Chapter 1

Dante

Shaking hands? Check.

Twitchy eyes? Check.

Inability to sit still, follow a football game, or think of anything but her?

Check, check, and double-freaking-check.

     That’s it. I’m addicted to Julia. Or maybe I need to learn to meditate. Hmm…I wonder if Julia meditates?

“Earth to Dante?” My brother, Gabe, plopped down beside me on the oversized couch. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? The Saints just got a first down.”

“It’s Thanksgiving. After dinner naps are mandatory.” Ignoring him and the rest of my family gathered in the den to watch the game, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

     I wonder if Julia is taking a nap. In bed. Naked.

“Nice try, but you can’t claim turkey coma this year. We barely touched it.” He glanced toward the kitchen, likely to make sure his wife wasn’t listening. “I’m ready for a pizza. That Chinese food wore off about ten minutes after we cleared the table.”

“Maggie will murder you in your sleep if you order more take out.” I felt bad for him. Hell, I felt bad for all of us, but mostly, I felt bad for Maggie.

“Nah, she loves me too much to knock me off.” He raised his chin but the crinkle between his eyes told me he had his doubts.

“Maybe, or maybe she doesn’t want to raise five kids on her own.” I couldn’t resist giving him a hard time—as the baby of the family, it was my job.

“True, but you have to admit. Nothing, and I mean nothing, spoils Thanksgiving more than an overcooked turkey.”

I dropped my voice to a conspirator’s tone. “Her soggy oyster dressing is a close second.”

As if the memory was too much to bear, he shuddered. “There’s pie.”

I couldn’t imagine how Maggie could have screwed up putting a frozen dessert in the oven, but where there’s a will… “Is it edible?”

“Only one way to find out.”

I followed Gabe to the kitchen, but when he turned to face me, his serious expression told me I’d been lured away from the rest of the family under false pretenses. “What’s up?”

“This year is… It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving.” He leaned against the counter and gave me his best concerned-big-brother look. “You okay?”

My chest tightened to the point I struggled to breathe. “I’m fine. Ma is in Sicily taking care of Pops. They’d be here if they could.”

“They aren’t the only one’s missing.” Gabe was as subtle as an airhorn.

Our parents’ absence was only the sour topping on the shit flavored pie. We’d see them over Christmas. Our older brother Joe was another story.

Grief washed over me like storm surge from a Cat-five hurricane, but I tried to play it cool by changing the subject to yet another brother. “Marco would be here, but he’s busy running one fifth of the—”

“Business. He’s running the business.” Gabe’s voice rose to the point he glanced back toward the family room as if to make sure no one had overheard him.

“Right.” I got it. I did. We didn’t use words like mafia or mob or the Cosa Nostra in mixed company. But I didn’t want to get into murders and orphaned kids and the black hole in my heart.

Gabe got that far away expression we all had when thinking about Joe. “I can’t believe it’s been three years. It’s bullshit what they say about time healing all wounds.”

I clamped a hand on his shoulder and put my face in his line of vision. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’d be better with some pizza.” He laughed a humorless laugh that told me he’d lied, or at least said the right thing for my benefit.

“I’ll deny I ever said this, but me, too. I’m freaking starving.”

Chuckling, Gabe turned his attention back to the game. A split second later, he darted toward the TV. “Run! Go! Go, go go… Yes! Touch-doooown Saints!”

A chorus of “Who dats!” erupted from my other brothers, their wives, and their kids. We might have been born in Sicily, but we’d lived in the Big Easy since we were in grade school. Needless to say, we bled black and gold when the New Orleans Saints played.

Normally, I’d be shouting along with them, but not this year. Gabe was right. This Thanksgiving sucked. My only hope of salvaging the day was Julia—a woman I’d technically never met, but had spent the last several months gaming with online.

     Speaking of which, what better time to ask her out than a holiday?

I pulled out my phone and fired off a text.

