The Mafia Don's Temptation

ARIA

Flashback

"You bi**h!" Jacob's voice thundered through the room just before he slammed my head against the wall.

A sharp, blinding pain shot through my skull as I crumpled to the ground. Black spots clouded my vision, and a warm trickle ran down my forehead. Blood. My body felt like dead weight. My limbs felt weak and unresponsive as I struggled to push myself up from the cold floor.

"You can't run from me," he snarled. "Never!"

Tears burned my eyes as I caught sight of my packed bag, lying just a few feet away, and the sound of his expensive Armani shoes clicking against the floor as he approached me made my pulse hammer against my ribs.

"I'll kill you today," he growled.

My stepfather never joked. I knew he had every intention of making good on that promise.

Panic surged through me as I frantically searched for anything I could use to defend myself. My breath hitched when his grimy fingers clamped around my ankle, and a terrified scream tore from my throat as he began dragging me back toward him.

Instinct took over. My hand shot out to grab the jagged remains of a broken lamp beside me. Without thinking, I twisted onto my back and drove the sharp edge straight into his leg.

"F*ck!" Jacob groaned in pain before collapsing onto the floor.

Adrenaline surged through my veins as I scrambled on top of him, straddled his hips, and with every ounce of strength I had left, I plunged the glass into the side of his head. His agonized scream filled the room as blood gushed out of his wound.

I staggered back, panting. My hands trembled as I grabbed my bag, and without waiting to see what happened next, I rushed towards the front door.

As I pushed through the front door, Jacob's voice rang out behind me, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

"It's not f*cking over, Aria!"

End of Flashback

The house before me was smaller than I expected. The windows were dark, the wooden front door seemed to have been worn by time, and there were thin vines curling up the side of the house. The air was crisp with the scent of rain-soaked grass. A dim glow from an old street lamp cast shadows over the building. That only made the house look more eerie than it already was.

It was the house my mother grew up in.

I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat as my fingers curled into trembling fists. The paper I'd stolen from Jacob's office, the paper containing my mother's home address, was already soaked from my sweaty palms. I didn't care anymore. I was home.

Even though I hadn't seen my mother's family before and they had never seen me, I knew they would take me in. They had to.

I marched forward and knocked my fists against the door. I waited for a few seconds and was about to knock again before I heard footsteps shuffling on the other side.

And then, the door swung open.

The young woman who stood before me had a striking resemblance to my mother. They had the same high cheekbones, full lips and hazel eyes. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

Her eyes widened in shock, and a strangled gasp left her lips.

I forced a smile. "Hi, I'm-"

"I know who you are," she whispered in a voice laced with disbelief.

"Evita! Who's at the door?" an older female voice called from inside. "You know better than to open the door for strangers at this time!"

Evita, my mother's only sister from what I heard, didn't respond. She just stood there, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. A moment later, an old woman appeared in the doorway.

The instant she saw me, a bloodcurdling scream ripped from her throat. Before I could even react, she rushed forward and slammed the door in my face.

I blinked in surprise.

Wow. This wasn't exactly the warm welcome I envisioned.

I exhaled sharply and knocked again, harder this time.

"Leave us alone!" The woman's voice trembled from the other side. "Don't come back here. Please."

A sharp pain twisted in my chest at the blatant rejection. I traveled a long distance just to get here. I had nowhere else to go. They had to let me in.

Desperation clawed at my throat as I pounded on the door with both fists.

After a long silence, the door creaked open just enough for Evita to glare at me through the gap.

"Why exactly are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," she snapped. "Why are you in Milan? You're supposed to be in America."

"I'm on the run," I said on a tense exhale.

She scoffed. "And what does that have to do with us?"

The sharpness of her words stung.

I frowned. "I don't understand why you're acting this way. I thought-"

"You thought we'd welcome you with open arms?" she interrupted with a hard stare.

"Actually, yeah," I bit out. "You're my family. The only family I have."

For a split second, a soft emotion flickered in her eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"My stepfather used me as his personal punching bag." My throat tightened. "The moment my mom died, it was like a switch flipped in his head. I tried to endure it, but it only got worse. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran away."

