Villainous: A Dark Mafia Captive Romance (A Villain Collection Book 2) Read online

  Her hit barely stings, but her words beat the hell out of me like a sledgehammer to my chest. No matter what, I can’t stop the pain from swelling in my chest.

  Love? She actually loves this bastard. How can she give someone the same feeling that we shared? The same thing that made me a whole person. Her love is poison, killing me slowly.

  Little dove is going to pay for the hell she put me through. After the war is over with the Irish mob, she’s going give me answers, and if she doesn’t, I’m going to torture her until she does. When she breaks, I’m going to kill her and dump her body in the Atlantic Ocean. She started a war with me, and now I’m going to finish it.

  I tuck my Glock back into my hostler. “Save your tears for someone who gives a shit.” Yanking her soft hair, I wrap my other hand around her neck, squeezing tight. “Hurry and clean yourself up.” I turn to Dante. “Follow her to make sure she doesn’t escape.”

  Three months after the war

  Maya

  Pain. It’s never foreign to me. Pain is inevitable no matter what you do. Right now, I’m in pain. Not physical pain but internal pain. Pain of losing my brother, Liam, who was slaughtered by Devious. Pain of losing Chuck, my boyfriend who was assassinated by my first love.

  I want to strangle Devious and Villainous. I thought about it. Killing both of them. Dreamed of locking them in a cell and setting them on fire, watching them burn for the way they destroyed my life. Even though I’m an exiled Irish princess, that doesn’t mean I’m not a killer. And even though I’m still in love with Villainous, it doesn’t stop me from hating him. How can I still love someone when they do shitty things to me? My ma once told me love and hate is one enormous, complex feeling that can’t be sorted out, and people always confuse the two. It’s why you can love and hate at the same time. Depending on your perception of someone, you could feel both.

  When I saw Villainous for the first time in ten years, my heart dropped. I knew he was still looking for me. Because Villainous was never the type to let things go, including me. Villainous is still the same cold asshole as he was when he was a teenager, but life had hardened him. I had hardened him. Chuck—my sweet Chuck. I was in love with him. He made me feel safe and stable, and being with him wasn’t a reminder of my past. He loved me for who I was and not what he could gain from me. I’ll admit, I didn’t love him the way I love Villainous, and I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone the way I loved Villainous. The sex with Chuck was great but wasn’t awesome. I never felt fully satisfied the way I was with Villainous. Vil knew my body and took the time to study me. He fed my inner demon. The one where I craved pain.

  When I witnessed him killing Chuck, my heart nearly exploded in my chest. Seeing his body lying in a pool of his blood made me nauseous, and it made me realize I can’t outrun my past no matter what happened. Being the sister of the former don and exiled from the Five Points puts a target on my back. I always felt like Lucifer, the fallen angel, who fell from grace and ended up in hell.

  I’ve been abducted by my first love and my worst nightmare. I don’t know what my future holds right now, but if I’m not careful, Villainous will kill me. If I don’t give Villainous what he wants, he’ll kill me. He wants the reasons why I left him without a word. He asks me every single day. When I don’t tell him, he’ll beat me with the belt, then fuck me or find ways of trying to make me pay. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll keep enduring the pain until Villainous kills me. It’s what he does. He’s a murderer. Has been since we were in high school. He didn’t kill other students, but he’ll kill adults on the jobs his da, Draco, would tell him to do.

  There is a light knock on the oak door, and then the maid, Noemi, waltzes in wearing a black uniform. She’s in her mid-forties, plump like a pumpkin with kind gray eyes. She’s the only one who doesn’t treat me as a nobody. It’s strange—I always wanted to be invisible, but now, I’ll give anything to be treated like a decent human being.

  She doesn’t take in my naked form decorated with hickeys and welts all over my body. Villainous has a thing about marking me, which is why I have a tattoo of his name on my ass cheek.

  Before Villainous kidnapped me, I was living a peaceful life, but I was constantly watching over my shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t find me.

  “What a glorious morning,” Noemi says, smiling, displaying her white teeth. She pulls out a mini teddy bear from her pocket. “My nephew made you this.”

