Infidelity: Illegitimate (Kindle Worlds Novella), page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Romig Works, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Infidelity remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Romig Works, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Illegitimate
Meet the New Boss
Lulu Astor
A note from the author:
A great big thank-you to the spectacular Aleatha Romig (the dictionary doesn’t have enough superlatives to describe her) and the wonderful people at Kindle for allowing me this opportunity to explore the captivating world of Aleatha Romig’s Infidelity. As a reader, I’ve long been relishing my forays into Aleatha’s twisty and riveting storylines—and I know you have been too—so to be able to step into her Infidelity World with my author-binoculars and imagine a what-if with some of her intriguing characters was a rare chance and one I am thrilled to share with you now. I hope you enjoy this novella as well as the other eight stories debuting with it in the Infidelity World at Kindle.
*Please note: due to adult themes and some explicit sexual references, this novella is for mature audiences only.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Prologue
Vincent Costello
Nine years earlier…
“Bring him in here… quick… before Bella sees…”
“Before Bella sees what?” came my wife’s tired voice from the stairs.
“Nothin’, Bella. Go back to bed, it’s late.”
She shuffled in just as my guys were carrying Luca into my study on a makeshift stretcher. Wearing a pink fuzzy robe, her auburn hair in wild disarray, she took in the scene and then glared at me with angry eyes. It was a comical sight but I didn’t feel like laughing.
“What the hell happened to my son?” she asked, her volume rising with her panic.
“Put him on the couch there for now,” I directed the two men bearing aloft my injured son. “We can move him to his bed later.”
She talked over me. “What happened, Vin? I swear to God if his perfect nose is ruined by this business…”
“What happened,” I mocked. “Whaddya think happened? The kid had a fight.”
She took a closer look at our son’s bloodied face. “That was some fight. Who was in the ring with him, Mike Tyson?”
“Pfft. Tyson ain’t shit anymore.”
“Vin, I want you to tell me what happened to my son.”
“He had a fight, Bella. Boys will be boys. Now just forget about it and go to bed. He’ll be fine.”
“No. No, no, no.” She stomped her foot with her protest but her fluffy slipper wasn’t up to the job. “You know I want more for him, better for him. I don’t want my son being brought to me in bloody pieces, Vin. No.”
I was exhausted and in no mood to deal with pushback of any kind, but I tried to keep my voice patient. My wife had a right to her distress. “Bel, we’ve had this conversation before. Too many times. My answers aren’t going to change.”
She opened her mouth to say something but didn’t. Instead her face grew taut as she clenched her jaw.
I leaned closer, my hand landing on her shoulder. She felt frail tonight, thin and bony through her thick robe, and that itched at me… but she had to come to grips. “He’s my son too and he’s going take over after me. It’s his birthright. You knew the score when you married me. You knew who I was. Luca’s my only son. Pin your college hopes and dreams on Luisa. It’s not happening with the boy.”
She lowered herself into a chair across from the sofa where Luca lay bloodied and on the edge of consciousness. “How did this happen?” Her bloodshot eyes tracked up toward me.
“How many times do I have to tell you? He was fighting.”
Gripping the chair arms with blanched fingers, she rose halfway out of the seat. “Who? Who was he fighting? A gladiator? Was it a fight to the death?” she ranted, spraying spittle. “Look at him—that’s no ordinary beating.”
I didn’t answer at first but her body language told me she would wait as long as it took. “You want to know, Bella, I’ll tell you. He was in the ring with Lennox, that’s who. And yeah,” I said, sighing, “it could very well have been a fight to the death. They were too evenly matched.”
“Lennox Demetri?” The shrill pitch of her voice made my teeth hurt. “His own cousin? And a prizefighter, no less?”
“That’s the one. Now leave it alone. It’s done. He did his job and did it well, made his father proud. All right?”
“I don’t understand… his job was to fight his cousin?” She threw up both her hands and hung her head, sighing with more weight than a mother should ever carry. “Why am I even surprised? I don’t understand half the things you do, Vin. How is Lennox?” she asked quietly without taking her eyes off Luca.
I looked at the swollen, purpling face of my son. “About the same. Like I said, they were evenly matched. The doctor said no broken bones, which is a freaking miracle. He gave him a shot for pain—that’s the only reason he’s out now.”
“Angelina is going to be sick over this, you know that.” Her head swayed and I could see the fight in her eyes flag. It was my sincerest hope she didn’t lose it altogether. “Vincent, promise me, tonight, right here in this room now…” Her finger stabbed the chair arm. “…that our son won’t have to do the dangerous things. Promise me that others will do the dirty work.”
