Page 7 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

I should’ve snatched myself out of his iron grip and fled right then. It wouldn’t have been difficult to lose myself in the darkness amongst the sea of gyrating bodies. Especially when he took one hand off my hip on the way to capturing my hand.

But between one blink and the next, the window of opportunity had closed. At least that was what I told myself as I followed him, feeling a quiet awe as the crowd parted for him.

Once we broke through the writhing bodies, I realised three things.

First, my saviour and captor had no clue who I was.

Second, going outside with him would reveal my identity and put me in extreme danger.

And thirdly, and shockingly most importantly, I wanted to stay exactly where I was without him learning the truth. Ever .

The faint outline that I could see of his broad, quarterback shoulders and powerful neck made me groan under my breath.

I didn’t need to see his fallen angel dark good looks or merciless eyes to remember how utterly hot he was.

I saw it in the hallways of my private school and on the football field several times a week.

His dry callused palm slid against mine and I gasped at the friction.

Trepidation climbed up my spine, but it was soon overtaken by the promise of excitement. He didn’t know who I was . And as long as I stayed inside in the dark and kept my mouth shut, he would be none the wiser.

I squeezed his hand. He stopped. His gaze bore down on me, trying to decode my intentions. A moment later, my headphones were plucked off and tossed aside.

‘You don’t want to go outside?’ he asked.

I pressed my mouth tighter and shook my head. Then squeezed his hand to confirm my silent wish.

He seemed to debate for a fraction of a second before he was changing course, dragging me to the left side of the warehouse, away from the door and the bar where Ciara had gotten our drinks. Again, the crowd seemed to part for him, but this time I knew why.

He was the most feared and revered boy in school, with a vicious temper he didn’t bother throttling on any given day. Unless you were part of his inner circle, everyone from the principal to the janitor gave him a wide berth.

So what the hell are you doing letting him lead you to goodness knows where?

Common sense, and a healthy dose of belated fear, made me squeeze his hand again. He paused and I sensed his gaze searching mine in the dark.

Then those strong hands were wrapping around my waist, lifting me off my feet.

A second later I was pinned against the wall, and my oblivious saviour, Cesare Salvatore, the firstborn son of my family’s worst enemy, was kissing me.

Full, sensual, forbidden lips I’d tried my damnedest never to stare at when I was unlucky enough to encounter him in the hallways of Calmonte Catholic Academy seared over mine, pressing, sliding, then parting before his tongue swept in, urgently seeking mine.

My senses reeled so hard I saw constellations. My fingers curled into the expensive stretch of his leather jacket as my legs tightened around his waist. He rolled his hips into me, and I gasped.

Holy fuck. Holy fucking heavenly saints and celestial angels!

I should’ve hated every second of this. Should have regained my senses and run as fast as my feet would carry me. This wasn’t just dangerous behaviour. It was beyond insanity and definitely homicidal.

I’d been around long enough to hear my grandfather’s bitter recounting of how Cesare’s grandfather, Orazio Salvatore, had mercilessly slain the woman he loved simply because she’d spurned his attention in favour of another.

That it so happened that the other man had been my grandfather, and thereby locking the former best friends into eternal enmity, would’ve been almost cliché if I didn’t know the stark body count left in the wake of the decades-old Salvatore–Mancinelli war.

And here I was, clinging to the Salvatore heir, begging to become the next casualty. A whimper escaped me, a puny little sound that came nowhere near expressing the turbulent feelings cascading through me.

Reading it as perhaps a request of reprieve, his mouth freed mine, trailing kisses to my ear.

‘Fuck, aren’t you a sexy little thing.’ Deft fingers brushed my nipples and he chuckled with triumph and satisfaction when I jolted with fresh arousal.

His lips brushed mine, then returned for a lingering taste.

‘I know every hot piece of ass within a fifty-mile radius. So where have you been hiding this glorious body, hmm?’

I didn’t need to clench my teeth or squeeze my lips together to stop myself from speaking. My tongue was tied into knots from the expert way his hands and mouth were tuning my body. Another shockingly weak cry left my lips as he caught my nipples between his fingers and squeezed.

