Synopsis
Two years out of college, Angelica Bondesan spends her time working as a barista, keeping in touch with her prodigal brother, and trying to figure out how to bridge the gap with her father, a wealthy real estate developer.
But all of that changes the night she’s kidnapped. Thrown into a windowless room, Angelica is positive there’s been some kind of mistake —until she meets Nico Vitale.
Gorgeous and frightening, Nico became the boss of New York City’s Vitale crime family after the execution style murder of his parents two years earlier. Since then he’s turned the old-school mob into a sleek, modern army of ruthless men who understand that physical violence —while always an option —isn’t the only way to get what you want.
Now Angel is forced to face the truth;
Her father is not the man she believed him to be.
Nico Vitale is dangerous, possibly lethal.
She is falling in love with Nico Vitale.
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Excerpt
Nico Vitale was kneeling in one of the pews at St. Monica’s,
praying for his mother and father. They’d been gone two years, but the pain of
losing them still lingered. He had only been twenty-eight when they’d been
killed, and he’d expected to have them for many more years, to give them the
daughter-in-law and grandchildren they had wanted.
Their
future had been stolen. From all of them.
He
forced down the fury that had become all too familiar. Anger was good.
Productive. It’s what drove him to seek justice, to right the wrong perpetrated
against his family, against the honor code that had survived decades under the
rule of some of history’s most violent men.
But
this wasn’t the place for anger. This was the place for peace. Repentance. He
took a deep breath and tired to calm himself.
His
mother had always gone to St. Patrick’s, but Nico made a point of moving around
the city, sitting in any church with an open door. He liked the anonymity of
it. Liked knowing that no one would know him or remember his parents.
His
faith was only a shadow of the belief that had sustained them. Nico didn’t
believe in the edicts of the Church. It had been organized by man to benefit
man. He worshipped his own god, and his god didn’t turn the other cheek. He
might forgive, but that forgiveness didn’t preclude a punishment justly earned.
Still, he liked to sit in silence and remember, to send love to his parents,
wherever they were, and to stand on the side of any god who believed in
vengeance.
He was
reciting the Lord’s Prayer when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He instinctively
shook off the hand. When he turned to see who had interrupted him, he was even
less pleased.
“What
is it, Dante?” He forced his voice even as he took in the leather jacket and
jeans worn by the man in front of him. A dress code was part of Nico’s
organizational reboot, but keeping cool was a point of pride, part of his
mission to remake his father’s business for the twenty-first century. And
having a reputation for being calm only made him more formidable when the
situation called for his wrath.
Dante
shifted in his seat, his face flushed, eyes feverish with excitement. “We got
her,” he said. “We got the girl.”
Nico
looked around before tipping his head at the church’s massive double doors.
“Not here.”
Dante
stood, hurrying down the aisle. Nico followed slowly, letting the peace of the
church wash over him as he made his way out the door.
He took
his time following Dante down the steps of the church. When they reached the
sidewalk, they stepped back to stand near an adjacent building.
“Any
trouble?” Nico asked.
Dante
shook his head. “She didn’t see it coming.”
Nico
didn’t like the note of excitement in Dante’s voice. Nico’s father had
ingrained old-fashioned chivalry in his bones, and Nico never sanctioned
hurting women. These kinds of things were a necessary part of doing business,
not something he enjoyed.
“You
didn’t hurt her.” It wasn’t a question.
Dante
sighed, and Nico caught a hint of annoyance in the other man’s face before he
could hide it. “We did it just like you said. Knocked her out, put her in the
van, took her to the basement. She’s fine.”
Nico
nodded. “Good. Make sure she’s comfortable.”
“Comfortable?”
Dante’s laugh was bitter. “Why do we care if that bitch is comfortable?”
Nico
clamped a hand on Dante’s shoulder and squeezed until he flinched. “We don’t
call women bitches in this organization. Ever. Understand?”
Dante
nodded, his eyes lit with the fire of indignation.
“Good.”
Nico released his grip. “Now go make the pick-up.”
“Will
do.” Dante rolled his shoulders, like doing so would free him of Nico’s grip
when they both knew only death or dishonor would do that. “Want a ride back to
the office?”
“No.”
He didn’t owe Dante an explanation.
Dante
nodded and headed for the car double parked at the curb. Nico watched him get
in and drive away. He waited for the car to disappear into traffic before he
started walking.
Dante
was a problem. Nico understood it, but he was still trying to settle on a
strategy for dealing with it. He knew Dante resented him. That Dante believed
his father, Gabriel Santoro, should have been Underboss to Nico’s father before
his death. If that had been the case, Dante’s father would be Boss now, and
Dante himself would be the crown prince of the New York territory.
Instead,
a year before his death Nico’s father had inexplicably turned to Nico, pleading
with him to step in as Underboss. Only twenty-seven at the time, Nico wasn’t
ready to take on the mantel of responsibility held by his father. He didn’t
even believe in the mob. Not the way it was then; stealing and killing and
raping in the name of money. In the name of power.
But his
father had been unsettled. Even Nico, as young and wrapped up in himself as
he’d been at the time, could see that. And his father -- his family -- meant
everything to him. So he’d gotten his act together and joined the business,
learning it from the inside out. He was just beginning to feel like he had a
handle on the basic operations when his parents were murdered, execution style,
outside the restaurant where they’d met over three decades ago. They had been
celebrating their thirty-second anniversary.
Nico
had spent the two years since remaking his father’s legacy. Raneiro Donati,
head of the Syndicate that acted as governing body to criminal organizations
all over the world, had stepped in as a mentor and father figure, guiding Nico
through the early stages of grief and the rage that threatened to undo him.
Gradually, Nico had found a focus for his fury, and he’d poured every ounce of
his energy into targeting that focus and reimagining his father’s legacy.
Some of
Nico’s soldiers embraced the change. Others, like Dante, clung to the old ways.
Nico understood, but the reorganization wasn’t optional. They would comply or
they would be gone.
Nico
didn’t like taking the girl. A decade ago, something like that would be off the
table, a blatant breaking of rules that had been in place since before the
Syndicate formally existed. But nothing could be rebuilt without first
dismantling the rotting foundation of what had come before.
And
unfortunately, the girl was part of that foundation.
He
checked for traffic on 2nd Avenue and crossed just before a taxi barreled
through the intersection. He felt liberated by his time at the church. Lighter
on his feet. Maybe he would call one of the women who acted as a physical
companion when he felt the urge.
After
all, he wasn’t a saint.
About the Author
Michelle St. James aka Michelle Zink is the author of seven published books and six novellas. Her first series, Prophecy of the Sisters (YA), was one of Booklist's Top Ten Debut novels. Her work has also been an Indie Next selection and has appeared on prestigious lists such as the Lonestar List, New York Public Library's Stuff for the Teen Age, and Chicago Public Library's Best of the Best. Her character, Alice, won the Teen Read Awards for Best Villain against Harry Potter's Lord Voldemort.
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