Mine to Hold: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

  Fuck.

  The Montagna family had set up a safehouse to the north of the city several years back. The home had fallen into foreclosure and Mike had purchased it on a whim, remodeling and building an enormous vault to keep the family’s assets safe and it had been robbed under my watch.

  It was a subtle job and I had to admit, quite elegantly done. The metal shelves were wiped clean of prints. Whoever had done it had moved in and taken only a small piece of the stash, almost as if he wanted to get in and out without being noticed at all.

  I had noticed though. I hadn’t gotten this far in this world without having impeccable attention to detail.

  There were several very expensive pieces of jewelry missing, as well as a million or two in hundred-dollar bills that were no longer accounted for. I did a quick inventory, swearing out loud when I discovered that the burglar had swindled all of the uncut diamonds and raw gemstones in our stash, amounting to somewhere around fifty million dollars in value.

  Once the news of such an incredible loss passed on to the rest of the family, they would begin to question my position as boss. I would lose their respect and with that, I would no longer hold the power I once did.

  Fuck me sideways.

  I grabbed a sheet of paper and made a detailed inventory of what was missing before I moved back into the office and sat down at my desk. With a heavy sigh, I started my reconnaissance all on my own. My underboss Ronaldo had gone to bed, exhausted from the events of the day. We’d been caught in a shoot-out in an abandoned factory building when an ill-organized gang decided to try to claim a piece of territory that wasn’t theirs to take. They’d been dealt with, but the aftermath had been especially bloody. He’d drunk a whole liter of grocery store coffee on the ride here. Honestly, I didn’t know how he was sleeping right now with that much caffeine in his system, but more power to him.

  I preferred sipping on a finger of bourbon at almost four-thirty in the morning. The fire burning down my throat kept me awake. I looked forlornly at the soft couch on the opposite wall. Sleep would have to wait.

  I had a thief to catch.

  I clicked open my surveillance software, searching the past footage for a hint of any trespassers. For a while, it all was quiet. Much of the captured video was triggered by a bird flying in front of a camera or the fluttering wings of a butterfly, but then I zeroed in on an unfamiliar movement in the shadows. I toggled on the heat sensor, and a small human form came into view.

  I narrowed my eyes, studying the capture. It was too small to be a man, so it had to be a woman or maybe a teenager. The longer I watched though, the more certain I became that the robber was female. She moved along with the expertise of someone who knew the area, which immediately made me suspicious because there weren’t any other houses for quite a distance. She stilled almost as though she knew she was being watched and I zoomed in on her.

  She kept her head down as she crept toward the camera, and I shook my head with disbelief as she dug into the mud with her hands and smeared it all over the lens.

  She was good, really good.

  I traced her movements along the perimeter, noting her direction before I lost her. I logged the time of the footage, and I realized that she and I had probably been in the house at the same time. She’d probably been upstairs in the vault the moment that I’d walked through the front door, which was more than a little nauseating.

  She was skilled enough to avoid most of my cameras and even though I combed the footage for hours, I couldn’t find her point of entry or exit, which spoke to her adept ability. There was no way she’d decided to rob me on a whim. She’d been prepared for this.

  Only once did I catch enough of the side of her face to make out her dark brown hair and light eyes. I paused the video and pushed it through several algorithms to improve the image as much as I could. I had enough to run it through facial recognition software, but only just barely. It would really be pushing the abilities of my system.

  To be honest, I’d be surprised if it actually came back with a match.

  I went back to the inventory list and sent out several alerts to pawn shops or secondhand stores that carried enough cash to cover the value of what she had stolen. I put out calls to several of my friends to be on the lookout for the pieces of jewelry that had been taken, knowing that many of them were one-of-a-kind pieces. That meant they’d be traceable if they happened to surface again.

  I’d find her. Then I would make an example of her. She’d rue the day she decided to steal from the Montagna family. I’d make sure of it.

  I swallowed down the rest of my bourbon, savoring the fierce burn as it cascaded down my throat. My entire body warmed, and I closed my eyes for a second before pushing up out of my chair and collapsing on the couch.

  I’d pick up the search after I slept.

  CHAPTER 2

  Mila

  I sat back on the lounge chair, enjoying a margarita by the pool under the warm kiss of the sun. The umbrella over my head ruffled slightly in the breeze. There was a fluffy white cloud drifting in the sky, and I smiled, noticing it looked like a giant dragon with its wings outstretched.

  This was the life, at least that’s what all the hotel commercials said. I’d booked a room at the Waldorf, one of the most expensive places in the city. The rooftop pool and bar were beautiful and not super busy like most of the cheaper hotels. The men and women that frequented this place were the crème de la crème, decked out to the nines in expensive swimsuits, sundresses, and sandals that were all designer, and I couldn’t even begin to guess what the label was on any of them.

  One woman was even wearing a pair of red-bottomed high-heeled shoes. I knew those were some sort of a statement piece, but I’d never cared to know anything more.

  Honestly, I felt like the biggest imposter here. I was wearing an equally expensive one-piece swimsuit, but only because I wanted to try to fit in and the front desk had offered to get me whatever I wanted. I’d had my own personal shopper for the day and all I’d had to do was provide a piece of plastic to pay for everything he picked out for me.

