The Kingpin’s Bride (Villains & Brides #3)

Prologue

Matteo

The bass throbbed through the walls of After Dark like a slow, dying heartbeat.

Black Italian silk. The heavy scent of expensive, sugary perfume, fear, sweat, and old blood. This club had seen thousands of sins. Tonight, it would witness one more.

I sat in my usual shadowed booth, one ankle crossed over my knee, fingers drumming slowly against the leather armrest. My eyes never left the lit-up stage.

Morena Caruso moved like a broken doll trying to pretend she wasn’t one.

Hips rolling with the same practiced grace she used every night, long, straight black hair cascading down her bare back, full lips parted in the fake expression of pleasure she wore for every man watching her.

She had been dancing here for a few weeks. I had watched her every single night.

Never touched her. Never allowed myself to. Until tonight.

The Five Families had made their demand clear when they handed me the vacant seat in their midst: marry, and start producing heirs.

Prove I was worth building something permanent, not just stealing power.

They didn’t care who the wife was. Only that she was ready to serve, and ready to break in just the right way.

I had chosen Morena Caruso.

She didn’t know it yet, but she was going to be my wife. My solution. Nothing more. That was the line I kept repeating, the same way I had watched my brothers-in-law cage Chiara and Aurora and told myself I would never become them.

I had sat through Chiara’s wedding. I had watched Aurora almost break for a man she hated. I had sworn the seat would never cost another woman what it cost them.

And yet here I was, buying one, and a woman to go with it.

The thought sat under my ribs like a blade I refused to pull out, slowly poisoning me. Strategy. Legacy. That was all I allowed myself to call it. My mind told a different story.

Morena was beautiful, yes. Perfect for what I needed. But that was all. Emotion had no place here. I had built my empire in control. I wasn’t about to lose it over a shapely dancer with sad, stormy eyes and a perfectly curved body that made men fucking stupid.

Still, my tattooed fingers tightened slightly on the armrest as another man in the front row leaned forward, eyes devouring Morena’s naked form.

She was completely exposed tonight. Her hands were bound in front of her with delicate silver chains that looked decorative, but really just kept her arms pinned enough to remind her she wasn’t free.

Her cheeks were flushed with humiliation, not makeup.

Those cool blue eyes stayed down. Every time a new bidder called out, her shoulders tensed.

I imagined breaking the necks of every man staring at her like she was meat.

The auctioneer’s voice crackled over the speakers, oily and excited. “Lot twenty-three. Morena Caruso. Eighteen years old. Previously unclaimed. Beautiful. Unbroken. Starting bid… two million.”Paddles flew up like vultures. I stayed silent. For now.

The crowd murmured. Hungry. Appreciative. A few men leaned forward in their seats like they could taste her in the air.I stayed perfectly still.

Small, uncontrollable shivers ran down her spine and made her breasts move slightly with each breath.

Her once soft, rosy nipples were hard from the cold air and the shame.

Every inch of her was exposed, the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the smooth skin between her thighs.

She looked like a sacrifice laid out for wolves.

And she knew it. Santino wouldn’t have let her come, unwilling.

“Two point five million,” a gruff voice called from the left. One of the underbosses serving the Vernizzi. Beady eyes locked on Morena’s body.

“Three million,” another sleaze countered. A man from the Greco family. Older. Crueler. Much uglier.

The numbers climbed fast. These weren’t normal bids.

These were men who had watched her dance for weeks, who had jerked off to the memory of her body moving under the lights, spinning on the pole she probably fucking hated.

Now they had the chance to own her soul, possess her completely. I let it happen.

Let the price rise. Let them fight over her like starved dogs. Let Morena stand there, naked and humiliated, while they bid on her womb, her beauty, her suffering. Because she was going to become property. Not because I wanted her. Because I needed her.

A mother for the heirs that would lock my seat in the Five Families. Nothing more. That was the story I told myself every night while I watched the security feeds. It was the only story that let me keep breathing.

Because the alternative, that I already wanted her, that the sound of her breath on stage made my chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with power, was unacceptable for a man like me.

“Four million,” someone shouted.

“Five,” the first man growled.

