Vengeance is Mine
(Mafia Brides series)
Author’s note:
After writing Royal and Leah’s story in Revenge Is Sweet, I wanted to write more dark romance. I’d taken a break from darker contemporary works after writing Beauty and the Rose with Stasia Black, but Revenge is Sweet was so fun and rom-com-like, I wanted to write more.
Whelp, this book is NOTHING like the fluffy mafia romcom, Revenge is Sweet. Vengeance is Mine is set in the same world with crossover characters but it turned out super dark with abduction seduction AND BDSM torture. So please check out the content warnings before diving in!
You don’t have to read Revenge is Sweet before Vengeance is Mine. Like all my books, there’s no other woman drama and no cheating, and the characters get their hard won Happily Ever After.
If you like dark romance with a non-con/reluctance flavor, Lula and Victor’s story will be very satisfying. And I’ve got more Mafia Bride stories planned, so stay tuned.
Lula
The air at the altar of the church is thick and heavy, compressed from decades of Sunday sermons. It smells like pompous preaching and unanswered prayers, with an aftertaste of stale lemony furniture polish. The only sounds are the occasional coughs and creaks from guests shifting in the wooden pews.
Under the crime against fashion that is my wedding gown, I shift from foot to foot. Tacky white satin heels pinch my feet, and the once rich red carpet I’m standing on has faded to an anemic pink, too thin to cushion anything. My head is completely shrouded by the traditional veil, so no one can see my resting bitch face.
My groom, David, stands at my side. A snowfall of dandruff dusts the shoulders of his dark suit, and his nostrils are dusted white from the cocaine habit he’s hoping to hide. Every few seconds, his eyes slide towards me, checking to make sure I’m still beside him. When he sees that I am, he blinks, and his dull brown eyes brighten like he can’t believe his luck. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a dream girl he conjured from his fantasies, sleek and elegant and soft-spoken. . . and way, way out of his league. Yet willing, nay insisting, we marry. A mythical creature, like a unicorn. Blink, and I’ll disappear.
If I’m lucky, all the guests will be wondering how he snared me, and not how whirlwind our courtship was or why the bride’s side of the church is completely empty.
The organ notes die with a sound like an accordion falling down the stairs. The minister clears his throat.
“Dearly beloved,” he intones. I can smell his halitosis from here.
David’s great aunt Eunice, his only living relative, booked this venue. In the interest of speed, I let her plan everything except my dress. She dug the veil I’m wearing out of storage and ordered the peonies in my bouquet. I told her I was allergic to peonies. She either didn’t care or did it on purpose. She thinks there’s something off about me, about this whole wedding.
For a fossil, Eunice is pretty sharp. She senses a con, but her grand nephew is properly fooled. As far as he’s concerned, I’m his true love. I’ve sold the image of a soft-spoken, smitten virgin so well, I’m impressed with myself. I deserve an acting reward for how well I’ve pretended his touch doesn’t make my skin crawl.
Eunice glares at me from the front pew, and I freeze my fidgeting until I resemble a mannequin in a bridal shop window, stiff and swathed in white. I chose my dress. It’s huge and puffy with yards of itchy crinoline and lace. Perfect for my plan.
The minister is droning on about love and commitment and all the things that don’t apply to this marriage. I want to tell him to hurry up. The sooner I’m married, the sooner I can roofie my groom and go hunting for the quarry I really want. Stephanos.
We’re halfway through the most boring ceremony in the world when the bang of doors opening echoes from the foyer to the altar. The minister coughs and falls silent, fumbling in his train of thought. The pews creak as curious guests turn as one to investigate.
A late arrival? I remain staring at the minister, ignoring the interruption. It’s only when David turns and frowns, his pasty skin blanching further, that I turn, too.
A man prowls up the aisle from the back of the church, wearing a dark suit and a viper’s smile. He has white blond hair, close-cropped to his head. Shadows lie in the hollows under his eyes and cheekbones. The sleek suit obscures the breadth of his shoulders and the athleticism of the powerful body underneath.
A jolt runs through me. His features are perfect, so perfect, it hurts to look at him. Judging from the way women in the audience suck in a breath, I’m not the only one who thinks so. But I might be the only one who notices the feral tilt to his smile and the intense light in his eyes. He looks more hungry than happy. Expectant.
Years of instincts honed from being around dangerous men tell me this man belongs in their ranks.
The church is quiet, the only sound a candle guttering out in its candelabra. Eunice has turned her glare to the latecomer, pressing her lips together until they’re white. Whoever this is, she either disapproves of him, his interruption, or both.
Is this the best man? He’s striding straight to the altar toward us like an oncoming storm.
And the closer he gets, the taller he looms. He’s taller than David, who towers over me.
He doesn’t spare me a glance but steps smoothly up to David, who licks his lips, obviously unsure how to respond.
The newcomer murmurs, “Stefanos sends his regards.” With practiced grace, he pulls David into a one-armed hug, his right arm clamping around David’s shoulders while his left arm folds between them.
In the man’s embrace, David’s body jerks hard, and a half gasp, half gurgle escapes his parted lips. The intruder releases David and steps back. Metal flashes between the dark suits.
David folds forwards, a bright spurt of cartoonishly red blood spurting from his chest. The ketchup-colored liquid spatters my veil, and the white satin of my gown soaks up the droplets.
The intruder stands aside, a hint of amusement in his serpentine smile. David crashes to the floor, choking on his own blood.