Evita remained silent.

"Please. I have nowhere else to go." My voice cracked a bit, and I hoped my story would earn me her sympathy.

A heavy sigh slipped past her lips. "I was little when your mother left Italy with you," she said finally, her voice quiet. "I don't know much about her life after that."

My heart sank.

"She used to be a dancer before she met your father," she added.

"Evita! Shut that door!" the older woman screeched from inside.

Evita's lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'm sorry, but you can't stay here," she said with a tight expression on her face.

My stomach dropped. "Yeah, I've heard that a million times since I got here. I want to know why."

She hesitated. "The people who killed your father are after us too."

A harsh breath rushed out of my lungs.

"What-?"

"You being here puts us in danger," she said, and for the first time, I saw genuine fear in her eyes.

Tears burned my vision as I whispered, "This is my home too. Please, don't do this to me."

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. Before she closed the door completely, she stared at me with a certain chill in her eyes. "Go back to America. That is your home. But if you must stay here, lay low. And for your own sake, stay away from Mafia men."

I wanted to ask her who the mafia men were, how I would know one if I met one, but she had already slammed the door shut.

The ache in my chest felt unbearable. I had come all this way, only to find more questions instead of answers. I had wanted to reunite with my family and learn more about my parents. Instead, I found out my only remaining family was wanted by the mafia and my life could be in danger.

I gripped the handle of my suitcase and turned away. The wind bit through my thin dress. I had been too focused on escaping to remember to bring a coat.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I walked down the dimly lit street as my mind drifted into endless thoughts. The city was quiet, except for the occasional distant sounds of tires against wet gravel.

And that was when I felt it. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold ran down my spine. At first, I brushed it off as the lingering fear from what Evita had told me, but when I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance behind me, I saw a tall man dressed in black following me.

Without thinking, I abandoned my suitcase and broke into a run, my suitcase thudding against the pavement. My breath came out in sharp gasps as I twisted through the unfamiliar streets of Milan with his heavy footsteps pounding behind me. My lungs burned, my legs ached.

But he was faster.

I yelped as he grabbed me and shoved me against the wet wall of a dark alleyway.

"You just made me f*cking run," he growled in a thick Italian accent.

A cold metal pressed against my stomach and made my breath hitch. I glanced down.

A gun.

"Give me all your money," he spat.

My entire body shook as I stammered. "I-I don't have any."

He chuckled darkly. "Then you'll have to pay me some other way."

His greedy gaze roamed my body, making bile rise in my throat.

I opened my mouth to scream, but his rough hand clamped over my lips.

"You keep managing to piss me off, puttana," he snarled.

I struggled wildly as his grip tightened around my thigh, his hands shoving under my dress.

A choked sob ripped from my throat as I tried to elbow him in the gut.

No. No. No!

Then, out of nowhere, a deep, gravelly voice sliced through the night.

"Leave her alone."

ARIA

The hands on me suddenly disappeared, and I scrambled away, backing into the cold brick wall.

"Scar," the robber's voice trembled as he collapsed to the ground.

My breath hitched. Two men had appeared out of nowhere, and now they were beating the robber mercilessly. Each punch landed with sickening force as the sounds of cracking bones echoed through the alley.

I forced myself to look up at the man who had saved me. He stood dangerously tall, his broad frame casting a dark silhouette under the dim streetlight. Long, dark hair framed his chiseled features, but what held me captive were his storm-gray eyes. Piercing. Unreadable. A jagged scar slashed through his brow, running down to his ear. I had no idea who he was, but the way the attacker cowered before him told me all I needed to know.

This was a man people feared.

A strangled groan from the robber pulled my attention back to him. He was barely moving now, and his face had become unrecognizable beneath all the blood.

"Please stop," I choked out in a hoarse voice. The two men ignored me, continuing to land brutal blows.

Desperate, I turned to the scarred man. "Please tell them to stop," I pleaded. I didn't want this man to die, especially not because of me.

His gaze remained on me as he finally spoke. "Basta."