  She’s always going on about her nephews and how she has to take care of them because both of their parents are dead. It’s sad to lose a parent. My middle brother, Cashel, killed our da. My stepmother found his body in the freezer in the basement, and when she confronted him about it, he told her she was next if she didn’t leave him alone about it.

  I hug the bear to my chest.

  “Thanks.”

  My routine starts like this: I wake up in the morning, eat breakfast, take a shower, dress in the sexy lingerie Villainous picked out, and watch TV or listen to music until he gets back home, and I’ll get fucked. This has been my life for the past three months. Three long months in this hellhole. But I shouldn’t complain because during the war between the Italians and the Irish, I was living in a dungeon as a criminal, and my brother lost the war.

  My eyes venture to the heavy door, and I want to take off running, but it’ll be too risky. Two soldiers guard the bedroom door, and security is tight around the premises. I thought after the war that Vil would let me go, but I should have known he was going to keep me. Because in his mind, he still thinks I belong to him.

  Noemi steps into the lavish walk-in closet and strolls back with a pair of leather leggings and a cotton shirt with the words “Lacuna Coil” stamped across it.

  She’s a sweet woman, albeit too optimistic, but she’s nurturing. When I was sick with the flu, she sat in here with me the entire time, ran my bathwater, catered to me like she was my mother.

  “You have an appointment for your Pap smear in an hour and thirty minutes.”

  I nod as I push my aching body off the soft cream bed and wrap the cherry silk sheets around myself. As I stroll to the window, I observe the soldiers patrolling the vast lawn. I stare at the wilted flowers and weeds growing in the garden and the secret place Villainous created for me right before I ran away. I lost my virginity to him under the rosebush. It sounds romantic, but it wasn’t. It was painful.

  “Have a good day.” Noemi shuts the door with a thud.

  She can’t be this oblivious to what’s going on around here. The Italian women love to turn a blind eye to what their mafia men do, unlike the Irish mob. Our men would bluntly speak about the killings and the brutality that goes on, as if it’s a normal thing.

  Moments later, the chef brings in a tray of bacon and eggs and biscuits. As long as I’m behaving well, Villainous provides me with the best meals. He remembers that about me, that I love to eat. I not only eat because I’m hungry, I eat for pleasure. I live on Pinterest, looking for different recipes. Once I’ve finished savoring the delicious food, I shower, throw on my clothes and a gray hoodie, and then open the thick door. My two bodyguards, Amato and Brio, lean against the wall. They both look like they work for the CIA with their suits on. They’re here more to keep me from running than for protection.

  “You’re ready, Ms. Devoy?” Amato asks, devouring a breakfast burrito.

  His tone scares me, but I nod.

  As we stroll down the hallway, I notice the paintings from the nineteenth century, worth millions of dollars. Once we make it to the foyer with double stairs, I glance up at the chandelier made of gold and genuine diamonds in the shape of teardrops.

  When I’m outside, I stop in front of the dark Porsche SUV, inhaling a waft of the crisp dawn air. It burns my throat, and the thick air stings my eyes.

  I settle on the back seat, and the driver takes us from the Hamptons to New York City. The drive is long and tedious, taking about two hours to get to the Big Apple. I keep my focus out the tinted window as we cruise between the skyscrapers and pedestrians standing in the street as if they own it.

  Once I’m in the doctor’s office, I check in at the counter. It looks awkward for the bodyguards to be sitting next to me. But this isn’t any normal doctor’s office. This place is where Villainous sends the girls he kidnapped to be trained and sold to his clients. I’m sure everyone knows what is going on, but for the sake of their lives, they keep their mouths shut. I was once in those girls’ shoes; technically, I still am. Being Villainous’s pet has its perks. I get to attend events and eat proper meals, but I get beaten if I don’t do what he says.

  I grab a gossip magazine and read. They are my guilty pleasure, and even though half the stuff is made-up, I still read it. Hearing about other people’s lives being shitty makes me feel like I’m not the only one, especially the people who make it seem like their lives are perfect.

