Craving My Rival (Mafia Academy), page 1
CRAVING MY RIVAL
P. RAYNE
Copyright © 2023 by Piper Rayne Incorporated
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 Designer: Emily Wittig Designs
Line Editor: Joy Editing
Proofreader: My Brother’s Editor
About Craving My Rival
𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐀𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟
At the Sicuro Academy, the Russians and the Italians give each other a wide berth. We’re bitter enemies after all.
So imagine my disbelief when my brother announces that I’m to wed Dante Accardi, next in line to run the Accardi Italian crime family.
After the shock subsides, I’m determined to save myself. It’s not until my plan is in full swing that I realize there might be more to Dante than I first thought. But those closest to me, those who were supposed to protect me have always hurt me. Now, I have to decide whether to trust him with my heart or whether he’ll just be another person in my life who brings me to my knees.
𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢
Polina Aminoff is a Bratva brat and an ice princess that I don’t think even an easy-going guy like me can thaw. And I’ve never had an issue melting the panties off a woman before. I’m just as unhappy about our engagement as she is, but my father made it clear—it is my duty to the family.
Once we’re forced together, another side of Polina shines and I start to think we could have a future together that doesn’t involve being bitter rivals.
But she’s hiding something, I just don’t know what. Which leaves me wondering, can I ever really trust my enemy?
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Trigger warnings can be found on our website if you want to check them out. These warnings contain spoilers.
CLICK HERE
CONTENTS
Play
Italian Crime Families
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
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About P. Rayne
Also by P. Rayne
Playlist
Here's a list of songs that inspired us while we were writing Craving My Rival. You can follow the playlist (and us) on Spotify using the QR code at the bottom.
Miss World by Hole
ocean eyes by Billie Eilish
Paint The Town Red by Dojo Cat
Rich Flex by Drake & 21 Savage
Don’t Look Back In Anger byOasis (Remastered)
Slow Poison by The Bravery
Love Lies (with Normani) by Khalid & Normani
Sex, Drugs, Etc. by Beach Weather
Bad idea right? by Olivia Rodrigo
Boom by Anjulie
The Great War by Taylor Swift
this is what falling in love feels like by JVKE
Sicuro Academy – Italian Crime Families
Southeast Territory
Specializes in counterfeit rings and embezzlement schemes
Antonio La Rosa
(next in line to run the La Rosa crime family)
Northeast Territory
Specializes in running weapons
Marcello Costa
(head of the Costa crime family)
Southwest Territory
Specializes in drug trafficking and money laundering
Dante Accardi
(next in line to run the Accardi crime family)
Northwest Territory
Specializes in securities fraud and cyber-warfare
Gabriele Vitale
(Head of the Vitale crime family)
1
DANTE
My dad calls me into his office a couple of days into Thanksgiving break. I enter the wood-paneled room in our family’s Calabasas estate and pause. He’s alone and sitting on his couch. Generally, we’re joined here by his consigliere—the underboss—or at the very least, some capos to discuss business, and he’s always behind his desk.
My dad works constantly, as most dons do. There’s a lot to do when you’re the boss of your crime family, but he never sits back to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Thankfully, I do that enough for the both of us.
I learned at the age of four to always close his office door behind me.
I turn to face him, and something about his demeanor puts me on edge. His scowl is the same as the time I crashed my Ferrari, but it doesn’t appear to be directed at me this time.
“What’s up?” I sit in the plush chair across from him.
“There’s news we need to discuss.” He gestures to the box of cigars open on the table between us.
I shake my head. I hate cigars and hope they die when my generation takes over. “Figured that’s why I was summoned.”
The sternness of his face reads, “cut the sarcasm.” Aldo Accardi is all business, all of the time. People probably wonder if I’m really his rightful heir, we’re so different. I do what needs to be done, but after, I enjoy myself.
“You’re aware of all our problems with the Russians lately. Not just our family but the other three families as well.”
I nod.
Of course I know. Shit got crazy at the private college I attend with all the other Mafia academy kids about a month ago, and it ended up in the death of one of the Vitales and a few of the Russians. Sicuro Academy was founded by four Italian Mafia families—the La Rosas, the Costas, the Vitales and us, the Accardis—as a place of safety for the new generation. Now, thanks to what happened on campus, our lives have become carnage off campus—a war between the Italians and Russians.
