Page 1 of The Enforcer's Revenge

PROLOGUE

Broadway, New York

November 2014

“Lemme in!”

Brianna jumped at the knock that rattled her dressing room and the harsh demand of a ballsy New York Italian man who wasn’t used to being kept waiting.

She slipped on her robe and jerked the door open to find Tony De Luca filling up the once-empty space; very tall, broad, and muscular, he looked more than a little imposing in his black leather jacket and jeans.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be lying low while you’re at the theater,” Brianna snapped under her breath as she went back to the large, well-lit vanity. He walked in and closed the door while she returned to work on her stage makeup, doing her blush with more force than necessary. “Are you sure you swept it this morning?”

Tony just gave her a droll, annoyed stare rather than answer, as if the words leaving her mouth were a personal affront.Seeing as Tony was the Moretti Borgata’s current lead enforcer, it probablywasan insult.

It made Brianna miss and worry about Tino even more. She had her own enforcer, off somewhere doing God knows what in the name of revenge. She didn’t want to be relying on Tony instead, and the bitterness made her bitchy.

Not caring that he was insulted, she gave Tony an aggravated look in the mirror. “You’re not going to answer me?”

“No, I’m not.” Tony pulled up a chair from the corner, and sat at the vanity beside her, completely oblivious to personal space.

Since it was decided that Brianna should go back to work rather than raise suspicion while the Moretti civil war kept silently brewing, Tony had been constantly underfoot. Brianna understood the inner workings of Cosa Nostra well enough to know Tony’s assignment wasn’t an option.

Not when it was coming down from the boss.

So, she tried not to complain—too much.

“You don’t think it looks strange that you’ve come with me to the last eight shows?” she asked. “Everyone’s getting suspicious.”

“No one’s getting suspicious.” Tony reached over and picked up one of her eyeliner pencils as he sat shoulder to shoulder with her.

He leaned in and started drawing a simple straight line under his left eye. Brianna stopped working on her blush and just watched because there was something about how it looked on him that was captivating. He had long, thick eyelashes, and the black eyeliner made his eyes appear even more compelling as he started on the other.

She worked in theater. She saw makeup on men all the time, but Tony made it look phenomenally good. Sexy. Like the eighties glam rock stars—if they were six foot-four and over twohundred and thirty pounds of pure muscle rather than thin and strung out on drugs.

Tony set the pencil down and sorted through her supplies until he found her hair gel. He started slicking his hair back. It showed off his enhanced eyes, so dark and mysterious, making him seem almost hauntingly beautiful. His features were intense with his hair away from his face. It created the strange sensation of wanting to look away and keep staring all at the same time.

“What?” he asked as he looked at her in the mirror, like it was all very normal for a mafia enforcer to be using her makeup.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, still staring at him under the bright lights. “God, that looks amazing. You should be on stage.”

“I have been on stage. I spent most of my teen years on one,” he said dismissively and went back to playing with her makeup. “You don’t have any clear mascara?”

“I don’t have eyelashes that are three miles long. Clear doesn’t work for me,” she complained because it really wasn’t fair, and then she had to add, “And that wasn’t the stage I was talking about, Tony.”

“Oh, what?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t think it’s a genuine stage. It’s not a true performance to you? Everyone was into it. A lot more than what you’re doing out there. So, what’s the difference?”

“The stage you were on wasn’t a nice stage, and I know you understand that,” she pointed out, which made her an even bigger bitch than usual, but Tony did this a lot, talking about his past as a former trafficking victim in the underground sex market to make her uncomfortable. It didn’t scare her away like it did others, which seemed to make him want to push it more. “And I get paid for what I do.”

“Ouch,” Tony said in a sardonic voice, making it obvious he couldn’t care less. “Twenty bucks says I’m a better actor than you. Let’s test it.”

She would’ve answered, but another knock sounded on the door. She left Tony there, using just enough clear lip gloss to make his lips look slick, which, like the eyeliner, worked almost too well. He had lips like Tino, a little fuller, a little more sensual somehow. It wasn’t his fault, but in a way, she was irritated at him for being too handsome.

She saw him raise his eyebrows in the mirror and say, “Cherry. You naughty girl.”

Her stomach jolted.

“Stop it!” she snapped as she opened the door. Tino used to call her a naughty girl all the time, with the same teasing inflection, and that was the other thing that made spending time with Tony so difficult. How bizarrely similar he was to Tino. The two of them had a lot of the same lines, which was made worse because Brianna hadn’t known they were lines until she started spending so much time with Tony. “Stop messing with my makeup! You know I’m stressed and?—”