Reckless prince a dark m.., p.1
Reckless Prince: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mafia's Throne Book 3), page 1
Reckless Prince
Mafia’s Throne, Book 3
Aidèe Jaimes
Reckless Prince
Mafia’s Throne, Book 3
by Aidèe Jaimes
copyright@2021 by Aidèe Jaimes
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Copy edited by R.C. Craig
Cover Design by Aidèe Jaimes
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
About
Books Under Aidèe Jaimes:
Prologue
ADRIAN
Eight years old…
“Come back here, you little shit!”
I laugh out loud, holding up the Han Solo action figure that fell out of Enzo’s backpack. He didn’t see it slide out and land on the seat, but I did. We’d just gotten into our minivan after Momma picked us up from school. He turned to shut the door and I took advantage, snatching it up from beside him and tucking it under my shirt. I smiled deviously the entire drive to the park, fully aware he’d freak out when he realized it was missing.
I’d hoped he’d search for it much longer than he did, but as soon as we got out of the van and he couldn’t find it, his eyes locked onto mine, and I swear fire burst from his flaring nostrils. He charged at me like a crazy bull, and like a skilled matador, I avoided his strike.
“You gotta catch me if you want it!” I tease him with it, carrying it through the air like a torch.
“Get back here!” Enzo screams.
I slingshot around the seesaw, then hop onto the merry-go-round and push off the ground with my foot to get it turning. At first, it’s funny watching him try and try again to grab me as I go past him. But when Enzo begins to spin me faster and faster, it’s not fun anymore.
The world shifts, and when I lose my grip on the bars, I fly off. I land hard in the low bushes nearby, where little bits of mulch embed themselves into my skin. Try as I might to get up, I teeter and fall every time.
Then my brother’s fingers are tight around my shoulders as he lifts me and shakes me so hard, my brain rattles. “I want it back, you shithead!”
“Enzo Stefano Marcone Bonetti, what did you say?!”
Enzo’s naturally tan skin goes ghost white as we hear the voice of our mother coming toward us. He drops me like a sack of potatoes and turns to her, standing ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind him. He backs up a step as she approaches, swallowing loud enough that I can hear it.
“Mom, I-I-” he stutters, his mind probably uselessly racing through all the possible ways to get out of this one. But there aren’t any.
Momma reaches over and takes a hold of his ear, pulling until he’s on his tiptoes, and he screeches. “If your father heard you using such language, you’d get far worse than this.”
I giggle because our father is the one who taught us all the bad words, then made us swear never to use them in front of our mother.
“He took my Han!” Enzo cries, pointing a finger at me. “I paid for that one with my own money!”
“That’s no excuse!” She scoffs. “As the oldest, you are responsible for setting an example.”
“So that’s it? I’ll always get punished because I’m the oldest, while he gets to do whatever the hell he wants?”
“Enzo, that’s not true.”
“Yes it is!” He stomps his foot angrily, making me laugh harder. “He gets away with everything, and I’m still a kid too!”
Almost as if to prove Enzo is wrong, her gaze flicks to me. Feeling her anger focused on me now, I cower slightly and take a step back. My palms become sweaty and I glance to the guards flanking the minivan, the ones my father insists follow us everywhere we go. They’re watching us with interest but certainly won’t come to my aid.
“Adriano,” my mother grits out. “Do you have your brother’s toy?”
Feeling cornered because I’m aware that if I say I do, I’ll get a spanking, and if I’m caught lying, I’ll get a worse one, I bolt.
“Get your brother!” I hear my mother order from behind me right before I hear Enzo’s annoyed whine.
I don’t know why Momma brings us to the park to get energy out after school. I don’t need my energy out. I like it where it is. Besides, it makes me way faster than my brother.
Laughing with utter glee, I run past the fence that separates the playground from the baseball fields. I jump over the white lines painted on the dirt, gaining more distance.
“Get back here!” Enzo screams, and I glance back to taunt him, only to realize my mother is also chasing me.
“Adriano Rafael!” she yells with outright fury, and I realize Enzo’s not going to take one for the team today. It’s all on me.
For a moment I consider stopping, but as I recall the sting of the spoon the last time Momma caught up to me, fear forces my legs to move. With the agility and spring of a hare, I hop over the hedges that form the boundary between the park and the swampy forest just beyond.
I zigzag through the trees, the wind blowing so fast over my ears that I barely register the sound of feet over leaves. When my lungs begin to burn and a stitch in my side has me doubling over, I throw myself behind a large trunk and plaster myself against it.
Grimacing from the effort it takes not to pant, I stay as quiet as I can, listening intently.
“Where did he go?” my mother asks.
“He’s gotta be around here.”