  The new nurse, in gray scrubs with the V logo on her shirt, which stands for Vitali, calls my name, and I toss the magazine back on the table and follow her to the back and into a compact bathroom. There are no windows, so none of us can run. This is the only place where I have an ounce of privacy. The nurse gives me a fake smile and shoves an empty plastic cup in my hand to pee in. I do my business, and I give the nurse my cup. She has me sit on a chair, and then she takes my vital signs. She’s not chatty like most of the nurses, which is good for me because I don’t feel like acting fake. Once she charts my vitals, she ushers me to a small room with posters of pregnant women and different birth control methods. The smell of antiseptic cleaner lingers in the air.

  She slams the door shut, and silence suffocates the room. Several minutes later, I peel my leggings and panties off and rest them on the counter. I wait for another few minutes, expecting for one of the
bodyguards to knock on the door so they can wait in here until Dr. Thomas comes, but no one shows up. I twist the doorknob and poke my head out. There’s not a soul in sight, so I slam it shut. My gaze ventures to the floor-to-ceiling window. At every appointment, Villainous tells the nurse not to give me any rooms with windows. Today is my lucky day.

  This is it. This will be the only time I can escape this hell.

  With my heart in my throat, I snatch my clothes from the counter. I hurry and put them on.

  Rushing to the window, I yank the string on the blinds, then push the window open. The icy breeze smacks me in the face as I crawl out. My dark boots hit the gray cement, and my gaze clings to the crowd. Perfect—I can blend in. As I yank my hood over my head, I march fast, trying to make sure no one notices me.

  My ears try to adjust to the sounds of horns honking and people chatting and strolling in every direction. The rain makes the smells of trash sitting on the side of the sidewalk and motor oil ten times worse. I want to gag. I hate this city; it’s too loud and overpopulated.

  A few blocks later, I reach a boutique store, and I push the glass door open, then try to control my breathing as my shoes leave a wet trail to the white counter.

  The sales associate with the name tag “Kelly” pinned to her gray dress shirt eyes me suspiciously.

  I give her a fake smile. “I was supposed to meet my friend, and I lost my phone on my way here. Is it okay for me to use yours?”

  She takes in my expensive clothing and my dyed jet-black hair, and a smile spreads across her face. She removes her phone from her pocket, then hands it to me.

  “Thank you.”

  I dial Fiona’s number, a distant cousin on my da’s side who used to work in the strip club with me.

  She picks up on the fourth ring.

  “Hello.” Her voice sounds sleepy. Around this time, she’ll be sleeping in, preparing for her next shift.

  “It’s Maya.”

  “Maya?” I hear the relief in her tone. “Are you okay? Where have you been? I wanted to go to the police about you being missing, but Cillian told me to stay out of your family affairs. He figured you were alive. Why haven’t you contacted me?”

  Cillian is the don for one of the Five Points Irish mafia in Manhattan. My family broke ties with them and formed an alliance with the Italian mafia because my da thought it would bring in more money.

  I’m not going to disclose to her what happened over the phone, and there is no way I can go to the police. Devious has his hands so deep into the justice system, they will literally turn me away at the mention of his name. Kelly watches me like a hawk as she checks out a customer.

  “It’s a long story. I’m alive for now.”

  “What the hell have you got yourself into?” Fiona pauses. “Seamus is looking for you.”

  I shake my head and chew on my tongue.

  “Does he know ab—”

  “I don’t know,” I cut her off.

  Fuck. This is bad. Terrible. He’s another reason I’m in hiding, and if he found me, I’ll be as good as dead. Seamus is an airhead who’s egotistical and a little too trigger-happy for my liking. But there are other things I need to worry about, like getting to my ma.

  “Have you spoken to my mother and sent her the money?” I ask.

  She sighs into the phone. “Of course. I make sure five grand is deposited into her account every month. Where are you so I can pick you up?”

  I glance outside, and a few of Villainous’s soldiers are searching the crowd, pulling hoods off people’s heads.

  “I have to go.” I press the End button and hand it to the sales associate. I tell her thanks and slide my hood over my head, keeping my eyes glued to the cement as I roam out of the store. I rush into the alley, passing a few homeless people. Freezing rain plops on my forehead. Great. Now I’m going to be soaked as shit. Once I make it to the end of the alley, I’m back in a crowd of people. I need to pick someone’s pockets in order to pay for food for the time being.

