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SNEAK PEEK

Dark Mafia Heir SNEAK PEEK

A NTONIO

The moment I tasted her, I knew one thing—she was mine.

I stole her from her wedding and put a ring on her hand.

But there’s an ache I can’t ignore—I might never have her heart.

Vivienne Cole is my enemy’s daughter. My perfect revenge.

And now… my wife.

I planned to use her as my weapon to rip her father’s world apart.

But marrying Vivienne wasn’t supposed to feel this good.

Her fire tempts me.

Her defiance dares me.

Her laugh makes me forget I’m a monster.

I should break her. Instead, I crave her.

She calls me a beast. She’s right.

She hates me. She should.

But every time she runs, I hunt her down.

She doesn’t know that there’s no way out.

Then I see one of my men standing speechless at the door—and I know.

They took her.

And she’s keeping a secret from me—one I’ll kill for.

I’m going to be a father.

And I’ll spill oceans of blood to protect what’s mine.

VIVIENNE

The moment I kissed him, I knew—I was his obsession.

He stole me from my wedding, and now I carry his child.

Now I don’t know if I want to run… or stay.

One stolen moment with a dark stranger, and my life was no longer my own.

Antonio Mancini is a ruthless monster made of secrets and sins.

He doesn’t ask. He takes.

And on the night of my wedding—to another man—he does exactly that.

Ripped me from my world and chained me to his.

I swore he could have my body, my name, my vow…but he’d never have me.

But the more I fight him, the more I crave him.

And every battle ends the same. He owns me. And I let him.

I should hate him. And I do… until I don’t.

I let him steal something even more dangerous than my freedom—my heart.

But how can I trust a man who was born to destroy?

I thought I could escape him.

Then I saw the test—two pink lines.

Antonio is about to become a father.

He’ll never let me go.

CHAPTER ONE

Vivienne

The man sitting across the club has his dark eyes pinned on me. He’s swirling a glass of whiskey in one hand, while giving me a predatory smile that sends a shiver down my spine.

I’m celebrating my twenty-first birthday with my sister at De Angelo, one of the biggest Italian clubs in New York. My papa said today is the day I transition into full adulthood, which could mean a lot of things.

For girls outside the mafia, it might mean they’ve finally grown up to earn their freedom. But it’s different for girls in my world. For us, becoming twenty-one only means we’re way past the age to be traded off like breeding mares.

The man’s smile turns into a smirk as he signals for me to come closer.

I cringe, almost rolling my eyes. Does he think I am a stripper or something? Whatever, I don’t care. He gives me the ick.

I turn around to face my sister, who’s vibrating with the music and flipping her hair. Honestly, I can’t tell if she’s very excited or if she’s just drunk from all the drinks she’s had—which is only a few shots, by the way.

Harper is nothing like me. I’m a party animal, and my sister is the ladylike one—the one with good grades who makes our father proud. And she’s pretty, just like our mother used to be.

The only thing we have in common is our father’s emerald eyes. I look more like our mother with my straight red hair.

I poke my sister’s ribs to get her attention, and she shudders. “Are you okay?”

She stops flipping her hair and raises her head to look at me. Her emerald eyes crinkle under flickering neon lights, and she has the wildest smile plastered on her face. “I am. This is just so fun.”

I chuckle as I hold her hand and join in her dance. The bass thumps through my veins, syncing with the pounding in my ears as I let the music take over. I’m not thinking about anything except the rhythm, how it moves through my body, the way it makes me feel alive.

But more than the music, I am glad Harper is having some fun at last. “Come on, Harp! Don’t hold back!” I shout over the music, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to the center of the dance floor.

We’re both so lost in the noise around us that I don’t notice the man from earlier striding towards me until he wraps his arm around my waist.

I jerk, repulsed by his touch, as I turn around to face him with a frown.

The asshole has the nerve to smile. “I see you girls are having fun,” he says. “I want in, and maybe we can go somewhere else from here.”

I tuck Harper behind me and square my shoulders. We’d sneaked out tonight and there’s no bodyguard here with us. A stupid decision I made in the heat of the moment—a decision I’m now regretting. Papa will be so mad if he finds out I put Harper in danger.

“The only place you’ll be going from here is your grave if you lay your hands on me again.” I tilt my chin, looking at him straight in the eyes, and ignoring the way my heart is pounding against my ribcage with fear.

“Feisty.” He pulls on his lower lip, eyes glinting with irritating lust under the flashing strobe lights. “I like it. I like you.”

