. “Yes.” And they are.

  They twirl around the dance floor, a more handsome couple, I’ve not seen.

  Sophia joins us. “Happy Birthday, my beautiful girl!” She pulls me in a big hug, kissing my cheek.

  I hug her back. “The cake is gorgeous. I can’t wait to eat it.”

  “Vanilla bean with vanilla buttercream. Your favorite.” Pulling away, she shoos me with her hands. “Now that you’ve seen the place, go back to the entryway of the room and greet your guests like a proper princess.”

  I leave her with a kiss on her cheek.

  Cecily and I stand by the entrance to the ballroom, prim and proper, greeting each guest with all the grace and poise we can muster. We kiss cheeks, shake hands, deflect compliments.

  Some moments, I feel like a full grown woman.

  Others, a child playing dress up.

  Rockland Bachman, the head of the Bachman mafia family in New York, approaches, looking devilishly handsome and dangerous with his short dark hair and beard; his black suit is cut to accentuate his broad shoulders. The Bachmans have recently partnered with the Russo family. Rockland, like Vincent, wears no mask.

  I guess mafia bosses are above all the fun.

  His wife, Tess, is participating. She wears a cream colored silk gown with a plunging neckline and a diamond crusted mask, white feathers pluming from the side. Her long red hair tumbles down her back.

  She grabs my hands in hers. “Oh, Esme! You are a beauty. Happy birthday, darling. And who’s your friend?” Her inquisitive gaze flits to Cecily.

  I look to my friend. She stands frozen, a deer in oncoming traffic, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in surprise. Pink splotches bloom on her cheeks.

  I hold in a giggle—Rockland tends to have this effect on women.

  “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Bachman. This” —discreetly, I nudge my elbow into Cecily’s ribcage, bringing her to— “is my best friend Cecily.”

  I must have elbowed her too hard because she’s now folding in half at the waist, dipping into a deep bow.

  She rises, demurely offering a smile to them both. “How do you do?

  Tess gives that tinkling bell of a laugh she’s known for. “Well, aren’t you two just dolls!”

  Rockland leans down, brushing a kiss over my cheek, his beard tickling my skin. “Lovely to see you again, Esme. And how is your father? I haven’t had a chance to see him yet.” He looks down at me with his serious gaze.

  I nod to the dance floor. “He’s dancing with Felicity. I can take you over if you’d like?”

  Tess grabs Rockland’s hand. “You enjoy your party. We’ll find them ourselves.” Rockland gives a departing nod and they make their way through the crowd.

  When they are out of earshot, Cecily lets out a low whistle. “Hot damn! That Rockland is one serious hottie.”

  “Ew, Cecily! He’s Vincent’s age…and he’s married?”

  She gives an innocent shrug. “Nothing wrong with looking.”

  The next wave of guests arrive and we get back to work. After a half hour of greeting, my shoes are beginning to pinch and my stomach growls. I’m ready to join the party.

  I look to Cecily. “I think all the guests have arrived. Don’t you? Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  I turn to leave but she grabs my arm, stopping me. Her voice is hushed. “Wait.”

  I look in the direction of her wide eyes.

  A wall of four men approach, their broad shoulders filling their perfectly cut black suits. They each wear a dark mask over their face. This is a masquerade ball, but somehow their plain satin masks seem ominous, not festive.

  Who are they?

  My gaze rises to the slicked back blonde hair of the tallest of the men.

  Luca Romano.

  I have no doubt that the others flanking his sides are his three brothers.

  “The Romanos?” Cecily grip on my arm tightens. “What are they doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” I whisper in her ear. “They weren’t invited.”

  “Then why have they come?” she hisses back. Her fingertips dig into my skin.

  Luca approaches us as his brothers disperse into the crowd. He takes off his mask, but he didn’t need to for me to confirm it was him. I’d recognize that swagger anywhere.

  “If he thinks he’s going to terrorize you tonight, he’s got another thing coming.” Cecily’s body goes rigid, becoming a tiny tulle-covered bodyguard. She shoulders in front of me as he steps before me.

  Planting her fists on her hips, she tilts her chin to him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I want a word with the birthday girl.” He slips his mask into his pocket. He flashes her a dark look. “Leave us.”

  Cecily pulls herself up to her full height of—not much—and clears her throat. “I’m staying right here, you big bully.”