         Me: Happy Thanksgiving.

         Julia: You, too. How was it?

         Me: My sister-in-law’s turkey was so dry it turned to powder in my mouth.

         Julia: It couldn’t have been that bad.

         Me: Jerky has more moisture. I doubt any of us will recover from the T-Day trauma in this lifetime.

         Julia: LOL Did anyone eat it?

         Me: We tried. Five minutes in, my brother gave up and ordered Chinese.

         Julia: Dry turkey and Chinese is better than the cereal I had. Plus, you were with your family. That has to count for something right?

     Smooth. Real smooth. Complaining when the only family she has nearby is her pain-in-the-ass sister.

I slipped outside and called her.

“Hi.”

Hearing her voice sent a shock of electricity from my ear to my toes and back again. Parts of me softened, but other parts hardened. “Are you busy?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have plans tonight?” I hadn’t been so nervous about asking a woman out since middle school.

“Besides a Sci-Fi channel marathon and splurging on a shrimp po-boy?” Julia’s laughter gave me a shot of courage.

“Want some company?” The fact that my voice cracked like my teenage nephew’s should have made me run for the bayou, but I dug the way she made me feel.

I dug the slightly nauseous, too excited to turn back, next-in-line-for-the-roller-coaster craziness of a new relationship.

I dug her.

“It’s Thanksgiving. You should spend it with your family.” Her words had a singsong quality to them that told me she was smiling.

     She’s going to say yes this time. I know it.

“I’ve been here since ten this morning. You know what they say about too much of a good thing…”

“Families are like sunshine. They’ll burn you if you get too much?” She sounded like she’d bit back more laughter.

“Not a bad analogy. I’m an introvert in a house full of loud Italians. I usually spend the day after family dinners nursing a too-many-people-hangover.”

“Do you drink raw egg, tomato and pickle juice smoothies?”

“Eggs, no, but a bloody Mary and some dill shooters work wonders.” I loved that she had the same slightly off sense of humor as me. I loved damned near everything about her, except the part where she’d gone out of her way to avoid meeting me.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“So what do you think? Want to Sci-Fi and chill?” I hated how desperate I sounded, but I was more than ready to meet her. Hell, I hadn’t even seen her pic. I had no clue what she looked like and didn’t care. I just wanted to be with her.

The line went as silent as the freaking grave.

     Shit. Shit. Shit.

Julia drew a deep breath. “I don’t know…Danny.”

My stomach turned for an entirely different reason than bad turkey or asking her out nerves—I’d lied to her for months.

About my name. And any other tidbit that would have linked me to my family.

New Orleans was a big city, but in a lot of ways it was as small town as Mayberry—only with more booze and beads and boobs. A Sicilian family did not simply waltz in and buy half the French Quarter without creating a few million rumors.

In the south, rich plus Italian equaled the mafia. In our case, the stories were true, or they had been until about a year ago.

“I can’t.” Julia lowered her voice. “My sister’s here. I’m not sure she’s up for company, and I hate to leave her alone on a holiday.”

“That’s cool. I get it.” I spent a fair amount of time bellyaching about my big fat Italian family, but in reality, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

I don’t know what she heard in my voice, but she sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to see you…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’d feel the same way if it were just me and my brother.” Memories of Joe threatened to pull me under again.

“It has to be hard without your older brother there.” Julia had spoken so softly I wasn’t sure if the words had come from her or my imagination.

“I’m okay.” I hadn’t completely lied. That she knew exactly what was wrong without my having to explain meant the world to me. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was to drown her in my grief. Again.

     It won’t help. The only thing that can is Sophia Abruzzo paying for his murder.

When she spoke again, the humor had returned to her voice. “This is weird, but I was watching a movie earlier. Before they ate their turkey, the characters took turns saying what they were most thankful for. It was cute, but totally unrealistic.”

“Sweet but cheesy.” I had no idea where she was going with this, but she had my attention.