Morena’s shoulders curled inward. A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She quickly looked down again, trying to hide it. The auctioneer laughed. “Look at that, gentlemen. She’s learning her place. She makes her own lube.”

I felt something dark twist low in my gut. Not pity. Something far more dangerous. My mouth twitched at the sound of the humiliating words.

“Six million,” a voice called from the back.

“Eight,” the first man, intent, countered.

The war continued. Ruthless. Hungry. Every bid another man claiming he deserved to own her. I finally moved.

I stood. The entire room went still as I stepped forward into the light. “Thirty-five fucking million. Let’s be done already.”

My voice cut through the club like a blade. No one dared speak after that. The auctioneer’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

“Sold,” he stammered. “To Matteo Ventura.”

Morena’s head snapped up. Her wide, tear-filled eyes met mine across the stage. For the first time in weeks, she looked at me directly. And I saw the exact moment she realized her fate had just been sealed. There was no delay.

The Five Families had made their expectations clear long before tonight.

The marriage would be sealed immediately.

No paperwork in a back room. No private ceremony.

They wanted the deed done in public, a spectacle to bind the alliance and remind everyone exactly who held power now.

Santino’s club provided the perfect background to their leering.

The auctioneer barely had time to announce the sale before a judge, one of our own, on permanent payroll, stepped onto the stage with a black folder in his hands. The crowd shifted, murmuring with dark excitement. This was what they had come for. To watch these poor women become a spectacle.

Morena was dragged forward by two of Santino’s men. She stumbled in her tall heels. Her eyes were wide with panic as they forced her to stand beside me.

I didn’t look at her face. Not yet. The judge cleared his throat and began speaking in a flat, bored tone, as if this were any other contract. “Matteo Ventura, do you take this woman as your wife, to bind your bloodline to the Five Families and secure your seat?”

I answered without hesitation. “I do.”

My voice was cold. Exactly how it should be. The judge turned to Morena. “And you, Morena Caruso… do you take this man as your husband?”

Silence. The entire club seemed to hold its breath. Her lips trembled. Tears slipped down her cheeks, making her pretty makeup run. For a moment I thought she might refuse, that she might scream, fight, or beg. Instead, she whispered, barely audible. “…I do.”

The words sounded like a death sentence. I wondered how horrible her life must have been, if she was truly choosing me willingly.The judge nodded once. “By the power vested in me by the Five Families, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

I took her left hand. Her fingers were icy.

I slipped my mother’s ring onto her finger, heavy, ancient gold with a glittering clear stone.

It looked obscene against her skin. A brand more than a promise.

Morena stared down at it like it was a shackle.

Then I cupped her chin and forced her face up to my own.

Her eyes were glassy with tears and humiliation.

I kissed her anyway. Hard. Possessive. My mouth claimed hers in front of the entire room, in front of the Five Families, in front of every man who had just bid on her body.

I tasted her fear, her shame, the salt of her tears.

She stiffened at first, then made a small, broken sound against my lips as I deepened the kiss, one hand gripping her chin while the other rested on her bare waist.

Sweet little wife. The thought flashed through my mind before I could stop it. I pulled back slowly. Her lips were swollen, her breathing ragged. She looked dazed. Destroyed. The judge closed the folder with a sharp snap.

“Congratulations,” he said flatly. “The alliance is sealed.”

The crowd erupted in dark applause. I kept my hand on Morena’s bare waist, steadying her as she trembled beside me.

Her skin was frozen under my palm. She was completely naked, chained, my wife in name only, a tool I had just purchased in front of the entire underworld.

And I couldn’t even look her in the eye.

Then one of the senior Five Families members stood. Don Salvatore Esposito, old, powerful, and cruel in the way only men who had survived decades of blood could be. He raised a hand, and the applause died instantly.

“One final condition,” he announced, his voice carrying through the club like gravel.

The room went dead silent. “To secure the legitimacy of this union and bind the new seat firmly within the Five Families… the marriage must be consummated. Here. Now. In front of us all.”

My blood turned to fucking ice. Morena made a small, broken sound beside me, half gasp, half sob. Her body jerked like she’d been struck. She tried to pull away, but my grip on her waist tightened instinctively.