Taken: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

  Taken

  Sinners of Boston #2

  Vanessa Waltz

  Vanessa Waltz

  Copyright © 2020 by Vanessa Waltz

  All rights reserved.

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  About the Book

  1. Carmela

  2. Michael

  3. Carmela

  4. Michael

  5. Carmela

  6. Carmela

  7. Carmela

  8. Carmela

  9. Michael

  10. Carmela

  11. Michael

  12. Michael

  13. Carmela

  14. Michael

  15. Carmela

  16. Carmela

  17. Michael

  18. Carmela

  19. Michael

  20. Carmela

  21. Michael

  22. Carmela

  23. Michael

  24. Carmela

  25. Michael

  26. Michael

  27. Carmela

  28. Michael

  29. Carmela

  30. Michael

  31. Carmela

  32. Michael

  33. Carmela

  34. Michael

  35. Carmela

  36. Michael

  37. Carmela

  38. Michael

  Epilogue

  Arranged: Sinners of Boston #1

  High Stakes

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Vanessa Waltz

  About the Author

  About the Book

  I stole my trophy wife

  Her father killed my brother, so I took Carmela hostage.

  I didn’t know how to execute my revenge, but when the innocent little honey attempts to bargain for her father’s life, I devise the perfect plan.

  I won’t just take my revenge.

  I’ll savor it.

  She’s desperate to save her father.

  Her offer: One night. No strings.

  My counter-offer: The rest of my life, no strings, but plenty of rope.

  I need a mother for my two kids. A wife to warm my bed. A lover to break.

  That's Carmela.

  I thought my only battle would be between us...in the bedroom.…but marrying her incited a war I never saw coming.

  If I don't win…I lose everything.

  I lose her.

  Author's note: Taken is is a single dad, standalone dark mafia romance. This is book #2 of Sinners of Boston series. However, these books can be read in any order.

  This Beauty and the Beast-inspired dark and titillating romance is not for the faint of heart, but if you like over-the-top alpha heroes, troubled heroines, and impossibly evil villains, you'll love this book. Deals with sensitive subjects some might find triggering

  One

  Carmela

  I might be dead in a few hours.

  I’d committed no crime in the eyes of the law, but in the menacing gaze of Michael Costa, I’d done the unforgivable. I crashed his daughter’s birthday party.

  One didn’t enter the home of a notorious gangster without an invitation, especially if you were among his enemies, but the doorman neglected to check my name as I arrived, wearing couture and a big smile. After a quick search of my clutch, he waved me forward.

  The gift shifted in my hands, curly ribbon sprawling across the unicorn wrapping. I’d gotten the girl an Easy-Bake Oven. Growing up, it was my favorite toy. Hopefully, the seven-year-old had an interest in cooking. Poor kid desperately needed fun after what had happened to her mother.

  The wrought-iron gate of the Tudor-style manor, which hung over the street like a gargoyle, swung open easily as I pushed it with a finger. Two front-facing gables overlooking leaded windows glared at the road. A dense English garden surrounded the inner courtyard, where a few people mingled, clutching their Cristal. Plants wove across each other in waves of lavender cosmos and pink foxgloves. Unkempt rose bushes snarled the fence. A meandering stone path led to a fountain with a granite table and bench. It was charming and beautiful—much like its owner.

  Dappled sunlight broke over my head as I strolled under a Japanese maple and headed to the foyer. My nerves jangled every alarm bell as I crossed the threshold, as if I were signing my death warrant.

  How the hell would I walk out?

  Dad was counting on me. I’d worry about that later.

  I wandered into the mansion. Talk and laughter filled the dreary space with the illusion of warmth. Most of the attendees were face-saving assholes—Costa soldiers and their wives, sucking at the power teat. I drifted among a coterie of rosé drinkers under the beamed ceiling. The chandelier glowed soft and effervescent, casting everyone in a dreamlike hue. Gold was the theme of this party.

  Shining plates and forks adorned every surface of Michael’s home, which seemed to protest all the glitz. Some homes oozed comfort from the color or the arrangement of the furniture, but this was cold and masculine. Steel, cool brown, and dark blues dominated the décor. Everything from Restoration Hardware furnished the rooms—so not my style. I couldn’t imagine living in such an intimidating place.

  Where was Michael?

  He wasn’t smoking with the men outside. I didn’t spot him in the kitchen, where his mother coaxed guests with appetizers. I lingered by the bathrooms, but he never came out. I lacked the bravery to climb the stairs. That could get me into even more trouble.

  My fingers dug into the wrapping paper as I pushed my present onto a console table. I slipped the envelope with the card over the box, hoping her father believed the well wishes for his daughter. I headed in the direction of the corridor leading to other areas, colliding with a ball of energy.