“Exactly. So I thought with us, being us, we should change it up a bit.” A rustling sound came over the line as if she’d changed positions. “Let’s share two things we’re thankful for and one thing we’d be thankful to get rid of.”

Ideas rose to the surface of my brain like bubbles in champagne. “You first.”

“This year, I’m thankful for my job and you.”

And just like that, my black grief cloud lifted. “I feel the same way about you….and my job, but mostly you. I’d like to banish beige, dry turkey from all future holiday meals.”

She snorted, choked, and alternated between coughing and laughing.

My smile widened. “Soda shot out your nose didn’t it?”

“No comment.” Julia pulled herself together enough to ask, “Was the turkey really beige?”

“More like greige with undertones of green.” I deadpanned. “What about you? What’s the one thing you’d like to leave behind?”

“I was thinking…” Her coy tone made my pulse race.

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to get rid of the mystery in our relationship.”

My heart grew three sizes and threatened to burst from my chest. “A little mystery is a good thing.”

“So you don’t want to meet me?”

“Babe, you have no idea how much I want to meet you.”

She made a little gasping sound that went straight to my cock. “I love it when you call me babe.”

“You sure? It’s not too sexist for you?” I couldn’t help but tease her. While I agreed with her one-hundred percent, she’d made her feelings about gender equality known, often and loudly.

“It is, and I’m probably setting women’s rights back fifty years, but it sounds incredibly sexy when you say it.” Julia sighed the sort of sighs that made me think of daydreams and cotton candy. “Right. So. As I was saying, the comic book and gaming convention is this weekend. How would you feel about meeting there?”

     Like I’d died and gone to geek heaven.

“That could work.” I played it cool, but I couldn’t have thought of a more perfect first date. Julia and I had met online while playing the same video game. We shared a love for Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and all things super hero—except Dare Devil, obviously. What better place to meet than the epitome of geekdom?

“Great. I’m working the con, but I’m off Saturday night.”

“Working?” As far as I knew, she had a job in cybersecurity—another thing we had in common.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m crossing my heart and hovering my finger over the mute button just in case.”

She sucked in a breath. “I’ll be spending forty-eight hours or so dressed as sexy Darth Vader for a local comic book shop.”

     Holy shit.

I’d expected her to say she was working a merch booth or the food court for a little extra holiday spending money, but this… wow. I’d seen my fair share of cosplay girls, and let me tell you, they were stunning. “Sexy Vader, huh?”

“I know. I know. It goes against everything I believe in. I mean, I hate how women are objectified in Sci-Fi and fantasy, but Christmas is right around the corner. I could use the extra cash.”

“You don’t need to explain. I get it. And I agree, women are absolutely objectified in the comic and gaming world, but…”

“But?” She laughed, likely knowing full well where my brain had gone.

I struggled to come up with a tactful way of asking her about her looks. In the end, I decided it didn’t matter. I was coming dangerously close to falling for her based on her heart and her sense of humor and her brilliant-freaking-mind. If the outside was as beautiful as her inside, bonus. If not, it wouldn’t change how I felt about her. “But, are you sure you’re ready to meet me?”

“Absolutely.”

A plan began to form. A freaking awesome plan involving VIP tickets to the masked ball. The event had been sold out for months, but for once in my life, I was glad to be a Marchionni.

One phone call and I’d be a step closer to giving Julia the best first date in the history of first dates.

 

Chapter 2

Frankie

 

Tonight was my date with Danny. After so many months of talking online and on the phone, I knew him better than I’d known any of the jerks I’d actually dated in college. Without the physical stuff to get in the way, we’d formed an incredible bond.

     Why am I so nervous? What can possibly go wrong?

My mind immediately went to my growing list of horrific scenarios. He’d pick his nose or boss me around or take one look at me and leave.