Crap, they’re almost as fast as me! I shrink farther down until my face is touching the thick roots of the cypress I’m behind.
“Go back, Enzo. Let the boys know where we are. We shouldn’t be out of their sight for too long.”
“Yes, Momma,” he says and runs off.
“Adriano,” she calls out to me in a sweet voice laced with authority. “Come on out. We need to get going.”
I remain silent. If I let enough time pass, she might calm down and I won’t get the spanking her eyes promised as she chased me.
“Adriano, let’s go.” The sound of twigs breaking lets me know she’s inching closer to me. Then she gasps. Laughing, she says, “You startled me!”
I frown as I wonder what she meant, but then I hear a gravelly male voice. “I’m sorry. I heard someone and wanted to come see what it was.”
“Yes, I’m searching for my son.”
“Is he lost?” he asks.
“N-no.” There’s a tone of hesitancy that makes me stiffen. “Just hiding. But I need to get back. My husband is waiting for me.”
“Is anyone helpin’ you search? I can help.” Leaves crunch and I assume they’re moving around as they speak.
“I’ll be fine, thank you. I can get my husband to help me. My other son is going to—” She stops as I hear several quick steps. “Whoa, what are you doing?”
“I’m goin’ to need you to come with me,” he growls in a tone so menacing, it sends a shock of fear through me.
“I suggest you put that down. Do you know who I am?” my mother asks.
The man chuckles. “Of course I do. Why do you think I’m here, Anna?”
I peek around the tree to see a grizzly large man with deep tan skin and hair as black as mine. A jagged scar runs from one side of his meaty throat to the other. He’s standing close enough to my mother that she has to crane her neck to look up at him. He’s holding a small black gun to her jaw and gives her a diabolical smile that shoots a bolt of terror through me, freezing me, body and mind. I’m left in a hazy nightmare, where I’m rooted to the spot, unable to scream, to move. To do anything but watch as he leans in and whispers in her ear.
Her gaze turns my way and widens when she spots me. Her mouth moves only slightly, but it’s enough that I can tell what she’s saying. “Get help.”
“Turn around,” he orders. “Hands behind your back.”
I watch in paralyzed distress as he takes her roughly by her wrists, securing them with one of his hands. Then he raises his other one that’s still holding the firearm high in the air. “I don’t take chances,” he tells her a moment before he brings it down with force, knocking her on the side of her head, and her eyes roll back as she falls limply to the ground.
A scream of sheer horror lodges in my throat, and my fingers claw at the dirt beneath me. My eyes sting with tears as he carelessly lifts her, throwing her over his shoulder. I can’t even tell if she’s dead or alive.
I should attack him. I should lunge myself at him and hit him with everything I have.
But I can’t, because I’m too afraid. He’s so much larger than me, dressed all in black and with tha
He scans the area, searching for me, I’m sure, his red-rimmed eyes reminding me of the demon monsters I read about in my comics.
“John,” he calls, and a man I hadn’t noticed, a skinny one with a long blond beard, steps out of the bushes. “Make sure no one saw.”
“What if’n they did?”
The dark man with my mother draped over his shoulder turns my way, and I swear he looks right at me as he says in a guttural voice that could only have come from hell, “Then he better not let you see him.”
I can hardly breathe, much less yell for help. Instead, I stay quiet as a mouse, and just as helpless, as he takes my mother. The bearded one draws a long knife from his jeans pocket and walks around for a few minutes before he too disappears.
When they’re out of sight and I’m finally able to move, I curl into a ball, hugging my knees tight to my chest as I cry.
It seems like a long time passes before I’m found by our two guards and Enzo, who pulls me into him and I wrap my arms around him as I sob.
“Where’s Mom?” he asks, letting me cling to him as the guards frantically search for her.
But I can’t speak the words that shame me. Because I was a coward. Because I wasn’t man enough to defend her. Because deep down, I know that whatever happens to her will be my fault, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.
I want my mommy.
Chapter 1
WILLOW
Checkmate.
Damn. My sister is a badass. No one can deny that. And I’m damn proud to be her right-hand man. Just moments ago, she declared her victory over the Marcone empire. She now rules New Orleans and many of the cities that surround it.
But tough as she may be, I don’t see this transition of power happening smoothly. There’s just too much going on between her and Don Enzo Marcone, the eldest and the former boss. The chemistry between them is palpable, which only pushes the tension to cataclysmic levels.
Not that I blame her. The Marcones are something else. Adonises sculpted to perfection by the devil himself, made to tempt a woman.