  A boy tumbled backward.

  “Oops!” I caught his arm and righted him. “Are you okay?”

  A navy vest covered his tiny chest, and he wore matching slacks over black tennis shoes. The small child tottered forward, his round eyes locked on mine. A wide grin split his cherub face, which was a dead ringer to the man for whom I searched.

  Good Lord, I’d almost bowled over Michael’s son.

  “Matteo, you’ve gotten big.” I kneeled as he smoothed his messy curls. “Look at your outfit. You’re so handsome.”

  “Pick me up, Carmela!”

  My heart melted. “You remember my name.”

  “Pick me up.”

  I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist the little fingers beckoning me. I hiked him onto my hip.

  “Better?”

  Matteo nodded, beaming. “I like your hair. It’s pretty.”

  “Thank you.”

  He lifted a thick strand, balling it in his chubby fist. Then he whipped me like a horse. He broke into hysterical giggles when I jogged in a circle. His happiness made me smile.

  How could something so pure and innocent come from Michael?

  I needed to find him.

  I adjusted my hold on Matteo as I scanned the guests, searching for the man of the house. “Where’s your daddy?”

  “Here.”

  His voice was smoke rolling over whiskey. A man’s hand palmed my naked back and slid upward, anchoring on my shoulder. He squeezed, his grip punishing. Then his body pressed into me.

  Shit.

  My gaze tore from the bubbly four-year-old to a man with a lean build, wearing a midnight suit over a fitted white T-shirt. Michael was a demi-god sculpted by loving hands, starting from his long lashes to his full lips and dimpled chin. Warm brown
waves cropped short at his neck framed a rakishly handsome face. The Michael I’d known was rarely without a smirk—but the one who stood next to me now pulsed with hostile energy.

  Probably because I held his child.

  “Matteo, gentle.” Michael’s fingers clasped over his son’s, which still grasped my hair. “Be nice. Don’t pull.”

  “But I like it!”

  “I know you do, pal.” Amusement and fierce pride rumbled through his words. “You do this to every pretty girl who walks in here. You are utterly shameless. So much like your old man.”

  Michael’s touch vanished, and then he brushed my stomach as he shifted Matteo from my arms. As he did so, he beamed with a warmth that seemed to rearrange air molecules.

  He kissed his son. “Stop chasing girls and go play.”

  “Will you play with me?”

  “Yes, honey. Later. I love you.”

  “I love me, too!”

  Laughing, Michael handed him to a nanny. “Keep him busy.”

  Pain stabbed my gut as I drank in Michael’s tenderness for his son and the love between them. A sickening wave of jealousy slammed into me. It was the wrong time and place, but the reminder that I lacked that missing piece sucked all the joy from my heart. A sallow-faced woman took Matteo as he waved to his father.

  Once Matteo disappeared, Michael’s radiance dulled to a depressing black.

  “Carmela. We should catch up somewhere private.”

  “Sure.”

  His tone was light, but the grip circling my wrist was vise-like. He dragged me from the party and guided me toward a door. When it opened, I hesitated. A darkened bedroom waited.

  The gentle push became a shove.

  I stumbled forward. A chill rode my spine at the click of the lock sliding.

  Michael grabbed me before I turned, his hand snaking into my hair while the other yanked me against his chest. The sting reminded me who this man was—a ruthless gangster.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  Fighting him would’ve made things worse, so I allowed him to bare my throat. Michael’s hooded eyes blazed with emotion. He seemed deeply unnerved.

  “I brought a gift and walked in.”

  “You’re at my house, uninvited, holding my kid. What were you planning to do? Walk out with him?”

  His suspicion wrenched my insides.

  “Of course not. I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m just here to talk.”

  “Not in the mood for a chat, Carmela. Especially with you.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You’re related to your father. That’s enough.” Michael relaxed, transferring his grasp to my neck as he pushed me against the wall. “What were you doing with my son?”

  I swallowed hard, ignoring the jolt his touch gave me. “I was looking for you, and he asked me to pick him up, so I did. That’s all. I swear.”

  “What was your plan?”

  This was blowing up in my face.

  “Michael, you weren’t answering my calls. Then I remembered this party. I figured it was worth a shot.”

  “You thought you’d ambush me at my daughter’s birthday?”

  “Yes.”

  His expression full of deep mistrust, Michael seized my purse and rifled through its contents, only finding my wallet and keys. I didn’t even bring a phone. I’d wanted zero opportunities to call for help.

  “You were crazy to come here.”

  “I don’t have anything to lose.”

  “That’s what you think.” He zipped the clutch and tapped my shoulder, menace radiating from his body.

  “Michael, what happened to us?”