I understood a little bit of Italian, little enough to know that he had told them to stop. At his command, the beating ceased instantly.

Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived. My reality came knocking back down on me. I was in a dark alley with three, dangerous-looking, unknown men who had just saved me from being raped. I had nowhere else to go, and I had no money.

I was utterly and completely f**ked.

"Do you want to sit there forever?"

The deep, gravelly voice filled my ears, and it took me a moment to realize the question was directed at me. I blinked up at him, too stunned to respond.

"She might be in shock, boss," one of the men said with laughter in his voice.

He shook his head, but a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. This man was ridiculously handsome, and I was making a fool of myself in his presence.

He began to walk towards me, his long legs swallowing the space between us. Instinctively, I pressed further into the wall, but he kept coming until his polished shoes were inches from my bare feet. Then, to my utter shock, he crouched before me, and his scent wrapped around me like smoke and spice. I wanted to bury my face in his neck.

"Are you in shock, Red?"

His voice was rough, sending an involuntary shiver through me.

Red?

What was with the nickname? And why was he talking to me like I was a broken doll?

I blinked, forcing my thoughts to clear. "I-I'm fine. Just... rattled," I muttered, forcing myself to stand. My legs were unsteady, but I refused to let him see me as, in fact, a weak, broken doll.

In the blink of an eye, he was back to his full height and already turning away.

Panic flared in my chest. I couldn't let him leave me here alone.

"Wait!"

He paused, slowly turning back to me.

"I..." I swallowed my pride. "I don't have anywhere to go." My voice was laced with shame. "Can you help me? Just some money... until I figure things out?"

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. The escape plan I envisioned never involved begging a complete stranger for money. But on the bright side, this man-Scar-looked rich and powerful. He could give me some money if he wanted to.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze swept over me in silent assessment. I felt a prickle of awareness and something else I couldn't quite describe as his grey eyes trailed over my skin.

Then, finally, he said, "You're coming with me."

I blinked. "What?"

"You asked for help."

"I asked you to help me with some money, not to follow you to God- knows-where," I let out a small scoff. "I don't even know you. What if you're a kidnapper?"

God, I sounded like such a brat. But Evita's warning kept ringing at the back of my head.

"A kidnapper?" He chuckled like I said something hilarious.

His voice turned serious when he spoke again. "I don't have all night. You can either wander in the dark all night, and possibly come across more thieves and dangerous people lurking in these alleyways...or come with me." He cocked his head. "Your choice."

I exhaled sharply, and when he turned to walk away again, I followed him.

A sleek black Rolls-Royce was parked by the curb. He reached for the door handle and opened the door for me. I hesitated for a second before sliding in. He joined me in the back, his large frame taking up the space beside me. As the car pulled away, I realized how absurd this was. I had no idea who this man was, yet I had just willingly gotten into his car.

Minutes later, we arrived at a luxury hotel. He led me into a lavish suite, and I was surprised when I saw one of the men from earlier handing my pink suitcase over to the hotel staff. I'd completely forgotten that I left it behind when the thief started chasing me.

Just as I was about to thank him, he turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" I blurted out.

He checked his watch. "I have a birthday party to attend, and I'm already late. You can stay here. They'll provide you with everything you need."

I swallowed, gripping the edge of my dress. I didn't want to be alone, especially since I'd found the first person who made me feel safe ever since I stepped foot in Italy.

"Please don't leave me here alone."

Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance? Amusement? I couldn't tell.

Clenching his jaw, he fixed me a hard stare. "You have five minutes."

I didn't waste a second. I took the fastest shower of my life and changed into a simple yellow dress. When I stepped out, I caught his eyes lingering on me for just a moment before he turned on his heel and walked out. I exhaled shakily and followed him.

The drive was short, and soon, we arrived at a private club. He stepped out of the car and held the door open for me. The cold night air hit my skin as I stepped down. A small shiver wracked through my body as the door slammed shut behind me. Next thing I knew, something warm and thick was being placed over my shoulders. I looked up to see it was his jacket.

What a way to make a girl melt.

