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Wickedly Twisted 68
ErosTwo men sit across from me in my office. Ciro Nasato and Lucca Verga both wear crisp, decent black suits, their hair slicked back, rings on their fingers, watches gleaming as if recently cleaned. Ciro's the older of the two, heavier than Lucca, with dark bags under his eyes. Lucca's in his early twenties, athletic and muscular, a good-looking young man, but an ugly red wound that'll turn into a nasty scar through his cheek and ear tells me a lot about what these men have gone through in the last few weeks."How can I trust that you two speak for the Pavone Famiglia?" I ask, head tilted to the side. I spin a glass of whiskey on a coaster on my desk. I don't want to admit that I'm enjoying this, but watching two powerful Italian mobsters bow and scrape and beg does bring me some pleasure."There's nobody left to disagree, Lord Khazan," Ciro says, bowing his head respectfully. "It's only me and Lucca now.""Which of you do I call Don?" I ask, trying not to smile."Ciro is my underbo
Wickedly Twisted 69
CaraI stand on the balcony outside of our bedroom and look out at the lake.Light glitters on the waves. The sun's sinking in the sky, leaving it all pinks and purples. It's funny how I've gotten so used to this place already. I'm in cashmere and silk and a pair of fuzzy slippers against the coming fall chill. I've never owned clothes like this before in my life, but Eros keeps insisting that I dress like his wife.Even though our agreement is at an end.It's strange how when I first got here, the idea of dressing in fancy outfits repulsed me. Now though, I'm beginning to love all the different styles and options I have.We haven't discussed what to do now that Christopher is gone and the war is over. I don't need to stay here anymore—nobody will chase me down if I leave the city. Our agreement is complete and our deal is at an end.But every time I work up the courage to say something, the words don't leave my lips, and he hasn't broached the subject.We keep living like this. In li
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Cara"Please, Cara, let me take those," Demetrios says, trying to grab the stack of dirty plates from my hands.I sidestep him and head into the kitchen. "Just doing my job, but thank you for using my name," I call back to him.He sighs, grinning, and shakes his head.I drop off the dishes, stick an order ticket in the line cook's window, and head back out front. I refill a couple mugs and stand for a moment, surveying the diner.It's half filled with Greek soldiers and half filled with locals. The place has been bustling lately. I think it has something to do with Eros—somehow, word got out that his wife spends her time in this place, and everyone's coming by to try to curry favor with the lord's woman.It's kind of nice. But mostly annoying.Toward the back, Alonzo's sitting alone, reading the paper. He's still my guard, though I don't need him as much these days. Eros purged the last of the stubborn captains from the family over the winter, and now that spring is here again, things
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CaraDimitra leans forward across the table, smiling happily. Helen, Lycus, and Eros are all listening too. "He said what?" Dimitra asks."Seriously, Old Harry said he was open for business. You should've seen Ophelia's face. She called him an old pervert and everyone went nuts. Those geezers made such a ruckus, it was hilarious." I beam at my mother-in-law as she covers her mouth and laughs.She's still in all black, but these days there are splashes of color, like she's beginning to thaw from a long freeze. Tonight, a pink scarf is wrapped around her neck.When I first met Dimitra, In ever would've told her a dirty story like what happened back at the diner. But the more I've gotten to know her, the more I realize she appreciates humor, even the dirty kind."I like that girl," Dimitra says. "She needs to come around more often.""Please, Mother, don't encourage her," Eros says with a sigh. "I think Phel is going to drive me insane.""You just can't handle her teasing, brother deares
Wickedly Twisted Wickedly Suited
N/B: This is a different book. A standalone in the Wickedly universe.It's been months since Freya Adams died.Everyone thinks it's an accident, but Allison Adams knows better. Freya was her sister, and they were close. So, so close.When the Adams family tries to get Allison to marry Paul Debarcio in Freya's place, Allison is scared and tries to escape. Paul killed Freya, and he would kill her too, because she knows too much about his crimes.Before Allison gets a chance to escape successfully, a special guest catches her.Gregory Callahan. The most dangerous man Portland has ever produced. Even more dangerous than Paul.Gregory is handsome, rich, and connected to dark webs of money.And he's more than willing to help Allison get revenge on Paul for the death of her sister.If she becomes his bride.--------One.AllisonI'm about to marry my sister's husband.Worst of all, she'd hate this wedding.It's drab, serious, stuffy. None of it was my choice—nobody asked my opinion on anythi
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Allison"You're late." Paul's voice is a low growl. He's an American, no hint of a Russian accent, though I've heard his father barely spoke any English. Only the old tongue. "Everyone is waiting.""They'll wait as long as it takes, won't they? You're the great Russian Lion, after all."Is that the hint of a smile? No, of course not, Paul Debarcio doesn't smile. He only stares. "I want you downstairs. I want you walking down that aisle. No more delay.""Are you going to drag me yourself? I bet the guests would love that. Why don't we put on a show for them?"He takes a step forward. My hands come up to my throat involuntarily, like I'm protecting myself. His voice drops lower. "Don't test me, Allison. Don't be like your sister."I open my mouth. I can't find any words. Horror rings through me, crystal clear like a frozen waterfall. I hate this man, hate him with every inch of my body, and I would do anything to kill him with my bare hands if I could.But he's a hulking brute.And he'l
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AllisonEvery step feels like a thunderclap. Even barefoot, my heels discarded at the far end of the hall, it's like each step is loud enough to wake the dead.I'm shocked Paul can't hear my heart racing. It's pounding in my ear, painfully loud and fast.I reach a staircase and listen. The sounds of the wedding party murmur up toward me, but they're distant. I hear the clattering of dishes, a few shouts, a stressed conversation in Spanish.With a deep breath, I take the stairs, going as fast as I dare.It leads me into a back hallway. Straight ahead is a kitchen. Men and women dart around in black and white jackets, ferrying appetizer plates, cleaning glasses, ignoring everything but their tasks. To the left are a pair of doors, and beyond them is the party itself. I spot guests mingling nearby, older people I don't recognize.To my left is another hall.I hurry away from the party and the kitchen. The sounds recede when I turn the corner. Ahead, there's a heavy-looking door with a pu
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AllisonOther guests mill about.I recognize some of them. Papa's cousin Vladimir. A business partner that worked with Papa on one of his earliest dispensary projects. A congressman I've seen on TV a few times. Criminals, gangsters, worse. Gregory leads me through the crowd, smiling and nodding, greeting people that stop to say hello. I do my best to smile through it, but inwardly I'm screaming."Shouldn't you be inside?" an older woman asks me. She's wearing so much jewelry, I'm honestly shocked she can stand under the weight. "Dear, weren't we told this was going to start soon?""Soon, Madame Pomfrey," Gregory says soothingly and pulls me on.We angle toward a bar. It's set up on the back patio. Music's playing, soft strings, background noise to the conversations. "Where are we going?" I hiss at him. "If Paul sees me—""You're with me now." Gregory glances down. "You'll be fine."I let out a startled, disbelieving laugh. What the hell is with this guy? That sort of confidence is mov
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