Convenient Mafia Vows (Ruthless Billionaire Mafia Kings)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

VICTORIA

I’m hot, hotter than I ever thought it would be possible to be in New York in the winter. Sweat trickles down the front of my chest from beneath the black silk scarf wound around my neck, and I swear that if the line for the restroom doesn’t move within the next three seconds, I’ll whip off the blonde, curly wig I’m wearing and use it to fan myself. At this point, I don’t even care if it ruins my costume.

I’m Sandy.

Or rather, I’m Victoria Callahan dressed up as Sandy from Grease for a costume party in a sleazy basement club in the Upper West Side on New Year’s Eve. Scratch that. It’s probably New Year’s Day now although, if it is, I missed the countdown to midnight beneath the thump-thump-thump of hundreds of people in crazy costumes losing all ability to coordinate their movements into something that resembles dancing.

Beneath the blonde wig, my long brunette hair is pinned to my scalp and trapped beneath a scratchy net that isn’t helping. Well, it depends which way you’re looking at it, I guess. My best friend, Sienna, was going to come to the party as Sandy, but being the sexy loyal best-friend-a-gal-could-ever-have, she suggested that it might work better on me.

Because Sienna has no trouble getting laid.

Not that I have trouble getting laid exactly. I mean, how do you define trouble when it simply never happens?

The problem is, the more time that passes without me finding someone worthy of spreading my legs for, and the older I get, the weirder it becomes. It’s like, when a guy finds out that you’re twenty-three and still haven’t a clue what all the fuss is about they think you’re either a lesbian in denial or there must be something inherently wrong with you that has deterred any other guy from scoring a home run.

Is there something wrong with me?

I don’t think so. A girl’s got to have standards, right?

You’ve only got to look at a classic fairytale to know that Prince Charming is worth holding out for.

Sienna thinks that I give off stay-the-fuck-away-from-me-unless-you’re-prepared-to-go-down-on-one-knee-and-propose vibes.

I don’t.

At least, I don’t give them off intentionally.

I blame my mom. She read those goddamned fairytales to me and then went and ruined everything with a heroin addiction that made her see charming princes behind a slimeball with her next fix. She also left me with a little brother to take care of when I should’ve been fangirling over Zac Eron and Orlando Bloom.

Wednesday Addams comes out of the restroom, glaring at the rest of us waiting in line like we should’ve had the common decency to give her some space, and we shuffle along a couple of paces.

“Smile.” Sienna’s mouth lifts at the corners to demonstrate the concept, and I mimic her, knowing that my attempt hasn’t quite reached my eyes. “That’s better. You’ll never bag yourself a stud while you look like you want to murder someone.”

It’s easy for her to say. After loaning me the costume she’d planned on wearing, she bought a leopard-print mini dress from a thrift store, teamed it with chunky blue beads and bare legs, and piled her naturally red hair up into a messy bun on top of her head. And voila: she’s a gorgeously stunning Wilma from The Flintstones .

I know it sounds like I’m jealous of my best friend, but I’m honestly not. She’s the kindest, sweetest-natured person I ever met, and I don’t know where I’d be without her. I wouldn’t be in this dingy club for starters, but I mean, I don’t know where I’d be in life. Hopefully not chasing fixes around the city like my mom did until she met her new husband.

I peer around the club. Fred and Daphne are making out in a corner and, oh my fucking God, did she come here commando?

Blinking the vision out of my head, I avert my eyes and spot Cinderella strutting her stuff—literally—with Mick Jagger. I can’t help smiling at them. I don’t know if they arrived together, but it’s pretty freaking obvious that they’ll be leaving together when everyone else starts running out of steam.

This is what I don’t understand, and I think this is the reason why I never ‘bag myself a stud’ as Sienna puts it. Not that there are any studs here tonight. Not that I’ve seen anyways. Well, maybe there were some here earlier in the evening, but now that everyone’s steaming, including me, all I can see is sweaty upper lips and drooping wigs.

But anyway, it’s that easy confidence in their ability to attract a member of the opposite sex. Even in this blonde wig and wearing the tightest latex pants in the history of the world, I draw a blank when it comes to looking sexy and flirting. I must’ve been last in line—again—when they were dishing out the fuck-me-cowboy genes.

“You’re doing it again.” Sienna jolts me back to reality.

“Doing what?”

“Overthinking it. Vic—” she places her hands on my shoulders and forces me to look her in the eye “—you look incredible tonight. Any guy that gets the chance to slip inside those pants is going to think he hit the jackpot.”

“Only if I pay out.”

She tips her head back and laughs out loud, a sound that’s contagious. “You will, trust me. You’ll know when the right guy comes along.”

We shuffle closer to the restroom entrance as a whole bunch of girls come pouring out, and suddenly, we’re in, and I have to go through the rigmarole of peeling these pants over my hips.