  His gaze reaches mine. The look in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. There’s an unmistakable warning there.

  Get rid of the friend.

  I give her shoulder a pat. “I’ll only be a minute. Dumb bears have a limited vocabulary. This won’t take long.”

  “Bears? What are you talking about?” She shoots me a funny look.

  “Nothing.” I try to paste a reassuring smile on my face. “It’s nothing. Go on, Cecily. Enjoy the party.”

  She opens her mouth to argue but I flash her a pleading look. “I’ll be fine. You can go.”

  The last thing I need is this giant oaf embarrassing me in front of my friend.

  “Fine.” She brushes past Luca with a sniff of disdain. “But don’t you lay a finger on her, you party crasher.”

  She sashays off to the food table, her tulle skirt swishing as she goes.

  I stare at him. Hard.

  His hair is gelled back, his broad shoulders filling out his black suit jacket just right. He runs a hand over the sharp angle of his clean shaven jaw.

  His stunning blue eyes pierce me.

  Why does he have to be so handsome?

  With Cecily out of earshot, I hiss at him. “What do you want?”

  He clucks his tongue. “Such poor manners for a princess. Aren’t you going to welcome me to your ball?”

  “No. Last I checked, you weren’t even invited. You or your thug brothers.”

  He gives a dark chuckle. “You must not have checked very recently.”

  Icy tendrils crawl through my veins. What has he done? Leave it to Luca to find a way to ruin my night.

  “What do you mean?”

  His eyes go to my hips. “After our…encounter—”

  “You mean when you accosted me?”

  “I think you mean when you trespassed on my property.” He flashes a hint of a devilish smile. “How is your ass by the way?”

  Heat rises in my face as I remember coming home, looking at my pink curves in the mirror, the faint outline of his hand still visible.

  The ache between my thighs returns.

  “My ass…” I’m glad for the mask, hoping it covers my shame, “is fine.”

  “Good.” He gives a smug nod of satisfaction. “After our run-in, I requested an invitation from your father. In hopes of reconciling the rift between our two families. And he graciously offered to host my brothers and me tonight.”

  “Is that so?” I play it cool, not wanting to go against my father’s wishes. I know since marrying Felicity, he’s grown tired of conflict and he’s hoped for peace between our two families. “If Vincent wishes it…welcome.”

  “Thank you.” His hand slips into the interior pocket of h
is suit jacket. “I have a gift for you. Birthday girl.”

  Luca has a long childhood history of gifts for me. A frog in my lap, a spider on my shoulder. Once, after promising me chocolate, he placed a juicy slug in my open palm.

  He does so love to make me squeal.

  I sneer. “What is it? A toad? A snail?”

  He brings forth a tiny red leather box.

  My eyes widen as I read the words Bachman Jewelers scrolled in gold letters across the top. His gift is from the most exclusive jewelry store in America.

  Is this some kind of joke?

  His fingers go to the band of my mask, gently slipping it from my head. He tucks the mask into his pocket, handing me the box.

  With shaky fingers, I accept.

  Flipping open the lid, I find a thin gold band nestled in the seam of the cushion. It’s simple, timeless, elegant. Exactly what I would have picked out for myself. Gorgeous.

  My words slip before I can play defense. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Put it on.” His voice is thick with command.

  I know I should return this ring, refuse his gift. But it’s so delicate, so beautiful. I lift the ring from the box and slip it onto the ring finger of my left hand. Why my left hand, I’m not sure, but it just seems to want to go there, as if it has a mind of its own.

  A perfect fit.

  This must be some sort of trick.

  I study his face. “Why are you giving me this?”

  He gives a shrug. “It’s a symbol of uniting of our families. A hope for peaceful times ahead.”

  His words are pretty, but there’s an unmistakable darkness to his tone. Perspiration begins to dot beneath my arms. I break away from his gaze.

  I need air.

  Preferably cool air.

  “Thank you. For the gift.” I hand him back the empty box and he slips it in his pocket, with my mask.

  Let him keep the stupid mask. Not worth getting in a fight with a bear over it. Besides—my face is so hot right now, flushed from his attention, I wouldn’t put it on anyway. I look past him to the open doors that lead out to the veranda, to the cool air of the dark night. I need to step outside, to collect myself.

  To let the breeze blow away whatever spell this is he’s put me under.