Vicious Proposal: A Dark Mafia Romance

Nervosa’s body was hard against mine. The girl disappeared around the corner.

“Let. Me. Go.” I stared at Nervosa and shifted my knee. “Or I will make sure you never have children, you prick.”

He didn’t move. “You asked too many questions. Narrow it down.”

“You fucker. Let me go.”

“Ask me two questions and I will.”

I bit back a retort. I should’ve slammed my knee into his balls, but something stopped me. Maybe the way he stared at my lips or the feeling of him crushing me against the wall, but I decided to play along.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“So that you’d understand the situation.” He tilted his head. “One more. Think of something better.”

I clenched my jaw. The arrogant monster. I understood why people disliked this man.

“Is Silvano going to start a war with my brother?”

He released my wrists. “He will if we let him.” He turned and began to walk.

I let out a gasp and rubbed my arms. I had to hurry to catch up or else risk getting stranded in this strange house. I didn’t even know who lived here, though I guessed it was Griffin’s place.

“Is that what you wanted? You need me to warn Redmond?”

“If you think that’s best.”

“Silvano Tense is going to ship a bunch of drugs onto my brother’s territory. I have to tell him.”

Nervosa shrugged as if he didn’t care. We reached the entryway and found it empty. He paused at the door and turned to me again, leaning in close.

“Understand something,” he said, his voice throaty and low. “I don’t give a damn about your brother or any of the others. I brought you here because I hoped you’d be smart enough to understand the stakes. Don’t prove me wrong.” He shoved open the door and walked outside.

I stood, too stunned and angry to move.

Nervosa brushed past Palmira. “She’s all yours,” he muttered as he walked down the steps.

Palmira came into view. She was frowning after Nervosa like she tasted something awful. “You okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said, shaking my head. “What the hell is with that guy?”

“Oligarch,” she said, as if that explained it. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

I let Palmira lead me away from the house.

As we got into the car, I caught a glimpse of Nervosa sitting astride a black motorcycle, a helmet tucked under his arm, staring at me like he wanted to smash through the window, drag me outside, and ravish me on the pavement.

Chapter 2

Melanie

The first day of class arrived. The air had an electric chill and campus swarmed with students. I’d never been around so many people all at once in my life. I grew up on a compound, in a lovely box, surrounded by my family, by staff, by sycophants and liars. I had private tutors and was given whatever I wanted.

Except the chance to be normal.

Palmira ghosted after me like a wraith. I tried to get her to stay home, but she refused. “Nervosa,” was all she’d said. I resented her but was happy she was there. I’d never admit it, though.

Campus was overwhelming. I sat in my first class toward the back and listened to an old man in tweed talk about economics. I realized I could do anything I wanted or go anywhere at all. I had money and time. I was young.

I went to the library and shuffled around in the gloom.

The windows were high and airy. Students clustered at tables and talked in low voices. I spotted friend groups and study groups, and wondered if I’d ever have that.

“Don’t look so glum,” Palmira said, scaring the crap out of me.

“I’m not glum,” I said, glaring. “And why are you sneaking around scaring me?”

“Bored,” she said, shrugging.

I slipped into the stacks and found the computers lined up along the far wall. I sat down, logged in, and began my search.

It was slow at first. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Palmira drifted around like she was hunting for prey. I didn’t care what she did, so long as I wasn’t bothered.

I started by searching my mother’s name. Not much came up. When she married my father and took on the Orchard title, her life drifted into obscurity. As far as I knew, my mother barely ever left the house, and rarely did much more than make art and complain. She was very good at both.

I searched her maiden name. There was a lot more. The family she’d come from struck oil in the early nineteen century, back when land was still affordable. They grew fabulously rich and for the next hundred years established themselves as leading California oil barons.

Her parents were dead. She had a brother, still living, and cousins. I didn’t know much about them. Mom never talked about her family, not even when I asked. I chewed on the end of a pencil and took out an old, faded composition book, and turned to a page midway through.