Ravaged by Passion: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

Without him, Malcolm would’ve walked in on me going through those files. There’s no excuse in the world that would’ve explained my presence in his office all on my own. His mail gets dropped on his secretary’s desk, and she brings anything important to him personally. Nobody goes in here, nobody at all.

  If Gavino hadn’t kissed me and made it seem like we were having some crazy sexual encounter, Malcolm would’ve been even more suspicious of me.

  And Malcolm Strafford is not the kind of man I want to cross.

  Not openly, anyway. Not yet.

  “Crap,” I whisper as I drift into the hallway.

  Gavino Bruno saved my life. He did it by forcing a kiss on my lips, by pulling my hair, by shoving his hand down my pants.

  The thrill lingers in my core. The desire’s still there, simmering.

  But as I leave the building, my dignity in tatters, my future plans shattered into a million pieces, I realize something even worse.

  Gavino Bruno, of the Bruno Famiglia. The most powerful organized crime family in all of Phoenix, Arizona, and possibly all of the Southwest.

  I was saved by a kiss from a vicious gangster, and I don’t know why he did it.

  Chapter 3

  Jeanie

  “Cheer up, sweetie, we all get fired sometimes.” Giovanna pours a shot of cheap vodka and plunks it down onto the bar in front of me. “Go ahead, on the house. Call it a consolation prize.”

  I frown at the shot and I don’t want to take it. I barely drink liquor, much less the stuff that tastes like rubbing alcohol, but I know better than to turn down a free drink from Giovanna. I grab it, throw it back, and choke it down without sputtering—too much, anyway.

  Giovanna laughs. The old woman’s a firebrand with salt-and-pepper hair cut short in a curly poof and wrinkles etched into her skin like rivers on a map. Her dark eyes are sharp, but kind, and she’s quick to laugh but also quick to anger. Nobody messes with Giovanna, especially not in her own bar.

  “Thanks, I think,” I say once I can speak again. The cheap vodka simmers in my guts, and I feel warm and fuzzy. I sip my wine and wonder if maybe I should cool it on the alcohol.

  It’s ten past four in the afternoon and I lost the most important job of my life yesterday. Maybe I should stay sober and plan on what to do next.

  But to hell with it.

  “I remember the first time I got fired,” Giovanna says fondly, smiling into the distance of her memory. “I was a waitress at a diner and this old regular grabbed my ass. I told him to go screw himself and the owner fired me. Ah, those were good days.”

  “Sounds like they were awful days.”

  “I was young and had the world ahead of me, just like you. Don’t worry, there will be more jobs.” She frowns down at the end of the bar where a group sat down a moment later. “Speaking of which. Hey, you lot, what the hell do you want?” She walks off to serve the young men.

  I lean forward and sip my wine. If this were a normal situation, Giovanna would be right. I’m young and that mailroom job didn’t really matter. I mean, who cares about making barely enough to pay rent in some grunt dead-end position at a horrible company filled with assholes and thieves?

  I cared, because it was the first step of my plan.

  And now that plan is ruined.

  I sigh and squeeze my eyes shut. I try not to cry but it’s hard when it feels like my life is over. All this hard work, all this planning, it’s gone now because I made a stupid mistake and some crazy mafia bastard walked in on me going through Malcolm’s files. I keep thinking about that guy, about his handsome face and mocking smile, and the way he pulled me into his lap without hesitation and kissed me like he really meant it.

  God, what a kiss. I’ve never been touched like that before—not even close. He did it like he wanted me and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Like he was overcome with desire, and I was the object of his impossible need.

  And for one incredible, heady moment, his hand between my legs, his lips against mine, I felt better than I’ve ever felt in my miserable life.

  I shudder at the thought.

  Gavino Bruno is everything I hate. He’s just like Malcolm Strafford: womanizer, criminal, violent thug, self-righteous asshole. Everyone in my world knows who the Bruno family are, and everyone seems to know Gavino in particular. While most of the Bruno family stays in their big old mansion compound and runs their organization from behind their big walls, Gavino’s been out on the streets all these years.

