Page 1 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

one

. . .

Maggie

Fiorentino Winery, New York

My life was destroyed on a cold Tuesday morning.

The winery’s senior team was discussing a new promotion idea in the tasting room.

Our events coordinator, Celeste, wanted to combine a winter sleigh ride with a behind-the-scenes winery tour, which seemed harmless at first. But as our vigneron, the person responsible for the grapes, I didn’t like the idea of horses and sleighs tramping around on the grounds during the winter.

Bruce, our vintner, shared the same concerns.

My older brother, the other half of the Fiorentino Winery ownership, needed to stop staring into space and weigh in. “Mikey,” I said, kicking him gently under the table. “What do you think?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up. His eyes were rimmed red, like he wasn’t getting any sleep. “Oh, sure. I like that idea.”

I frowned and considered kicking him again. “Which idea?”

“The one we’re talking about.”

“The sleigh ride, you mean?”

He dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, rubbing. “Right. The sleigh ride. Celeste, I don’t think we’ll get enough snow for a reliable sleigh ride. We’re better off running some dining promotions during February.”

“We could do a cart when there isn’t enough snow,” Celeste tried.

“Which isn’t nearly as sexy,” I countered. “But I like that you’re thinking out of the box, Celeste. That’s usually my style.” My brother didn’t even crack a smile.

“What if we partner with one of the nearby ski resorts?” Celeste asked. “We could offer up some kind of winter package to boost traffic.”

Mikey remained silent, staring through the winery windows, so I said, “I like it. Good idea. We can buy more fire pits, if we need.”

We updated each other on a few other matters, then ended the meeting.

Celeste left, but Bruce stayed back. He’d been here as long as I could remember, working with my dad to build up the Fiorentino brand of wines.

“I want to check the flavor profile of those new reds today or tomorrow, if you’re available,” he said.

“Sure.” I cast a worried glance at Mikey. “Let me tell the guys to put more mulch down today and then I’ll be over.”

Bruce nodded and walked out, leaving me alone with my brother. I sipped my coffee and waited for him to acknowledge me. Seconds dragged on and I couldn’t take it any longer. “Mikey, what the fuck? What’s going on with you?”

He blinked, still avoiding my eyes. “Nothing. Why?”

“You’ve been acting weird all week. Tell me what’s going on.”

Mikey was three years older than me and we’d grown tight these last few years.

Our parents were killed in a car accident when I was a senior in high school and, except for our Aunt Helen, we were the last of the Fiorentinos.

When Aunt Helen retired to Florida two years ago, Mikey and I learned to rely on each other.

Everything had been fine until he came back from his weekend trip to the Hudson Casino yesterday.

Mikey and I tried to stagger our rare breaks from the winery, so I’d taken my trip to the casino resort the weekend before.

The two days I spent there had been perfect: good food, pampering, sleeping in, and the fucking of a lifetime.

No lie, it took me a full forty-eight hours to recover from that sexy Italian man I picked up in the casino bar.

I mean, I like sex a lot, but this guy? Whew .

He wore me out—which I didn’t mind in the least. Hooking up with strangers was much better than fucking guys here in Paesano.

I was tired of bumping into men I’d been with everywhere I went in town.

God knows I didn’t need more mess in my life. I was already chaotic enough.

“It’s nothing.” My brother scrolled absently on his phone. “Just some personal stuff.”

He sounded defensive. But Mikey was easy going, charming. Thoughtful and organized. Always knew the right thing to say. This was why he was good at the business side of the winery. I preferred plants rather than dealing with unruly customers.

“Can you give me a hint?” I asked. “Is it girl trouble? IBS? Seasonal depression? What’s going on?” I leaned in to stage whisper, “Chlamydia?”

“Jesus Christ.” He gave a strangled laugh and stood up. “Don’t be so dramatic, Mags. You don’t need to worry. Everything is fine.”

“Okay, okay.” Pushing to my feet, I shoved his shoulder affectionately. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know. And this isn’t a big deal.”

“If you say so. I’m headed outside. Call me if you need me.”

“Sounds good.”

Movement near the hallway caught my eye. A few men were striding into the tasting room, each dressed in an expensive overcoat, black leather gloves on his hands. They looked around suspiciously. Were these Secret Service agents?

Just then they stepped aside, parting, and a tall handsome man appeared.

Wait a fucking minute .

I knew this man. Had kissed every inch of this man’s body. Had let him kiss every inch of me in return.

My stomach dropped to my toes. What the hell? Vito was here . Why?

This made no sense. Why would my random casino hookup come to my winery?

I hadn’t told him my last name or that I worked here.

Was he stalking me? It wouldn’t be the first time, unfortunately.

A few former hookups had tracked me down, eager for another round and trying to break my firm no-repeats rule.

Not cool, Vito. I stepped forward, ready for battle.

“What are you doing here?” Mikey and I both asked at the same time.

Then we looked over at each other, surprised. “Wait, how do you know him?” Mikey whispered.

“How do you know him?” I shot back.

We both regarded our visitor once more. Sharp blue eyes bored into my soul from across the room. I thought for a second that Vito looked surprised, but I couldn’t be sure. His face remained an inscrutable mask of indifference.