I myself am not immune to their charm, I admit as I lean against the wall right outside the office at The Royal Hit, the club the Marcones own, where for decades, the who’s who of mob royalty has come to pay tribute, and where Enzo and Dillon are currently facing off. She ordered us to leave after a long and intense staring contest between the two, and we all but ran out, afraid that if we didn’t, we’d get caught in the crossfire.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the younger brother, Adrian. Though I stayed behind in case my sister needs me—and truth be told, because I want to eavesdrop—he seems to have other ideas. I catch him ogling me without shame, and even when I look at him dead-on, he smiles devilishly, his thoughts obvious.
Feeling devilish myself, I turn to him. Then I cross my arms over my chest and sweep my gaze from the top of his very dark hair to the tips of his scuffed combat boots. And damn, but he has a right to that arrogant look, with his leather jacket that fits his broad chest to perfection and torn jeans that hang low on his hips.
“What?” he asks as he watches me with the same interest, his coy smile tugging his full mouth to one side.
“How would you like it if I stared at you like you were a big, tasty piece of meat?”
The dimples on his scruffy cheeks deepen. “I’d love it.”
I huff. “I’m sure you would.”
He takes a step closer to me, his brown irises twinkling in the dim light of the hallway. “In case you want a better look.”
Cocking my head at his daring move, I run the tip of my finger over the top button of my crisp white shirt. As I intend, his eyes follow the movement. “Aren’t you scared of me? After all, I’m technically your boss.”
Laughing, he comes nearer. “Technicalities have a tendency to change. One moment you’re on top, the next…” His gaze rakes over me, touching every inch of my body, pausing at my lips on the way down.
“You want me on the bottom then?” I release a slow breath, enjoying the game he’s playing much more than I should.
“We can do it any way you’d like.”
He takes another step toward me, and his pant legs graze my own. “You smell good,” he growls near my ear. “Will, is it?”
“It’s Boss Willow to you.” I glance at him through my long lashes as I run my hand over the hills and valleys of his hard chest. It’s a touch meant to seduce, as much as it is to warn, that if he comes closer, he’ll feel the sting of my bite.
Adrian reaches for my hair, removing the three pins that hold it into a neat bun, and the heavy mass falls in messy waves around my face. He runs his fingers through it, then pulls it to his nose, shuts his eyes, and inhales deeply. When he looks at me again, he seems dazed. Drugged almost.
“I’ve always had a thing for redheads. Especially bossy ones.”
“How many bossy redheads have you met?”
“Just one,” he whispers, his mouth so near mine, his breath grazes me. But he stops a moment before it makes contact, his gaze shifting downward when he feels the six-inch blade I hold to his throat.
“Haven’t you heard that in nature, the color red is a warning? You could die if you come too close.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing over the knife. Yet he doesn’t move away.
Instead, he pushes against the hard steel until a thin drop of blood forms on the tip and travels downward toward the hilt. Then his pupils dilate to the point where the irises practically disappear, and the insane heat in his expression makes my heart race.
Lifting his hand to my mouth, he traces it with his fingertips. “Something tells me a taste of your lips is worth the risk.”
His voice is so deep and low, it sounds almost like thunder as it rumbles through the land, and holy shit, he’s set this redhead on fire. Heat pools in the pit of my stomach, tightening it until I find it hard to breathe, and sinks into the wetness between my legs.
My grasp on the knife slackens with hesitation as I consider taking what’s being offered, aware that he’s a huge mistake on so many levels. And yet he’s so fucking delicious, I can barely contain myself. I could be the Little Red Riding Hood that devours the big bad wolf.
But before I can make that poor decision, he frowns and turns away from me, tilting his ear toward the door.
Disappointed in the sudden shift, I’m about to protest when he lifts a finger to hush me. Instinctively, I concentrate on what’s being said inside, curious as to what’s taken his attention from me.
“You should let Adrian go,” Enzo tells Dillon.
“Why’s that?”
“He’s only here because my father wanted him to be. With all these changes, he won’t fit in.”
Adrian’s body stiffens beneath the palm I still have on him, and his breathing nearly stops.
“Even if that’s the case, he stays. I want him nearby so you don’t get any ideas,” my sister says.
“That’s exactly what I don’t want…Dillon.” Enzo seems to have trouble using her first name after being used to calling her Rose for weeks. “He’s going to do something stupid you don’t like, and you might be the one getting ideas. He’s my brother, and I say that for his own good, he goes. You can appreciate that. After all, you and your sister must be close, and family is the most important thing. What did you call her? Oh, that’s right. Will.”
Adrian remains still for a moment, and when he turns to me, it’s as if I’m seeing someone else entirely. Gone is the fun, sexy guy. In his place is the serious assessing gaze of a predator, and not the good kind.
He studies me with careful consideration, the wheels in his mind turning. Unsure of the reason for this change, I raise my guard.