“Many men have died on both sides. Good soldiers. A war between Mafia factions is not good for business.”
“I know.” I lean forward, placing my forearms on my knees.
“We must put an end to it before it becomes a full-scale war and draws more attention from the authorities than it already has. Drastic measures must be taken.”
“Agreed.”
Fuck the Russians. None of this would have started if they hadn’t kidnapped Aria Costa. We should take them all out and be done with it. Let them see who they’re fucking with. It’s probably the only thing us and the other three Italian crime families agree on.
I’m still in the dark as to why the Russians took Aria Costa. I helped Gabriele Vitale rescue her because I owed him a favor, but we don’t ask the whys. I’m just happy my debt has been paid.
“I’m glad you understand the nature of the situation and agree that we need to take unusual measures.”
“Tell me what you need and consider it done.” I wonder who he’s having me take out. I hope it’s before I return to campus.
“That’s what I like to hear. Family first at all times…”
I take a deep breath. That doesn’t sound like orders to take out someone. More like I grabbed the short stick even though I wasn’t playing.
“I’ve arranged your marriage.”
My mouth dries, and I blink over and over. In our world, arranged marriages are common, and I knew one day this conversation would happen. But there’s no one I’m aware of from any of the families, including ours, who would add benefit to my dad’s position or our family.
“Jesus, calm down. Look at you.” He stands, goes over to the bar, pours a whiskey, and places it in front of me.
I gulp down half and wipe my mouth. “Who?”
A look of pity crosses his face. “Polina Aminoff.”
I swipe the glass off the table and pound down the rest of the drink.
“Her brother Dmitri Aminoff and I arranged it.”
“A Bratva princess?”
He draws a cigar out of the box. “Yes.”
I bolt up off the seat. “I refuse!”
He shows no reaction, taking the cutter to the end of the cigar and bringing the cigar to his mouth as if it’s a leisurely Sunday after our big family dinner.
“You do?” he asks around the cigar.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind!”
He stops with the match at the tip of his cigar, his brown eyes searing into mine. “Remember who you’re speaking to, figlio.”
I grind my teeth, hands fisted while he lights his cigar, puffing out the first inhale to get it lit. “Why would you make me marry a Russian?”
“Sit,” he says.
I do, running my palms down my thighs to calm myself.
“It’s the only way to ensure a path to peace.” He rests hi
“Not after I strangle the fucking bitch. Polina is a queen bee. And again, she’s fucking Russian.”
My dad sucks on his cigar, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I understand this isn’t ideal, but this is duty. For all the families. Your marriage secures an alliance with the strongest Russian Bratva family, signaling to all the other Bratva families that an attack against the Accardis is an attack against the Aminoffs. Things have escalated too far between all the Russian and Italian families. This marriage will deescalate them. Once Polina bears your children, even more so.”
I can’t stomach the thought. Polina is hot as fuck, but I’ve never thought of her as anything more than the enemy.
“Why can’t someone else do it?” I hear the whine in my voice, but I don’t care one fucking bit.
“You’re the last one destined to be a don available. Marcello Costa is engaged to Mirabella La Rosa, Antonio La Rosa is married to that Sofia girl, and Gabriele Vitale and Aria Costa were wed yesterday in a small ceremony, I’m told.”
I lean back in the chair and cross my arms. “No big grand Italian wedding? She’s probably knocked up.”
“Perhaps. Regardless, this is your duty to fulfill. It will make some of our present issues go away, and it will make the Italians indebted to us, only working to our advantage. Down the road, as the bloodlines mix, it may even result in us being able to work with the Russians instead of against them.”
I bite my cheek. Un-fucking-believable. I’m the last one standing, so I get stuck with the Russian bitch for life.
“Stop looking like it’s a death sentence, Dante. You’ll get married and produce some heirs. All the while, you can continue your recreational activities. Just make sure it’s done in private.” He arches an eyebrow.
He looks at me as though I should bend down and kiss his pinkie ring, thankful that he’s giving me permission not to be faithful when it’s pretty much a way of life for the men in our world. Very few remain faithful to their wives.
That’s not what I’m concerned about, though. I’m going to be tied to a woman who I have no doubt will make my life miserable. He can’t expect me to open up a bottle of our best champagne to celebrate.
I stand from the chair. “This is bullshit.”
I start for the door, but my father calls my name with the same authority he directs at his made men. I spin to face him.