  I search the crowd, and my eyes land on a woman with a small child. No, she has a family to feed. Then I study a beefy guy with tattoos. He probably won’t fall for my shit, and from the look of his muscles, he’ll beat me up in a matter of seconds.

  I glance at an uber-rich dude, bulky like Dwayne Johnson, getting out of an expensive Benz with his phone glued to his face. I stroll past him, elbowing his stomach.

  “My bad,” I say. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you.” I bat my eyes, clutching his muscular forearm, then sliding the other hand into his back pocket, snatching the money clip and shoving it in the pocket of my hoodie.

  He smiles, eyeing me as if I’m candy. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”

  I feel bad for stealing, but how else am I going to get money until I go back to working as a stripper?

  “How would you like to go to dinner with me?”

  If I were living another life and away from the mob, then I would. He looks safe and secure and not fucked up in the head. One thing I’m good at is reading people.

  I shake my head as I walk backward. “I’m too corrupt for you.” I wink. “Maybe next time.”

  Then I face the crowd, and a steak house comes into view. I make my way inside and to a table in the corner at the end. I’ll wait here until I figure out my next move.

  Villainous

  Three things I hate: thieves, liars, and traitors. My soldier, Baron, cost me three million dollars. I caught him red-handed in the bunker, raping one of the merchandise. I need the sex slaves to be in top shape and not have bruises for them to be of value. My first cousin on my father’s side of the famiglia and my capo, Manos, warned me about this piece of shit a few weeks back, but I needed to set Baron up so I could have hard proof.

  He’s tied down to a wooden board tilted slightly off the concrete floor, and his body shakes from the warm air in the basement. My hand grips the gray jug as I pour water onto the thin towel that covers his plump face.

  The air is filled with him coughing and choking on the water as he tries to wiggle his limbs.

  I stop pouring to allow him to catch his breath, and I set the jug onto the concrete floor.

  “I’m sorry, boss,” he says, breathless.

  I don’t need his sorry. His words don’t do jack shit to me but make my blood boil.

  It’s really hard to find men to work in this line of work because they can’t control themselves. So, I always end up killing a few of them. They think because I give them control over the women’s lives, they can abuse it.

  I kick him in the face.

  “Yeah, you’re sorry. I gave you strict orders to keep your dick in your pants, but you can’t.”

  “It won’t happen again,” Baron says.

  I never give out second chances because people will start to respect me less. I’m done with him, and I have better shit to do with my time.

  “Of course you won’t.” I nod to Manos, letting him know what to do with Baron.

  “Grab him and put him in the fire,” Manos orders the soldiers dressed in dark clothing.

  “Wait, I have a wife, and I have two boys. They need me. My wife is sick!”

  Manos yanks the lid off the fire pit, and two of the soldiers thrust the board into the burning flames. Baron tries to wiggle his way out of the restraints.

  It’s fascinating to watch the human body burn, the way it cooks like a fresh turkey or ham until it’s full of ashes.

  “Crank the fire up,” Manos orders.

  One of the soldiers twists the knob on the midnight black wall, and Baron screams as his whole body is engulfed by flames and his flesh melts from his bones.

  The first time I killed someone, I was thirteen years old. It was Polina’s bodyguard. I stabbed him in the throat with a butcher knife and watched the bright blood leak down his face. The screams he let out made my dick hard, and that’s when I became fixated on murder. Not the act itself but watching the life leave his eyes. It sent me into a rage, and seeing blood made me horny like a dog. When I asked my twin brother if it happened to him, he told me no, and that’s when I knew I was fucked up in the head.

  I need to get back to my office. Before I had to deal with this bullshit, I was working with a client, Jacob, who is interested in buying merchandise. Manos and I step onto the elevator, and he leans against the silver rails with his hands in the pockets of his dark dress pants. He’s built like a sumo wrestler and probably can rip me into two. His skin is as pale as a sheet of paper, and his inky hair is combed to the side.