Beautiful Trouble: A Dark Mafia Romance

Five men sat around the long oak table, big enough for twenty people. A fire crackled in the hearth thirty feet behind me.

I kept telling myself that one day we’d gather all the oligarch families here and fill the room to the brim with latent anger, animosity, and the constant threat of death, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to make this cavernous hellhole feel packed. But at least we’d fight it out and see who was left standing in the end.

Anthony lounged in the chair to my right. My sisters weren’t present—not because they weren’t allowed, but because neither of them showed much interest in the details of the business.

I liked it that way. The further away they were, the safer they’d be.

What had happened to Liv left everyone shaken. Even ten years later, we all felt her absence like a missing limb. Penny especially—she’d been there when it had happened, and Liv’s death left its mark like a hot iron on her skin.

We never talked about it. That was the Servant way. But I knew Liv was why Erin and Penny both didn’t want to get too deep into the family trade.

Anthony, however, was different.

Losing Liv had galvanized him. He’d always been an outsider, born last and with different eyes than the rest of us, but he was outgoing and gregarious and funny. He worked hard to make everyone laugh, and that engendered a kind of class-clown vibe to him.

At least until that night. Afterward, he’d changed.

Liv’s death was the dividing line in all our lives. Before and after. What happened to her had transformed everything and still worked its horror on us all these years later.

I took a deep breath and pointedly didn’t look at Anthony. I knew he’d be grinning at me. Even if he was trying to take himself more seriously these days, he couldn’t help himself.

We were what we were.

“Gentlemen, thank you all for coming.”

The five main heads of the Ukrainian mafia stared back at me. Hadeon Patrenko sat to my left, a tall, muscular beast in his mid-sixties. He was the leader of the family, the don of their crime organization, and all decisions flowed through him. Next was Ivan, Hadeon’s brother, skinny and astute, more like a librarian than a gangster, but a killer at heart. On the opposite side were Kuzma, Maksym, and Osip, each of them the commanders of important crews scattered throughout the East Coast, from Boston down to Atlanta. They answered to Hadeon but had a lot of autonomy over their day-to-day activities.

“We could not deny your generous hospitality,” Hadeon said, his voice like gravel sloshing around in a dump truck. “I’ll also admit to some curiosity about the house itself.”

“It’s a pleasure to be invited here,” Ivan said.

The others added their platitudes. I nodded at each.

Hadeon looked at me to lead the meeting, and I let the silence stretch. Anthony gave me a look, like I shouldn’t flex my power by making them sit and wait, but I couldn’t help myself.

The Ukrainians worked for the Servant family and had for generations. Their leadership and organizational structure changed over time, but their fealty to the Servants never did. Without our backing, they’d be nothing—swallowed up by the stronger Italians or the fiercer Russians.

My father had a favorite saying. There’s always a bigger fish.

In this room, I was the whale.

“I’m sure you’re all aware of what’s happening with the Liberto family,” I said finally, easing the tension.

Hadeon clucked his tongue. “Shame, that. Chale and his crew did a number.”

The Libertos were in chaos. Giatno and Manzi were dead, which meant the don position was available for the taking, and several powerful contenders had stepped up to fill the void, all while trying to deal with the Ramos cartel. The results were bloody and dreadful.

“It seems that Pietro Masso is gradually taking control. The remaining opposition is broken, scattered, dead, or too busy fighting Chale to do much about it. When the chaos dies down, I believe that Pietro will pledge his loyalty to Roman.”

Hadeon nodded. Understanding bloomed on his face. I liked Hadeon, not because he was a decent person—he wasn’t, the man was a straight-up frightening demon—but because he was clever and competent, and I didn’t have to explain myself more than once.

“That wouldn’t be good. Not with his domination of the MacKennas.”

Anthony cut in. “He owns them in all but name now that he placed his wife’s father at their head. He’s a clever little rat, don’t you think, Hadeon?”

“Very clever,” Hadeon agreed. “But perhaps too headstrong.”

I leaned forward onto the table. “I need you to make sure that the Libertos aren’t able to put themselves back together. Between you and Chale, I want them ground into dust.”

“And one more piece taken away from Roman,” Hadeon said. “I think we can help in that regard.”