COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2020 by J.M. Stoneback. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons , living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: Jersey Girl Design
Editor: Amy Briggs
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Trigger Warning: This book has a lot of triggers and is not suitable for children. Please, read responsibly and at your own risk.
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Stalk Me
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Other Books by J.M.
Roselyn
I LEAN AGAINST THE BALCONY’S iron rail, peering down at pedestrians strolling on the wet concrete. New York City is usually alive and vibrant during the evening. The sky is hues of orange and purple and looks like the colors were thrown in the blender and tossed in the air. Hones honk from the busy street and I lift my nose to the air, inhaling. I adore and hate this city.
Sometimes, I stand out here imagining myself free from the mafia lifestyle and raised in a normal household and having a normal life.
Exhaling, I stroll to the glass door, pull the latch, enter the living room. The cold air kisses my delicate skin.
Papa stomps inside, fixing the strap on his black duffle bag. My throat feels drier than a desert and my heart ping-pongs in my chest.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit.
He was supposed to be spending another week in Philly for a gun trade, but he’s here in the flesh. What to do? What to do? He’s going to be so pissed I didn’t go see my fiancée in Vegas so we can start prepping for our wedding in the fall.
His starling blue eyes meet mine and the corner of his mouth crinkles. “What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Vegas?” His tone is laced with annoyance.
My Papa looks young for his age, he’s well into his fifties, but looks like he’s in his early forties. My eyes trail to his strawberry blonde hair which is neatly combed to the side and a splash of freckles decorate his wide nose. He’s made of pure hard muscles which are tight in his dress shirt. Women are constantly throwing themselves at him. When I was in high school, a few of my friend’s mothers would even try to hook up with him.
“My trip was canceled earlier this morning.” I try to keep the fear out of my tone.
“Don’t lie to me. You cancelled it because you don’t want to get married. But you don’t have a choice,” he states. “This is the second engagement you tried to get out of, and you will not ruin it because you want to be disobedient.” He stalks up to me and his pupils dilate. He grabs my tiny arm, digging his nails into my skin, I’m sure it’s going to leave a scratch. Biting down on my plump lip, I try to escape from his grip.
“Stay in your room and don’t come out until I say so. I’m going to rebook your trip and you will be leaving tonight.” He ushers me to my bedroom, shoves me inside, and slams the oak door in my face. Grinding my teeth, I lie on the fluffy mattress, propping a soft pillow under my head and stare at the white ceiling fan as it rotates in slow motion.
I know better than to disobey my papa. He’s an underboss for the Vitali familiga and is known for his cruelty. Unfortunately, his cruelty didn’t stop when he came home from work. He was mean to me when I disobeyed him. He didn’t necessarily beat me like most parents do in the mafia, but he used to call me all kinds of names. Now, he takes away anything he knows I love.
I continue to stare at the ceiling for what seems like forever and Papa barges in my room.
“Your flight is rebooked and leaves in two hours. When you get there, Atrocious is going to explain everything to you. He’s going to keep you there permanently.” He grabs my purple suitcases decorated with Tokyo Ghoul stickers. Atrocious is my fiancée and the underboss of the Las Vegas territory.
“Why would I need to move right away? The wedding is four months away.” I try to keep a blank expression, but my face molds into a frown. “Papa, what’s going on?”
“No time to explain. ” He crinkles his nose, leans down, kisses my forehead.
I swallow thickly as if cotton coats my mouth and adrenaline buzzes through my bloodstream. “Are the feds after you? Or is your gambling addiction getting out of hand again?”
He shakes his head so hard I think it’s going to roll off his shoulders. “Let’s go. I need to get you to the airpo—”
The doorbell rings and Papa’s eyes widen the size of saucers. He stands still as a statue.
Papa’s soldier pops his head in the door. “Devious is here.”
“Very well. Send him to my study,” Papa tells him then turns to me. “Stay in your room and do not come out until I say so.” He turns on the balls of his expensive loafers, leaving me in the room alone.
I pace the wooden floor as anticipation eats at me. Why would the Don of our famiglia be here this time of day? I need to know why Papa wants to ship me off to my fiancé so quickly.
Tapping my fingers against my chin, I tiptoe down the hallway and stop at the
