Page 6 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

MADDELENA

The Past

‘Ciara, I’m really not sure about this,’ I whispered as my best friend dragged me towards the barn-like building in the middle of nowhere.

Her fingers tightened around mine in response as if she was worried I’d bolt. She would have been right.

‘What were you thinking?’ What I really should’ve asked was what was I thinking? Because this idea, which had ‘ill-conceived’ stamped all over it to start with, was now bullet-ridden with ‘worst idea ever’.

‘Relax, Maddie,’ she admonished. ‘Besides, if we didn’t do this, you would be stuck in your bedroom, having the worst birthday ever.’

‘But at least I’ll still be alive. You know what will happen if my father or my grandfather catches us?’

‘Yeah, my father will stand right alongside yours as they skin us both alive.’ She said it with a flippancy that made my heart lurch. Because I wished I could say she was joking. There were strict parents, and then there was Matteo and Bonafacio Mancinelli.

Recently they’d been making threats about sending my sisters and me to some mountain convent in Sicily. I was convinced it was partly why I’d agreed to this escapade my best friend had talked me into.

As a newly minted seventeen, some could have said I was a late bloomer on the rebellion front.

One of those was Ciara, who couldn’t believe her luck when I’d agreed to her sneaking me out tonight for a surprise event.

Emphasis on the surprise. Because if I had known this was what she’d planned, I probably would’ve chickened out.

My ill-advised heels sunk into mud and I groaned. ‘At least you could’ve told me what I was wearing was wildly inappropriate,’ I grumbled, slanting her a glare.

Her beautiful smile flashed in the dull lights strung around the field.

‘That would’ve given away the surprise. Trust me, babe, your mind is going to be blown by what I have in store for you.’

The dark, ominous building loomed even larger and scarier as we got closer.

‘Seriously, Ciara, where are we?’ I asked, a little worried.

All the dire warnings my father and uncles had drilled into me since before I was out of diapers crowded in my brain as I looked around.

Visions of being kidnapped and thrown into some hell hole just to get back at my family reeled across my brain. ‘And how long are we staying here?’

‘Don’t you trust me?’ came the classic blackmail technique of all best friends.

I rolled my eyes. ‘You know I do.’

Ciara’s smile returned just as the door to the barn cracked open. ‘Then get ready for the best night of your life.’

A mountain of a man appeared out of the darkness and glared at us for a half-minute before he jerked his head.

‘Hand over your phones over there.’ He pointed to a shadowy corner. ‘You can pick them up on your way out.’

I felt a quick surge of helpless relief. Neither my father or the minders I’d successfully ditched could reach me if my phone was turned off, at least for the next hour or so.

I could toss off the shackles of my dubious birthright for a short time and actually enjoy my birthday, even if turning seventeen meant I was one year closer to the horrible and inevitable fate my father and grandfather had set out for me.

Marrying me off at the first opportunity so I could be bred like a heifer.

Ciara’s hand tightened around mine and she pushed me into the large gloomy space. It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. To realise what I was looking at.

Hundreds of bodies. Heaving back-and-forth, all wearing headphones.

We were at one of those silent-discos-in-the-dark, which was all the rage.

Despite my deep reservations, my excitement built as I turned to Ciara. She was Cheshire-cat grinning, satisfied that she’d blown my mind.

‘Happy birthday, bestie.’ She threw her arms around me. ‘And don’t worry, my brother is on alert to let us know if the old dogs discover we’re not really having a sleepover at my house. He’s waiting down the road to drive us back when we’re ready.’

Relief whistled through me. ‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘Really. I told you, I’ve got your back. Now come on. Drinks first, then we get some serious moves on!’

She seemed familiar with the set-up, and I wondered how many times she’d been here. Although we were best friends, her home life wasn’t anywhere near as strict as mine, despite her whole family working for mine.

Ciara’s parents were childhood sweethearts who’d married for love. I was old enough to know that marriages were hard but that a little love went a long way. The acute absence of it in my own home put its presence in other homes in great relief.

Ciara’s lucky mother had her father wrapped around her little finger, and my best friend had learned to manipulate that same advantage from the crib. The result of which was that she got away with murder on a nauseatingly regular basis.

