Beautiful Seduction: A Dark Mafia Romance (Sinners and Saints Book 3), page 1
BEAUTIFUL SEDUCTION
PIPER STONE
CONTENTS
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
Afterword
Books of the Sinners and Saints Series
Books of the Benedetti Empire Series
Books of the Merciless Kings Series
Books of the Mafia Masters Series
Books of the Alpha Dynasty Series
More Mafia and Billionaire Romances by Piper Stone
Books of the Dark Overture Series
Books of the Club Darkness Series
Books of the Dangerous Business Series
Books of the Montana Bad Boys Series
Books of the Alpha Beasts Series
More Stormy Night Books by Piper Stone
About Piper Stone
Copyright © 2022 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Stone, Piper
Beautiful Seduction
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Image by Depositphotos/DanieleCruciani
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
CHAPTER 1
Valentin
Five men slaughtered, their blood splattered across walls, furniture, and children’s toys.
Five soldiers.
My men, those I’d trained to remain loyal, protecting my family and my wealth and I’d been unable to protect them against an inferior enemy.
Revenge would be sweet.
And bloody.
In my world, peace was almost nonexistent, the act of war bred into my system. Very few people understood the power of influence and there wasn’t a single human soul who didn’t have a hidden agenda.
There was something innately beautiful about violence, bloodshed based on the act of revenge. It brought a sense of internal peace to a vicious world, an understanding that betrayal wasn’t an option.
I’d often enjoyed the thought of teaching lessons, providing an answer to a need that all men found locked deep within their darkest desires. I was passionate about the heavy burden, appreciating the fine art of destroying a human life while still able to control a small portion of humanity.
The drive was insatiable, the satisfaction of inflicting pain personal, a sacred yet indulgent way of handling business.
I’d been called the pain maker, a moniker that had remained with me my entire adult life.
Tonight would certainly not change the tradition or the nickname, only further encapsulating the power I held in my hands.
I’d taken over most of the family operations, my father pushed into an early retirement. He’d seemed weak, a decision made almost ten years before altering our future. The Vincheti family never accepted compromise and that wasn’t going to happen now. It didn’t matter to me about my father’s importance or his level of influence both in our city and up and down the East Coast. Now that I’d taken control, certain aspects of our business were going to change, treaties eradicated. Every betrayal, every single incident threatening my territory would end.
Period.
No matter the level of bloodshed was required.
That’s why my dinner had been interrupted, my esteemed guests ushered from my grandmother’s restaurant minutes after the remains of a delicious dinner had been taken away, a rat brought into the kitchen.
Five of my most trusted men had been assassinated inside their homes. Some fucking asshole had broken in, killing them while they’d slept next to their wives or girlfriends, taking the time to slaughter the women after using them like whores. I didn’t need a testament written down or a group of informants to tell me who was responsible.
Casimine Adamos, the ruthless pig leader of the Polish mafia had declared war on my existence. Maybe that’s because my tactics were entirely different than my father’s. I’d already taken to cleaning up the streets of the crack cocaine introduced by the pompous asshole’s men. Drugs were not allowed in my territories under any circumstances.
His response had been an unacceptable body count, picking off my men just to piss me off.
Giovanni glared at me just before I walked into the kitchen, shaking his head, daring to roll his eyes. He jingled his keys in his hand, prepared to shut down his typical workday. “Don’t leave a fucking mess, Valentin. You know how your grandmother will react.”
My grandmother, partial owner of the restaurant along with my cousin. His glare pissed me off. While he refused to become a part of the family business, his required respect was something he often forgot to acknowledge. “I suggest you spend time planning your next menu, Giovanni, instead of attempting to provide me with any demands. I assure you the place will be spotless.”
“Good. I have a date with my girlfriend. I don’t plan on returning and cleaning up after your ass. Pick somewhere else to handle business. Will ya?”
His girlfriend was a sexy blonde who’d come into his life like a firestorm. Ever since then, he’d done little more than show up at the restaurant, placing more of the burden on my grandmother. I’d deal with his appetite later, reminding him what was most important.
I ignored his comment, pushing my way into the kitchen then glaring at the asshole who’d dared to dishonor me.
I was in one cranky mood, finished with playing games with the sniveling man or anyone else for that matter.
Giovanni snorted from behind me, uttering a string of curse words. We weren’t buddies, his holier than thou attitude because he’d once considered becoming a priest. Unfortunately, the family reputation had become a significant issue, especially after he was almost killed because of his bloodline.