I give him a once-over, at least making a feeble effort to assess him. His short, dark hair is in an unattractive mess, his nails have dirt in them, like he works on engines at a car shop, and, worse, he smells bad.

Imitating Papa’s intimidating glare, I stand my ground and square my chin, hoping this loser gets the hint. “But I don’t like you. Scram, Jerkface. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to have fun with.”

The wry smile melts off his face like heated wax rolling down a candle, and the real ugliness inside him is unmasked.

Jerkface grabs my wrist, his fingers curling around my skin so tight, I know it’ll leave a mark as bright as a ruby bracelet.

Snarling, he yanks me forward, momentarily cutting the breath from my lungs.

I stagger. I didn’t see that one coming.

“Vi!”

“Stay back, Harper.” I wave her away, not wanting her even an inch close to this madman. I am scared, terrified, in fact. My heart is running a marathon inside my chest, and my head is pounding.

But I’d rather fight until I draw my last breath than allow this man to even touch a hair on my sister’s head.

She’s staring at me, lips quivering, fingers fidgeting helplessly, and eyes tearing up quickly.

And I know, if I don’t do something soon, Harper is going to call Papa.

And then all hell would truly break loose.

“I’m warning you for the last time: let me go, or else?—”

“Else, what?”

When his dirty finger touches my lips, my skin crawls, and a wave of nausea hits me at once. I want to puke and scrub off every trace of this man’s hand on my skin.

The world around us is still in crazy motion. It’s ridiculously loud. Neon and stage lights blink in rhythm to the ongoing beat while they jump, dance, and sing in unison to “Be My Lover . ”

The DJ cranks up the vocals, and the energy spikes to the roof. Jerkface pulls me closer, snaking his lean arm around my waist, while he peers into my eyes like he wants to steal my soul.

“Thinking of different ways you could scream, baby doll?” I hold my breath while his finger goes down my neck. His breath smells like citrus and rum, and it stirs the queasiness in my belly. “No one’s going to hear you.”

He is right, except I manage to release a supersonic scream; the party animals in this hall are most likely deaf. In a flash, an idea hits me; a sneaky strategy I’d seen Papa’s men use during sparring sessions. All I have to do is distract him and make a run for it with Harper.

“Fine.” His brow twitches, saying he doesn’t understand. “Let me go, and I’ll go with you wherever you want without making a fuss.”

A frown crosses his lips. “That easily? All of a sudden, after you asked me to leave?”

I try to keep my expression neutral and my tone, resigned to make him believe I sincerely agree with him. “Yes, because I am not stupid. I can see you are right; struggling is going to do no good in this noisy environment. So, let me go, and I’ll go with you.”

Doubtfully, he looks at me, and I hold my breath, praying this tactic works—that he actually falls for it and releases his hand from my waist, giving me the opportunity I need.

Five seconds pass— because my brain can’t stop counting how long it’ll take until freedom finally comes —and, after watching me closely like a hungry predator, he finally shrugs and drops his arm.

Perfect.

Elation and adrenaline had to be the best combination of emotion and energy that a human could experience, because that powerful combo flows through my veins, fueling my burning desire to put a fist in the man’s face, like dried sticks feeding a fire.

I don’t hesitate. I don’t pause. I curl my fist as tightly as I learned from Dabi, one of Papa’s men, and swing my arm, aiming directly at Jerkface’s jaw.

Screaming, Jerkface falls to the floor on his side, cursing, whimpering, and holding the side of his face.

But I am startled because my fist still hangs in the air. I didn’t touch him.

“That was a friendly warning.”

The rich, smooth, resonant baritone from beside me ignites a fire in my core, its vibrations coursing through me, spreading molten heat that tingles all the way down to my toes, and I turn around, only to be blown away by a sight too surreal to be true—like a perfect stranger from one of Alisha Rai’s novels.

To top it off, he checks off all the other boxes; tall, dark-haired, and stunningly handsome.

The type of handsome that makes you forget to look out for other characteristics of their personality.

The type of handsome that makes a woman feel like a woman.

She just wants to be in his arms, touch the hard lines of his muscles, and sleep on his chest. That type of handsome is this stranger standing beside me, glaring at Jerkface with cold, dark eyes that hold promises of death.

He slides his hand—the same one that sent the mad man crumpling to the ground—into one of his black dress pants pockets and raises a brow.

“What are you waiting for? Get out.”