‘Not going to tell me?’ Dark, sexy laughter rumbled from him, stunning me.

Cesare Salvatore smouldered and snarled and answered wrongs with his powerful fists. All while wearing a devastating smirk with one of those expensive Mayan cigars he favoured hanging from one corner of his sexy mouth.

He never laughed. Not even when he was with his fellow jocks and the pretty chicks who followed him around like a rabid hive.

So it felt like a sacred and wild privilege to hear it. Smoky and mysterious with a hint of a breeze, just like the aftershave that clung to his skin.

‘It’s cool. I love a good mystery. But if you’re going to tell me, better do it before I’m balls-deep in this tight pussy.

I’d hate to offend a beautiful girl by calling her Hot Tits when I’m pounding her.

’ The hot, almost feral lick of my lips as he said that showered me with fresh shivers.

His large hands closed over my breasts, and he groaned long and deep.

‘And if you want to be a good girl and return the favour you can call me?—’

‘Salvatore? Holy shit! Maddie? ’

My name was a horrified screech uttered by a poleaxed Ciara, who held up a glowstick she’d evidently conjured up from somewhere so she could locate me in the dark.

Every organ in my body threatened to shut down as my brain screamed noooooo.

I half-toyed with the possibility that he wouldn’t have recognised me if Ciara hadn’t said my name right after his.

That he would’ve simply snarled at her to fuck off as he so often did with girls he deemed beneath him.

But everyone knew Ciara Paolini’s one and only friend at Calmonte Catholic Academy was Maddelena Mancinelli.

Cesare’s head swung sharply from Ciara back to me.

He jolted like he’d been shot. Then he turned into a column of steel.

I didn’t even recall when I’d unwrapped my legs from around his waist, and I deeply resented the wall for holding me up when I wanted to sink through it and disappear to the bottom of the world.

The click of a lighter sounded far too close to my face a nanosecond before a flame danced into life three inches from my nose.

My yelp of fright was ignored as the flame zoomed closer.

For a terrifying second I was paralysed by the notion that he intended to set me on fire.

To watch me burn just for shits and giggles.

I pressed my spine into the wall but even that infuriated him.

His free hand slapped the space next to my head, his body now half-caging mine. I could’ve wriggled away but I knew in my bones I was better off not setting him off harder than he already was. That, like captured prey, I needed to remain still, if not play dead.

Three feet away, Ciara was equally immobilised, but not by fear, although there was plenty of it in her wide eyes and her gaping mouth. But it was another Salvatore brother holding her still as the firstborn held the lighter in front of my face, his piercing eyes searing unholy fire at me.

‘What. The actual. Fuck?’ The flame was dangerous enough, but his voice was an acid-drenched steel blade held against my skin. Burning and flaying.

His eyes scoured my face, dropping repeatedly to the mouth he’d just ravaged, the swollen mouth now throbbing in sync with my frantic heartbeat as disbelief built and built and built in his face. And alongside it, an emotion that terrified me even more. Pure, unadulterated loathing.

‘I’m going to ask you once. Do not even think about lying to me. Understand?’ The blade cut deeper. There were a thousand ways he could slay me with that voice alone.

I swallowed and nodded, aware that the burning lighter had caught the attention of the clubbers. That an audience was forming around us as people nudged each other and pointed.

‘Did you know who I was?’ Cesare breathed.

Every vital organ in my body dropped to the floor then slithered out of harm’s way.

My gaze darted to Ciara, whose eyes were now plate sized.

She started to shake her head at me, urging me to deny, but Rafaelle dropped his head and whispered something into her ear.

She swallowed audibly and froze in place.

‘Hey!’ A single snap of fingers close to the flame made it dance. Made me jump. ‘Don’t look at her. Look at me,’ he ordered. ‘Answer me.’

Fear and regret drummed through my veins. ‘Yes.’

Cesare Salvatore didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t speak right away. But I felt the weight of generations-old condemnation slam into my shoulders, then drag me down until I was splayed in the filthy warehouse floor at his feet.

Then, from a great height, I heard him speak. ‘You just sealed your fucking fate. One way or another, you’ll pay for this.’