Hook: A Dark Forced Marriage Mafia Romance (Once Upon A Villain), page 1
HOOK
ONCE UPON A VILLAIN
BIANCA COLE
CONTENTS
Free Book Offer
Author’s Note
1. Cillian
2. Gwendolyne
3. Cillian
4. Gwendolyne
5. Cillian
6. Gwendolyne
7. Cillian
8. Gwendolyne
9. Cillian
10. Cillian
11. Gwendolyne
12. Cillian
13. Gwendolyne
14. Cillian
15. Gwendolyne
16. Cillian
17. Gwendolyne
18. Cillian
19. Gwendolyne
20. Cillian
21. Gwendolyne
22. Cillian
23. Gwendolyne
24. Cillian
25. Gwendolyne
26. Gwendolyne
27. Cillian
28. Gwendolyne
29. Cillian
30. Gwendolyne
31. Gwendolyne
32. Cillian
33. Cillian
34. Cillian
35. Gwendolyne
36. Gwendolyne
37. Cillian
38. Gwendolyne
39. Cillian
40. Gwendolyne
41. Cillian
42. Epilogue
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Also by Bianca Cole
About the Author
Hook Copyright © 2023 Bianca Cole
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Book cover design by Deliciously Dark Designs
Photography by Wander Aguiar
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
Hello reader,
This is a warning to let you know that this is a DARK mafia romance much like many of my other books, which means there are very sensitive subject matters addressed and dark, triggering content. If you have any triggers, it would be a good idea to proceed with caution and read the warning below.
As well as a possessive and dominant anti-hero who doesn’t take no for an answer and a lot of spicy scenes, this book addresses some sensitive subjects. You can find a full list of these here. As always, this book has a happy ever after ending and there’s no cheating.
If you have any triggers, then it’s best to read the warnings and not proceed. However, if none of these are an issue for you, read on and enjoy this dark romance.
1
CILLIAN
Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock.
“Don’t move, or you’ll lose more than just a hand.”
“Jonathan! NO!” Ma tries to stop him, but there’s no use.
He has a crazed look in his eyes, no doubt a result of alcohol. The brightest bolt of lightning crashes to the ground outside, illuminating the room. Time appears to slow to a crawl, watching the machete swip through the air hard, slicing through my wrist. There’s a sickening crunch of bone and splatter of blood as I watch my hand come apart from my body. The pain is so intense I no longer hear anything but the rushing of blood in my ears and my own scream—at least, I think it’s my own. It could be Ma’s. The scream is unable to drown out the counting of the clock as everything fades to black.
“Sir!” Smyth’s frantic voice pierces through my memories and brings me back to the present. “You’re going to kill him before we get answers!”
I stare at the bloodied man before me, then at the ticking clock on the wall that shouldn’t be there. It pulls me toward a vortex of violence and destruction—toward an unstoppable rage that’ll force me to obliterate this sniveling excuse of a man before I get what I need from him.
I glance at Smyth. “Why the fuck is there a clock in here?” That sound has haunted me ever since that night twenty years ago.
“Apologies, sir,” Smyth says, retrieving the clock off of the wall. “I’ll get rid of it.”
“Make sure you do,” I snap, glaring at him. “I don’t want it within a hundred fucking miles of me, understand?”
Smyth nods and rushes away with it, leaving me alone with my target. A man who is officially employed by Piero but is supposed to be working for me. However, it appears he’s trying to doublecross me, feeding me bullshit information.
I stalk around the man in the chair, eyeing him menacingly. He’s shackled to a chair, his wrists already bleeding from struggling against the metal cuffs.
I want answers.
The floorboards creak beneath my loafers as I approach the table next to him. With a deliberate click, I unfasten my prosthetic hand and replace it with my infamous hook—the reason why they call me Hook. The cold steel of my weapon glitters under the faint light coming from above us.
He glances up at me through one eye; the other swollen shut after the two days of merciless beating he’d endured at my hand.
“Do you enjoy being able to see?” I ask in a low voice.
His lip trembles. “Please,” he begs.
Pathetic.
Moving closer to him, I bring the back of my good hand across his face in a hard slap. “I asked you a question. Answer me or I’ll prick your good eye from its socket with the tip of my hook,” I threaten, sliding the flat edge of the metal across his cheek, watching him tremble in fear.
