_________________________________________
The mafia boss ordered me to stay away from his adult club.
I didn’t listen.
And now some creepy guy is hitting on me, making me uncomfortable.
Panic grips me as his demanding fingertips trail over my arm.
I try to twist away from him when suddenly, I'm knocked off balance. The mafia boss edges past me, grabs the guy by his shirt, and shoves him hard against a wall.
“She’s not for you to touch,” he growls, moving one hand to the guy’s neck. “You ever touch what’s mine again without permission, I will rip your throat out. Understood?”
The guy nods, fear spiking in his gaze as recognition flashes across his face. “I’m sorry, Nico.”
Nico leans closer. “Get out of here before I change my mind and rip it out now.”
Without another word, another look, Nico lets go of the guy, grabs me by the arm, and backs me into a private corridor.
“Tell me who you belong to, Shaye.” He winds his hand into my hair and tugs it.
“You,” I rasp. “Only you.”
“Nobody touches what’s mine.” Nico’s jaw tightens, his eyes glittering with desire and intent. “And now I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”
Continue reading The Ultimate Dark Mafia Romance Bundle if you like:
✔️ Mafia Romance
✔️ Forbidden Romance
✔️ Billionaires
✔️ Suspense
✔️ So Much More!
What readers are saying:
"Seductively Sizzling Hot Mafia Romance!" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~April S.
"This is the first time I’ve read a story from Ms. Luciani and I’m impressed. I can’t wait to read more by her!!" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Crystal W.
"I love Ms. Luciani's books. Screwing the Mob is a great read/listen! Ms. Luciani is one of my one-click authors!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Erin K.
_________________________________________
~RULING THE MOB~
He won’t come to me, so tonight, I’m going to him.
I grab my clutch bag and take a few tentative steps into the hallway and out the door. My heart thumps in my chest as I take quick, tiny steps toward my car. Short, sharp pants escape my lips. The thought of taking a deep breath would be laughable if I could squeeze one out. I’m wrapped so tight in this pleather-spandex fabric mix, I’m surprised my eyeballs haven’t popped out of my head from the pressure.
Somehow, I slide into the driver’s seat of my Infiniti RS50. I pull off one heel, slip on a flip-flop, and press the button to start the ignition—there’s no way I can drive in stilts. I know what I’m doing. I know where I’m going. I just don’t have any fucking clue what to expect when I get there.
I’ve been warned more times than I can count to stay far away from Culaccino, Nico’s very exclusive, very mysterious club in downtown Manhattan, and I’ve listened. For the most part, anyway.
But tonight, I don’t care. I’m desperate. Desperate for Nico and for us to go back to the way things were before that night.
That’s why I’m in disguise. Nobody will know I’m there until I want them to.
It’s a perfect plan meant to rekindle what Nico and I have been missing for the past four months. It’s not just the sex—it’s everything else. He can fuck me six ways from Sunday, and it’s always incredible. Physically.
But our connection has been broken for too long, and tonight, I’m going to repair it.
I drive past the club entrance. The street is dark and narrow, and there are only a few dimly lit awnings. It’s understated, at least from the outside.
I can only guess what goes on inside, of course, because nobody tells me anything. Everyone wants to protect Shaye, but they don’t realize that Shaye is a big girl with an even bigger plan.
I pull around a corner and find an empty spot. It’s tight as hell, but I manage to squeeze my car into it with some room in the front and back. Miraculous. I normally suck at parallel parking, so the stars must be aligned for me. I’ll take it as a positive sign.
My spikes click on the pavement as I approach the club. I nibble at my nail and scour the small groups of people gathered in front of the roped-off area.
There’s no sign of paparazzi lurking in the shadows, desperate to snap an incriminating photo. Judging by the line of high-end cars parked in the street, it looks like the club’s regular millionaire clientele, not the Hollywood elite crowd. I slip into a group of women dressed like me.
My pulse throbs as I lower my head and follow them in once the door attendant waves us inside. A blonde in front of me flips her hair over her shoulder, strands landing in my thick lip gloss. I sputter as quietly as I can and manage to detach it from my lips before she can turn around.
Straight through the entranceway is a hallway that leads to what looks and sounds like a dance club. But there’s another roped-off area to the left, leading in a different direction.
I twist around in the darkened entryway, squinting at the women in front of me. They all move forward toward a staircase lit only along the floor. Beefy security guys don’t let everyone through, though.
They pull aside only a select few women and men—me included. Everyone else is waved to the main club area. Everything is black. I can’t see six inches in front of me. I feel bodies moving against me, urging me forward. Low voices rumble through me, and large hands slide over my hips and ass. My throat tightens. Shit, what the hell did I just walk into? What kind of club is this, anyway?
"Stay close to the side." A low voice whispers against my hair, and a single chill slides down my spine. "Otherwise you’ll get trampled by the freaks."
I nod but don’t dare utter a reply. I have no idea who’s behind me or what he wants. No, scratch that. I know exactly what he wants, but there’s no fucking way I’m going to give him any sign of encouragement. I pull my skirt down as far as it will go, which is really not saying much.
Oh, God, what the hell am I doing here?