We stepped into the building, and from the looks of it, it was a private club. Men in expensive suits and women in equally expensive and luxurious dresses that put my simple yellow dress to shame. Loud music blasted through the speakers as disco lights twirled on the ceiling. Several bodies in the dancefloor swayed to the music, and the rest were pressed against each other.

He took my hand, leading me through the crowd.

"Scar, I didn't know you'd be here," a voice drawled from behind us.

Scar. That was the second time someone had called him that.

We turned to face a man with slicked-back blond hair and a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Marco," Scar greeted in a low, sharp voice.

The two men exchanged a tense handshake, and something about Scar's posture told me he didn't like Marco.

Marco's gaze slid to me, his smirk widening.

"Damn," he chuckled. "She's one fine piece of ass."

Heat flamed up my neck, but before I could react, Scar moved, and in an instant, he was nose-to-nose with Marco.

"Look at her like that again, and you're dead," he said in a lethal whisper.

I gulped. Marco chuckled nervously.

"I was just joking, man."

"I wasn't."

Tension crackled between them and hung in the air between us. I quickly turned to the bar, needing an escape.

"I need a drink," I murmured to no one in particular.

On getting to the bar, I asked for tequila and the bartender poured me a shot. I tipped my head back and poured the liquid into my mouth. I took a second glass and turned to see that Scar had taken the seat beside me.

"Never walk away from me like that," he warned.

I ignored him and grabbed another shot. I downed the drink, then another. That was when I glanced beside me to see five empty shot glasses in front of Scar. I frowned at him. When did he take all that? And why didn't he look the slightest bit drunk?

He reached out just as I lifted my fourth shot of the night, his fingers wrapping around my wrist before I could bring the glass to my lips.

"That's enough," he said firmly.

My arm tingled where he touched, and suddenly I wanted his hands all over my body.

I pulled my hand free, swaying slightly. "Let's dance," I challenged.

"I don't dance," he muttered.

"Then stand there while I go look for someone else to dance with."

He let out a rough breath, but his hands found my waist, gripping me tightly.

"You're a tease," he slurred roughly in my ear, and in my tipsy haze, I realized he might actually be drunk.

Slightly, of course.

My breathing became laboured as I grinded against him, feeling his hardness flush against my skin. He held my waist firmly, and I admired the way he squeezed my dress in his big hands. I noticed black ink peeking out of the sleeves of his shirt.

This man was dangerous, and I was dancing straight into his fire.

I turned to face him and his hungry gaze met mine. My fingers twitched with the urge to touch the scar running down his face. I lifted my hand without thinking-

He caught my wrist in a strong grip. "Don't."

I swallowed hard. "How did it happen?"

"You don't want to know," he said, and I saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

Another shiver went through me, and I brought my face closer to his.

"How old are you?" He gritted out, slightly tipping his head back.

His sharp jaw was clenched and he looked like he was restraining himself. His hooded gaze remained on my lips, and maybe it was drunken boldness, but I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. A dark, dangerous expression crossed his eyes, and I felt my body throb in arousal.

"Twenty. I'm not old enough to drink in America," I whispered.

"Thank God we're not in America then," he said as his lips captured mine.

He pulled me into him with ease until my feet were above the ground. The heat of his mouth and tongue sent fire swirling through my veins, and my hands slid around his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and he pressed his body harder against me. There was nothing gentle or patient about the kiss. It was frantic and urgent, and when I moaned softly at the feeling of his stubble scratching across my face, a soft grunt left his lips. He broke the kiss and I found myself reaching for his lips again. I didn't want it to stop.

"We should leave," he rasped against my lips. I nodded, and he didn't spare another second as he tugged my hand again and led me outside. I felt a little bit lightheaded, but my body was fully aware of everything that was happening.

We entered his car again and the scorching heat of desire that burned my skin only felt worse. His hot gaze slithered down my frame as I slowly took his suit jacket off. His sharp intake of breath echoed in the small space between us, and my own breathing became very heavy.

"You shouldn't have done that," he murmured.

I exhaled shakily as his hand landed on the exposed skin of my left thigh. I closed my eyes and felt his touch there, tracing delicate circles over the pale, bare skin.