I closed my eyes and took a fortifying breath. I didn’t want to lie to my son’s mother but the truth was that Luca would be getting his hands dirty. Bloody even. It was the nature of the beast.
Bella knew, though. She just wanted me to lie to her. She knew that her son was no ordinary man.
Luca was the heir apparent.
Chapter 1
Gabriella Buchanan
It felt like lead in my chest.
Like a great blob of cold lead was weighing me down, bruising my insides. It took up residence inside me at the moment I turned around from the airport security line and saw him standing there, watching me leave him. Even from a distance it was evident that he possessed this aura of power, an effortless ability to induce submission in everyone around him. I almost couldn’t believe that I’d been allowed so near as to touch him, to be with him. He was important and dangerous.
Moments before we parted, when I’d peered into his eyes, I felt right down to my network of blood vessels and highways of muscle, down to the double helix of DNA strands in every cell of my body, that he was saying goodbye forever.
I’d only known him for a few weeks but from the very first minute we shared space, I knew I wanted him for my own. That day he walked casually through the door, dressed in a dark gray suit—almost black, like his eyes. Pale pink shirt, Italian shoes—Ferragamo’s, if I had to guess. The rake’s obligatory five o’clock shadow accentuating his square jaw. And a smile to slay the unwary.
Danger can come wrapped in beautiful packaging, and let me tell you, that kind of beauty is hypnotic. It can be paralyzing to the extent that you just wait for it to befall you, knowing it spells the end of you.
Luca was like that. Beautiful and deadly, like a giant cat in the jungle who can be tame one moment and savage the next. His cologne preceded him through the door, its provocative notes my only warning that my world was about to radically change. If luxury had a scent, it would smell like Luca Costello.
And those eyes. When they looked at me they shone like a brand-new Cadillac. I didn’t want to see how they looked to his enemies—flat-black and lethal with no depths where mercy could hide.
I had no idea who he was—he didn’t look the part. He did look dangerous though. The kind of man you know you should run from, but instead you take your chances just to be closer to this Adonis, this master of the universe. Too close, though, and you might incinerate.
If I close my eyes, I can feel his intense body heat in the bed with me, singeing me inside and out. That intensity has a narcotic effect and I’ve become addicted to it. Yet, despite what the trinity of my mind, soul, and body was telling me, I shied away from the L word. I’ve heard it said that love is the most beautiful part of life and also the most wretched. A roadmap for reckless fools…
This is an unlikely story about a young, idealistic attorney who falls for a crime boss. A woman who swore to uphold the law falling for a man who works to subvert it. Sounds like a comedy, right? Not to me, though. To me it has the makings of a freaking Greek tragedy.
The first time I saw him was in a bakery of all places, like seeing a sleek black panther roaming in a small and concrete city park. An exotic animal in a mundane setting. He was dark, smooth, beyond-belief handsome with some serious swagger. Though he wasn’t friendly, his eyes invited me in. Though he didn’t say much, he spoke to me. And when he kindly offered to spend a few hours with me, I knew it was just a matter of time. I just didn’t know how long.
How can I describe such a man? His black eyes could kidnap your soul with a stolen glance. Dark skin, lush blue-black hair that practically demands a woman run her fingers through it. Impeccably dressed, his only nod to his ilk was a colorful tie or a flashy watch. He had the presence of a king with a voice was so deep, it rumbled like thunder, yet he spoke so softly. He didn’t need to be loud for he spoke with the force and tenor of his authority. Still waters run ever so deep.
There’s only one conclusion I could draw. I’ve known it for a while now but I didn’t want to admit it. Couldn’t accept it. Now I can’t deny it any longer.
I’m in love with him.
And he just might kill me. Literally.
Chapter 2
Luca Costello
I am incapable of love.
When I unhinged my eyelids, I wasn’t sure where I was at first. The floor-to-ceiling windows, looming large across the small room, faced east, so the intense morning sunlight came barging in like a drunken party crasher, waking me up by blinding me. Who the hell would set up a bedroom like this? I’d get up pissed off every day.
As I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, the night started coming back to me in snippets, and I sat up with a low groan, trying to decide if I’d have a hangover. Last night I’d stuck to whiskey and didn’t mix so that was a plus. I swilled back a lot of the liquid gold, though, much more than usual. Maybe I’d get lucky.
A hotel. I was in a hotel room. I didn’t want to bring the girl to my downtown loft. Not till I got to know her better. If I ever did.
My gaze dropped down to the woman sleeping beside me. She was all long arms and legs, glossy caramel skin, and a mass of wild chestnut hair. Russian? No, Polish… or maybe Czech. She had one of those s-k-i names, definitely Eastern European. She told me she was a Victoria’s Secret model and I had no reason to doubt her. Most of the angels seem to immigrate from the Eastern Bloc—something about that part of the world, they grow supermodels like weeds.