"You’ve never been here before, have you?" The voice murmurs against my ear again as we move closer to the stairs, and panic grips me. I reach out for the handrail and take one tentative step into the dungeon of this—this—place.
I nod, still refusing to respond, still facing forward, moving even closer to the blonde woman with all the hair. I’d gladly eat every strand if it meant I could get away from this jerkoff behind me. I don’t know if they were his hands all over my ass or someone else’s, but I want to stay far, far away from wandering fingers.
"Don’t be nervous. Once we get downstairs, you’ll see how much fun it can be."
Fingertips trail my arm, and the hairs immediately stand on end. I yank it away as if I’ve been stung by an angry wasp. A gravelly laugh vibrates against my neck, and I clutch the railing. Christ, could we move any slower? I just want to separate myself from this asshole and find Nico.
Not my brightest idea, although my plan was to remain undetected.
So far, none of Nico’s thug bouncers have picked me out of the crowd, though how could they in this pitch blackness? Besides, my disguise is foolproof!
I can still feel the guy’s hot breath on my skin. I didn’t acknowledge his innuendo, yet he’s still glued to my back. Fuck. I need to break away as soon as I get a clear path.
The pulsating electronic dance beats vibrate the floor beneath my feet, making my escape that much harder. I manage to sidestep the woman in front of me, attempting to evade my stalker. My foot slams into something hard, and a loud moan makes me jump about two feet into the air. I let out a yelp, ready to apologize, and my jaw drops to the floor, right about where my eyes landed a split second earlier.
Two naked, sweaty, writhing bodies are entwined at my feet, and I seriously doubt they felt the hard spike of my heel.
I swallow a gasp, trying like hell to peel my eyes away from them, but I can’t.
I yank my gaze away from the people on the floor and look for something, anything to keep my attention off the man who is now f*cking his playmate in the ass. Right out in the open!
I wobble slightly in my heels, squinting as I walk farther down the hallway. This place kind of reminds me of the Halloween parade in the West Village, except way raunchier. And with more nudity.
More moans and mewls surround me, and I step around the bodies contorted on the carpet at my feet. Nobody is watching me, but I’m watching all of them—including the people who are viewing this sexfest.
I’ve never felt so turned on in my life.
I clutch the sides of my head. Jesus, Shaye! Remember why you’re here! Get a fucking hold of yourself and find your boyfriend!
"A little too much too soon for you?"
I spin around, clutching the wall as I lose balance for what seems like the millionth time tonight. "I, uh..."
The man from the staircase smirks at me in the darkness. I recognize his gravelly voice—the one that was plastered against my ear not too long ago. Dammit, I thought I’d lost him.
He shifts slightly in the shadows, and my throat tightens like it’s caught in a vise. Longish, dark hair falls over one eye as he leans against the opposite wall.
"You look like you’ll fit right in here." He straightens up and slowly walks toward me. A swirl of a heady musk scent assaults my nostrils. "If you have the right partner to show you the ropes."
"I-I..." Shit! If I didn’t want the right partner, I wouldn’t be here, would I? This guy makes my skin crawl, and it’s more than just his leer.
He creeps closer toward me, sidestepping the show in his path. My heart thuds, the pounding sound reverberating between my ears.
My eyes dart left and right. Where the fuck is Nico?
"The first time is always the hardest."
Oh my God, this guy is relentless. I force a smile and flip my fake, dark hair over my shoulder. "Thanks for the offer, but I’m just fine."
"You are." He folds his arms over his broad chest, his menacing dark eyes narrowed. "Maybe the next time we see each other you’ll be a little more willing to try things."
My spine stiffens, and I puff out my chest. "I’m sure I will be, just with someone else."
I stumble backward, my heel catching on some guy’s shoe. I turn to mutter a quick ‘I’m sorry,’ but he’s so entranced with the girl getting f*cked six ways from Sunday that I don’t even think he noticed I impaled his toe.
A large hand lands on the small of my back, steadying me. But before I can twist my body around to tell the owner of said hand to fuck off, the whole arm snakes its way around my waist, a strong chest pressing against my back.
My spine stiffens at the foreign assault on my body, and the heat of his breath singes the back of my neck. But it’s not the stale stench of scotch that teases my nostrils.
It’s a much more familiar scent—one of my favorites, actually. Watermelon Jolly Rancher.
Nico.
That motherfucker.
"You look tense. First time?" he murmurs against my ear.
Rage bubbles in my veins, and my hand twitches at my side, aching to twist around and smack the shit out of him. But as much as I’d wanted to surprise him and rekindle our connection, I’m fighting the urge to pummel the crap out of him for trying to hit on me right now.
A stranger, as far as he knows! My chest tightens. Is this his game? And Max? My rat-ass brother must know what Nico has been up to, and yet he never said a goddamn word. Son of a bitch. They’re both dead to me.
I give a quick nod since I don’t want Nico to hear my voice. Yet. I am such an idiot! I swallow hard to find a golf ball-sized lump lodged in my throat. How could he? Jesus Christ, I knew there was some seedy shit that went on here, but I never imagined he’d be unfaithful.
I’m so fucking naïve.
He still hasn’t seen my face, but his grip tightens around my waist. "Come with me. I have a private room. Let me relax you."
_________________________________________