Wrong Bride. Right Capo (Reign of Mafia Capos #1)

Prologue Isabella

“Tonight, I’m going to dance, get high, and fuck some good dick,” Elena manages to say while dabbing her favorite shade of red lipstick against her lips.

“As always.” My mutter is drowned out by the blaring music coming from the club. And that’s the first thing I hate about tonight. The second thing is how my ass feels one hitch away from exposure in the short gown Elena forced me to wear.

The third? My life.

But that one’s been on the list since I learned what favoritism and alienation feel like.

Spoiler alert. It feels like a bad haircut you can’t grow out of.

My twin sister makes a small sound of displeasure at her reflection in the hand mirror, smacks her lips together, then turns to me.

“Bella, you think my makeup is too light?”

I adjust the phone’s flashlight in my hands and let my eyes roam her perfectly caked face. She looks gorgeous in a way I’d never be. “No.”

She sucks her teeth and is about to say something when the lipstick slips from her grasp and skitters underneath the banister, disappearing to the floor below. I pause, waiting for the inevitable.

“Do me a favor and get that for me, please?” She pries her phone off my hands.

Of course. Elena gives the command, and I have to oblige. Story of my life.

“Okay,” I say, shooting her an empty smile that fades off once I step into the club and start making my way downstairs.

Red lights cloud my vision, and the music gets louder as I struggle to navigate through sweaty bodies gyrating as if they have no care in the world.

Maybe they don’t.

And for a split second, I dare to wonder what it’d feel like. To do things on your own terms, to have a loving family…and not be the typical, loser ginger.

One day…just one day, I want to taste what it feels like to be loved. As usual, I begin to drown in my thoughts when my head collides with a wall.

“Oof!” I grunt, and my butt hits the ground, then something cool and slippery trickles down my cleavage. What just happened?

That’s when I register a tall, broad figure hovering above me. He’s leaning over me in a way that blocks the weak strip of light from illuminating his face. My throat tightens.

Now, unlike Elena, I’m not one to ogle hot men and spread my legs for them like I’m doing community service. I’m too fucked up for that. But this…what I see is enough to seize the breath in my lungs.

He’s dressed in an expensive three-piece suit that clings to his wide shoulders and runs down his strong biceps. It’s hard to decipher the color of his suit since Elena made me ditch my glasses, but the way his skin pops beautifully under the light is enthralling.

His hair is cropped short, the dark edges sharp against his temples and drawing attention to the hard, straight line of his nose. His piercing grey eyes are unmissable as they lock onto mine—cold and predatory, sending my pulse into a frantic spike.

I quickly lower my gaze when I take in his hand that holds an empty glass. Suddenly, I’m back to my senses, and I realize the liquid trickling down the valley of my breasts is wine.

He spilled wine on my dress. Ugh.

This is usually not how it happens in the romance books I read. Guess the universe is pulling an Uno reverse on me.

The buzz in the background seems to fade as we both stare at each other. As his eyes roam my body, I feel more self-conscious, and maybe that’s why I don’t stand.

Or maybe I’m waiting for him to render an apology and offer a hand. But he does nothing. His eyes move from me to his empty cup and then back to me.

“Watch where you’re going next time.” He grits his teeth.

He did not just try to blame me after staining my dress.

My blood boils. I glare at him, but before any words leave my mouth, he sidesteps me like I’m nothing and leaves. I curl my hand into a fist, muttering curses as I pick myself up from the ground. Then I dust debris off my dress.

A girl just can’t get a break from assholes. Fuck. Elena shouldn’t have dragged me here.

I start toward the exit, angrier this time, and release a shaky exhale when I reach outside. I turn a corner and am met with a small, neatly trimmed garden featuring flowers and a few benches. This place looks like a heck of an expensive club.

A slow exhale pulls from my lips.

If only I could stay here….be away from the world. But nope, I can’t. Not when I’m busy being my sister’s shadow.

Cold wind bites at my skin as my eyes dart around the garden, mentally calculating where the lipstick could have landed.