  Like Malcolm said, he’s earned a reputation.

  I stare at the light bending through my wine glass. I want to give up and crawl into a hole and stay there until I die of thirst, but even though I’m at my lowest, with no possibility I can see of getting anywhere near Malcolm ever again, I still can’t bring myself to quit.

  I hate him too much to let that fire go out. It’s a brutal inferno, raging in my stomach.

  A shadow appears on my left. Someone takes the stool and leans forward on the bar. I don’t pay them any attention. I’m too lost in my own self-loathing and self-pitying, and I don’t notice the person staring at me until he clears his throat and leans closer.

  “What’s good in this place?”

  I start and look up, and Gavino’s sitting there with a little smile on his lips.

  I nearly scream.

  His grin gets larger as he studies me. I’m wearing a tank top and jean shorts, and I feel practically naked when his gaze slides along my arms, along my collarbone, to my throat and lips. He’s thinking about that kiss—I see it on his face.

  “You’re not going to pull my hair again, are you?” I glare at him and clutch my wine glass.

  “Only if you ask nicely.”

  “Asshole. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, Jeanie Gray. You weren’t easy to track down, you know.”

  “You’re following me?”

  He makes a noncommittal gesture, grinning. “I asked Malcolm for your address.”

  “Oh my god, you didn’t.”

  “He thinks I want to fuck you. Which is true, but not the reason I came to hunt you down.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Probably, a little bit. So yes, I did follow you from your apartment, but I’m not following you, if that makes sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t, not at all.” I lift my wine to my lips. I’m sweating and trembling and my head’s pounding. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you do enough already?”

  “I think you mean to say, thank you, Gavino, for saving my life.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You understand what Malcolm would’ve done to you if he’d caught you in his office alone, don’t you?” He leans closer, head tilted, smile dissipating. “You might not like getting your hair pulled—although I think you did—but I promise you would’ve hated getting your teeth ripped out by Malcolm’s thugs even more.”

  A chill runs down my spine and I stare at my hands on the bar. “All right, so you saved me from him, but you also got me fired. I’m not sure it matters anymore.”

  I feel him studying me. Giovanna comes over and leans against the bar. “Can I get you something? Or are you bothering this young lady here?”

  “Whiskey, neat, please. And no, I don’t think I’m bothering her. Am I bothering you, Jeanie?”

  I look up at Giovanna, hesitate, then shake my head. “No, he’s fine.”

  “Right.” Giovanna gives him a sharp frown. “I know guys like you. Married one or two in my day. You’re all trouble.”

  Gavino laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t even know who I am.”

  “Don’t need to.” She walks off to get his drink.

  “I like her,” he says, still smiling. “I see why you come here.”

  “What do you want?”

  He doesn’t answer right away. Giovanna returns, slides the glass to him, and he drops a small pile of cash on the bar. The old woman frowns at it, but the money disappears quicker than I’ve ever seen her move.

  She walks off without a word and Gavino turns to me, sips his drink, and leans on an elbow.

  “I felt bad that I got you fired. I thought to myself, that girl was interesting. I should track her down and apologize.”

  “Why would you do that? I’m nobody.”

  “You don’t kiss like nobody.”

  My cheeks turn pink and I stare at my wine glass. “You didn’t need to shove your hand between my legs.”

  “Made it seem realer. Malcolm’s a paranoid son of a bitch, and for good reason. I had to sell it.” He leans closer. “You sold it too. I was almost convinced you liked it.”

  “Stop,” I say, shaking my head. “Enough, okay? You found me. You saved me and got me fired. You don’t have to torture me on top of it, okay?”

  He lets out a breath. “You think I came all this way to torture you?”

  “I can’t think of another reason.”

