His Bride: Dark Hearts Mafia, page 1
HIS BRIDE
A DARK HEARTS MAFIA NOVELLA
M.K. MOORE
FLIRTY FILTH PUBLISHING
Copyright © 2023 by M.K. Moore
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Created by Cover Girl Design
Created with Vellum
For those that take what they want and don’t apologize for it.
CONTENTS
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Epilogue
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ABOUT M.K.
BLURB
Matilde Vitali is having a terrible day. The day begins with her being kidnapped from her crappy job by the one man she has no business being anywhere near. She hates him with a fiery passion until she doesn't. Bedding Dorian is far from the torture she thought it would be.
Dorian O'Shaughnessy wanted Matilde. Instead of seeking her in a sane way, a dark, depraved plan formed in his mind. A plan to ruin her for any other man.
Can their newfound love survive the wrath of the Vitali's and the O'Shaughnessy's alike?
This is a safe, over-the-top, dark romance. There is a kidnapping and a little bit of hate sex. Don't fret that hate turns to forever love in His Bride.
ONE
DORIAN O’SHAUGHNESSY
I want to scream at my little brother, Diarmuid, also called Derry by those closest to him, but I can’t. He’s just doing what I asked him to do, but fuck, get on with it already. He’s twenty-two and eager to please. Since our father, Graham, died six months ago and I took over the family, both of my brothers have been eager to make a name for themselves, something our father never allowed. My mother, Trina, divorced my father years ago. His second wife died under rather mysterious circumstances. As the head of the family, I find myself the protector of my sister, Cashel, who is seventeen, my youngest brother, Declan, who is thirteen; and three younger sisters, Aislinn, Ashlynn, and Aubrianna. They are eight. The product of my father’s relationship with his third wife. My mother lives in the house with us, as does Fiona, my remaining stepmother. Mom was staying with her parents across town, but I brought her home as soon as Dad died. Thankfully she and Fiona get along. I can’t send Fiona away because she’d take my sisters, and I can’t let that happen.
“More to the point, if we can get in good with the Vitali’s and their allies, we will be set to take over Boston from those fucking Donahue’s,” he says, finally taking a breath. The short, hour-long flight on my private jet feels like it’s been going on for days. Diarmuid is just giving me the rundown of the Vitali’s and their allies, but he sounds like the worst professor in the world. “Now, The Valladares, DeSantis, O’Brien, and Lassiter crime families are always looking for people to get into bed with. I managed to get you a face-to-face meeting with Alberto Senior and his brothers Fabrizio and Nico at their compound in Queens.”
“Great, thanks, brother. We should be touching down shortly. You can go back to your seat,” I say, and he immediately leaves. It’s good to be in charge sometimes.
After arriving at the Flushing Airport, the car I hired drives us to the Vitali compound ten minutes west.
At the V-embossed iron gate, I talk into a speaker box announcing myself. The gates swing open, and we drive through, ending up in front of the largest of the houses I’ve seen on the compound, and there are many of them. On the porch, three older men and three older ladies wait. I get out of the car and climb the stairs. The oldest of the men comes forward.
“Hello, Dorian. I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy. Alberto Vitali,” he says, shaking my hand.
“Hello, sir. I remember you.” He just nods and steps aside.
“My wife, Maria. Fabrizio and his Dawn, Nico and his Gina.” I shake all of their hands.
“It’s nice to meet you. My brother, Diarmuid.” I introduce him around as well.
“Come inside. I’m sure you’re hungry,” Maria says, gesturing for us to follow. “I know you men have some business to discuss, but I made too much pasta. Say you’ll have some.”
“Of course. We’d love some,” I say, answering for my brother. Who doesn’t love pasta?
“We’re just sitting down to dinner,” she says, leading us into what has to be the largest dining room I’ve ever seen. The table belongs in a castle and could probably seat a hundred people. The room is chaotic. People are everywhere, just taking their seats, and children are running wild everywhere. It seems… fun. My father would never have allowed this. We would have been belted so fast.
“Don’t mind them. They are just boisterous,” Gina says, smiling.
“Have a seat,” Maria says, gesturing to two empty seats near the middle of the table. We take them, and a heaping plate of pasta and bread is set before us.
“Thank you. This looks amazing,” I say because it does. It also smells heavenly.
“Yes, thank you,” Derry says.
I place my napkin in my lap and pray with the family before eating. Eventually, the bottle of red wine is passed around, and I pour myself a glass before passing it along. The conversation around the table is lively. It ranges from politics and pop culture to what Santino, one of the older children, is learning in school.
I am about to take another bite of the pasta when all the conversation in the room suddenly dies down, or did it? A little girl whose name I didn’t catch jumps up from the table and right into the arms of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I watched her enter the room, and my fork stopped mid-air. I force myself to set the damn thing down. Hopefully, no one noticed that stupid shit. I can’t stop staring at her petite and curvy body, if not a little chubby. My mouth is actually watering. She’s wearing a tight black shirt, tight jeans, and little red heels. Her big tits are barely contained in the shirt. I want to suck her nipples through the goddamned cotton covering her. There is no fucking way she’s wearing a bra. Her brown hair is loose and curly but pushed back from her head with a bow like she’s a motherfucking gift. I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it, fucking it up, before I wrap it around my wrist and use it as reins as I fuck her hard and fast.
