Outsider of the Mafia (The Shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles)

Prologue

CORLEONE, SICILY, ITALY

ASSUNTA

It took a long time for the news to reach her. A fucking irony given that she’d been waiting for it for three decades.

The don was dead. Killed at close range.

A hole right between his eyes put there by some Albanian doing God’s work.

If only the timing had been perfect. But it was three decades too late.

It would have been perfect had he already been six feet under when she’d given birth to his bastard.

Or at the very least, when said bastard had been a child.

She could still have reaped the benefits then.

But no. The bastard was thirty fucking years old, and she had spent all that time rotting in filth and poverty.

It didn’t stop her from jumping on the first bus to Corleone.

The day was dry and bright. A typical Sunday in August. Unlike when she’d gone there the last time.

Thirty years ago, it had been raining and dark.

She’d needed the darkness to shroud the bundle in her arms. When she’d gone to the don’s doorstep, she’d carried high hopes with her.

Certain of a bright future in exchange for her special gift.

But all of them had washed down the drain, like the muddy water that had pooled at her feet, the moment he’d appeared at the door.

It had been a different welcome from the first time he’d seen her.

Then, Carlo Di Matteo had taken one look at her cleaning his office desk, and the next second she was bent over with her face planted on the waxed oak surface and his dick in her slick pussy.

He had fucked like she had imagined a don would fuck.

Hard, wild, and narcissistic. The only surprise was that she had liked it.

Enough to forget his naive little wife sleeping one floor down when he snuck into her room in the night.

It was not like the fucker had been faithful to her before he’d met Assunta.

Everyone knew that the don’s dick had a way of getting stuck in fresh pussy.

The difference was that hers had gripped him tight and fucked him right back.

Driving him crazy, making him lose control until finally she carried his seed, safely tucked inside her womb.

By that time, he’d already kicked her out, his attention on the new maid.

It didn’t matter. She had a bun in the oven, and she was sure she’d reap the benefits when she returned nine months later.

Except she’d given birth to a fucking girl.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, he hadn’t looked too pleased when he’d seen her with a parcel wrapped in torn cloth, with a crop of black hair and brown eyes peeking through it.

His eyes had glinted with a malicious rage, and she’d known at that moment that he was going to strike her dead.

He would have done it too had his stupid wife not turned up, peeping behind his broad shoulders.

She’d taken the baby in her arms, mistaking the situation entirely.

Ada Di Matteo thought she was begging for a better life for the nuisance she’d birthed, when Assunta wanted her to be the deposit for a fat bank balance.

The don’s wife had twisted everything around.

The bastard got a fucking life, and she was left poor and, worse, banned from ever setting foot into his territory if she valued her life. Over his dead body, he’d said.

Well, he was dead now. And his son, the new don, wouldn’t know the history.

Ada Di Matteo didn’t look the type to tell people the origin of ‘their’ eldest daughter, not even to her own children.

As far as the world knew, Carlo Di Matteo had four children.

One son and three daughters, when it should have been two.

In Assunta’s mind, there was only one plan.

Find Ada Di Matteo and force her to pay up for the years she had lost. She didn’t take the time to think of exact words.

She was out of patience and had waited too long for this day.

She was fifty. The clock was ticking. She wanted to live the rest of her days in a big, fat house with servants for all her needs.

She would be the one finally doing nothing other than enjoying.

Maybe she’d fuck the help too and see what the fuss was about.

In her hurry to reach her goal, she almost missed the chaos around the main house.

She was fifty feet away from the iron gates before she became annoyingly aware of the buzz of activity surrounding the property.

The gates were wide open, and the long driveway spilled out onto the main road, lined with rich and shiny cars.

Except for three red catering vans towards the back, all the rest were black, with black-suited men standing around them in clusters like annoying ants.

The hub of activity only propelled her forward.

She stalked past the gates, still intent on finding the Di Matteo widow.

Some widow she was. What was she celebrating when the don hadn’t even been dead for three months?

