Bluffing the Ex-Mafia Boss

Chapter 1

SAGE

“Do you think hot, rich, and good in bed is too much to ask for in a man?” my sister, Rosie, asks me, a teasing note in her voice as she dances in her seat. Her long, dark, wavy hair cascades past her shoulders and seems to move in time with the beat of the Gracie Abrams song playing in the car.

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask for, but I sure don’t know if it’s realistic to expect.”

“If you could only have two of those qualities in a man, which would you choose?”

“Asking all the hard questions today, huh, Rosie?”

I look over at her open, inquisitive face, and all she can do is grin at me, her brown eyes challenging me to make a decision like my life depends on it.

“Let me think.” I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and attempt to stifle a yawn.

I’m tired of driving and ready to reach our destination. We’ve been in the car for what feels like decades now, though it’s only been a few days.

“Tic Tac me,” I say as I continue to think.

She opens the plastic container and pours a couple of the minty treats into my hand. I pop them into my mouth and chew.

“Number one will have to be rich. No shade to the poor men, but if I’m going to deal with a testosterone-filled dummy for the rest of my life, he’d better have money.”

“They’re not all dummies,” Rosie protests like she’s offended for all the men in the world.

She’s still a little naive, and she hasn’t experienced the reality that men let you down more often than not. I love that for her and want to keep her protected, but I no longer live with my head in the clouds.

“Sure, not all men are dumb, but let me make sure my man is rich, just in case.”

“And the second trait you’re looking for?”

“I mean, hot would be nice, but if he can’t rock what he’s working with, what’s the point of him being hot?”

“You can teach him what you like.” Rosie is ever the voice of reason, but the poor girl doesn’t realize it’s not that simple when the male ego is involved.

“Yeah, I suppose. So, yeah, rich, handsome, and smart.”

“But those are three things.” She shakes her head. “Only two, remember?”

“Trust me, I remember.” I grin at her and then slow my speed so we can stare out at the view of the Pacific Ocean to the left of us. “This is beautiful,” I whisper, excitement swirling in my veins.

We are finally here, and I can’t quite believe it. We are doing what so many people talk about doing.

We are following our dreams. Well, kinda.

We packed up our bags and moved to the richest city in the country.

If your goal is to marry a well-off, handsome, and intelligent man, that’s quite a smart move.

And I am actually rather simple in my wants; I only need two of those qualities.

Doesn’t matter which two either. I want to feel settled for once in my life.

If a random stranger heard that my sister and I had just moved to Santa Capinari, also known as Billionaires’ Valley, to meet rich men, they would call us gold diggers, but the fact of the matter is that we’re not, at least not in the narrowest meaning of the word.

We are definitely diggers in some capacity, but we don’t necessarily seek gold.

We are okay with platinum or silver as well.

Though I’d be lying if I said we’d be okay with copper pennies.

Who spends their time digging for pennies?

So, yeah, at first glance, it might seem like my sister and I are gold diggers, but the reality is far more complicated.

We don’t want husbands just to be married.

Nor do we want them only to have money. We can make our own money.

We want husbands and money and security because of the illusion that we grew up with our entire lives.

We spent our childhood and teenage years believing those things brought happiness, and at the end of the day, what we crave most from life is to be happy.

“Do you think we should go for multibillionaires, or is one billion net worth enough?” Rosie asks as we drive our rented Honda along the Pacific Coast Highway, headed toward our newly rented studio apartment.

We can’t move in until tomorrow, but we are going to stay in a cheap motel for the night, right up the street.

“I think anything over six zeroes is enough.” I keep my eyes ahead of me and focus on the road because it’s super curvy, and the strong wind makes me nervous that I could drive over the edge and have us face down in the Pacific Ocean. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing.” Rosie’s voice sounds ethereal as she stares at the vibrant blue water to our left. The tall, dramatic, statuesque cliffs greatly enhance the beauty of our scenery. “I feel like I’m in a painting or a movie.”

“Tell me about it. Maybe this will be our final home,” I say hopefully, and she murmurs her agreement.

We don’t say anything else because there’s an unspoken deal between us. We both know that if we get too excited about someplace being permanent, we will tempt fate. And the last thing I need is the universe to once again upset me and change my plans.