“How did you find me?” I called out as I took a step forward.

I received no answer. Instead, Vito slowly turned his attention to my brother. “Signore Fiorentino. You have been avoiding my calls.”

Hold on now. Vito had been trying to call Mikey?

What the fuck was happening?

Brain spinning, I held up my palms. “Wait a minute. How do you two know each other?”

“Go outside, Mags,” my brother said quietly. “Let me handle this.”

“No way.” I didn’t know if Vito had followed me here or why he was calling my brother, but I was going to find out.

Vito’s long legs started toward us. His brown hair was tamed with product at the moment, but I remembered how thick and lush it felt on my fingertips. How I’d grabbed a fistful of it as he ate me out with abandon. God, that man’s mouth . . . and coupled with his enthusiasm? Off the fucking charts.

The night we met he was wearing jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy. Now he wore a very impressive dark blue suit under his long black overcoat, as well as leather gloves. The outfit, along with his cool exterior, gave off a “don’t fuck with me” vibe and I liked it. Really liked it.

But I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the employees. Or worse, in front of my brother.

I darted forward and caught Vito halfway across the room. “Hey.” I stopped directly in his path. Halting, he stared down at me. Softly, I said, “Look, I’m not sure what you’re doing here, but maybe we could go speak privately in one of the other rooms.”

“Ciao, Maggie.” His voice was so very deep, laced with the lyrical quality of the Italian cadence. I remembered him whispering all sorts of Italian words in my ear the other night. I didn’t understand most of it, but who cared? It was hot as hell.

“Ciao, yourself.” I took his arm. “Come with me.”

He didn’t budge, even when I tugged. “I am not here to see you.”

“I don’t understand.” I peeked behind him and caught the men in his group watching us carefully. They seemed wary, attentive. Borderline scary. “What do you want with my brother?”

“Maggie.” My brother was right behind me, his expression pleading. “Give us a minute, please.”

No way was I leaving, not until I had answers. “Let’s go to the office. Right now. Both of you.”

Mikey looked a second away from passing out, so I took his arm and began towing him toward the office. I saw one of Vito’s friends step forward, but Vito held up his hand and said a few words in Italian. Then he trailed after us.

“We’ll be right back!” I said to the men standing around as we passed. “Have a glass of wine while you wait.”

We all went into the hallway. Mikey’s office door was open, so I nudged my brother through. When Vito was inside, I closed the door behind me. Mikey crossed to the other side of the room and raked his hands through his hair, while Vito leaned against the wall, casual as could be.

“Okay,” I said, pressing my palms together. “Vito, what’s going on? Are you here to see me again, or are you here to see my brother? Either way, why ?”

“Did you two hook up?” Mikey rounded on me, his eyebrows lifted high.

“Yes, not that it’s any of your business. Now tell me how you know Vito.”

“May I speak?”

Vito’s smooth voice cut through the room, commanding attention, and Mikey paled. I faced Vito. “Please. Because I would really love some answers.”

Vito slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “Your brother and I played poker on Sunday night.”

Oh . My body relaxed. This wasn’t about me, thank God. “And you guys became buddies or something?”

“Not quite.” Vito paused, his cool gaze flicking between Mikey and me. “The game went on for hours. Your brother lost.”

This was weird. My brother liked to bet on games through the sports betting apps.

But he wasn’t a serious gambler. Did the casino lure him into a game?

It wouldn’t matter because we didn’t have any money.

The winery was barely in the black and my parents hadn’t left us much when they died.

What had my brother gambled with, his good looks?

I was about to make the joke aloud, but the words died on my tongue. The somber mood in the room, combined with Mikey’s silence, told me something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

I swallowed. “How much did you lose, Mikey?”

“Maggie, god.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “You don’t understand. I had a straight flush . Do you know how hard it is to beat a straight flush? It’s almost impossible!”

“But not impossible,” Vito said.

“Wait.” I clasped my fingers together and prayed for patience. “So you lost.” I glanced at Vito. “To you.”

Vito inclined his head once. “I also had a straight flush, queen high.”

The pieces began to fall into place. Mikey’s weird mood. Casino. Poker. Bodyguards. “So, what? You came here to collect?”

“In a way.” Vito paused. “Would you like to finish the rest, Michael?”

The skin of my brother’s neck turned a dull red and I could see sweat forming at his hairline. I had a terrible premonition in the pit of my stomach. I edged closer to my brother and lowered my voice. “Mikey, tell me. How much did you lose?”

His eyes were wild, panic etched in the lines of his twenty-six-year-old face. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“How much?”

He opened his mouth once, then closed it. His whole body trembled, so I grabbed his shoulders. “How much?” I snapped.

“All of it,” he blurted. “Everything. I-I bet everything we have and then some.”

Suddenly, it felt as if a boulder pressed down on my chest. “What does that mean?” I wheezed. “All of what?”

Mikey’s eyes welled up, moisture pooling on his lashes, and he shook his head. “I can’t say it.”

“What he is trying to tell you,” Vito interjected evenly, “is that he has lost your winery. To me.”