At least he was a man I could trust implicitly. I’d even required his expertise in marksmanship on more than one occasion. Family was family after all.
I faced the fucker who’d dared cross me and sighed. He was quivering, his stark white face a direct contrast to his dark clothing. Fuck. He was already blubbering, the usual response when my second in command brought his hunting knife. Tonight, Brando was tapping the sharp blade between Dylan’s outstretched fingers, the implied threat forcing the man to sweat.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Vincheti. I swear to God I didn’t mean to disparage you,” Dylan moaned, issuing the same statement for the second time in less than two minutes. I’d heard every excuse over the years, most of which I ignored, although there was a truthful sound to his pained voice that kept me from inflicting pain.
Yet.
However, there was nothing worse than a rat.
“Please. I’ll do what you want. I don’t want to die.”
Jesus Christ. I hated when they resorted to acting like whimpering children. He knew exactly what I expected out of my employees.
In my line of work, a traitor usually meant an interruption in business, often leading to a tragic end. Unfortunately, for Dylan, that meant an end to his employment with my organization, his treachery unforgiveable. His punishment had yet to be determined.
While I’d attempted to be fair in my determinations, my brutal nature refused to allow his lies to be ignored, and a message needed to be sent to others in my employ.
Don’t fuck with me.
I rubbed my jaw as I glared at him, taking my time to consider how best to handle his unseemly infraction.
Dylan was shaking, his right foot tapping against the tiled floor of the kitchen, which was almost as annoying as his heavy breathing. He was a large man, someone who’d spent far too much time feasting on his own cooking. He continued to blubber, which was a typical reaction when found in my crosshairs. What I wouldn’t give for a man to act like a man, admitting their sins and accepting defeat.
“What do you want to do with him, boss?” Brando asked, his gruff voice indicating he was itching to take the lead, removing one or several of Dylan’s digits. It was late, almost closing time, Tuesday nights the least popular. I hadn’t intended on handling the difficult situation inside Mama Lucia’s restaurant, but given his treacherous act, I couldn’t allow his egregious behavior to continue even another night.
My men had dragged him here in the trunk of a vehicle, waiting until most customers had left, including the men I’d been meeting with, contracts signed for another commercial real estate development. Thankfully, only a few employees were left on the other side, clearing dishes and tablecloths, preparing to leave. They all knew to keep their mouths shut.
I glanced at my Capo then back to the rat. “Dylan. I need to know the names of everyone that you felt compelled to provide detailed,
He looked away, which was another sin for someone attempting to plead their cause. I moved toward him, my enforcers backing away. He’d been brought here solely because I’d been detained by the meetings, my men spending time working him over beforehand. I usually abhorred this part of my job, but war was brewing. Thankfully, it wasn’t often I was required to resort to physical confrontation, those in my employ realizing it was in their best interest to remain loyal.
Brando dragged him away from the stainless-steel table, still holding the knife. When he pressed the tip against Dylan’s jugular, I shook my head.
“Looks like you might keep your hand,” my Capo hissed.
Dylan continued shaking, his eyes open wide with horror. “Please. Please. Please.”
After backhanding him, I flexed then fisted my hand, furious with myself for not tightening security the minute I’d detected a breach. Dylan had been on my radar for at least two weeks, my informants providing details of his various… infractions. I’d been busy accumulating additional business but that shouldn’t have been allowed to interfere.
I’d gotten greedy. That couldn’t happen again.
He balked, his mouth twisting and his eyes dancing with a wildfire of fear and confusion.
I smashed my fist against his cheek, shaking off the ache as I glared at him, drops of his blood splattering against my jacket. He tumbled backwards, slamming against the wall. He was nothing in my world, yet I’d accepted his employ, pretending I could be anything other than what I’d become, a ruler of the city. “Dylan. I have no more patience this evening. This is your last chance to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
The four seconds I allowed to go by were four seconds too long. This wasn’t the time to go soft, not for anyone.
“They made me, Mr. Vincheti,” he finally spit out, choking as he gasped for air.
“Who made you spill your guts, Dylan?” I needed him to say it, confirming what I already knew.
When he lunged toward me, my enforcers grabbed him by the arms, shoving him against the back wall. He hissed, dragging his tongue across his bloodied mouth.
I was losing patience.
“Tsk. Tsk, Dylan. That wasn’t very nice of you. I’m going to ask you one last time,” I said, lifting my arm and pointing my index finger toward his face. He broke into hives, his face immediately blotchy.
Tick. Tock.
After ten full seconds, I nodded to Brando, who shoved the knife directly under Dylan’s chin.
