Aunt Linda’s smile is so fucking big, though. She’s gonna give it away. She covers her face with her hand and pretends to cough. I get down on my knee behind her and look to my right to see the guys coming out. We’re all ready to surprise her with a baby shower. I knew I wanted to do this in front of everyone, and doing it here and now, it just felt right.
While the ladies distract her, the guys open up the back room doors where the party will be. I hear them all standing behind me. It’s go time. I know it is, but I can’t fucking move. My nerves are getting the best of me.
I shake out my hands with my eyes closed, and that’s when I hear her.
“Tommy?” Her voice is full of shock. I open my eyes with the ring box in my left hand, get down on one knee, and see her wide-eyed and covering her mouth. She's got her hands up like she’s saying a prayer.
“You’re such a bad girl. You were supposed to wait till I told you to turn around.” I smirk at her. Just seeing her excitement and the happiness in her eyes puts me at ease.
Her hands fly down and start flapping like she’s a little kid.
“Tonya Ann Kelly, marry me.” I hold up the box to show her the three carat, cushion cut diamond ring with side accents I've picked out for her. I went to three different stores, but the second I saw this one, it was all over. I knew I needed to put this one on her finger.
She flings herself at me and wraps her arms around me. I don’t wait for her to answer. I slip the ring on her finger, where it belongs. Everyone’s clapping and laughing. I can hear Aunt Linda crying, 'cause that’s what she does. But the best sound is coming from my bad girl’s lips. She’s got her head buried in my neck while she clings to me, “I love you so much Tommy. I love you.”
I pull back to look into her gorgeous eyes; they’re full of nothing but happiness. “I know you do, baby. I love you, too.”
The End.
Keep reading for the next book in the series, Bad Boy, Anthony’s story.
Bad Boy
Synopsis
From USA Today bestselling author Willow Winters comes a HOT mafia, standalone romance.
I’m a dangerous man. You may be fooled by my good looks and charm, but my eyes give it away.
I’m the hitman for the Valetti familia, and I’m damn good at what I do.
They want men to talk, and I make them talk. They want men gone — bang, it’s done. It’s as simple as that.
Until her.
She’s on my list, but I want her. On her knees and submitting to my every command.
I'll give her a simple choice — die, or be mine.
I’ve always wanted this. Now that I have the chance, I’m taking it.
I can fulfill those fantasies I know she has. I’m going to make her beg for it.
Anthony
I stare at the picture from the envelope and feel so damn conflicted. I crumple the edges in my hand, not knowing if I really wanna go through with this. My eyes travel along each feature of her face, pausing to admire her large, brown eyes and long, thick lashes. She has gorgeous full lips I want to bite, but also see wrapped around my cock. Her nails are done in a classic shade of red, and her light brown hair hangs over her shoulders in loose curls. Her breasts peek out just above the neckline of her flowing blouse. I wish I could slowly strip her out of those clothes. But I can’t. She’s not mine. Even worse, I’m supposed to kill her.
I shove the slip of paper back into the envelope containing the other photos, those hits I couldn’t give two shits about. They're for assholes who have it coming to them. One stole and ran in order to keep up with his addiction. You don’t steal from a mob boss and think you can get away with it. The second killed a made man. He knows it’s coming. Neither are doing a good job of hiding. They’ll be easy hits.
I take another swig from my beer and debate on taking the sheet back out. But I have her face memorized already. I want her. More than that, I want to break her. My thoughts are depraved, and I know it. I think back to the last chick I had. She liked to play. But that’s all it was to her. Play. I want the real thing. I want to earn a woman’s submission, earn her desire to please me through training. So far, it’s always been pretend. I’ve never had an opportunity like this. But it’s wrong. It’s so fucked up and wrong.
But then again, so am I.
I carve up assholes and kill them for a living. The torturing and their screams don't affect me in the least.
This broad has it coming to her, even if she doesn’t know it. She probably thought she was doing the right thing by going to the cops. She probably thinks she's safe in the witness protection program. She’s not. She didn’t know what she was doing, and now it’s my responsibility to make her disappear. She cost the Cassano familia a lot of money, but more than anything, they lost face. The fucker she was involved with doesn’t care that she’s on a hit list. He’s just pissed she ratted on them, even if the charges didn’t stick.
Killing her is purely about their pride and the deal they lost.
I grind my teeth and slowly peel back the label on my beer bottle. I have to be delicate so it doesn’t tear apart. Patience. I need patience. With everything I do, I need patience.
I’ve been looking into her, and I know she’d fit the part. Poor girl didn’t know what she was getting herself into when she started fucking around with a member of the Cassanos. She's a sweet little thing who thought she’d like a taste of the more dangerous things in life. I can give her more than a taste though. I can give her exactly what she was looking for and fulfill those fantasies I know she has. And she can give me what I’ve always wanted.
I spied on her again last night. She was reading one of her books, and I watched as it turned her on. Of course she had no idea, but I was right fucking there. The only thing separating us was a brick wall. With her window open, I clearly heard all those soft moans coming from her lips. I had to know what she was reading, so I snuck in and took a look around.
I Googled that book the second I got home. Her own dark desires sealed her fate.
She has deviant fantasies just like me. She’s fucking perfect.
“Anthony, you wanna talk now?” I hear Vince ask as he pulls up the stool to my right. I messaged him earlier. I place my bottle on the bar and push it to one side as the bartender slides Vince his usual Jack.
I lean back a bit and tap my knuckles on the bar before facing him. Vince is a ruthless fucker, and he doesn’t take any shit. He’s also my cousin, so I feel safe with him. But this is the mob, and he’s the Don. I’m never that safe.
“It’s about the hits we got in,” I tell him in a low enough voice that no one else present is going to hear. Not that it matters. It’s our bar, and we know everyone in here.
“You need help? Tommy’s not enough?” he asks, cocking a brow. Tommy’s my brother, and he's also my second-in-command. Technically we’re both contractors for the familia. We only do hits, and we don’t bother with that other bullshit.
“No,” I say with certitude. I never need help. Hits are easy for me, in addition to being good money.