Mafia Casanova Read online

  Mafia Casanova

  by M. Robinson & Rachel Van Dyken

  COPYRIGHT© 2020 M. Robinson & Rachel Van Dyken

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the authors.

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, dead or alive, are a figment of the author’s imagination, and all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s mind’s eyes and are not to be interpreted as real. The story is fiction that the authors made up for entertainment purposes only.

  MAFIA CASANOVA

  Copyright © 2020 M. ROBINSON & RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  ISBN: 978-1-946061-60-7

  Cover Design by Silla Webb, Masque of the Red Pen

  Cover model: Lucas Loyola

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Editing by Kay Springsteen

  Formatting & Editing by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Front Matter

  Author Note

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About The Authors

  AUTHOR NOTE

  We are SO excited to bring you our first collab! We’ve both been writing mafia for over a decade and this just felt right to us after connecting in the Erotic Playroom (a group on Facebook) we had to do a co-writing challenge and after meeting, we hit it off and decided that we needed to do a book together.

  We hope you enjoy it as much as we did writing it and we are so pumped to bring together two mafia worlds

  <3 XOXO, M. Robinson & RVD

  DEDICATION

  To both of our mafia worlds, we never imagined it would get this big or this amazing, combining both fandoms and creating Mafia Casanova, but we are so ridiculously thankful to our readers for rooting for us.

  This book is for you!!!

  And don’t worry, you’ll only need like two bottles of wine, not the usual three.

  Just kidding… or are we?!?

  PROLOGUE

  “If the world were perfect, it wouldn’t be.” —Bizzaro

  Romeo

  Now

  “Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” I rasped into her ear, fueling the demon deep inside my soul.

  Rage dripped like the very blood I was about to spill. After all, rage was a lot like a small wound, it slowly seeped until it made a puddle you couldn’t risk not seeing, and that puddle turned into a lake, that lake into an ocean—until you were consumed with the need to do something about it.

  Why? Because you couldn’t fucking breathe.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered with a smile. Her face said yes, while her lies said no.

  It didn’t matter. She’d be silenced soon.

  After her screams of ecstasy turned to those of horror. Anyone standing outside would just assume it was the best night of her life.

  Not the worst.

  When in fact, it was her death in broad daylight.

  I wasn’t the man she thought I was…

  The sweet talker.

  The gentleman.

  The Casanova.

  The man who could make her come over and over again until she begged for mercy when, in reality, she wanted what all these bitches did.

  My heart.

  My soul.

  Those three little words that always carried the hardest and heaviest blow…

  I want you.

  I need you.

  I. Love. You.

  Women wanted the fairy tale, the happily ever after, the dream come true. I’d walk through hell just to get to you. They’d yet to figure out it was all a ruse, an illusion, a fucking made-up lie. If you told yourself something long enough, you were bound to believe it.

  Well, guess what. Love was no different.

  I knew what you were thinking; I was an intuitive bastard like that. That was what made me damn good at what I did. Staying alive when everyone wanted me dead.

  Another three little words which were the truest and dearest of them all…

  Who hurt you?

  Images of her with him assaulted the forefront of my mind. I spent years trying to fuck her out of my mind. For some reason, I couldn’t begin to explain or understand, memories tried to shove their way to the surface—memories of a brother.

  My brother.

  Who’d do anything for me, anything for the family—or should I say The Famiglia. Our world was a dark place where light never shined unless you were taking someone’s life. A moment of clarity was, in fact, a double-edged sword, one that dragged me deeper and deeper into the depths of my own depravity. I never said no… to anything or anyone.

  I nodded when I was supposed to.

  I smirked when I needed to.

  I complimented when the timing was right.

  Then… I’d send them to Hell after giving them nothing but Heaven.

  I should’ve felt guilty.

  I didn’t.

  I simply wanted the thrill of feeling alive.

  In the words of the late and great Shakespeare, “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”

  I lived by those words.

  Blood in, no out.

  When it came to women, they were by far my favorite victims. Fucking and killing were two of my best qualities. I always delivered the final act with a mind-blowing orgasm.

  Wet.

  Warm.

  Red.

  Soaking my hands.

  This woman? She meant nothing. None of them did…

  But one.

  The rage I was fueling decided to burn, to shift into the monster I was becoming as I pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her neck.

  Her legs wrapped around me.

  My groans fell easily.

  My movements on repeat.

