Tricking the Devil: A Dark Mafia Romance (2023 Dark Mafia Romances)
Chapter One
Amber
After a long shift at the hospital, I wanted nothing more than to sleep, but my twenty-third birthday was today, and that had a weight to it. Mostly because my birthday wasn’t my own. As a twin, I connected that day more to Angela — my twin sister. Growing up, we always celebrated together, and I had the feeling she didn’t fully forgive me when I moved across the country at eighteen to get my nursing degree, but I couldn’t stay. Not with the weight of our father’s business over me.
“So he’s a mafia boss, why’s that matter?” Angela used to complain every time I said I had to leave. “He’s rich. He pays for us. He would’ve paid for your schooling too — ”
“I had scholarships,” I would always protest.
Though we looked identical, Angela and I couldn’t be any more different. She enjoyed our father’s money, regardless of how he made it, and whenever asked, Angela always spoke of how she wanted kids and a husband who would take care of her, so when we were twenty-one, I wasn’t surprised to hear she was engaged. Not even that she intended to marry an even bigger mafia’s heir apparent. However, our father arranging it threw me.
Angela seemed calm about it. “It was either me or you Amber, and we both know you’re not coming home. Plus, he’s hot and rich! It’s win-win.”
“Are you sure? I have a job. — ”
“I’m not moving out to that storm cloud state you’re in. Besides, you’re always exhausted, always working — seriously? I know you. You’ll either work yourself to exhaustion trying to support us both, or you’ll expect me to work. I’m not gonna do it,” Angela had proclaimed. “Besides, it’s a long engagement. Dad negotiated for him to do some prior proof work, so we can ‘get to know each other,’ but he’s apparently off on some international business bullshit until next year.”
A two year engagement sounded acceptable. For an arranged marriage, it was more than most people would get — though Angela often complained about her husband-to-be, Kian Alinejad. According to Angela, Kian often canceled, claiming his work was more important. Of course, he sent her gifts, so she claimed to have forgiven him, but she complained the same the next time we spoke.
Our calls weren’t often, maybe once a month. The whole time, I knew that I would never get to see my sister walk down the aisle. Our mother died when she was young, so the only family she had would be our father, who was basically selling her off for his business to join a larger organization. We weren’t religious, and from what Angela said about Kian, he wasn’t either, but the senior Alinejad was, which meant a traditional Muslim wedding.
“I’m fine wearing red, and multiple days celebrating me — that’s like the dream, but…” Angela had trailed off over the phone. Sighing, she admitted in an uncharacteristically vulnerable moment, “I always wanted to be a stay at home wife and mom, but Kian isn’t putting in any effort to know me, and for all the gifts he sends when he doesn’t show up, I don’t trust that he’ll take care of me. I just wish you were here.”
My heart ached. “I wish I could be there too.”
“Then come.”
She said it like it was simple. Like our father hadn’t already stated it was impossible because the Alinejad family wasn’t making this a large event. Maybe that made it worse. Only individuals who were both related and in the know about both organizations would be able to attend, and while I qualified, I was an outsider because I had left. Coming back only put a target on my head.
“Angela…” I trailed off, trying to figure out the wording, but she gave a slight laugh.
“It’s fine. I know you can’t. I just hate that Dad’s the only one who is going to be on my side of things. Besides, Kian is hot and rich and everything I wanted. Once we’re married, we’ll get started on a family, and then I won’t be alone all the time,” Angela proclaimed, though she seemed unconvinced as she grumbled, “Though I wish he’d let us get started on kids before getting married.”
Their wedding would be in two weeks. Angela hadn’t wanted it so close to her birthday as she loved it to be a big event, but our father had talked her around as the senior Alinejad wanted that date because it was auspicious. This morning, I texted Angela to wish her a happy birthday, but I hadn’t heard back. I didn’t expect to. Hopefully, she was having the best birthday party ever.
However, my hopes evaporated into panic when I unlocked my apartment and saw my father sitting in my living room. Gray haired with a scar on his left cheek and a gauntness that never really went away, my father — Anthony Kane — had the sort of permanent scowl more suited to cartoons than actual faces.
“What’s wrong? Is Angela okay? Is she sick?” I panicked, throwing down my bag onto the table by the door.
My father sighed. “Your sister is missing.”
“Somebody abducted her?” I cried, fearing the worst.
“No,” he huffed. “She ran away with some rich sugar daddy that she’s been working on the side. Now, sit down.”
As he took out a cigarette, the gun on his belt reminded me just how terrifying of a person my father could be. I had seen him shoot men before. He had once waved that same gun around at my sister’s and my thirteenth birthday party because he thought we weren’t acting grateful enough.
“I have video of your sister walking out and jumping into a car with multiple suitcases. She had to do two runs before going, so this was intentional. Did Angela ever tell you about a boyfriend?” he demanded, lighting his smoke.
I shook my head. “She only told me about Kian. That she was excited to get married.”
“Yeah, yeah — she fed me the same lines. Fucking bitch,” my father spat, and his eyes narrowed. “I’ve got men working to get her back, but we’ve got a bigger problem. The Alinejads won’t take this well. If they catch wind, her ass is grass, and ours won’t be far behind.”
My stomach sank. I couldn’t protest my exclusion. That wasn’t how gangs like this worked. Even five years outside wouldn’t matter. I was related to the person who screwed them over, which meant I was fair game. Everything I had struggled to earn on my own — that meant nothing to people like them. People like my own father — but I hadn’t run away because I was a coward.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to sell your daughter to secure your criminal empire,” I lightly told him.
Sneering, he scoffed, “It wasn’t securing anything except your sister’s future. You’re coming home, and you’re pretending to be Angela until I’ve got her back, or I’ll help the Alinejad get a head start by putting a bullet in your head myself and presenting your dead body as proof that you framed your sister and kidnapped her.” Tapping his ass right on my coffee table, he leaned forward and asked, “So? What’s it going to be? You helping me alive, or do I have to make you help me when you’re dead?”