"What's your real name?" I asked as my head fell back in pleasure. He seemed to have a different idea as he grabbed my waist, lifted me up and placed me in a straddling position. The heat seeping out from under the fabric of his pants made my skin buzz pleasantly.

"I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours," he gritted out roughly, a contrast to the gentle kiss he placed on my temple seconds later.

My breathing slowed slightly as he continued stroking over my leg. I couldn't help the involuntary moan that slipped out of my lips.

"Aria," I said as my eyelids drooped lazily against my will. His fingers were moving slowly along my thigh and I found myself growing wetter by the second. His fingers shifted my panties to the side as I worked on his belt.

"Yours?" I hummed.

He smiled against my ear before whispering, "Maximo."

He slipped inside me at that exact moment, and I moaned again. An overwhelming pleasure consumed my entire being, and in the next few minutes, I was coming undone in his arms. A deep, satisfied sigh left my lips as I rested my head against his shoulder. And when I closed my eyes, I was swallowed into a deep slumber.

***

I woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the windows. My head pounded as I sat up, realizing I was in his hotel room.

My heart slammed against my ribs. What the hell happened last night?

Then I saw a tray of breakfast on the bedside table, a thick wad of cash that made a short breath escape my lips, and next to it, a note.

The money you asked for. Don't be tempted to leave, I'll be back soon. Wait for me.

-Maximo.

I reached for my phone, my stomach twisting when I saw the several missed calls and voicemails left by the man I dreaded the most.

With shaky hands, I pressed play.

My stepfather's voice slithered through the speaker, venomous and full of rage.

"I know you ran off to Italy, cunt. I'll find you... and I'll fucking kill you."

MAXIMO

My Red.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since last night. She seemed so innocent...until our lips met. With her American accent and that damn optimism, she had no idea what she'd just gotten herself into by coming here.

But something about her kept gnawing at me. A nagging feeling I couldn't shake. She looked... familiar.

I knew I hadn't seen her before. I never forget faces, and it's impossible to forget a face as perfect as hers. So why did I feel like I had? Why did just looking at her stir something dark and unsettled in the back of my mind? Why did it feel like my brain was trying to tell me something I needed to know, but my eyes and body weren't paying attention?

A guttural scream snapped me back to reality.

I glanced over just as Luca snipped off the tip of Marco's finger. His pathetic pleading filled the room, his cries bouncing off the damp concrete walls of his cell. It was almost pitiful. A former gang lord, now reduced to nothing in my custody.

That's what happens when you mess with me.

"Are you ready to talk now?" I asked over his screams.

Marco sobbed, shaking his head. "Go f*ck yourself, Scar!"

I smirked despite the slow-burning anger curling in my gut. Marco was resilient. I had to give him that. Too bad he was only making his suffering more entertaining.

"Guess I'll have to leave you to Luca's mercy then," I said, stretching lazily. "Your screams used to excite me, but now? Now, they just irritate me."

"Then kill me already!" he shouted.

At that exact moment, Luca snipped off another fingertip. Marco's body convulsed as his tortured groans echoed through the room.

I hummed, tilting my head. "Now, where's the fun in that?"

Tears streaked his bloody face. "I can't take this anymore. Please, just kill me."

I walked toward him, crouching down so we were face to face. "You won't die until I get what I want," I murmured. "Until then, you'll continue to be tortured until your body physically cannot take it anymore. But you won't just die peacefully. I'll make sure your death is slow and painful."

I let the words sink in before continuing in a calm, measured voice.

"And it won't end there. Your remains will be cut up into tiny little pieces, packaged into perfect little boxes, and shipped to your family in Monza. Tell me, Marco, will it be your daughter who opens the package? You know how kids love opening packages."

A strangled sob tore from his throat. "Please. Not my wife. Not my kid..."

I sneered. "Oh, don't worry. I won't kill them." I let my smirk widen. "But by the time I'm done with them, they'll wish I had."

His breathing turned ragged.

"They have nothing to do with this," he choked out.