  His eyes narrow and he looks at me appraisingly. I feel all the small hairs on my neck and arms stand up. He’s studying me, trying to read me, like he’s drinking me in with his gaze and I feel split open, pinned down, splayed, and taken. I feel him bearing down on me like a train and I don’t know if I can get out of the way in time, or if he’ll sweep me up and run me down.

  “Why were you in Malcolm’s office yesterday?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t lie to me now.”

  “Does it matter? I’m fired. I can’t get anywhere near him ever again.”

  “Who are you working for?”

  “Nobody.”

  He inches closer. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not.” I clench my jaw and glare. “I’m working for myself, okay?”

  His lips part. “And why would you risk your li
fe to go through that man’s office?”

  “Why would you?”

  “I’m reckless and I’ve got a death wish. Besides, Malcolm doesn’t scare me. I’ve dealt with worse.”

  “I’m all those things too, and I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  He smiles at that. “I want to offer you a job.”

  I blink rapidly, digesting, and take a long sip of my wine. “I’m sorry, you want to what?”

  “Offer you a job.”

  “Why the hell would you do that? You caught me snooping in my boss’s office.”

  “You were looking for something you can use against him, right?”

  I hesitate and wonder if I could lie to this guy’s face and get away with it. I decide that’s extremely unlikely. “Yes, I was.”

  “Good. I like that. And I like the way you kiss. Come work for me.”

  “I’m not going to—” My hands clench into fists. “I’m not working for you like that.”

  He laughs, delighted, and takes a sip. Giovanna tosses me a look and I nod at her like I’m okay. She seems unhappy, but doesn’t come over.

  “No, I don’t pay for that, don’t worry. When I fuck you, it’ll happen because you begged me to do it.”

  “God, you’re such a prick.”

  “No, I want you to come work for me because we have a common enemy. We both dislike Malcolm Strafford, and I like that you were willing to go to dangerous lengths to hurt him. I can give you what you want.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Don’t doubt me, princess.” His eyes sharpen and he’s staring like a predator. “That would be a mistake.”

  My heart’s racing and I feel dizzy from the alcohol and the stress and the strange, diffuse desire warring with my natural inclination toward hating this guy. He’s an arrogant mafia bastard and reminds me so much of all the other arrogant criminal dickheads I’ve known over the years. I know what getting involved with him will lead to.

  But he’s also a Bruno. He’s got access and power and more funds than I can ever dream about.

  Five minutes ago, getting revenge against Malcolm seemed impossible.

  But now, with Gavino’s help?

  “What kind of job are you offering me?”

  He nods to himself, takes another drink, and spins the glass. “I’ll get you hired back into his organization. You’ll be my eyes and ears inside. Everything you learn, you’ll report back to me, and together we’ll sink a poisoned knife into that asshole’s chest. How’s that sound?”

  I clear my throat. “It sounds… not bad, actually. But why do you hate him so much?”

  “I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me.” I consider that and shake my head. He grins in response. “Didn’t think so.”

  “Give me some time to think about this, okay? This is just… it’s a lot.”

  “You know who I am. You know my family. This isn’t an empty offer. If you decide to come work for me, you’ll be mine. Do you understand?”

  My jaw works. I hate the idea of being his but the idea of getting back into Malcolm’s orbit is extremely tempting, and this is by far my best chance of finding some measure of justice in this ugly world. I was willing to go to any lengths necessary, willing to risk death to get what I want.

  Am I willing to give myself over to a man like Gavino?

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Take a few days. I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, I’d keep your head down.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re on Malcolm’s radar. It’s not healthy to be on Malcolm’s radar.”

  “If he’s aware of me, how the heck will you get me back into his company?”

  “Don’t worry about that, I’ll figure it out.” He stands up. I’m amazed by his size all over again—he dwarfs me like a giant. I remember his big hands on my hips, on my ass, in my hair. I remember his lips on mine.

  I shiver with pleasure and turn away, unable to look at him.

  This is a horrible mistake.