  Even though I’d earned this, it still felt weird.

  I looked down, studying the coral and rose pink and cream blocked sections of the swimsuit. It was styled with only one shoulder and ruched across the waist.

  It didn’t feel like me.

  It had been about two weeks since my last job and I’d been enjoying the fruits of my labor ever since. I’d moved all of the cash I’d stolen into an untraceable offshore account, and I’d sold off several pieces of the jewelry I stole to interested buyers that I found through several secure channels. I kept a few things for myself, including a really pretty solitaire tanzanite and diamond necklace that I currently had around my neck. I held it in my fingers absentmindedly, tracing my thumb along the edge as I watched the rich people in the pool drink an impressive amount of really expensive top-shelf champagne. They were going to feel that in the morning, unless rich people had somehow figured out a way to escape hangovers too.

  I sipped on my margarita, feeling like the biggest fraud ever.

  I didn’t know why I was staying here. I didn’t feel like I belonged even a little. Sure, I’d worked my ass off and had made a name for myself, but I still wasn’t comfortable doing anything to spend the money I’d earned.

  I’d grown up on the street. I’d gone hungry often because I hadn’t been able to afford food. My clothes were often worn through in places, but I learned to sift through clothing donation boxes pretty early on in order to replace them. My mother was still alive as far as I knew, but she had a drug addiction and hadn’t been there for me for as long as I could remember. My father had disappeared the day I was born, not wanting to be held down by the bonds of a child or a wife. I didn’t even know his name.

  I’d been on my own for a long time. I learned how to steal because I needed to eat, and I’d perfected my skills ever since. I’d never been caught. I had no record. No one had my fingerprints on file
and right now, I could be set for life simply because I wished it. Right now, I could jump on a plane, leave the country, buy a house on an island somewhere, and live out the rest of my days in luxury.

  I knew myself better than that though. I’d be restless before too long. I’d want the rush of preparing for a job, breaking and entering, and figuring out how to take from the rich without them being any the wiser.

  Plus, I had powerful friends now and as much as I wanted to relax and never have to break into another house again, I knew they would come calling sooner or later. I could try to hide or flee the country, but they would find me in the end.

  This was my life and I simply had to live it.

  With a sigh, I got up and slipped my feet into my fancy flip-flops. I’d already forgotten the designer’s name. I shrugged my dress back on and left the pool because this was probably more sun than I’d ever gotten in a single day in all my life. I took my unfinished drink with me.

  I got into the elevator, watching the numbers rise after I pushed the button to the twelfth floor. When the doors slipped open, I returned to my room and changed for bed even though it was only four in the afternoon. I fingered the soft stretchy purple fabric of my nightshirt and pulled it over my head. I smiled when I found a matching pair of lacey cotton panties and slipped those on too. The outfit was simple, but it made me feel pretty.

  Not that anyone would see it.

  I hopped into the oversized king bed, grabbing the remote and turning on a romantic comedy. I settled in for the evening, enjoying my solitude and the rest of my margarita in the quiet of my own room. It felt nice to not be with rich people anymore, and I could simply be myself.

  The sky grew dark, and I could see the city lights started blinking on all around me through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my room. I fell asleep sometime later.

  I woke up to a knock at the door the next morning. Blearily, I blinked, and the knock sounded again. I pushed myself up to a seated position. Confused didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. With a soft groan, I rubbed my eyes and tried to wake up.

  “Room service,” a voice called out.

  Had I even ordered anything? I furrowed my brow, trying to remember.

  That’s right. I had at check-in. The front desk had asked if I wanted anything special and I had requested morning coffee sometime after ten o’clock. With a disgruntled groan, I climbed out of bed and walked out of the bedroom into the front living room. I pulled my nightshirt into place before answering the door and smiled as a man in a suit pushed in a rolling tray complete with an enormous vat of coffee. Knowing this place, it probably cost a thousand dollars or something crazy because they only served the best.

  My palate wasn’t trained enough to even begin to tell the difference.

  “The Waldorf welcomes you,” the attendant said with an unassuming grin.

  I held the door as he walked past me.

  “You can leave it here,” I pointed to the dining room table. He nodded and I padded off to the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth and pulling a hairbrush through my tangled locks. When I felt more presentable, I walked back into the living room and the tray was there waiting on the table. I squealed happily when I saw a small plate of pastries, fruits, and cheeses.

  My stomach growled. I didn’t think I ate dinner yesterday.

  The man was nowhere to be found. With a shrug, I turned around and poured myself a cup of coffee. There was a small cup of creamer that I topped it off with, stirring it with a silver spoon until it was the perfect shade. I sat down, sipping a little. I almost spilled it on my lap when I started, hearing a quiet scuffle behind me. I went to look, but I only caught a glimpse of the hotel staff member that had brought the coffee before he had his arm around my throat and a piece of cloth pressed firmly over my nose.