“You will do this. And you will do it with a smile. The agreement is tenuous at best. Do not fuck it up for the families.”
I say nothing and storm out of his office. I stomp down the grandiose hallway, having no idea where I’m going, but I need to escape. I need to release some of this fucking stress.
I end up at Misfits, one of the strip clubs outside of Calabasas and closer to downtown Los Angeles, with a stripper named Candy bobbing on the end of my dick. My father owns the club, and I’m sure he’ll hear about my appearance, but I don’t care.
“That’s it, you slut, take it. Deeper.” My hand winds through her bleached hair, and I push her down on my cock until she’s gagging.
When I pull her off, saliva runs down her chin, and her eyes glint with satisfaction. This isn’t Candy’s and my first encounter. A little name-calling and degradation always gets her off.
I push her head back onto my length and let her do what she does best. It certainly isn’t dancing on stage, but she’s got one hell of a gag reflex, or lack thereof.
She bobs up and down, and I try to sink down to that euphoric place where everything fades away, where all that consumes me is pleasure, but I’m struggling. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is a pair of sky-blue eyes.
Eyes that belong to Polina Aminoff, my soon-to-be fiancée.
I shake my head, opening my eyes. Fuck that. She will not ruin this for me. She’s already set to ruin my life. I don’t know Polina—at all—but her reputation precedes her. She’s a Bratva brat, through and through.
And so while Marcello, Antonio, and Gabriele all get to continue their bloodlines with a woman from our world, I’m forced to procreate with our biggest rival. Fuck me.
I tighten my grip in Candy’s hair, and the hearty moan she lets out isn’t one of dissatisfaction. Rather than closing my eyes and seeing that set of eyes again, I focus on Candy’s handiwork.
That does the trick because, within a couple of minutes, my nuts are ready to bust.
“Get ready to swallow, whore,” I warn her because I’m nothing if not a gentleman.
I come down the back of her throat, and she takes it all, like always. My hand releases her hair, and her mouth pops off my dick, licking the rest of the mess off her lips.
Two people settle on either side of me.
“You know Dad hates it when you fuck around with the girls.” My younger brother, Dom, says as he sits on my left.
“Yeah, but Candy here loves it, don’t you?” I smack her round juicy ass as she stands. “Get back to work.”
She turns with her bottom lip jutted out in a pout but does as she’s told.
“Candy, save some for me later,” Santino, on my right, says.
She looks at him over her shoulder and gives him a big smile.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, putting my dick away and zipping up my pants.
“Dad told us to find you. Said you stormed out and didn’t want you to do anything stupid,” my brother says.
I suppress my eye roll. “He wants you to make sure I don’t have a temper tantrum?”
“Basically,” Santino says.
The DJ announces a new girl to the stage, and my attention shifts her way.
“Did he tell you why I was pissed?” I ask without taking my eyes off the brunette strutting onstage.
“Nope. Just told us you were pissed. This is the first place we looked,” Santino says.
“Am I that predictable?” I grumble.
“Pretty much,” Dom says with a shrug.
I sigh, not that either of them can hear it over the music. “I have to marry Polina Aminoff.”
Neither of them says anything for almost a full minute.
Santino is the first one to speak. “Sorry, I thought you said that you have to marry a Russian.”
He says the word Russian with such distaste it suggests he understands why I’m here.
“You heard correctly.” I fist my hand in my lap.
Dom lets out a low whistle. “Why the hell do you have to do that?”
I recap my conversation with my father, and again, they’re silent.
“This has disaster written all over it,” Dom says.
He’s right, because he knows me. I tend to act like a child when I don’t get my way. So it might end in mine or Polina’s death. And I’m not talking some Romeo and Juliet shit.
2
POLINA
My older brother Dmitri flawlessly took over as the head of the Bratva last month after my oldest brother, Feliks, was murdered. Dmitri has held a confident air with the men as if he was made for this role. But right now, Dmitri sits across from me in the living room of our New York City brownstone, looking as if he’s coming down with the flu.
He just finished explaining to me the state of things in our world and how the Russians are on the verge of war with the Italians—as we should be. They killed our fucking brother.
“Why do I need to know all of this?” I’m a woman. We aren’t involved in the family business, never have been. This better not be his way of telling me he’s putting around-the-clock security on me while we’re on Thanksgiving break. Or forbidding me to leave the brownstone. I’ll go mad in this house.
