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Home / Mafia / Mafia Marriage of Convenience / Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

All Chapters of Mafia Marriage of Convenience: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

41 Chapters

21

"You're already here."Daniel Brooks was already lounging in the leather wingback across from my mahogany desk when I kicked the doors open. The man didn't believe in appointments or knocking. If there was blood in the water, he was already swimming in it."I should have the guards break your legs for breaking into my sanctum at dawn," I said, dropping into my seat. I didn't wait for him to speak. I slammed the power button on the encrypted terminal. "It gives me a reason to start the day with a funeral."Daniel didn't flinch. He just chewed on a toothpick. "You told me to move fast if the Cruz scent got local.""Spit it out.""I did the deep dive on Eduardo Cruz like you ordered.""And? I’m not paying you for the scenery.""The old man is a ghost story."Daniel reached into his trench coat, pulled out a thick, black-bound dossier, and slid it across the desk. "While you were playing host at the Miami Royal Yacht Club this weekend, I was digging through trash in Little Havana." He sto

22

"Stop hovering."Santiago didn’t even look up from his plate, but the ice in his voice sliced through the tension. We were gathered in the dining hall of the Rivera Manhattan Residence, a space that usually felt like a fortress but now felt like a cage. Lanka sat across from his husband, while Carmen Rivera occupied the head of the table, her eyes tracking Lanka’s every move like a hawk watching a field mouse."I'm merely observing the help's handiwork," Carmen remarked, her voice a jagged blade.She’d been in the house for six hours and already acted like she held the deed to the Rivera soul. The moment she’d arrived, she’d gutted the protocols. Erik Hansen, a man who took orders only from Santiago, had been reduced to a personal servant, forced to scrap the high-protein menu Santiago demanded for a series of bird-like portions Carmen claimed were 'refined.'"Erik followed my specific directives for the week," Santiago muttered, his jaw ticking."Nonsense," Carmen waved a skeletal ha

23

Santiago tightened his grip on the back of Lanka’s neck, pulling him upward until their heavy breathing filled the small gap between them. He didn't wait for a response, crashing his mouth onto Lanka’s other nipple. Electrical heat arced from the contact, jolting through Lanka’s frame and leaving him reaching for the headboard, his lungs burning as he fought to keep his cries inside the room. Santiago’s tongue was a blade, licking, biting, and devouring until Lanka’s spine snapped straight, his hips grinding upward to meet Santiago’s weight.Lanka clawed at the iron forearms holding him down. "I need... to touch you.""No." Santiago’s voice was a gravelly rasp as he reached for the hem of Lanka’s silk lounge pants. It was a clumsy battle with one hand, but the predator won. He jerked the fabric down, then sliced through the lace of the underwear with a single tug, ignoring Lanka’s startled gasp as the scraps hit the floor near the mountain of discarded pillows. Santiago’s gaze travele

24

"Possessive doesn't even cover it," Simona murmured, watching Santiago’s knuckles whiten around his glass."He’s marking territory with his eyes," Giovanni added, a shark-like grin stretching across his face.Santiago ignored them, his focus locked on the center of the Inferno Room where Lanka was moving. The silver threads of his clothes caught the neon strobes, making him look less like a man and more like a fever dream. Other men were circling. One, a soldier from a rival crew, was already trying to move into Lanka’s space. Lanka didn't notice; he was lost in the beat.Santiago shoved back from the table. "Go to hell, all of you."The booth erupted in laughter. As Santiago hit the stairs, Giovanni’s voice carried over the bass. "Remember when he said no one gets under his skin? The man is a slave to it."Santiago didn't look back. He carved a path through the sweating bodies, his shoulders a battering ram until he reached the center of the floor. He grabbed Lanka’s arm, jerking him

25

"Is that the best you can do?"Santiago’s eyes didn't leave the screen. The captain of the guard was still droning on about logistics. I stood up. The chair shrieked against the floor. "The meeting’s over." I tapped my phone screen. "Something came up. Finish the report without me." I didn't wait for a response. I had a debt to collect.Lanka was sitting front row at the Citterio Palace when I found him. He was sandwiched between a pop star and Valeria. He was leaning in, whispering to her. Then his gaze hit mine. A jolt of pure electricity hit my gut. He looked like a king. Perfectly at home in the glitz. But there was a shadow there. A flicker of something that didn't belong.I walked toward him like a wolf on a scent. The music cut. The room erupted in applause as the designer took his bow."Santiago," he breathed. He didn't move. His voice was ragged. Addicted. He was as hooked on this madness as I was.I grabbed his wrist and hauled him out. He tried to say something to Valeria.