  I thrust into her.

  Hard.

  Fast.

  I fucked her with urgency.

  “Romeo!”

  We all had our demons.

  My name was mine.

  In seconds, her ankles dug into my skin.

  Her nails into my back.

&nbs
p; Her panted breaths into the nape of my neck.

  I clenched my teeth to keep from saying what I really wanted to—and to her face.

  Traitor.

  Whore.

  Fucking rat.

  “Feel good, baby?” I licked down her chest and up again, stopping at her ear before I gave it a small tug with my teeth. “Been watching you all night…”

  “I knew it…” She moaned as I filled her to the hilt. “I knew you wanted me.”

  I almost killed her right then and there. Barely able to keep my anger in check. I pumped, deliberately this time, my hips thrusting at a painfully slow speed.

  I wanted her to beg to come… or maybe it was to live?

  “So smart,” I taunted. She was merely another bitch in heat. “What are you doing here, huh?”

  I inwardly winced when she reached for my jet-black hair, giving it a tug. Did she really think I was that into her that I wanted her to touch my hair?

  I was in control.

  Always.

  She was a means to an end.

  They all were.

  “You.” She giggled. “I’m doing you. Get it? Oh, God.” She yanked harder on my hair, and I couldn’t help myself; I pulled her hand away.

  Over it.

  Over her.

  “Who are you sleeping with?” I asked, pausing for a moment.

  What was her name?

  Tasha?

  Natasha?

  Who the fuck cared?

  “I wouldn’t want to piss him off,” I added. Lying was part of the process.

  I didn’t give a shit who she was deep throating as long as I got my answers in the end.

  “Tristian,” she replied with no hesitation. “But he’s been really busy lately, especially since the Russians decided to turn and—”

  “Wow,” I interrupted. “You’re just full of surprises, is that it? I fuck you hard enough, and you sing like a goddamn canary?”

  She threw her head back and laughed. Her fake brown hair slid off her shoulder before her ember eyes locked onto mine. “You have a certain reputation for bringing the little death, Romeo. How could I say no? Especially if it means that I get another night in your arms—I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just don’t stop what you’re doing with your dick inside of me.”

  “Hmm, you drive a very, very—” I thrust deep “—hard bargain.”

  I didn’t let up. The slapping sound of my balls against her ass echoed around the room, along with the noise of her pussy soaking down my shaft.

  I waited until she was on the brink of the edge.

  Hanging.

  Ready.

  Eager.

  “Who’s he working for?”

  “Tristian?” Her back arched off the bed.

  “Yes.”

  “The highest bidder. You know who that is.”

  I thrust with more determination, hitting her G-spot.

  “Oh, Romeo…”

  Her mouth parted.

  Her legs shook.

  Her core locked up.

  “I’m coming…” she moaned.

  “No shit.”

  Her cunt clamped down on my cock.

  “I think I’m in love with you.”

  They all loved me; it was part of my charm.

  I gave her a devious smile. “Thanks for the fuck.”

  Our eyes connected, becoming one. Before she loudly gasped.

  Toes curling.

  Chest seizing.

  Heart stopping.

  I watched as blood oozed out of her mouth and down her chin. Getting lost in the symmetry of her death.

  I did what I had come to do.

  Fuck her senseless.

  And then…

  I slit her throat.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Sometimes the only way to stay sane, is to go a little crazy.” —Harley Quinn

  Romeo

  Then: Six years ago

  “You’re so full of shit!” Tristian gave me a shove while he nodded to the bartender for two more shots. “That’s physically impossible, and you know it!”

  “Ah, but you don’t. Because you’ve never tried it, you’re too afraid your dick will fall off, you pussy. By the way, it won’t. Though with your small dick, I do worry if you can hit the exact spot where her eyes start rolling to the back of her head like she’s seeing motherfucking God.” I winked, knowing I was getting to him.

  By sibling standards, my brother and I had a normal relationship. There was rivalry as much as there was love. He was older but not wiser. I had inherited that trait. Which was why our father loved me best, and Tristian knew it too. Even our baby sister, Juliet, was aware of it. Everyone was; he didn’t try to hide it.

  Our mother was more discreet when it came to displaying her love and devotion toward us. However, she loved me more, as well.