His entire body is shaking. “I told you all I know about Pierro and his operation. Please, stop this.”
“You told me nothing other than lies.” I hiss, trailing the sharp point over his skin and drawing a thin line of blood, watching as it trickles down his face.
“They weren’t lies, I swear.”
“Another lie. You’ve sent me on a wild goose chase—one that will cost you your life.”
The man before me turns ghostly pale. “I swear, whatever Kevin told you, it’s a fucking lie!”
My fist collides with his jaw, and a sickening crack pierces the silence in my basement. His jaw is now broken and he can no longer talk. Although talking isn’t necessary as long as his right hand remains intact.
“Alright, since your jaw is broken, you’ll write everything I want to know.” Reaching into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out a pen and crumpled paper and slap them onto the small, musty table in front of him. “Write it all and don’t leave any details out.” I unfasten the chains around his wrists and stare at him expectantly.
His eyes are dull from fear and pain as he picks up the pen with a trembling hand. He struggles to form legible words on the paper. The handwriting looks childish, but I don’t care. All I need is for him to tell me what he knows about Piero’s next moves so that I can move forward with my plans.
My blood boils as I watch his pen scratch against the paper. Rage flooding through me because he’s been keeping things from me this entire time, and I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from ripping the paper out of his hands before he’s done. Every second feels like an eternity until finally he drops the pen.
I snatch the paper away from him, and what is written on it makes my fury double. He’s been lying to me all this time. The rage explodes within me like a volcanic eruption and I bang my palm on the table.
“Did you think it was funny sending me after those men who had nothing to do with Piero’s operation?”
My voice holds a deadly calmness that makes his entire body tense up. He can’t answer, but I don’t want his answer. This man dared to underestimate me, and that will be his downfall.
My hook glints in the light as I bring the tip closer to his face, sliding it lightly across his cheek and leaving another shallow cut to match the other.
“People that mess me about always die an excruciating death,” I say coldly.
His eyes dart around frantically, looking for a way out, but there’s no escape.
I drag my hook harder across his face, taking pleasure in the way he quivers.
His sobs fill the room and I can see the fear in his eyes; it’s an emotion that I love to witness.
I continue to carve deep gashes across his body, all the while admiring the way he bleeds. He can’t speak because of his broken jaw, but his muffled screams are like a symphony to my ears. If he was able to speak, he’d likely beg me for mercy.
But cowards like him deserve punishment for trying to deceive me. Pressing the sharp point
With each stroke of my hook into his skin, more blood oozes out, and he shrieks louder. Finally satisfied with my artwork of carnage, I take a few steps back and grin at my handiwork — a barely conscious man lying in a pool of his own blood.
This is what happens when someone crosses me. They pay the price with their own suffering.
Reaching into my pocket, I carefully wipe off the congealed blood from my hook before unscrewing it and stowing it away.
Then, reaching for my prosthetic arm, I fastened it back on; my limb’s absence still causes a dull throb inside me.
I turn around to find Smyth standing in the doorway. His face is a mask of fear and his mouth is set in a grim line. “Leave him to bleed out and deal with the body later. Make sure you get Frank and Shawn to help, as I don’t trust them. Tell them what happened.”
“Yes, sir,” Smyth says, advancing into the room.
“Let this be a lesson for all the idiots who consider crossing me,” I snarl.
I feel his eyes on me as I pause at the threshold of Neverland’s basement before glancing back. “And Smyth,” I say, my voice low but laced with menace.
He swallows nervously. “Sir?”
“Never leave a clock in the room again... or it might be you sitting there.”
My gaze skims his shaking body before I spin around and climb the steps into my sex club, Neverland.
The darkness still lingers even though it’s morning. My rage feels so vast I can barely contain it. Blindly reaching for a tumbler, I pour myself a large scotch and take a gulp, letting it wash away whatever shred of humanity is left. The only thing that can silence the fury threatening to consume me is alcohol. I guess in that sense I have a similarity to my father, but most similarities stop there.
Piero Panarello deserves to rot in hell for all he’s done to me. He’s the one who stole everything from me and left nothing but a husk of a man, seething with anger at the world.
Losing my hand was the beginning, it made me angry, but Piero’s actions sent me spiraling into hell ten years later.
Our families were rivals in Los Angeles, but uniquely we had a comfortable pact and got along well. In turn, Piero and I were close friends as kids. We both grew to be highly respected members within our families and had a great deal of influence.