I can still feel the music vibrating in my bones even if it feels good to have a few moments to myself to breathe while I’m shut inside the cubicle. My head is pleasantly fuzzy. I’m probably more chilled than I’ve been in months. But still, I feel like something is missing from my life.

Flushing, and then standing in front of the mirror, I touch up my lip gloss, and check that my mascara hasn’t run while I’ve been boogying my butt off out there.

Deep breath.

I follow Sienna outside and realize, a beat too late, and when the space we’ve just vacated inside the restroom has already been filled, that I left my purse behind.

“Sienna, my purse!”

She doesn’t hear me with the bass rocking the club, so I dash back inside, breathe a sigh of relief when I spot my purse next to the basin where I left it, and grab it quickly. I need to find Sienna before she gets swallowed up by a whole bunch of sweaty bodies and is lost to me forever. Or at least until we both sober up tomorrow morning.

Head down, I don’t make eye contact with anyone in the line, and instead, collide headfirst with a rock-solid chest who isn’t watching where he’s going either. I tilt my head back and find myself gazing into green eyes framed by the thickest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man. His black hair is gelled back into an Elvis-style quaff, and he’s wearing a beaten-up leather jacket over a white T-shirt.

“Danny?” I squeal like a teenager.

“Sandy?” His voice squeaks as he catches on quickly.

“Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to say that.” My gaze travels down from Danny Zuko’s wide smile and perfect white teeth to the broad shoulders and rippling chest muscles. I don’t dare look any lower. Besides, chests have always been my thing.

He leans closer, so close that I can smell cinnamon on him, like he’s spent the holidays baking cookies. I can’t drag my eyes away. My body is refusing to cooperate, and my heart is going frantic inside my rib cage like I just bumped into the real Danny Zuko, and nothing else exists outside of those dark mossy flecks in his green-green eyes.

“Where have you been all my life?” he murmurs.

Wait. Even my fuzzy brain recognizes that this isn’t a line from Grease . But I play along anyways.

“Waiting for you?”

It must be the right response because his smile grows, lighting up his beautiful face and crinkling the corners of his eyes, and I feel his hand slide around my waist as his lips press on mine.

His other hand entwines with the blonde curls and tips my head back, causing my brain cells to swim, and the ground to slide out from under me. I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on his tongue in my mouth. I taste beer and liquor, and it isn’t at all unpleasant because I’m kissing Danny Zuko at a New Year’s Eve party, and when my legs give way, he keeps me upright like it’s what he was made to do.

He pulls his tongue from my mouth long enough to murmur, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” and then it’s back again, and I’m not fighting it because tonight, for one night only, I’m the Sandy to his Danny.

I don’t know how long we stand there kissing like it’s the end of the world. Time has stopped, and I barely even remember who I am or what I’m doing here.

When he pulls away, leaving my lips swollen and still parted, my tongue aching for his, I feel the crushing weight of disappointment. This is it. This is the moment when he realizes his mistake, that I’m not the Sandy he arrived with, and makes an excuse to get away from me as quickly as possible.

But instead, he looks me directly in the eye and says, “Come with me.”

It isn’t a question, and I don’t even have a chance to answer before he grabs my hand and leads me through the club and outside into the freezing New York City night.

This isn’t happening to me.

It can’t be.

I’m Victoria Callahan, virgin extraordinaire, the girl who gives off all the wrong vibes for bagging a stud, and yet, when I climb into the back of a yellow taxi and Danny Zuko’s lips reattach to mine, none of that even matters. He could be a psycho serial killer with a blonde wig fetish for all I know. But the ache between my legs tells me that I’m going to let him fuck me.

The cab pulls up on the curb, and Danny tosses some cash to the driver, his warm hand still in mine. He lets himself into an apartment building without a word. While we wait for the elevator, his tongue finds mine again, his hands roaming my body and touching me in places I’ve never been touched before.

He pushes me against the wall, the button dinging behind my back, and crushes my breasts with both hands, while he smothers my mouth with his own, his oxygen becoming mine. I’m breathless when we both roll into the elevator.

By the time we roll out of it and into his apartment, I can barely even stand, my legs are trembling so badly. “Danny, I’m?—”

He tips my head backward, arching my neck so that it’s hard to breathe, and then I feel his teeth digging into the soft flesh around my mouth, and I can’t even remember what I was going to say.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His words caress my sore lips as he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Then, his tongue is tracing a line down my neck, and somehow, my breasts are exposed, and his mouth is closing around my nipples, his teeth nibbling the sensitive flesh. I gasp with the sheer pleasure of the sensation, pushing my lower back against the wall and inadvertently thrusting my nipples harder into his mouth.

His free hand fumbles with the latex pants, and I hear a low growl erupt from his throat as he finally manages to drag them down over my hips.