“Hey, wake up.” I nudged a shapely thigh.
The beauty’s lids slid open mechanically and she looked at me with pale eyes clouded by sleep. “What time is it?”
“Time to get up,” I answered. Checking my phone, I saw it was not even eight, but that was late for me. Even though I didn’t like the sun getting in my face first thing in the morning, I was an early riser who got a lot done in the a.m. “Let’s order breakfast and then I have to go.”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” she said in a thick accent. “Only coffee. Black coffee and a cigarette.”
I scrubbed my face with my hands. “Breakfast of champions. All right. I’m going to take a shower. Order us a pot of coffee and get me some orange juice and an egg-white omelet with rye toast.” I slapped her plump little ass as I got up to go to the bathroom.
“Will I see you tonight, Luca?”
I had to smile at the girl’s accented husky voice. She sounded like Natasha from that vintage cartoon, a Russian villainess. Sexy as hell. “Probably not tonight,” I answered casually.
“Then when?”
“Soon. I’ll let you know.” I said the right words but I didn’t really mean them. Truth was, though I enjoyed my night with her, I probably wouldn’t see her again. That was my usual M-O: one and done. It was cliché. It also wasn’t a conscious choice. The truth was that, disappointingly and in spite of their paralyzing beauty, none of them ever made me incapable of walking away…
“You will let me know?” Her sarcasm was even thicker than her accent.
My eyes drifted over to look at her. She was sitting up in the bed, wide awake now, clutching the white sheet over her small but luscious tits and grimacing at me. “What?” I frowned, my eyes squinting, and tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
She ran long bony fingers into her hair, trying to unknot the mass of shiny tangles. “Sasha Ivanov told me. After you fock a girl…” Her hand sliced the air in front of her. “…that’s the end of it. No more Luca.”
I tried to hide my delight with her accent. It would only lead her on or irritate her further. “Tsk, that’s not fair.” I couldn’t say it wasn’t true because it was. But I could deflect. “Sasha said that?” Hopefully my face reflected indignation.
She jerked her head in assent and then reached her lithe body over toward the lamp table to grab her cigarettes. She wasn’t allowed to smoke in the room but I wouldn’t report her.
We were in a boutique hotel in Midtown. It was heavy on style, not so much on comfort. The bathroom was high design to the nth degree, done in hammered silver and espresso suede walls, but it was miniscule and the glass sink was the size of an ashtray. Didn’t matter, though. Last night I’d just wanted to fuck Melina and had little intention of staying till morning and yet I did. My boy Jimmy was posted outside the door, guarding it. Or maybe he parked himself somewhere a little less conspicuous.
After my shower, I sat down to eat and checked my messages. Thirty-nine texts and eleven calls that left voicemail—all came in after I shut off my phone around nine last night. My eyes rolled heavenward. Some of these people couldn’t wipe their own asses without my approval and direction, and for the past year or so, our whole crew had been reporting to both my father and me. Vincent Costello, unlike Queen Elizabeth, had been ceding his seat of power to me slowly but surely over the last couple of years. Starting on my twenty-seventh birthday, he’d deemed me mature and knowledgeable enough. Plus, I’d demonstrated my loyalty on multiple occasions, each test requiring a deeper commitment. I both gave and drew blood. It’s the nature of our brotherhood.
I answered the texts as quickly as I could. Out of the calls, I returned four and ignored the rest. I just had to make one more call before we left.
I tapped the call button with my thumb and it was answered on the first ring. “Yeah, Tommy. It’s me. What’s going on?”
“Hey boss. A problem at the W-T-C site.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The steel grade. The foreman rejected the whole lot, said it was subpar and wasn’t up to code.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, stalling for time to try to make sense of what he was saying. “What are we talking about here? Our contract is for waste removal at that site.”
“One of our construction companies managed to snag a subcontract. The steel is for girders… the contract stipulates American-made but what was delivered to the site somehow came from China.”
“Somehow huh? Did you call my father?”
“Yeah, Luca, he said you should handle it.”
I looked at my watch. “Which firm?”
“Made-Rite.”
I laughed at the company name. My life is laced with irony in ways big and small. “Ralphie two-shoes? No wonder. Listen, Tommy, get the shit steel out of there and call Will Montrose at Dyna-steel. Tell him the situation and that we need the steel A-S-A-P. I don’t want to jeopardize our contract for the waste removal—it’s too lucrative. Also, I want someone reliable on-site to oversee these clowns. Jerry maybe.”