For a time, we worked together to strengthen both our organizations. We controlled different parts of the city, split it down the middle so that each family could have a slice of power. Together, we set up clubs, casinos and organized crime schemes to bring in more money for both outfits. It was a lucrative arrangement.
But then Piero betrayed me. He orchestrated an attack on my family’s headquarters while I was away at a meeting out of the city. The moment he betrayed me, I set up again with the funds I had to my name, only this time I was forced out of my city, Los Angeles, to San Diego.
There was less competition and I setup my organization under a new name, The Rogues. No family name. No way to tie it to me. I knew if Piero heard I was so close, he’d come and hunt me down. And now, The Rogues are going to return to Los Angeles to steal back what’s rightfully ours from that slimy son of a bitch.
“Hey, Cillian,” a feminine voice calls from the entrance.
It’s one of the bartenders, Crissy, or is it Kirsty?
Fuck.
I don’t know, but I’ve fucked all of them.
“Hey,” I say gruffly, tossing back the rest of the scotch. “I was just leaving.” I’m about to walk out from behind the bar when she steps into my path and places a hand on my chest, arching a brow.
“What’s the rush?” Her lips purse temptingly and I know that fucking this piece of ass over the bar might well help take the edge off of the day I’ve had.
I grab her wrist and yank her toward me, knowing full well that most of these women hope I’ll make it a regular thing. The fact is, I don’t even remember if I’ve had sex with this one or not, or what her name is.
Her lips purse and eyes dilate as she pushes her chest into me, trying to draw me in. And as I gaze at her, the desire to fuck her diminishes. “I’m not feeling like it tonight, sweetheart.” I release her wrist, knowing that for a few months now, something has been off.
Perhaps I’ve finally grown tired of fucking these girls. They’re all the same, desperate and greedy for money. I need something fresh to pull me out of the rut I’m in, and if the information Luke provided me is true, I’ll get that from Piero’s fiancé, who I intend to snatch from under his nose and make mine.
“Oh, okay,” she says, looking disappointed.
I can’t say I care too much, as I’ve got a plan to get in motion. Kai, the man I just killed, gave me the most important piece of information yet—information that isn’t common knowledge.
Piero is engaged. And while he may have stolen my world from me, I intend to steal it all back, starting with his innocent little fiancée, Gwendolyne Tesoro, princess of the Tesoro mob. It’s time to go on a hunt for Piero’s most recent and prized possession.
2
GWENDOLYNE
The dining room is aglow with the flickering candles, their soft light illuminating the room. A crisp white cloth is draped over the mahogany wood table and a bouquet of fresh roses sits in a vase, the sweet smell of their perfumed petals filling the air.
Italian classical music plays in the background to add a layer of romance to the already romantic atmosphere.
My gaze shifts to my fiancé opposite me, his dark eyes locking onto me with an alluring yet predatory gleam.
My heart races at the sight of his devilish smile which is sinful and intoxicating. I force out an awkward grin in return.
Two weeks ago, my father announced our engagement to unite two of California’s most powerful mafia families: The Panarello family and ourselves.
It’s my destiny to marry Piero Panarello, Don of the Italian mob in Los Angeles and fifteen years my senior, yet he looks as if he has stepped off a fashion magazine cover.
“How is your food?” He asks, sipping his wine.
My throat suddenly feels dry, but I nod. “Delicious.” I stab my fork into the center of the spaghetti and twirl the pasta onto it along with the rich ragu sauce.
Piero licks his bottom lip, his gaze burning into me. “Not as delicious as you look in that dress.”
Fire spreads through my veins and I glance away, unable to look at him for too long without being overcome by the too many confusing feelings. “You look pretty amazing, too.” I take a long sip of the fancy Italian wine, savoring the taste. “This wine is one of the best I’ve ever tasted,” I say, in an attempt to divert the conversation.
His smile widens. “I should hope so. It’s fifteen hundred dollars a bottle.”
My eyes widen as I stare at the glass, unable to fathom how anyone could justify spending that much on one bottle of wine.
In the two weeks since I met Piero, he has revealed himself to be someone who likes overindulgence and extravagance. A common trait in our world, but he takes it further than anyone else I’ve ever met. A feeling of unease unfurls within me is as I remember we’re soon to be married.