He slides a finger inside me, and I gasp out loud before I can stop myself. My hands are fluttering around his head, and I shove a fist into my mouth and bite down hard. I can feel his finger working around inside me, probing, exploring, and I instinctively open my legs, knees still trembling, to let him in deeper.

“Stay there.” He reappears briefly, kisses my lips, a full-on tongue-down-my-throat kiss, and then drops to his knees, and oh my fucking God, when he spreads my sex open with both hands and inserts his tongue, I swear my eyes must roll back in my head.

Oh. My. God.

I feel… I don’t know what I feel… My pussy is throbbing and tingling and writhing like it wants to escape his tongue which is dragging back and forth across my clit, when I know that escaping is the last thing in the world I want to do right now.

I’m almost there, my orgasm about to explode, when he pulls his tongue out. I almost collapse on him and press my spine hard against the wall to keep myself grounded. My pussy is twitching, desperate to feel his tongue inside me again, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Danny stands and licks my lips with the tip of his tongue. I can’t move. The pants are still around my ankles, and I’m conscious that my breasts and my pussy are exposed, and this is not at all how I imagined my first time would be.

But when he murmurs, “Do you want me to let you come, Sandy?” I find myself whispering, “Yes,” huskily.

“Say it again.”

“Yes,” I breathe against him.

“Hmm.” Danny watches me with those green eyes, and when I instinctively try to kiss him, he moves just out of reach. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to come.” I don’t even recognize my own voice.

“Yes, Danny, I want you to let me come.” When I remain silent, he grabs my chin again and nibbles my bottom lip. “Say it, Sandy.”

“I want you to let me come.”

He smiles, and I melt into a giant orgasmic puddle of wetness.

Danny rams a finger inside me, watching me closely. I keep my eyes on him even though I want to close them and lose myself riding his finger. He drags it out of me, pulling his finger across my clit and eliciting another groan, and then his finger is in my mouth, and I can taste myself.

And maybe this is it after all, everything I never dreamed of because I never knew I could be this freaking sexy.

This time, when he sticks his tongue in me, I don’t hold back. I explode in his mouth, and for one scary moment I think he might drown in me because I never want this to end…

I don’t know when or how we end up in his bed.

I’m naked, and he climbs on top of me, still wearing the white T-shirt, his cock bouncing in his hand as he frees it from his jeans and rubs it around my pussy.

“Tell me you want me, Sandy,” he growls.

“I want you.” Since when did I ever start being so meek and compliant?

“Louder.”

I raise my voice a notch. “I want you.”

He shakes his head and pulls away, withholding from me the one thing I want most in the entire world.

“I freaking want you!” I yell.

He smiles, and I’ve never seen anything so crazily hot and sexy in my life.

I spread my legs wide, and he studies me for several moments before guiding his length to my sex. I feel him pushing against me, trying to gain entry. Without thinking, I reach down and open myself up, holding his gaze the whole time.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Sandy.” I can see it in his enlarged pupils, and for once, I believe it.

Then he’s inside me, and I start panting as he pushes, gently at first, and then harder, hitting that wall, surprise crossing his eyes. He lowers his upper body onto me and fills my mouth with his tongue.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold onto him, burying my fingers in his jet-black hair. He moves slowly at first, grinding his cock inside me, gradually building up speed until our hips are pounding against each other, and I swear I can feel him hitting the bottom of my spine. Why did no one ever tell me that this is what I’ve been missing out on?

When he comes, I kiss him hard, crushing my lips against him until his body stops shuddering and he collapses on top of me.

He falls asleep almost instantly.

I don’t move until I hear Sienna’s muffled ringtone on my cell phone which is still somewhere in the other room.

Extricating myself from underneath Danny, who is snoring gently, spreadeagled across the bed like a starfish, I tiptoe across the bedroom and locate my purse on the floor near the entrance. I check my phone, guilt tearing my chest wide open when I realize that I’ve had twenty-three missed calls from Sienna.

“Fuck!” I left the club without telling her where I was going, and she’s probably scared that she’ll read about my battered body being discovered in a dark alleyway on the news tomorrow.

I try calling her back, but she doesn’t pick up.

I try again, and the line goes dead.

Panic setting in now, I use the find-a-phone feature to locate Sienna’s position, and don’t believe it when I see that she’s on the Interstate just outside the city. I start again, thinking there must be a problem with the app, but she’s still there, and she isn’t moving.

I don’t waste a beat.

With one long lingering look at Danny sprawled across the bed, I drag my clothes back on, cussing myself for agreeing to the latex pants, and let myself out of the apartment. I might’ve just been fucked by the hottest guy in the entire city, but my friend is more important.

“I’m coming, Sienna,” I whisper to myself as I step outside onto the frosty street and hail a cab.