“Matty!” the little girl shouts, wrapping her little arms around the woman’s neck. Matty?
“Delia!” the woman says, kissing the little girl’s cheeks. She props her on her hip. Her child-bearing hips. Fuck. My cock stiffens at the thought of seeding and breeding that woman. Matty.
“Uncle Alberto, Aunt Maria, I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, kissing each of their cheeks. “Uncle Fabrizio, Aunt Dawn, Mama, Daddy.” She kisses each of their cheeks while still holding the child.
“No worries, child. How was work?” Maria asks, getting another plate from the sideboard.
“It sucked.”
“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you. You don’t have to work at that God-awful club, Matty,” Nico says as she sits down directly across from me. Delia is still in her lap.
“I know, Daddy, but I like working. I can’t sit around and wait for whatever comes next for me,” she says. She feeds her from her own plate before taking any for herself. She was made to be a mother. The mother of my children. “Who are they?” she asks, finally noticing Diarmuid and me. Her gaze landed on my brother first, but it didn’t linger, not like it is lingering on me.
“This is Dorian and Diarmuid O’Shaughnessy. Up from Boston to discuss business,” Alberto says.
“The family business, pew, pew,” Delia says, making finger guns and then blowing on them. Everyone, me included, burst out laughing.
“I’m Matilde. Everyone calls me Matty. It’s nice to meet you,” she says.
“Nice to meet you, Matty. I’m Diarmuid,” my brother says in his flirtatious voice. He picks up women easily, and I fucking hate that. For some reason, the thought of my brother with this girl makes me feel murderous. Fuck that noise. I punch him in the thigh. His eyes connect with mine, and I let him know that she’s mine. He just smirks at me. Motherfucker.
“The pleasure is all mine, Matilde,” I tell her, my voice husky and filled with innuendo that, thankfully, no one but her picks up on. Her beautiful whiskey-colored eyes widen.
I’m not going to be just anyone to her. I’m going to be everything. She will depend on me for every damn thing she wants or needs. Food, water, clothing, and pleasure. Especially pleasure. I don’t give a fuck if she already belongs to someone else. They will die, and she will be mine. A plan begins to form in my mind as I go back to eating.
A very fucked up plan indeed.
TWO
MATILDE VITALI
THREE DAYS LATER
Despite being twenty-four, I still live at home, and I expect that I will until I get married; I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t marry a man in this life. I want normal. I want to live a life where getting shot isn’t exactly an option. Don’t get me wrong, I know that people from all walks of life have the opportunity to get shot, b
I overslept and am now late for my shift at The Harem, one of my family's many clubs. The Harem is a strip club in Manhattan. It’s a high-tech fancy schmancy place that boasts strippers of all shapes and sizes. I’m not a stripper, though. That’s where my dad drew the line. He’s allowing me to work but under strict guidelines. I bartend from three to three every day but Monday. We are dark on Mondays. I finished college in three years with a degree in fine arts, but Broadway roles are few and far between for chubby girls like me. I’ve had them, but I’m always a chorus girl or the sidekick. I’m leading lady material; I know I am. I just need to find the perfect role to showcase it. I’ve also thought about film and television, but attending thirty-plus monthly auditions is disheartening. I know I have to put in my dues, but I’m afraid it’s time to hang up my dreams. Thus, the boredom. I begged my dad and then my uncles for this opportunity. They all hated the idea of me working there. I knew they would. My cousin, Albie, met his wife, Autumn, there a few years ago. He made her quit the night they met. The rules my dad put in place for me are a small price to pay to stave off the boredom. I’m never to be at the club without my bodyguard, Terancio. He’s normally a hitman, but his wife requested that he take some time off from so much killing because she’s pregnant. It all worked out in the end. He protects me like he’s my big brother instead of the job. Terancio is waiting outside in the driveway when I finally make my appearance.
“You’re cutting it close, Matty,” he says, chuckling as I slide into the passenger seat of his SUV. “That uniform is something else.” I know he’s saying that more like a brother than anything else. He loves his wife so much; he’d never stray. Vitali men, both blood and those who pledge fealty to us, are honorable men, despite what they do for a living.
“I know. Sorry. I overslept,” I say, trying to pull the shorts down my thighs. Normally, I wear street clothes and change in the dressing room at the club, but since I’m running late, I definitely don’t have time for that. The Harem is an Arabian Nights themed club. My uniform is a violet, cropped, billowy, long-sleeved sheer top and really, really, really short billowy shorts in the same color. They leave nothing to the imagination. I look like a chubby, slutty Snow White pretending to be Princess Jasmine. At least I thought of pulling on a long cardigan, despite the July heat. I’m a bit self-conscious when I’m not at the club. At the club, I’m behind the bar all night, and the vibe in the club doesn’t really leave room for self-consciousness. If I’m being honest, I thrive on the praise and compliments I get from the customers. It’s not exactly healthy or sane, but it makes me feel good. At the club, Terancio waits outside the front door all night. He knows the bouncers, and they don’t mind the extra eyes on the place. Security takes the girl's safety very seriously.
