Owned by the mafia boss

VINN

Fuck, she’d been a great lay.

The best I’d ever had. I couldn’t get it out of my head, how her soft curves had molded into my body. She might’ve been a virgin, but she got my blood pumping like nothing else when she arched her back, ripped at my clothes, and slashed my mouth with her tongue. She should be held responsible for turning me into a maniac.

Thirty years, and I’d never made the stupid decision to fuck a woman bareback. I’d taken note of men like Michael, who’d ruined his life by knocking up a stripper, and kept my dick wrapped up. If a girl hinted at having stronger feelings, my ass was out the door. And yet, I’d broken every rule tonight, and I wanted to do it again. I might’ve gotten her pregnant. A sick part of me hoped I had.

I could keep her forever.

The reckless thought consumed me with a flame before I shoved it away. Jesus, I’d lost my mind. I’d officially gone off the deep end, if I was that desperate.

The shot of whiskey trembled in my grip. I’d headed straight for Sunset Tavern, and I’d stared at the glass for the last fifteen minutes. Hanging out in bars was terrible for my sobriety, but if I didn’t drown myself in alcohol, I would do something insane.

A body bumped into my chair. Only one motherfucker would be so cavalier with my personal space, and I had no interest in listening to his snide comments all night.

Michael leaned against the counter, his teeth flashing with a fake smile. “Let me guess. You’re in the doghouse for being a prick.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“Then why are you at the place where you find all your hookups?” A deadly edge crept into his voice.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

I swallowed the drink as the truth burned in my chest. Liana was mine, wedged so far inside my chest I couldn’t breathe without a sharp ache.

Was it the same for her?

No.

She couldn’t go a day without pining after the other man, regardless of her “crush” on me.

I hurled the glass at the wall. It shattered, raining on the peanut-shell-covered floor.

Michael gave me a vicious side-eye. “What the hell happened?”

“None of your business.”

“She’s still my sister,” he warned in a deep growl. “And I’m waiting on your wedding invitation. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, asshole.”

“There will be a wedding.”

And hopefully, a baby.

God, I was fucking nuts.

“When?” Michael pressed, shoving a tumbler of seltzer in my hands. “She’ll be showing soon. There’s nothing tackier than a bride with a baby bump.”

“Within a month.”

“Then you need to get with the program.”

He was absolutely right.

“Thanks for the pep talk.” I patted his shoulder, and he flinched. “Later.”

I grabbed my coat and slid off the stool, leaving the bar.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

My mood was black.

My hatred for the man who gave her the necklace clogged my lungs like toxic smoke. I couldn’t breathe without the sting of a thousand tiny knives. This was unlike me. I didn’t become a fuming wreck when they wore another man’s jewelry. I didn’t stalk their exes.

Exes.

The frat bro’s round face swam in my mind, poisoning my stomach. James had signed his own death warrant. He’d touched parts of Liana I considered mine. He’d almost raped her.

Unforgivable.

I PARKED my car in a blackout area.

Then I strolled into the sports dive doubling as a miniature golf course that advertised half-off pints. The male, early twenties crowd packed every available spot. Pitchers of beer stood precariously on steel tabletops. It would’ve been easy to swipe one, but I honestly had no interest in the cheap bilge they were drinking.

I’d come here for something else.

Or rather, someone.

I had so much shit on my plate, but this was personal.

I entered a room filled with pool tables. I bellied up to the counter, finding the pasty-faced bastard ignoring the queue of customers to chat with a girl. James teased a finger around her hair and tugged. She laughed and swiped his hand away.

He winked at her as she headed for the bathrooms, and then he grabbed her half-empty mug. He adjusted his fingers, slipping powder over the rim. The small, white grains vanished as he refilled her drink.

Well, that sealed it.

James was a dead man.

It hadn’t taken long to find him. Poking around Liana’s social media gave me all the information I’d needed. After she’d casually mentioned her near-rape with the frat bro, I’d made it my mission to erase him from Liana’s life. Judging by what I’d witnessed, I was doing the female population at Bourton University a solid.

I knocked over her glass.

The roofied beer splashed him in a wide arc. He jumped back and groaned.

“What the fuck, man? Damn, it’s all over me.” He mopped himself, the wet stain on his crotch growing. His sour gaze landed on me. “You’re that guy. Liana’s bodyguard.”

“Fiancé.”

“Oh yeah, Queenie told me.” He seized a dripping rag and cleaned under the taps. “Congrats. That’s cool. Super happy for you guys.”

The jamook must’ve finally Googled me. I liked him better when he had a pair of balls, although his creep-factor suggested he never possessed any.

“Crazy to run into you here.” He wrung the towel, tossing it in the sink. “Didn’t think this place would be your scene.”

“I’m all about cheap beer and low expectations.”

He flushed. “Look, I haven’t touched her. I did what you said. I don’t exist to her anymore.”

Not yet.

I smiled. “I know.”

He nodded, tensing. “You here with Li?”

God, I hated her name on his lips.

I shook my head. “I was in the neighborhood and spotted you inside. Thought I’d say hello.”

A fracture snapped through James’s thin veneer of calm. His cheeks blazed red.

What I wouldn’t have exchanged for two hours with him and my Ka-Bar knife.

“W-what would you like? IPA?”

“Give me what you gave that girl.”

His wide eyes locked on mine.

I could practically hear his thoughts. No doubt, he imagined his coveted internship, his enrollment at a prestigious Ivy League, and his shiny, bright future vanishing in a puff of smoke.

And it would.

He filled a glass and banged it on the counter. “On the house.”

I peered into the crowd. “That chick is headed this way. I’ll leave you alone. Thanks for the beer.”

“You’re-you’re welcome.”

I winked at him and left the bar, waiting for him outside.

Minutes later, he used the service exit, hoodie drawn tight, hands deep in his pockets.

I peeled from the wall and grabbed him.

He flailed as I cupped his mouth. My bicep slid over his throat. As I compressed his neck, he clawed at my forearm, slapping me with pathetic, meaty thuds before he passed out with barely a whimper. Jesus, Liana fought me with more violence than this little bitch. It ended so quickly that my heartbeat never picked up the pace.

I bound him with zip ties and threw him in the trunk. Then I wound tape around his skinny ankles and mouth. I could’ve made his death quick and painless by bagging his head, but that was too bloodless. Too easy. And I wanted him to think he had a chance.

He deserved to suffer.

I pulled over once to stab him in the thigh. When I reached the Quabbin Reservoir, my car reeked of piss and blood. Thankfully, the liner caught everything.

I dragged him out. He smashed into the hard-packed ground, his cheeks streaming with tears. I ripped the tape from his lips. He screamed as though I’d stabbed him again. Then I seized his arm and strolled through the thicket of trees. When I dumped him into the freshly dug grave, he lost his shit.

“O-oh God! Please don’t kill me, man!” He gritted his teeth, blubbering. “I won’t-I won’t tell anybody what you did. I’ll-I’ll never, ever talk to your fiancée. I swear.”

I drew my gun.

“No, no, no!” He shoved himself against the grave, his high-pitched pleas digging into my ear. “I didn’t do anything!”

He sounded like he really believed that.

“You took advantage of her.”

His eyes widened, and the color drained from his skin. Men like him were always shocked at the order of the universe turning against them. They were oblivious to the destruction they caused, the shattered lives and the broken women.

Crimson blanketed my vision.

I shot him.

Blood burst from his stomach, his abdomen, his chest, everywhere. His head rolled back, the tension in his muscles gone. I emptied the whole clip. I wiped the gun, dumping it beside his body. Then I shoveled dirt over James’s slack-jawed face.

Next, Killian.