She was throwing away his money, while it should belong to Assunta.

At least part of it for giving them another child.

From the wide open front door, the sound of music and laughter floated out, grating on her skin, punctuating the life she had missed out on.

A second later, a man with shoulder-length black hair and black shades walked out.

His voice was annoyed when he called out from the edge of the front terrace.

“What the fuck, bro?” He’d chucked his coat in favour of rolling up his dress shirt, and his accent wasn’t Italian, let alone Sicilian.

Fucking Americans. They thought they were Italian, but if they weren’t living in the country, they weren’t the real deal.

The man leaped off the terrace and ate up the distance in long strides.

For a few panicked heartbeats, Assunta thought he was coming for her.

She froze in place, but luckily, he veered off to the right and stalked to one of the thick olive trees surrounding the property.

She couldn’t believe she’d missed the man standing there.

With his back to the trunk of the tree, smoking a cigar, his eyes fixed on her, seeing far too much.

They shared a similar build and hair colour. They were clearly brothers.

The first man confronted him. “Seriously, Enzo? It’s your fucking wedding.

Your bride’s inside, for fuck’s sake.” He eyed the surroundings suspiciously, his eyes following the other man’s gaze for a second before they dismissed her like she was trash and drifted back to address his brother.

“What the fuck are you doing here alone?” He took a step closer.

“You weren’t fucking someone, were you?”

The other man’s gaze finally left hers. “Should have.” He dropped his cigar onto the gravel beneath him and crushed it under his foot, his movements jerky. “Just needed a moment.”

“Already?” the other one sneered. “You’ve only been married for all of…” he made a show of looking at his watch. “Three hours. Is my cognata getting to you already?”

He just ignored him, but the first man continued thoughtfully. “Then again, she did get to you two days ago.”

Assunta didn’t see it coming. Neither did the first man.

In the blink of an eye, he was flat on the ground with the second man on top of him, his hand curled around his brother’s throat.

Assunta watched in fascination. She’d worked for the don who was malicious as fuck, but she’d never really seen a man kill anyone with his bare hands.

But then, his hand loosened, and with a hard shove, he came back to his feet.

“Jackass,” his brother muttered from the floor, his expression one of surprise. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“You talk of that again and I’ll fucking kill you.

” The second man backed off another three steps, like he didn’t trust himself not to do it.

Assunta studied him. He wasn’t wearing a coat, and his tie was barely hanging onto him.

For a groom, he was awfully underdressed.

She’d thought the fucking Americans couldn’t handle the real Cosa Nostra.

But this one seemed to be having no trouble at all.

The man was trouble or troubled. That was evident by how he sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair as the other man stood up again and brushed grass off his fine-looking ass. “Have you seen her?”

The first man grinned but kept his distance this time. “I have. But more importantly, you did.”

“Should have married the sister.” His tone belied his words.

“Well, I don’t mean to point out your mistakes…”

“She was fucking her bodyguard.”

“So you took her sister? Could have still come up with a different solution for the alliance. But nooooo… you took one look at pink fluff, and you reared off course.”

“Fuck off.”

“So you keep telling me. But looks like pink’s going to be your favourite colour.”

“Her fashion sense is not my problem.”

“Right. Tell me you aren’t wondering what the colour of her panties is.”

“Shut the fuck up before I put my fist in your mouth.”

“So protective.” The one with the long hair hummed. “Wonder if you would have reacted this way with the eldest Di Matteo girl?”

Eldest Di Matteo girl?

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You been watching a mushy movie or something?”

The other man just shook his head playfully before taking off to the house. The second one followed after a minute, far less enthusiastically.

So Carlo’s bastard child was fucking the bodyguard?

Her hatred of the spawn who’d robbed her of her future intensified.

The groom looked more undressed than any groom she’d ever seen, but there was no doubt he was a man of standing.

She’d let that pass for a fucking bodyguard.

A mere soldier when she could have married whomever the other man was?