I wouldn’t put it past Elena to have intentionally dropped it so she could ditch me for a hunk she’d spotted.

After all, we’d arrived at the club about forty minutes ago.

And she’s eye candy—the typical twenty-four-year-old blonde, blue eyes, and model-like figure that turns heads wherever she goes.

That’s why she’s getting married off tomorrow to Dominic Moretti.

As if on cue, the wind whistles like it knows his name, and I shiver at the sheer weight of it.

The name of one of the most powerful men in New York.

Ruthless leader of the Moretti Mafia and the only business mogul who has arteries feeding half of New York’s economy straight into his pockets.

In the legal world, they call him a fucking god, but in the underground world, we call him the mafia king. And I wouldn’t wish marrying a man like that even on my worst enemy.

Swallowing thickly, I fiddle with my phone in my hands, turn on the flashlight, and walk hurriedly toward a spot in the garden.

It takes a few minutes, but I spot the stupid lipstick nestled between two flowers. Grabbing it, I make my way back inside through the sweaty mess of people and to the patio.

The moment I step onto the patio, I see a back.

It’s not Elena’s, it’s the same broad shoulders I encountered a few minutes ago.

I hold my breath, watching how his hand moves away from his face to reveal the faint lines of a cigarette burning bright red against the dull neon light that spills into the patio. He’s smoking.

The familiar, rich, woody scent engulfs me as I take small steps further onto the patio. I could wait here until Elena finds me. Or I could—

“It’s rude to stare.” His voice interrupts me, and I shiver at the texture. Husky with a deep baritone that strikes something in my belly. That’s odd; for me, I mean. I’ve never reacted this way before.

His hand disappears to his face again and reappears. This time, I notice his suit rolled up to his elbows and a pattern of dark ink covering the exposed part of his arm.

My heart flutters wildly. What the fuck?

“Well, it’s rude to spill wine on someone and leave without an apology,” I shoot back, although with less anger than I intended.

He takes another puff of smoke. Then he turns and, for the first time in a while, my pussy tingles. Fuck, Bella. Get it together!

The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a strong expanse of chest that holds another swirl of tattoos.

The moment I catch his eyes, nervousness mingles with whatever is going on in my stomach. His stare feels …intense. Like his stormy greys are digging into my soul. I’ve never had anyone look at me like this before.

“So you followed me for an apology.” He tilts his head, dragging a sharp gaze down my frame. My breath hitches, suddenly aware of the stain on my dress.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have important things to do with my time.” I’m proud of how my voice comes out without a stutter.

There’s a pause as he takes another drag, smoke curling around his face.

“Picking up lipsticks isn’t important.”

I gasp, my eyes widening at the realization that he’d been watching me.

“You were watching me?”

He says nothing, but his gaze drops to my cleavage. Then he releases a grunt that shakes my stomach. My cheeks heat up, and I bite my lips, thankful that he can’t see it.

“Wa-watching a girl searching for her lipstick in the dark seems to me like stalking,” I continue. Somehow, the dark, hooded glint in his eyes already tells me how this night will end. I could tap out now if I want. But I don’t. “Don’t you have something more interesting to do?”

Maybe it’s the years of being starved of attention or the way the dark hides that I’m not the beauty standard. Whatever it is, I’m enjoying being in the spotlight, at least for once in my life.

And it’s like he senses it.

He drops the cigarette to the floor and kills the light with his shoe. Then he starts toward me with the gait of a man who walks like he owns the world. The nerves in my bones chill. I’m both terrified and excited.

When he reaches me and strokes a finger down my cheeks, everything blurs into anticipation.

“I have interests,” he rumbles. Sparks explode everywhere he touches, shooting straight to my core. I can feel my panties getting soaked.

“W-what are they?” The words come out breathless.

His thumb trails the corner of my cheeks, and an unreadable expression flashes across his face.

“Tonight, it’s you,” he rasps, hot smoky breath fanning my face, before he leans down to plant a kiss on my lips. Electricity zaps my whole body, filling my vessels with a fire so intense I think I’ll melt.

