Vicious Proposal: A Dark Mafia Romance

I didn’t know what it all meant, but my brother Redmond and I both agreed that I couldn’t ignore his invitation. Nervosa was the head of his family and an extremely powerful man. He was a member of the Oligarchs, a group of the most elite of the elite, the power behind the power, the puppet master that pulled the strings of mafia bosses, heads of state, influential investors, and Fortune 500 CEOs. My brother operated in the Midwest for the most part while Nervosa stuck to the West Coast, but we couldn’t afford to start trouble.

“You’re my guest,” he said simply. “And I wanted the others to see you.”

“Who else is here?”

“You’ll see.” He reached a door and cracked it open, but didn’t enter. He looked back at me with a smile, and it seemed genuine—the first real display of emotion so far. And apparently at my expense. “I think you’re in for a nice surprise.”

He stepped into a room and pulled me along behind him.

It was a parlor furnished and set up in an old-fashioned style with the fireplace as the focal point. Books, paintings, and lavish hangings decorated the walls, and the lighting was dim and comfortable. It smelled like cigar smoke and ash from the crackling fire, and three men sat on couches, smoking and drinking brown liquor from finely cut crystal glasses. A young girl dressed in all black stood with her hands folded near the back of the room, clearly a servant or staff member of some sort. I hesitated as Nervosa strode over.

One of the men caught my eye and grinned. He was young and handsome, with dark eyes and dark hair, his suit black as night. He turned to Nervosa, who took a seat in a chair and crossed his legs.

“You shouldn’t have, Nervosa,” the man said. “I didn’t think there’d be any entertainment tonight.”

“That’s not what she’s here for,” Nervosa said. “Relax, Silvano.”

Silvano laughed. “Sure, of course. Listen, I like you Nervosa, but I’m not sure I’m ready to share a whore together. I’d be happy to fuck in private though. She’s tempting.”

Nervosa grunted. “You might want to watch yourself.”

“Have some respect,” another of the men said. He had a square jaw and sunken, dark eyes that looked endlessly sad and exhausted. “She’s not a hooker.”

“How do you know?” Silvano asked. “Are you an expert on ladies of the night, Liam?”

“Let it go,” the last man said. He was older than the others, with a gruff beard and a hard expression. “Nervosa, who is she?”

I recognized him: Griffin Deem. He was an Oligarch like Nervosa and my brother. And so were the other two: Silvano Tense and Liam Quest, all heads of their respective families, and all absurdly connected and powerful. The four deadliest men in the western half of the United States sat in a single room, and I stood ten feet away.

“Gentlemen, this is Melanie, my girlfriend.” He spoke the lie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

My jaw dropped open.

Silvano ripped a laugh. “Girlfriend? You’re joking.”

“We said no guests,” Griffin growled.

“She’s here to listen,” Nervosa said. “I’ve been teaching her a thing or two about my business.” He uncrossed his legs and patted his lap like he expected me to walk over and sit down. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

I hesitated as the four men looked in my direction.

The bastard. I could call him a liar and stir shit up, but that would only make my life more difficult. Deem, Tense, and Quest clearly didn’t know who I was, and it would be better that way. If they realized that the little sister of a rival Oligarch was attending college at Stanford, they’d send their spies to watch my every move.

Acting as Nervosa’s girlfriend was my only way out at this point.

I walked over to him. He watched my every move with hard, but humor-filled eyes. I loomed over him like I might take his invitation and drop down on his thigh, but instead patted his cheek and shifted to stand behind his chair.

His smile drove me raw with rage, but I kept my mouth shut.

“I’m learning from the best,” I said with the airiest smile I could manage. I wanted these men to think I was an empty-headed moron there to act as arm candy.

Silvano waved his cigar in the air. “Sweetheart, do me a fucking favor and go stand somewhere else? You’re lingering and it makes me uncomfortable.”

“You’re such a baby sometimes,” Liam said, shaking his head.

“Boys,” Griffin warned.

I drifted away from the couches and leaned against a side table covered with bottles of expensive alcohol a few feet away. Nervosa looked over his shoulder at me and winked—the bastard.

“You called this meeting,” Griffin said, waving an impatient hand. “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”