     Get a grip, Frankie. He’s amazing. Don’t pass out or puke on him, and everything will be fine.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Sophia, my oldest sister, stormed into our bedroom. “Is that the costume for the con? I thought we had the night off?”

She knew darned well why I was dressed as Harley Quinn. I’d told her about my date with Danny a hundred times. However, I didn’t have time to argue. Once Sophia got started, she’d go on and on.

“We’re off tonight. I’m going to the masked ball, remember?” I drew a tiny black heart on my cheekbone. Then lined my blood red lips with a thick black line.

“With the video game nerd? You’re still going?” Sophia gave me a look that reminded me far too much of our mother.

“The proper term is geek, and yes, I’m still meeting him.” Makeup finished, I picked up my phone to order a rideshare. No way in the world would I take public transportation to the hotel while dressed in black and red pleather pants and a bustier.

“Not so fast.” She snatched the cell from my hand and held it high over my head like she’d done with my favorite doll when we were kids. “What do you know about this guy?”

No sense wrestling her for the phone, she stood almost a foot taller. I planted my hands on my hips and glared. “Give it back. I’m a grown woman capable of making my own decisions.”

She didn’t move. “I’ll hand it over once you answer my questions. Have you run a background check on him? How do you know he’s not a serial killer?”

“I thought we were fighting to break free of Tommaso so we can date and marry who we want.” I reached for the cell, but she angled her body away from me. “You’re acting just like our mob-boss-brother.”

“Now you’re talking marriage?”  Sophia might have pretended to ignore the insult, but I’d caught the flash of anger in her eyes.

“Damn it, Soph. Stop twisting my words.” At the end of my patience and out of time, I lunged for the phone.

She tossed the cell at me. “I don’t like it.”

A quick glance at the clock sent my pulse racing.  Pulling up the rideshare app, I said, “I’m meeting him in a public place, and I have an ironclad escape plan if it doesn’t work out. I have to work first thing in the morning.”

“What’s the point of dating? We’re not staying in New Orleans.”

We’d been over this several times since I’d made the mistake of telling her about Danny, and I didn’t have the energy to get into it again.

I hurried to the closet for my boots. “We’re going to a party, not running away to join the circus together.”

“Whoever heard of a masked ball at a gaming convention?” Sophia wrinkled her nose as if she’d smelled something foul.

“It’s New Orleans. We don’t need a reason to dress up in costumes and get drunk.” I’d tried to lighten the mood, but judging by her icy expression, I’d failed.

“This is not who you are.” She grabbed my arm, pulled me across the room, and turned me to face the mirror. “You see a young woman excited to go on a date with a guy. I see a mafia princess risking too much for nothing.”

I jerked free. “I’m not a mafia anything. I agreed to help you bring Tommaso down because I have no intention of being sold to the highest bidder.”

After our father died unexpectedly, our brother had set the wheels in motion to marry me and my sisters off to men he owed favors to, wanted favors from, or who’d paid the highest price. Sophia and I had escaped to the United States, but our sisters weren’t so lucky. They’d gone into hiding in Sicily.

Sophia cocked her head and studied me as if seeing me for the first time. “You’re stronger than I give you credit for.”

“Thank you.” I hated arguing with her, but it seemed like that’s all we’d done lately.

No surprise, we couldn’t have been more different. All I wanted was a computer, a quiet life, and my family back to normal. Sophia’s ultimate goal was to unseat my brother as capo and take his position—something that couldn’t happen unless she suddenly sprouted a penis.

Old world rules sucked, and the mafia was as old world as it came.

“But I still think this evening is a bad idea.” She would never admit she was wrong. That would be too much like acknowledging weakness.

“I’ve been risking my life for months trying to find dirt on the Marchionnis. Don’t I deserve to have some fun?” I nudged her side.

She threw up her hands like the Italian she was, with serious gusto. “Yes. Yes. Fine. Go. Just don’t screw around and fall for this guy. The new plan will work. And we’ll be out of here.”