“I sure hope so.” Rosie taps her fingertips against her thigh and leans back in her seat. “I hope that Billionaires’ Valley is like fairy-tale land to us, where magic is made, and dreams come true.”

“Do dreams really come true in fairy tales though?” I ask and quickly turn down our music as the GPS commands me to slow down and prepare to exit. My heart races when I see the signs signaling that we’re near our new home.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” There’s a wistful strain to Rosie’s voice.

I want to reach out, squeeze her knee, and tell her that it’s all going to work out. But our parents have fed us enough false positives to last a lifetime, and I don’t want to promise something I don’t know is true.

“What I do know is that I want my Prince Charming to be gorgeous. I want him to be Bradley Cooper’s look-alike, with golden-blond hair and big blue eyes.” She giggles loudly. “Shoot, it can be the real Bradley Cooper, if he’s interested.”

“I don’t think he lives in Santa Capinari, hon, but I’m sure if he did, he’d be after you.”

I exit the highway and try not to be too mesmerized by the golden-orange sky as the sun sets. I power the window down, breathe in the cool evening air, and I can’t help but observe all the fancy cars surrounding us—BMWs, Mercedes, Teslas, even a few Rolls-Royces.

“We’re not in the land of the poor anymore, Rosie.”

“Do you think we made the right decision?” she asks me, and I can hear the doubt in her voice.

It was a huge risk, moving here, using almost our entire savings to put down a deposit for a studio rental and this rental car.

“I think we made the right decision.”

The GPS tells me we are five minutes away from our final destination, and I can’t wait.

As I drive, I notice a cute bar called Kettle King, and I swerve into the parking lot.

A few sports cars are parked there, sparkling like diamonds.

All of them costing more money than I can count in a day, and the facade of the bar screams selective, rich, and fun.

“What are you doing, Sage?” Rosie peers over at me in surprise, her warm brown eyes surveying me cautiously. “We’re not moving into a place above a bar, are we?” She sounds nervous. “I like hanging out, but when I’m done for the night, I want peace and quiet.”

“No, goof. Of course we’re not moving above a bar, but I thought we’d grab a quick drink to celebrate our new move. The first official night of the rest of our lives.”

“The good life,” she sings loudly as we exit the vehicle.

A Mercedes sedan pulls in next to us, and two tall men wearing suits and dark expressions exit the vehicle.

They don’t even look at us as they make their way to the entrance, and yet I’m mesmerized by the way they carry themselves …

with the cool, calm, collected air that wealth affords men.

Rosie and I walk slowly behind them, and I think the entire moment will pass with them not even realizing we’re there, but then the taller of the men suddenly turns, looks me right in the eyes, stares at me for a maximum of three seconds, and then heads into the bar.

No smile. No word. No nothing. And yet my heart can’t stop pounding.

The look was nothing to him, but to me, it felt like he was looking into my soul.

I’ve never seen a man quite so handsome.

So intimidating. So feral. Not that he’d make an easy mark though.

I need a man to be putty in my hands. And that stranger was very unlikely to succumb to my charms.

“Come on. Let me buy you a drink.” I hurry toward the entrance, more than ready to see what the Kettle King is all about.

I stop by the door, waiting for Rosie to catch up, and I’m surprised when it swings open from the inside.

“Oh.” The sound is almost a whisper as I look up into the eyes of the man from the parking lot.

They’re the most striking gray-blue I’ve ever seen. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t even taken you on a date,” he responds smoothly, though he doesn’t even smile.

“I don’t have to go on a date with you to be polite.”

“Though you do wish to go on a date with me?”

“Huh?” I blink in confusion as Rosie finally catches up and we head inside. “Thank you for opening the door.”

“You already thanked me.” His eyes are teasing as he glances at me and then at Rosie. “New in town?”

“Why do you ask?” I’m taken aback yet again. Who is this man?

“I’ve never seen you here before.” He lightly taps his foot in time to the music in the background. I wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it.

“You never get new people here?” I cock my head to the side and smile. “At a bar?”

“We don’t.” He shakes his head, and his lips curl a smidgen before he takes a step back. “But welcome.”

“I can’t say you sound particularly welcoming.” I shrug as I take a step farther into the bar and look around.