This feels like a dream. The hottest guy at the club is kissing me. But when his hand wraps around my waist and pushes me closer to him, it feels every bit real.

His other hand cups my cheek as he tilts his head, his lips latching onto mine in a savory manner. The faint taste of smoke, wine, and pleasure engulfs my tongue.

I feel my pussy pulsing as I slide my hands down his chest, trailing over the hard muscles and shivering when I feel his hard cock against my stomach.

Damn, this man is making me lose all restraints.

“Fuck!” He grunts against my lips, lifting me off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist. My gown rides up, leaving my thighs exposed to the cold.

His breath turns labored as he trails kisses down my neck, biting and sucking as if the moment would vanish. With one arm around his neck and the other entangled within his soft strands, I grind against his bulge.

“Easy, Princess. I don’t want to rip your dress out in the open,” he grunts against my chest. I whimper.

His head falls to my chest, lips skimming the top of my breasts as I arch against him, moaning at the sweet sensation.

Before I know it, he’s carrying me away from the patio, toward a door that sits adjacent to the VIP bar, to a private room. The door opens, and he sets me down, pushing me against the door as his hand creeps underneath my dress.

I barely see his eyes in this low light of the room, but from the hurried movement of his hands, I can tell he’s far too gone to care what I look like.

My core throbs, pulsing with need. In a swift motion, my panties are being pushed to the side, and his fingers are swirling around my drenched clit, teasing me.

A gasp leaves my lips as I feel a thick finger slide into me. I almost lose my balance as I tighten my grip on his shoulders, his other hand gripping my waist for balance. My body lights up like a fire just ignited within me.

He pumps one finger at first, and I can’t resist the moan that yanks my throat. He grunts in response, going slowly before adding a second finger.

Fuck.

“So fucking tight,” he murmurs against my throat, kissing and nipping.

My head falls back against the door as he increases the speed of his fingers, the room full of my breathless moans.

My nipples harden, begging to be freed from underneath my dress, and it’s almost as if he reads my mind because the next moment, he yanks my dress down with an animalistic grunt.

“On the couch,” he commands, pulling off his shirt. I silently obey, wobbling over to the only couch in the room and allowing myself to sink into it.

He silently makes his way over to me, pushing my legs apart and yanking my panties off. I shiver as the cool air hits my wet pussy, and the next second, it’s his warm breath.

He doesn’t hesitate to grip my thighs, slinging them over his shoulders before his lips connect with my folds, moist and eager for his touch.

A groan leaves his lips, and I arch my back, fingers curling into his hair, as he swirls his tongue around my throbbing clit.

He pushes his tongue into me, and I whimper, grinding my hips back down against his mouth in urgency.

I inch closer to my orgasm, teetering on the edge as one hand grips the couch like my life depends on it. But he pulls away, just as my eyes roll back.

Then, he takes off his pants. Next, his boxers. And, damn, that thing between his thighs is so big it can make a saint forget prayers. Thick, veiny, throbbing, with a leaking tip daring me to take it. My pulse skips. I don’t even know if I can handle it, but I crave to try.

“On all fours.” He licks his lips, his voice husky. Just as before, I obey, flustered and trembling.

He seizes my hips, dragging me into position, his need undeniable. His thick head presses against me, and with one thrust, his cock is buried deep in me. I wince, almost running, but he pulls me back.

“Too fucking tight,” he growls, trying to push deeper, “first time?”

I shake my head, feeling the walls of my pussy stretch deliciously. “Long time.”

His thrusts quicken, slow at first, then fast as he digs into me. Every stroke pulls a cry from my lips, as my nails dig into the couch, our moans melting into a cloud of ecstasy.

It doesn’t take long before his warm seed spills into me, our releases crashing together as a mangled cry leaves my lips, sending me into euphoria.

Spent, he collapses onto me, sweat-damp and gasping as we remain tangled in the glow of what we’ve just done.