     Like it’s going to be so easy to waltz into a company Christmas party and steal Enzo Marchionni’s DNA.

“I hope you’re right.” I checked the ETA of my rideshare. “The car will be here in five minutes.”

“I’m always right. Enzo is our half-brother and heir to the Abruzzo throne.”

“Even if he is, there’s no guarantee he’ll help us. Especially if he finds out I’ve been working at his family’s corporation under an alias and hacking into their computer networks.”

“He’ll help because he knows what it’s like to be forced into an arranged marriage.” She sounded so convinced it would have been easy to believe her, but I’d learned a thing or two about the Marchionnis over the previous year. They rarely, if ever, behaved as expected.

“Then our problems will be solved. In the meantime, I have a date.”

My phone chimed with an incoming message. I opened the window and froze.

         Danny: I need your address.

         Me: I’ll meet you there.

         Danny: You sure? It’s a date. Shouldn’t I pick you up?

         Me: Absolutely sure. Meet me by the entrance.

He replied with a photo.

The goofball had dressed as the Joker, which we’d planned. However, he’d either colored his hair or was wearing a green wig. Making matters worse, he had on more makeup than I did. Part of me was disappointed I couldn’t see his face.

Sophia glanced at the screen and groaned. “That’s him?”

“Yep.”

“How are you supposed to know if he’s handsome or hideous? He didn’t even show you his body.”

“Physical appearances don’t matter.”

Sophia kept talking, but I tuned her out. I needed to think of something clever to text Danny but came up blank. In the end, I settled for sending him a quick selfie.

“…or Quasimodo with a tiny dick? Believe me, it’ll matter when he wants to have sex and there’s a pepperoncini waiting for you.” She demonstrated her point with her pinkie finger.

I grinned, thankful I’d missed most of her lecture. “I don’t need to worry if he has a tiny pepper penis or a salami. I’m going to a ball, not playing with his.”

The mention of sex with Danny made me dizzy, but I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t really care what he looked like. It was enough to finally meet the man behind the curtain. The man that made me smile even on my worst days.

Sophia sighed. “Uh huh. Remember, orgasms are like truth serum. Don’t screw up and tell him your real name.”

“I’ve been pretending to be Julia Carpenter at the Marchionni Corporation for months without a single slip. I’m not going to blow it.” I understood her fears. I even understood her frustration.

It went against Sophia’s nature to sit on the sidelines while I put myself in danger. She would have been the one working behind enemy lines, but she didn’t know squat about computer programs, let alone how to hack them. Not to mention, the Marchionnis would have recognized her the second she walked through the door.

They believed she’d murdered the heir to their throne, Joe Jr. Which she hadn’t. However, she absolutely had tried to poison their entire family at Gabe Marchionni’s engagement party.

Although, that sort of wasn’t her fault. Sort of.

Sophia, beautiful, ruthless, and gullible. Not to mention, she had the luck of a black cat standing under a ladder. In short, she’d partnered up with Pietro Lazio, the capo of another mafia family, to bring down the Marchionnis. When his schemes had failed, Sophia had taken more than her fair share of the blame for his shady activities. As a result, my entire family had been punished.

It was up to me to clear the Abruzzo name, get rid of our brother, and save my sisters. So far, my efforts had worked as well as concrete water-wings, but failure wasn’t an option.

     Ah, the life of a mob princess. Never a dull moment.

I grabbed my tiny cross body bag and headed for the door to wait for my driver.

“Wait!” Sophia rushed toward the bathroom. “You’re forgetting something.”

Mentally, I ran through my checklist. Lipstick, phone, fake ID, fake debit card to an account under my fake name.

She returned and pressed a stack of condoms into my palm. “These are extra-large. If he’s packing a baby jerkin, skip the sex or they might fall off.”

“Thanks, Soph. That’s some…great sisterly advice.”

And to think, I’d envied Danny and his big close-knit family.