  Whatever game Gavino is playing will get me killed more likely than not. A man like him doesn’t care about a girl like me—I’m nothing, a nobody, just a convenient pawn.

  But my life is worth nothing.

  Malcolm Strafford made sure of that a long time ago.

  I’ve been ruined since the day I was born, and now I want Malcolm to suffer the way I’ve suffered.

  The way my mother seethed and hurt and bled.

  Gavino pays for my drink and leaves. I watch him go, wondering if this is salvation or damnation.

  Chapter 4

  Gavino

  I take a long drink of coffee and stare out across the landscape toward where Villa Bruno sits on a low hill like a castle overlooking its feudal grounds. The house behind me is quiet and empty like it always is, though the exterior is bristling with cameras and nearby several guards walk lazily in the hot morning sun on a patrol of the mansion grounds.

  I keep thinking about Jeanie.

  What the hell was that girl doing in Malcolm’s office? Following her to that bar and offering her a job didn’t tell me a damn thing—only that she’s stubborn, hated Malcolm more than I do, and might be self-destructive.

  Beyond that, who the hell is she working for? What’s her damn game?

  I don’t know why I saved her. There was some self-preservation going on there—without her around, Malcolm would’ve caught me in his office too. Kissing her and using her body like that was a nice excuse. Sometimes, my playboy reputation has a way of saving my ass.

  People expect certain things from me. Gavino Bruno gets around. Gavino Bruno has a good sense of humor. Gavino Bruno kills without mercy and never sleeps in the same woman’s bed twice.

  Those expectations can be advantageous, especially when I use them to blind people to what I really am.

  In that case, Malcolm saw only the rich playboy mafia asshole, and not the enemy in his private sanctum.

  Still, I’m fascinated by the girl, and not just because I liked the way she kissed and the feel of her pussy under my hand or the way she moaned into my mouth like she wanted me to keep going. I want to know why she’d risk herself like that, and I think we can work together.

  Because Malcolm Strafford is bad for this city, whether my brother wants to admit it or not.

  Speaking of which. I spot Casso coming through me, trudging down the path that connects our two homes. He’s got his head bowed against the sun and looks annoyed and coated in sweat already. I wait for him to reach the porch and he collapses onto a chair, sighing and fanning himself.

  “You know you could just live in the damn main house, right?” He glares at me, eyes squinted.

  “I’m aware. You’ve been saying it for years.”

  He sighs and leans his head back. “When I agreed to build this place for you, I didn’t think it’d be such a pain in the ass.”

  “Phoenix is hot, so what? It’s not even a five-minute walk over here. You’re too used to sitting in that office of yours and giving orders.”

  Casso rolls his eyes, but he knows it’s true. He’s a big man and still in good shape—he works out relentlessly, him and Olivia both—but he doesn’t spend much time on the streets anymore. He’s the Don of the Bruno Famiglia, the oldest brother, and the responsibility of the family rests squarely on his shoulders. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t put himself out in the muck and the shit and risk his own life when he’s got dozens of employees and killers and soldiers to do that for him.

  And yet I remember a time when Casso led from behind the barrel of a gun, not behind a desk.

  “I didn’t come over here to be called soft by you again,” he says, tugging on his shirt to cool himself off. “I wanted an update on the Strafford deal.”

  “You know Malcolm. He’s a piece of shit like always.”

  “A piece of shit with money and connections in the real estate world. Stop, save it, I know your feelings. If we’re going to start making real waves in this world, we can’t keep focusing on small-time gangster shit anymore. It’s time the Brunos played in the big leagues.”

  I grind my teeth and stay silent. I try to calm myself by drinking coffee, but it doesn’t help. The fucker doesn’t get it—when he talks shit about our family’s current business model, it’s like spitting in my eye.

  He and Fynn and Karah all got married. They have spouses, and children, and their lives are vastly different from my own. I don’t have any of that. I’m alone out here and always have been.