  The sweet sugary scent of flowers suddenly overwhelmed me, and the edges of my vision started to go black. I struggled, but he was a lot bigger than me, and he easily overpowered me simply by squeezing his arm a little tighter, making it harder to breathe. I tried to kick and punch my way free, but the lack of air quickly made me feel lightheaded and I realized that I was no match for him.

  My coffee had fallen onto the floor. The mug had broken into pieces and the liquid was pooling on the tile.

  “Jon Moretti would like to have a word with you,” he threatened, and I blinked, whimpering softly.

  Who the fuck was that?

  I woke up in the back of a car. My head was pounding, and I vaguely recognized that my hands were bound in front of me, and my ankles were lashed together with zip ties or something like that. When I opened my eyes, I saw nothing but blackness and panicked for several seconds until I realized that a blindfold was securely fastened over my eyes. I took several deep shaky breaths, trying to calm myself to the best of my ability so that I could take stock of my surroundings and figure a way out of this.

  I remembered the attendant saying a name. What was it?

  Come on, brain. Start firing anytime now.

  Jay… Jason… Juan… No. None of those were right. Jon, that was it. Jon Moretti.

  I still didn’t know who that was.

  I had no idea how much time had passed. Maybe fifteen minutes, an hour, or several more. I had no way to know, not when my sight was cut off like this. I could tell that I was still dressed, at least partially. My legs were bare, but the familiar fabric of my nightshirt was still soft against my skin. My underwear was still where it was supposed to be, which was a good thing. My fingers and toes felt intact, and nothing hurt other than my head. I was thankful for that, at least.

  Whoever wanted to take me wanted me alive. Hopefully, they would also want to keep me unhurt. And maybe not dead.

  Maybe this was a new client? I shook my head. No. That wasn’t it. I would have heard something about it. Usually, my handler Ricky would arrange for me to meet with new prospective contracts after an extensive screening process that would guarantee my safety on the meet up. He’d placed bodyguards with me before, but I didn’t like being followed everywhere and had put a stop to that relatively quickly. I liked to work alone, but he would never have approved something like this.

  The car pulled to a stop, and someone pulled me out roughly. The engine didn’t cut off, instead rumbling beside us for a few moments before it drove off. With my arms and legs bound, I couldn’t do much to fight him when he tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He carried me a short distance, opened a door, and continued on inside. The noise of the outdoors was muted now, and the cold chill of the air conditioning made me shiver. I tried to listen so that I could have some idea about where I was, but there was nothing distinctive about the place other than the muted murmuring of a group of people talking several rooms away. The quiet hush of a pair of elevator doors opened and he walked inside. The doors closed as he turned around.

  From what I could tell, it was an apartment building or maybe a hotel. I couldn’t be sure though, not without being able to see anything.

  It was impossible to track how many floors we went up, but I could tell enough to know that we were in a high rise of some kind. When the elevator eventually came to a stop, he carried me out and took several turns before I could hear a key turning in a lock and a door opening.

  More gently now, he lifted me off of his shoulder and placed me back down on the floor. A door closed loudly behind me with a deafening bang as he cut the ties at my ankles and untied my wrists. When I was finally free, I rubbed my sore skin. He said nothing as he grabbed the blindfold on my face and tore it free. I yelped in surprise.

  I blinked, having trouble seeing for several heart-pounding seconds. Eventually I realized the room was dark and when my eyes finally adjusted, I turned back to see two enormous brutes standing by the door. Dressed in black and outfitted with a gun at either side of their waists, they were the type of criminal that wouldn’t blink twice about killing a girl like me. They stared me down like they were waiting for me to do something, almost ch
allenging me to make a run for it, but there would be no escaping from them. They could break me in half like a twig without even lifting a finger.

  I knew better than to do anything foolish.

  Someone cleared their throat from behind me and I turned back around. My eyes searched the shadows and only upon closer inspection did I notice a figure sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room. He was wearing an expensive suit and when he flicked on a light on a side table, his cufflinks sparkled beneath it. His tie was gray silk, and his shoes were leather, recently shined and conditioned from the looks of it. His suit was impeccably pressed and spoke to a man that knew how to dress himself and do it well.

  I swallowed anxiously. There was no way this was just a normal meeting with a client. I was in serious trouble, and it might already be too late for me to get out of here.

  I looked around for anything that might help me escape, taking stock of my surroundings just in case it would be useful for me later.

  From what I gathered, we were in an office of some kind. In the center of the room was an enormous wooden desk. The surface of it was remarkably clean with only a computer, a keyboard, and a small black book. The walls were covered with dark stained wood cabinets, all the doors shut and hiding the contents inside. The knobs were a bronzed twisted metal. On a normal day, I might have found them pretty.

  “Mila Everson. You’re a difficult woman to track down,” the man rumbled from the corner. He stood up and I took a nervous step back. I blinked several more times as he stepped into the light. I gasped in recognition.

  I knew his face. He was the man from the mansion, the one with the ruby ring. I glanced down. He was wearing it now.

  “Jon,” I whispered, curling my arms in front of me as if they would protect me.

  “So, you do know who I am then,” he replied, cocking his head with interest. His gaze leveled with mine, inquisitive, curious, and kind in a way I couldn’t quite place amongst the resolute fury written all across his face.