My ears are ringing. Someone is screaming, and there are panicked cries and scrambling feet in the pews. The chaplain’s Bible thuds onto the ancient carpet. His shoes make no sound as he flees, leaving me as the only witness to watch the light fade from David’s eyes.
Blood speckles David’s gray face and soaks his white shirt. The knife got him in the heart. That’s not an easy strike. It takes force to push a blade through someone’s ribs, through the pericardium, and into the beating, vital organ. And this man did it with the coolness of someone hugging a brother to congratulate him on his wedding day.
There’s not going to be a wedding, not anymore. The guests are gone, fleeing what they can rightly guess is a mob execution. A metallic taste is in my mouth, and my empty stomach is roiling. The echo of slammed doors dies away, and I stand speckled with my betrothed’s blood, my plan for vengeance dying at my feet.
How am I going to get close to Stephanos now? David was the closest tie I had. Except...
Stephanos sends his regards.
Stephanos ordered this hit. I’ve made a study of the top tier of his gang, and I don’t recognize this ice-eyed hitman. In a rustle of satin, I turn to face him.
Up close, his beauty is sharp and striking. He’s beautiful like a well-balanced knife is beautiful. In the way a Sig Sauer pistol or a F-22 Raptor is beautiful. Stunning and deadly.
The killer still hasn’t looked at me. I might as well be an object on the altar—a candelabra or a tablecloth—for all the attention he’s paid me. If this was a hit on my life, if I was the actual target, he would’ve made his move by now.
Right?
That smug curve to his lips tells me he likes killing and the thrill of the hunt. Everything in me screams to run or fight.
Adrenaline floods my veins. My fingers flex, aching to reach for a weapon. But I hold the rest of me still, waiting to make my choice. Each second, I gather more information and expand my choices.
The hitman finally looks at me, and his blue eyes snag on my lips. I painted them red, a color bright enough to be seen under the stupid veil. His gaze trolls up and down my body, taking in my stained gown and the thick shroud over my features. There’s no flicker of recognition on his face.
If the hitman doesn’t know me, does he just see a bride standing over her love, too shocked to scream? I probably should run or cry. I’ve spent too much time calculating my next moves. I need to play my part.
But those arctic eyes freeze me. His head cocks to the side, and for a moment, I think he’ll speak.
But he doesn’t. What he does is kneel to check the dead man’s eyes for proof of life. With cruel casualness, he wipes his blade clean on David’s tuxedo pant leg. Then he rises, gives me a smile, and strolls back the way he came.
The pool of David’s blood has reached my foot. I back away, cataloging my emotions. Horror. Annoyance. A resigned sort of calm.
I toss the bouquet of peonies into the closest pew, pick up my dress and stride away. Toward the front of the church, not the back. I don’t want to be caught in the tangle of David’s friends and his lone relative, none of whom had the wherewithal to stand strong.
David was my way to get Stephanos. I had hoped Stephanos would show up at the wedding so I could execute him during the reception. Barring that, I intended to spend my ‘honeymoon’ setting a trap and springing it.
I’ll need more than luck to get so close again. If my plan is going to work, I’ll need a new way in. Soon, immediately, before my cousin Royal tracks me down. He’s the head of the Regis Famiglia now and has never approved of my quest for vengeance.
Stephanos sends his regards. Ironically, my best lead is the blond hitman. I shiver as I think of him. Those piercing eyes, that powerful frame. So beautiful and so cold.
I rub my chest and automatically grasp the delicate necklace at my throat, a tiny sword that rests between my breasts. I kiss the small pommel for good luck and tuck it back into place.
I stride out of the church, ready to call a cab and head to a safe house for a change of clothes and a glass of whiskey while I rework my plan. Marrying David was supposed to be the beginning of the end. Now, I’m back where I started. And I look like a damn runaway bride. A runaway bride covered in blood spatter.
Fuck my life.
I don’t get more than a few steps out the door before someone seizes me from behind, immobilizing me in strong arms. I see a glint of metal, and in a smooth, practiced move, my attacker raises a knife past my blood-speckled bodice to rest at my throat.
“Not so fast, beautiful,” the hitman rasps in my ear. “You’re coming with me.”
Keep reading Vengeance is mine
Book Summary
“They said I could choose my reward. I choose you.”
It was a simple job: go to a wedding. Execute the groom.
Then I saw the bride, wearing a mountain of white satin, her lacy veil now spattered with blood.
Instead of running away screaming like the rest of the wedding party, she raised her chin and stared at me, a challenge in her dark eyes. I felt a flicker of feeling in my cold, dark heart...
Then she shot me. And I knew...
I had to make her mine.
Vengeance is Mine is a stand alone dark romance with adult themes, starring an obsessed hitman, a heroine bent on vengeance, and an HEA (happily ever after).
Praise for Vengeance is Mine
“OMG!!! Victor and Lula are the hottest couple ever! And I read a lot of erotic books but this one. Wow! I couldn’t put it down it just called to me on a primal level. I’ve always loved Lee Savino’s stories but this one is exceptional!”
“Hot and punishing as well as digging deep into the soul. I loved it.”
“Holy yowza, this grabs you by the throat right in the beginning and doesn’t let go! (You’ll get it when you read it 😉). And read it you must!! This was dark & smoldering, dangerous all around!! Lula is intelligent and lethal. And Victor, wow, he’s vicious in many ways. Controlling. And HOT. But you also get the other side of him with Lula. And it’s everything!”
“Victor takes what he wants and he wants Lula.”
“It comes with a paragraph of trigger warnings. Mind. Them. She’s not kidding.”