26

"Is that how you justify it?"Lanka didn't look at him. He watched the moonlight hit the ripples of the canal. The water looked like oil. Dark. Dangerous. "It sounds like you were a soldier before you could walk. No wonder you’re a ghost."Santiago stiffened. His jaw set into a hard line. "It made me the head of the Rivera family. I wouldn't be holding this city if it weren't for his 'taskmaster' ways.""Maybe." Lanka turned, his eyes searching Santiago’s face. "But it also means you never learned how to just... be.""And you? You think your childhood was a fairy tale because you spent it in a studio?""It wasn't a fairy tale. But I breathed. I wasn't an asset in a ledger." Lanka stepped closer, the smell of gunpowder and expensive cologne clinging to Santiago. "No wonder you're so rigid. So hollow."Santiago balked. "Hollow?""Rigid. Stiff. Predictable. Look at you. You have a chef who plans your protein intake a month in advance. You have a driver who maps out three different routes

27

"The place is a goddamn fortress," Santiago muttered."Wait until you see how I’ve bled for the interior," Lorenzo shot back.We stepped into the foyer. It was a cathedral of violence and history. Gold-leafed frescoes of saints and sinners looked down from 17th-century ceilings. Lorenzo didn't shut up. He talked about the cost of the marble, the blood spilt for the tapestries, and the millions he’d laundered into the restoration. He led us through a labyrinth of corridors, past empty rooms that smelled of wax and old secrets. We climbed the grand staircase to a stone balcony overlooking the rear estate.The crowd below was lean. Dangerous. Less than twenty people. Most were couples—capos and their trophy husbands or wives, all in their prime. I was the youngest mark in the room. String music drifted from hidden speakers, competing with the low hum of conspiracy."It’s quiet," I whispered, leaning into Santiago. "Maybe your aristocrat friend finally grew a conscience. This isn't a week

28

"He's going to squeeze me for every cent, isn't he?" Santiago's voice was a low rasp against my ear as we moved.The bass from the terrace thrummed through the soles of my boots. Lorenzo’s desperate pitch about the villa was a lead weight in my gut. The idea that I’d somehow 'fixed' the head of the Rivera family was a joke, but the way Lorenzo looked at us—like we were a matched set—wouldn't leave me. I wasn't falling for a hitman. I couldn't be. This was the adrenaline of Milan, the wine, and the proximity of a man who looked like a god in a silk suit. Santiago didn't do love. He’d carved that into me since the first night."You aren't even listening.""What?" I blinked, pulling my gaze away from his throat. He was too close. I wanted to bite that jawline. "Yeah. Lorenzo was doing that heavy-handed nodding toward the deed when we spoke."Santiago let out a dark chuckle, pulling me tighter into the rhythm. "You were miles away. What’s in that head of yours?"My skin ran hot. I had the

29

He's going to catch us," Santiago rasped, his grip tightening on my hip.The crowd at the Palm Valley Polo Grounds was a sea of wolves in tailored linen. I’d spent all night watching tactical videos on how the game worked, but it was a waste of skin. Nobody was looking at the horses. This wasn't a sport; it was a goddamn trade floor for blood money. I understood why Santiago hadn't wanted to come. If the charity gala was a circus of sycophants, this was a graveyard of vultures.Every three steps, someone tried to corner the Don of the Rivera family. They wanted a piece of his shipping routes. They wanted his blessing for a new laundering scheme. They wanted to thank him for 'donating' to their front organizations while fishing for an invite to the next sit-down. And then there were the women. They didn't care that I was standing right there, tied to him by blood and business. They looked at Santiago like he was the only meal in a famine. Their desperation smelled worse than the horse

30

"Don't look!" Santiago hissed, shoving me through the thicket.We scrambled past the edge of the Palm Valley Polo Grounds, boots sinking into the damp earth as we ducked behind a rotting equipment shed. The roar of the crowd faded into a dull thrum. Santiago leaned against the splintered wood, chest heaving. He looked at the surrounding trees, ensuring no soldiers or rival eyes had trailed us."He's a family associate," Santiago muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "One of my father's old fossils.""Why the frantic escape then?" I asked. My palms were flat against the shed's rough exterior."He's a parasite. He wants me to wash money through his failing garment front.""The fashion mogul in the white suit? What’s the pitch?""Men’s tactical gear. His prototypes look like they were stitched together by blind insurgents.""It couldn't be that pathetic.""Did you see the lapels on that suit? He looked like a target."We both broke into jagged, quiet laughter."The design has to be a jok

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