It was only because her father was a trusted lieutenant that she hadn’t been forbidden from hanging around with me. That could all change tonight if we got caught.

Worry threatened to resurge as she handed me a cold glass with contents I couldn’t see. Sniffing it, I smelled the alcohol. I should’ve protested but I was already breaking so many rules tonight. What was one more? I took a tentative sip. Sweet, but with a kick that made me choke.

Ciara laughed, slapped my back and handed me a pair of over-the-ear headphones. ‘Come on, drink up. It’s time to get our groove on.’

I sipped more of the drink, a little surprised to see it wasn’t so bad and went down easier once I got used to the alcohol’s burn.

I finished it, set the empty glass down and slid on the headphones.

It felt like it was written in the stars when the last strains of Rihanna’s ‘Disturbia’ gave way to ‘Paralyzer’ by Finger Eleven. Two of my favourite songs back-to-back? Ciara’s grin widened at my delighted screech.

Elbows locked, we rushed to the dancefloor.

An hour of this was almost worth being caught. But just for extra protection I sent a quick prayer to Saint Nick to protect this particular child from her grandfather’s wrath before I threw myself into the moment.

Time and reality slithered away.

At some point, Ciara pushed fresh cocktails into my hand and I dutifully hydrated.

I was near euphoric and drenched in a fine sheen of sweat when a hard body slammed into me, knocking me off balance.

Several more bodies joined the cascade effect, flashing terror through me at the thought of falling and being trampled beneath hundreds of dancing feet.

My arms windmilled as I pitched forward.

But before I could scream, hands snatched me upright then dragged me free of falling bodies.

The centre of the dancefloor was pitch-black, but I felt the power throbbing from my impressively tall saviour.

‘Thanks,’ I gasped before I remembered he – and I knew it was a he because I was plastered to his hard, chiselled body – couldn’t hear me with our headphones in place.

But whoever he was, he smelled incredible in that cross between woodsmoke and a dawn sea-breeze that some genius found a way of bottling to make millions while making women drool.

Besides, unless I was tangled up with a seriously butch chick with a stubble, then my rescuer, whose hands had begun their own expedition over my body, was rampantly male.

The thin material of the cocktail Lycra dress I’d let Ciara talk me into borrowing from her wardrobe heated up under his exploration, and it felt as if he was touching my bare skin when his hands slowly tracked up over my hips to settle on my waist.

He squeezed slowly, as if not wanting to scare me. Or maybe that was just the way he liked to seduce.

Whatever it was, my breath slowly strangled in my lungs, my body lifting itself up onto my tiptoes, just so I could strain closer to him. To breathe in that intoxicating smell I wanted to drown in. His breath hissed as his hands stopped just beneath my breasts.

I swallowed, self-awareness impinging on the moment. People had returned to their dancing, the brief toppling incident already over. I’d lost track of Ciara, and to be honest I wasn’t sure I wanted my best friend to stop what was happening right now.

This felt illicit, decadent in ways I’d only dreamed about late at night, when I watched risqué movies on my portable DVD player.

My thoughts stalled when he commanded my attention once more. Unlike me, he had no qualms in dropping his head to my neck, breathing me in. I was wearing my favourite perfume and it thrilled me that he seemed to like it.

He muttered something I couldn’t hear against my neck, and I shivered at the feel of his mouth brushing my skin. I hoped he was saying I smelled incredible.

I strained to see him in the dark, frustration biting at me when I couldn’t. His hands dropped to my ass, and he pulled me closer into his body, snatching a gasp from me when I felt the thickness behind his fly.

I knew all about sex. I lived in a mansion within a compound full of men who loved to brag about their exploits. So while I was a virgin, I knew the ins and outs of sex probably more than I should have done.

He was thick and hard, and my thighs clenched in shocking response to his virility. His head dropped once more, and I swore I heard him growl right before he muttered something else.

I shook my head to indicate I had no clue what he was saying. Then I sensed his frustration just before he lifted my left headphone.

‘Come outside with me.’

The sound of his voice shot a million volts of electricity through me.

Not because it was sexy, and trust me, it was the sexiest sound I’d heard in my life. Not because that rasped demand feathered his breath on my ear, a sensation that somehow tunnelled straight between my legs, setting off a dampness that shocked and thrilled me.

But because I recognised that voice.