  Don’t get me wrong, they both adored Tristian. He was their firstborn, their pride and joy, the apple of their fucking eyes. With him, everyone knew what they were getting. He was stable, complacent, safe. The Famiglia’s accountant, his job was to ensure the money went where it was supposed to go.

  Hidden.

  Making ruthless sons of bitches richer by the day.

  I was not given the same leniency as my older brother. From the moment I was born, I was Romero Sinacore.

  I killed.

  Avenged.

  Made panties wet.

  “Ugh!” a familiar sultry voice expressed, bringing my attention to the redheaded beauty walking into the bar. “Can you get any more vulgar, Romeo?”

  “Depends on how much more liquor I chug down.”

  She smirked, narrowing her piercing blue eyes in my direction like we were the only two people in the wide-open space, which happened a lot when we were together. Especially when it came down to the three of us. Despite the years of trying to avoid the way she looked at me, pretending as if I didn’t see her face light up when I walked into the room.

  Playing off the way I made her laugh.

  Smile.

  Cry.

  And fuck, did I ever make her cry.

  Eden De Rossi, the daughter of Bartollo, the head of our security. We’d known her all our lives; she’d practically lived with us since her father’s job was to make sure we stayed alive. Eden grew up with us. She was my age, twenty-one. Tristian was two years older than me, while our baby sister Juliet was only sixteen. Already proving to be a royal pain in the ass.

  I watched out for her.

  For all of them, including Eden.

  Especially from me.

  Our mother wanted Tristian and me to be close in age in hopes we would be there for one another. In the Italian mafia, family was everything.

  Loyalty and trust, end of fucking story.

  The Sinacore ancestry only knew blood and violence. Generations upon generations killed in the name of The Famiglia. We were one of the Five Families, which meant no one crossed us and lived to see another day.

  I made damn sure of it.

  From early on, I was chosen as the boss’s favorite, not once trying to hide the fact that he wanted me to partner with him, standing to the right of his throne.

  One day, I’d rule the underworld.

  Where Tristian was weak, I was strong. I didn’t give a flying fuck what I had to do. I did as I was told, enjoying it every step of the way. My brother, on the other hand, he was too emotional, too involved. He felt too much, exactly like our mother. I felt nothing; it was just easier that way.

  I learned from his mistakes.

  I corrected his slipups.

  I made sure to make up for his flaws.

  You see, Tristian had a heart.

  I was certain…

  I didn’t.

  Cold.

  Dark.

  Lethal.

  Mafia Casanova was what everyone labeled me.

  Tristian narrowed his eyes in my direction. “Just because I’m not named after a pussy doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around one.�
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  My lips twitched in amusement while uncertainty crossed his features. He was always so damn easy to read.

  “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” He threw the shot of tequila back. “Leave it to you to give me actual performance anxiety before I’m even on deck. Son of a bitch, I hate you sometimes.”

  “You love me; everyone does.”

  His eyes fell for a bit before he tossed back another shot. “Yeah, that’s the problem. How’s a guy supposed to get laid around here with you cock blocking me every time?”

  I didn’t flinch.

  I was good at appearing aloof.

  I had to be; it was the way I stayed alive.

  Seduce.

  Satisfy.

  Kill.

  Welcome to the Sinacore Family.

  Cheers.

  But something about the way he said it rubbed me the wrong way, maybe because I’d heard it my entire life, how every girlfriend from first grade to present day had eyes for me and only me and gazed right past him.

  I shouldn’t say every woman.

  Eden.

  My forbidden fruit.

  She was always the one who never fell for my bullshit no matter how hard I tried. Then again, she grew up learning how to read people too. She was a lot like us, except she was a little girl who turned into a woman as if it happened overnight. Her father didn’t hold the power or level of authority that ours did, but she still learned all the tricks, knowing how to defend herself with more than her favorite gun or knives.

  I had the fucking scar on my right thigh to prove it. The memory of attempting to kiss her during our senior year of high school struck my mind.

  Except, I’d like to think it was her way of foreplay.

  She threatened to stab me again when I realized I’d just said that out loud.

  I gripped her wrist. “I let you attack me once. It won’t happen again.”

  She glared at me.

  No one could get my heart racing, and my cock hard quite like she could. Especially when she was trying to prove she was capable of being more than just a woman in a man’s world.

  I loved her.

  Tristian and I both did.

  Nevertheless, I loved my brother more.

  There was a line I never crossed when it came to Eden. Her garden wasn’t mine to plow my seed in.