Black Hearted (The Margarelli Brothers 1)

“Time to go,” I said. Michael nodded and followed me outside to the waiting limo. He knew as well as I did that things were bad. Here we were, trying to go mainstream, and these psycho fucks were killing off our guys.

It didn’t exactly make us look good.

It didn’t exactly make us look strong, which was the most important thing to keep our interests, and our people, safe.

It didn’t exactly make me want to make nice, either.

The truth was, I was fucking pissed.

The moment I walked into the mansion, I was handed a dossier. I nodded at Slim as I headed right to my office. Michael followed me in and shut the door, pouring us each a fresh drink before settling into the big leather chair across from me.

I opened the file and my mind went blank.

“Vince?”

I couldn’t stop staring. A single photo rested on top. A photo of an incredibly beautiful woman. A woman who should have been on a magazine cover or gracing the big screen. Hell, she looked more like a goddess, too beautiful to be real.

And I knew her.

That long, rich, dark hair. Those piercing brown eyes. That heart-shaped face. I even remembered her bee-sting lips and cute little nose.

It was her. Francesca. Francesca was the new head of the Feluciano crime family.

I hadn’t seen her since we were children, but I’d never forgotten her. That little girl had stayed firmly in my mind all these years, bossy, larger than life, beautiful, and regal.

And now she was my enemy. It was right there on paper. But it didn’t feel right. That little girl hadn’t been a sneak, the type to stab you in the back. Unless she had changed dramatically . . . and in my experience, the one thing most people didn’t do was change.

The Feluciano family was a pack of wolves. Always had been. Maybe growing up in that den of thieves had twisted her into something else. She was still beautiful. But now she was evil.

Something inside me cried out at the thought.

“Earth to Vincent. Come in, Vincent.”

I blinked and looked across my desk at my cousin. He was staring at me like I was out of my mind. For a split second, I thought that maybe I was. Reality had slipped to the side, revealing something I hadn’t expected.

“What?”

“You’ve been staring at that for five minutes. Are you all right?”

I shook my head and went back to the file. There were more photos. I inhaled sharply as I saw a photo of her with a child. A pretty little girl who looked like a carbon copy of her at that age. She was a mother. She looked so happy and beautiful in that photo. There was no way the glorious woman in the photo could be taking out our guys.

But she was. We knew it was her family. And she, like me, had inherited the throne.

“I know her,” I said numbly. “Knew.”

Michael stood up and leaned over my desk. He let out a low whistle.

“Damn, she is gorgeous. Did you hit that?”

I stared at him. It took a beat before his words even registered. I shook my head. The woman was so pure looking that it was hard to believe anyone had ever touched her, even though someone obviously had. Unless it was a case of immaculate conception. I almost hoped it was.

This wasn’t a bible story. This was real life. And this was a mess I had to clean up.

Seduce her, a part of my brain whispered. Win her over. Take what you want. And you want her.

I knew I had a way with women. They seemed to throw themselves at me with annoying regularity. But I held myself apart from them, from everyone, aside from my family.

I always had.

Except her. Francesca was different. We knew each other. For a few years there, we had crossed paths at the Five Families events. Back when things had been friendlier between our families. Holidays, weddings, christenings. She’d always been there.

Until one day, she wasn’t.

I had never forgotten the crushing disappointment I’d felt. Just a little boy looking for a little girl. But it had felt like heartbreak.

Looking back, I could see it now. At the time, I’d known it was a weakness. Something to hide, from myself and from everyone else.

I had done my best not to think about her again. But I had. I had dreamed about her, too.

“We were just kids. Babies. She’s a few years younger than me.”

“Oh, shit, this is the little girl you used to talk about?”

I nodded curtly. I did not want to talk about my childish crush. I did not want to remember anything about my childhood, least of all that embarrassing phase.

“Vincent and Francesca, sitting in a tree.”

“Shut up, Mikey,” I growled. He shut up. But the bastard was grinning.