Mafia Casanova

PROLOGUE“If the world were perfect, it wouldn’t be.” —Bizzaro

Romeo

Now“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” I rasped into her ear, fueling the demon deep inside my soul.

Rage dripped like the very blood I was about to spill. After all, rage was a lot like a small wound, it slowly seeped until it made a puddle you couldn’t risk not seeing, and that puddle turned into a lake, that lake into an ocean—until you were consumed with the need to do something about it.

Why? Because you couldn’t fucking breathe.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered with a smile. Her face said yes, while her lies said no.

It didn’t matter. She’d be silenced soon.

After her screams of ecstasy turned to those of horror. Anyone standing outside would just assume it was the best night of her life.

Not the worst.

When in fact, it was her death in broad daylight.

I wasn’t the man she thought I was…

The sweet talker.

The gentleman.

The Casanova.

The man who could make her come over and over again until she begged for mercy when, in reality, she wanted what all these bitches did.

My heart.

My soul.

Those three little words that always carried the hardest and heaviest blow…

I want you.

I need you.

I. Love. You.

Women wanted the fairy tale, the happily ever after, the dream come true. I’d walk through hell just to get to you. They’d yet to figure out it was all a ruse, an illusion, a fucking made-up lie. If you told yourself something long enough, you were bound to believe it.

Well, guess what. Love was no different.

I knew what you were thinking; I was an intuitive bastard like that. That was what made me damn good at what I did. Staying alive when everyone wanted me dead.

Another three little words which were the truest and dearest of them all…

Who hurt you?

Images of her with him assaulted the forefront of my mind. I spent years trying to fuck her out of my mind. For some reason, I couldn’t begin to explain or understand, memories tried to shove their way to the surface—memories of a brother.

My brother.

Who’d do anything for me, anything for the family—or should I say The Famiglia. Our world was a dark place where light never shined unless you were taking someone’s life. A moment of clarity was, in fact, a double-edged sword, one that dragged me deeper and deeper into the depths of my own depravity. I never said no… to anything or anyone.

I nodded when I was supposed to.

I smirked when I needed to.

I complimented when the timing was right.

Then… I’d send them to Hell after giving them nothing but Heaven.

I should’ve felt guilty.

I didn’t.

I simply wanted the thrill of feeling alive.

In the words of the late and great Shakespeare, “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”

I lived by those words.

Blood in, no out.

When it came to women, they were by far my favorite victims. Fucking and killing were two of my best qualities. I always delivered the final act with a mind-blowing orgasm.

Wet.

Warm.

Red.

Soaking my hands.

This woman? She meant nothing. None of them did…

But one.

The rage I was fueling decided to burn, to shift into the monster I was becoming as I pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her neck.

Her legs wrapped around me.

My groans fell easily.

My movements on repeat.

I thrust into her.

Hard.

Fast.

I fucked her with urgency.

“Romeo!”

We all had our demons.

My name was mine.

In seconds, her ankles dug into my skin.

Her nails into my back.

Her panted breaths into the nape of my neck.

I clenched my teeth to keep from saying what I really wanted to—and to her face.

Traitor.

Whore.

Fucking rat.

“Feel good, baby?” I licked down her chest and up again, stopping at her ear before I gave it a small tug with my teeth. “Been watching you all night…”

“I knew it…” She moaned as I filled her to the hilt. “I knew you wanted me.”

I almost killed her right then and there. Barely able to keep my anger in check. I pumped, deliberately this time, my hips thrusting at a painfully slow speed.

I wanted her to beg to come… or maybe it was to live?

“So smart,” I taunted. She was merely another bitch in heat. “What are you doing here, huh?”

I inwardly winced when she reached for my jet-black hair, giving it a tug. Did she really think I was that into her that I wanted her to touch my hair?

I was in control.

Always.

She was a means to an end.

They all were.

“You.” She giggled. “I’m doing you. Get it? Oh, God.” She yanked harder on my hair, and I couldn’t help myself; I pulled her hand away.

Over it.

Over her.

“Who are you sleeping with?” I asked, pausing for a moment.

What was her name?