  Michael tossed my bag onto the bed and dropped the aggression, his smile tugging into that playful slant I recognized. “Don’t sound so wounded, Carmela. I’ll get the wrong idea.”

  “I have to fix this. Tell me what to do.”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” He glanced at my cleavage and must’ve been satisfied because he dragged his eyes up with a grin. “You get props for dressing the part, but it’s time for your sweet ass to leave.”

  “No.”

  “Go while I allow it.”

  I didn’t budge. “No.”

  “May I remind you what I can do to you and your whole family?”

  My stomach churned. “I’m here on behalf of them.”

  “You mean most of them?”

  Michael’s taunt lifted the hairs on my arm.

  I’m too late to save my dad.

  The pounding music from outside faded.

  “Michael, no. Please tell me he’s still alive.”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, come on! You know why I’m here. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. Money?”

  “Look at this fucking place. I don’t need your money.”

  What else did I have? “We have properties in Italy.”

  “No.”

  “I could introduce you to the mayor. I’ll hand over the title of my dad’s mansion. You could burn it, put it in your will, sell it.”

  “What good is that house to me?”

  “Michael, tell me what you want!”

  “Watching you guess is making my night.” Michael lapped up my desperation with a greedy smile.

  My mouth went dry.

  This was part of his mind game. He’d make me believe I had a shot, and then he’d throw me out. If all the material possessions wouldn’t sway him, what did I have to trade? There had to be something I could do.

  Matteo’s beaming grin flashed through my head.

  His kids.

  “I can help you. Think about your children—how much they could use a woman in their lives. They lost their mother a year ago. It can’t be easy, raising them by yourself. I’ll keep the house in order.”

  “You want to be the help?”

  “Michael, you have everything but me.”

  He raised a brow. “You sure about that?”

  His knuckles grazed my neck, lingering where my pulse was the strongest. He could do whatever he wanted. Nobody would cry for help if he strangled me—or dragged me to the bed—which, under his feverish gaze, seemed far more likely.

  The air between us heated into a sauna I was desperate to escape.

  “Do you want me or not?”

  “There isn’t a man in the free world who doesn’t. But your dad killed someone I love. So I’m killing him.”

  “Take me instead.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take me. Do what you want with me.” My stomach tensed as the scent of leather filled my nose, bringing with it painful images.

  Michael made a sound at the back of his throat. A pleased rumble that paired perfectly with his teasing smirk. “Tempting, but no. Fucking you won’t take the sting out of my murdered brother.”

  “One night. No strings.”

  “The rest of my life, no strings, but plenty of rope.” His smile was a dark promise. “I don’t need a fuck doll. No. You’ll be my wife.”

  He took a step away as I absorbed that bombshell. The shockwave blasted through my pretense of calm because being tied to him was my worst nightmare. Lying underneath Michael as he used me was much more preferable to marrying him.

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  It was well-known that Michael loved to play with his food before he ate it. I opened my mouth to demand that he stop screwing around, but not a hint of mischief glimmered in Michael’s gaze.

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “You laid it out for me. I have two kids who miss their mom. They need a strong, confident woman with a good head on her shoulders. That’s you, Carmela. Aside from the poor judgment you showed by trespassing.”

  “You’d rather me be their replacement mom?”

  “I want your soul, to own you and taste your kiss when I give you an orgasm. I’
d love to rip off that dress, fuck you with your heels still strapped on, make you kneel, and teach you to submit. God, the things I’ll do to you.” He backed me against the wall, his expression ravenous. “I’ve waited for you to notice me the way I’ve noticed you.”

  Oh, I had.

  Before this mess with my father, Michael Costa was a stable fixture, a happy-go-lucky devil, always ready with a playful quip. I’d watched him break down my moody brother-in-law. After my sister’s baby was born, he was among the first to visit. The occasions Michael and I had bumped into each other stuck in my memory because he expressed his interest in me without a drop of shyness. Exchanges with him were heavy on innuendo. Once, he’d steadied my balance with a hand on my back, and I’d thought about how amazing it felt all week. Despite that—and the fact that my loneliness gnawed at me every night—I stayed the hell away from Michael.

  I couldn’t.

  I’d expected him to demand sex for my father’s life, or an exchange that’d cement my position as hostage—not partner.

  “You’re a status symbol, vengeance, and a trophy wife rolled into one pretty package. I want you off the market and wearing my ring.”

  Gangsters made terrible boyfriends and even worse husbands. Been there and all that. I couldn’t jump into something permanent with another Nick, a man who broke my heart and almost shattered me.

  It would destroy me. “I’ll do anything else.”

  A bestial grin carved into his face. “You could allow me to kill Ignacio.”