“You won’t get fired. There’s no need to be so frazzled,” he says, pulling out of the driveway and onto the long drive out of the compound.
“I know, but Katie needs to be relieved.” The Harem is a twenty-four-hour club since Covid. Katie is the bartender from three am to three pm. It’s already four ten. I’ve never been late before.
“She’ll be fine. What kind of men are in a strip club at four in the afternoon?”
“Not the good kind,” I reply, laughing. On the drive, I apply my makeup. I overdo my normal smoky-eye look and can’t help comparing myself to a fancy hooker, which I’d never be. I’m all for women doing whatever they want to do or even have to do to survive, but I’m still a virgin. I have every intention of waiting until I get married. Even if I never do, I’ll still be as pure as the day I was born. We pull up to the club, and only a few cars are in the parking lot. I recognize most of them as regulars and smile. Vinnie “The Sledgehammer” Locosti is a retired capo for the DeSantis Crime Family. His retirement two years ago is probably the only thing that saved him from being wiped out with almost all the men in that organization eighteen months ago. He knows it too. That’s why he spends almost all day in The Harem. He drinks and watches over the girls. It’s not hard to see that he’s not handling it too well. “I might have to stay late if Katie is on in the morning. It might be Essence, though.
“I’ll be waiting out front like I always am, Matty.”
“Thank you, Terry!”
“You know I hate it when you call me that, don’t you?”
“Yep. That’s why I do it. See ya later,” I say as I hop out at the door of the club. I walk right in and immediately start apologizing to Katie. Her back-to-back phone calls were the only thing that woke me up. I slept through both of my alarms.
“No problem. It’s not like I can get mad at you. You’re a Vitali.”
“Please don’t think of it like that, Katie. I’m a team player, and I let you down. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t worry about it, really. Here are the open tabs,” she says, shoving four pieces of paper into my hand. “The dude in the corner has been nursing the same beer for over an hour.” I look over the corner she indicated but don’t see anyone there. He must have left. “And Billy isn’t here tonight. He was a no show, so you know Al will fire him, but that means you’ll have to be your own barback. I just changed the kegs but didn’t get to the empty bottles. There are three parties tonight, so you might want to get those changed out before the rush.”
“Thanks, Katie,” I say, pinning the tabs back up on the small clothesline contraption under the bar. “I’ll do it now.” Katie leaves, and I look around quickly to see what all I need for my shift.. She did all the prep work, so I don’t have to do that. The trash is full, and four empty liquor bottles need to be thrown out and replaced. I pull the trash bag from the big metal can under the bar, tossing the empties into it before tying it up and carrying it out to the dumpster from the back of the club. The storage cold box is out there, too, so I’ll kill two birds with one stone. I toss the trash bag and pull my keys out of my pocket. I open the padlock on the box and step into it. It’s pretty big for being up against the wall of the club in a tight alley. It’s wide enough for the city garbage truck to get down.
I pull the Kentucky bourbon, Irish whiskey, rum, and Irish Cream bottles from the shelf and balance them in my arms while I get the padlock locked.
I try to turn around and find myself unable to. Some kind of dark cloth is thrown over my head, and I am spun around, at least I think I am. The action, whatever it is, is enough to make me drop the bottles in my hands. They shatter as they hit my feet. The stupid sandals I have on do nothing to protect me. What feels like thousands of cuts open on my skin. Though it hurts like a motherfucker, I refuse to make a noise and give this person the satisfaction of my pain.
“Ah, fuck,” a man’s voice says before my hands are bound with a soft fabric, and I’m lifted up into someone’s arms.
My senses are overwhelmed with the manly scent of Sauvage by Dior.
I feel a little pinprick in my arm, and then I feel nothing at all.
THREE
DORIAN
I wanted her so fucking badly that I never left New York. I watched and waited for her to be alone. It took three fucking days, but she was finally alone. In that fucking outfit, letting other men see what’s mine. While I was waiting, I did my research on her. As far as I can tell, she’s never had a man, yet she flaunts her curvy body before men who are so far beneath her that it boggles my mind. Why would she choose to work in a place like that? She’ll never have to work a day in her life again. She’ll be at my beck and call but so pampered in the process she won’t realize that she’s owned by me. I can see our future so clearly. Her by my side as I grow the O’Shaughnessy empire. At my feet, her head resting on my thigh as I conduct business. Being so goddamn beautiful and obedient all the while. Men will want her; women will hate her. She’ll be the perfect queen. My fucking queen. I just have to get her to the point of wanting that.