“No!” he screamed. “Filip Adamos. He threatened my family. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, Mr. Vincheti. I’m so sorry.” Dylan’s chest heaved and he dropped his head, openly sobbing.
Casimine’s son.
It seemed the Poles believed they could shatter the hold on the city we shared with the Bratva, even though there wasn’t a person in New York who didn’t know we were connected to the Russians by an unholy marriage, one that I continued to seethe about occurring. However, the sanctioned relationship had given both our families increased power, the South American Cartel backing down as if God above had a hand in the loss of hundreds of their soldiers.
“Please, Mr. Vincheti. I’ll do anything. Anything!”
I fucking hated it when they broke down. Next, Dylan would beg me for his life. I rubbed my eyes, my anger only increasing. I was getting nowhere with him, other than the confirmation he’d been forced to spill his guts. He knew nothing else, a pawn used to deliver a message. It was obvious, just an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Suddenly, there was a pounding sound coming from the front of the store, the doors to the bakery, another goddamn irritant I didn’t need. People died when I was cranky. Filip was a merciless son of a bitch. He acted as if territories didn’t exist, often ignoring his father’s rules in search of more power. The single run-in I’d had with him should have ended with me putting a bullet in his head. Instead, I’d honored certain rules established by my father as well as the Pakhan of the Bratva, both believing that by coexisting with the smaller organized crime families, continued peace could be maintained.
It was just another compromise I would never honor.
Sighing, I looked away, pacing the kitchen floor. The space would need to be disinfected by morning prior to the employees returning to work. Shit. Mama Lucia would absolutely kick my ass. La Travitorria was her baby, not to be fucked with, even by her grandson.
“How many additional addresses did you give him?” Goddamn it, the asshole was begging for me to kill him. “How many?”
“That was it. They only wanted five. I swear on my mother’s grave and my baby daughter. I swear.”
Brando lifted his eyebrows, shaking his head. Dylan had no way of knowing the names he’d selected had turned him into an executioner. If I didn’t put a bullet in his brain, his guilt would eventually force him into doing so.
“You should have come to me, Dylan. That was your fatal mistake.”
Just as I was prepared to make a decision on his punishment, I heard an unknown female voice, the strong, seductive tone yanking my attention away. I moved toward the swinging kitchen door, peering through the oval glass allowing a view of the bakery counter. While the lighting had already been dimmed in preparation of closing, the few overhead lights created a beautiful shimmer floating around her lithe body.
My cock instantly twitched, the wave of hunger unexpected.
“Thank you so much for letting me come in. I wasn’t supposed to be this late. Damn the airlines and damn this fucking city. I’m sorry.” The voluptuous woman laughed and immediately my balls tightened. “Please tell me you have eclairs. At this point I’ll pay anything for them. I couldn’t care less how much.”
Brando glanced at me, lifting his eyebrow. I placed my finger over my lips, listening to the limited conversation.
“No problem, ma’am. Looks like we have ten of them left.” Poor Michael’s voice was strained.
“Thank God. Now I won’t have to go home with my tail between my legs.”
The bakery closed an hour before the restaurant, the separate door supposedly locked. Yet as I moved toward the door, glancing out the small window allowing a full view of the limited space, my anger shifted to another level.
The women with the sultry voice stood just in front of the counter, her mouth twisting as she peered through the glass. As she tapped her fingers on the surface, I took a deep breath. Damn it. Why in God’s name had Michael allowed her inside in the first place?
Inhaling, I returned to the business at hand, images of the mysterious beauty remaining in the back of my mind.
“This is your lucky day, Dylan. Trust me, there won’t be a second one. Take our guest to the warehouse. Put him on ice. I’ll handle this issue later,” I threw over my shoulder then pushed my hand against the swinging door. The moment it was open by two feet, Dylan let out an intense wail, begging for his life. “And shut him the fuck up.”
I waited as my men dragged him toward one of two rear exists, Dylan continuing to wail. Fuck. It used to be easier handling issues. I rubbed my fingers down my jacket before pushing my hand in the swinging door and moving into the room.
The dazzling customer lifted her head, her eyes penetrating mine, her long curls dancing across her shoulders from the limited movement. I’d expected to see a look of horror or at least fear on her face from what she’d heard, but instead she appeared curious. Or maybe she hadn’t paid any attention. As I walked further into the area, her body tensed, a slight smile curling on her lovely lips. She was a stunning woman, her long raven-hued hair glowing in the limited light above the counter.