I let out a dark chuckle. "You're right. They don't. This is your fault. You had the f*cking nerve to trespass into my territory. To attack my shipment. And now you expect mercy?"

He was silent, chest heaving.

"You should do the right thing, Marco. Give me the information I need. Or your innocent family will pay the price."

A beat passed.

"There's a rat among your men," he whispered hoarsely, finally looking me in the eye.

The air in the room turned heavy.

My jaw tightened as I reached for the revolver tucked in my waistband, pressing the cold metal against his forehead.

"Who is it?" I snarled.

He whimpered. "I-I don't know. But if you give me time, I'll find out-"

I cocked the gun.

"You think I'm stupid?" My voice dropped to a growl. "You think I'd ever trust you?"

His entire body shook as he cried, and his pathetic tears only managed to make me even angrier.

"Please, Scar. I swear, I'll find whoever the rat is. Just let me redeem myself-"

"You're irredeemable," I spat.

"I'll do anything to keep my family safe," he sobbed. "Please let me do this."

I leaned back and pretended to consider it. Then, I smirked.

"Fine. I'll give you twenty-four hours."

Marco's breath hitched in relief.

"Find this rat. Bring them to me. Fail, and you can start digging graves for your whole family, before I make you join them."

ARIA

I paced the entire length of the hotel room, phone pressed to my ear as I called the number from the Milan housing website. My heart pounded as I prayed that the person on the other end spoke English.

After seeing the money Maximo left me, and the text from my stepfather, I knew I had to find a place to stay. I couldn't keep living out of a hotel.

I glanced at the stack of cash on the nightstand, heat creeping up my neck as memories of last night flashed through my mind. I'd practically begged Maximo for money, then ended up in his bed the same night.

God. The thought mortified me.

But the soreness between my legs reminded me of how good he felt.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus.

I needed to find a permanent place. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere safe. I was a fugitive in my own home, just like my mother's family.

A lump formed in my throat as I thought of them. Their rejection. Their cold, indifferent stares.

I was completely alone.

'Wait for me.'

Maximo's words from the letter came back to my mind. I wasn't alone, which was crazy because I didn't even know who he really was. If he wanted me to wait for him, why did he leave me a ridiculous amount of money I was scared to count? What would happen next after he got back?

A hoarse voice crackled through the phone, pulling me from my thoughts. "Hello?"

The accent was thick, the tone gruff like it belonged to an old woman.

"Hi, I got your number from a website," I said, nervously rubbing my palms against my jeans.

"You want house?" she asked bluntly.

I exhaled in relief at the fact that she could at least communicate in English. "Yes."

"I send you address. You come see for yourself. Then you pay."

"Okay. Thank-"

Beep.

She ended the call.

I scoffed at her rudeness, but sure enough, a message with an address popped up on my screen. Without hesitation, I booked an Uber, then threw on a hoodie over my t-shirt and jeans. As I tied my shoelaces, another notification appeared. My driver was nearby.

Grabbing the wads of cash, I tucked them neatly into my purse and headed outside the hotel building. The day was bright and the sun was glaring harshly against the earth. It was almost too hot to be wearing a damn hoodie.

As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I spotted a black Honda Civic across the road that matched my driver's description.

I pulled my hoodie up, keeping my head down as I walked toward the car. But then-

A familiar feeling snaked its way up my spine, like a prickle of unease at the back of my neck.

Someone was following me.

Panic surged through my veins. I picked up my pace and rushed towards the car, my fingers itching to yank the car door open. But before I could, a strong hand clamped down on my arm.

I gasped, twisting and thrashing against the grip. The man let out a frustrated breath.

"Vai a dormire," he growled.

A white handkerchief pressed against my nose, and a sharp, pungent scent filled my lungs. My struggles weakened. My limbs turned to jelly.

No. No, no, no.

My knees buckled as my body collapsed into his arms. Through my blurring vision, I saw black dress shoes step into my line of sight. Then came the sickening crack of metal striking flesh, a pained grunt from the man who held me, and suddenly, we were both falling... and falling-

And then, everything went dark.