Marcus: A Mafia Bad Boy Romance Read online

  MARCUS : A Mafia Bad Boy Romance

  By:

  Evie Adams

  Copyright Evie Adams 2015

  Copyright Cover images are as follows:

  Cover design by Evie Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book are fictitious and any similarity to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidence.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Dedication

  ---

  PROLOGUE

  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

  EPILOGUE

  GIANNI

  ---

  About the Author

  More From Evie Adams

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  PROLOGUE

  Is it better to be loved or feared? It’s a question powerful people have been asking themselves for centuries. When I was a business man, I thought people feared me, but I didn’t know what fear was, not really.

  Six months ago I was in this club getting a blow job from a little blond bartender while I drank my scotch in the stockroom after closing a $75 million dollar takeover. That seemed like a lifetime ago. I'm technically a criminal now, but why I wasn't considered a criminal then is beyond me.

  Today I was in the same stockroom taking a case of scotch from them for my personal stash, while a fat sweaty Italian thug beat the shit out of the owner. Paulie's ham-sized fists were raining down on the poor guy, as he was crying and shrieking, “I'll pay, I'll pay.”

  “That's what this case of scotch is for, this is you paying,” I told him as I set it on the bar with a thud that sounded a lot like how Paulie's fists on his body sounded. “You're going to order 10 more cases of this 15 year old scotch for next month, and we'll give you a list of what else we want you to order.”

  “How am I going to pay you if I gotta pay for all this booze too?” He asked. The balls on this guy, to question me when Paulie was still standing over him, a dog on my leash.

  The man ran this club for years and he doesn't seem to understand business. His other problem was gambling, and hookers and cocaine, but the gambling was what he owed us money for. “I don't give a shit if you pay for the booze or not. You've been running this club for what 10 years? I bet you have about a million dollars worth of credit with your suppliers before they stop delivering to you and want your bills paid. Lucky for you, you only owe us $100,000, but at 2 points per week, the longer it takes you to pay, the more it adds up. Next week you'll owe $102,000. I'm trying to keep your costs down here. This case is 12 bottles of scotch, at $300 a bottle, so retail it’s $3,600. But you pay what, half that? And sell it for three times that. So it costs you $1,800, but to show you what a nice guy I am, I'll round up and call it 2 grand. So you're good for this week.”

  “But if I don't pay the distributors I'll lose my club, if you take my booze then I can't sell it and pay my bills for the club.”

  “So you water your drinks down a little bit more- and don't tell me you don't do it, I've seen your bartenders pour them- and you buy the cheap bottom shelf booze and fill the nice bottles with that – which I also know you do anyways- that's not my problem pal. If you lose the club, you'll be ok. That's what bankruptcy is for. This is America remember, if you don't like it you can always make more money.”

  The door opened and sunlight streamed into the dark club as a little blond in a baseball cap came in and didn't even notice us until she was standing in front of me. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I recognized her before she understood what was going on.

  Those lovely lips.

  “Hello lovely,” I said to her as she froze, looked at her boss bloody and beaten on the floor.

  She looked at me and didn't recognize me. But really, how could she? Six months ago I was someone else. I was almost hurt for a moment, but the look on her face was almost better than how her eyes looked up at me while she sucked my cock.

  Her eyes were filled with fear.

  I kept her eyes locked to mine. It’s important to look someone in the eyes, to not be the first to look away, to hold them to you. If you keep their eyes, you have them. I had her.

  Her pupils widened and her whole face tensed up and froze. Goose bumps broke out all at once, the little hairs on her arms and neck stood up.

  Fear was sexy.

  Just as sexy as money.

  “This doesn't concern you sweetheart,” I told her as she stood there, not moving, almost trembling as I walked towards her. “Why don't you come back in an hour? I'm sure your boss here will still pay you for it.” I turned back to him, a bloody heap on the floor. “Isn't that right? She's on the clock right now?”

  “Yeah, it's ok Susie, come back in an hour.”

  Susie. I’m not sure I got her name last time. I know she didn’t get mine, not my real one, anyhow.

  I turned back to her, her eyes locked in mine again. “See, he's fine, and you get paid for not working. Now don't do anything stupid like call the police Susie Q.” I lifted my hand to her breast and snapped her name tag, she gave a brief start, but was frozen, scared shitless. I unclipped the tag, and let my hand graze the side of her breast again, “You just turn your pretty little ass around and walk out and when you come back it'll be like nothing happened. You understand?” I smiled at her.

  She stood there frozen for another moment, quivering in fear. I thought I saw a spark of recognition in her face, but she turned around and walked out the door, quickly, wiggling her little ass.

  Definitely better to be feared.

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  CHAPTER 1

  A long hot bath was the only way to start a day like this. I would be on my feet for the next 10 hours, so much to do, so much to take care of, this would be my only peace all day. Steam rose from the tub, the lilac oil scent rose with it and relaxed me so much that my only worry at the moment was whether to shave before or after getting in.

  After.

  I took my robe off, dipped my toes in and felt a shiver run up my leg, and sucked in air shortly and quickly as my body settled into the too-hot, but just right bath. Everything relaxed and the world melted away for a second as I closed my eyes and breathed in the steam. But of course, my life isn't one where you get to relax.

  I was startled by the BAM! BAM! Knocks on the door. “Anna, are you going to be in the bath all day? We have a lot to do.”

  It was way too early to yell through doors. I dunked myself in the tub and stayed there submerged for a few seconds, contemplating never getting out. But the k
nocks and the voice came again, garbled under the water, but still very much there.

  I rose to the surface, and yelled through the door, “I'll be out in a minute,” and hurried to wash up and shave and put on makeup and rush out into the world.

  The day went off without any major catastrophes, only a dozen or so minor ones. The caterers didn't have all the dinner orders and the guest lists weren't quite finalized. The State Police insisted the Governor would not come without a full guest list, but we got them what we had. And finally everything was all set.

  “You can stop worrying now Anna, we're here and everything is perfect.” Tommy said to me as he took my hand. The sweetness was helpful, but I was still a little pissed off from him ruining my peaceful bath that morning.

  This was my life. A political fundraiser. Tonight it was the Governor and his new Lieutenant Governor, running for re-election. But even though the Governor was ahead in the polls, he still needed money to stay there. So I threw these fund raising events and made sure lots of people with lots of money would be there too.

  Tomorrow I was off, but had to help Tommy, like he was doing for me tonight. Tommy had the same job, except for the National party, I was a freelancer because I didn't want to be tied down to one party or one candidate. I wanted to work for who ever was interesting and who ever could pay the biggest fees. But that also meant sometimes I worked 12 hour days for a month straight, then had a month where I didn't work at all and could take long baths and sleep till noon.

  After I shook hands with all the guests and wore a fake smile so long that my face was starting to hurt, I noticed a man staring rudely at me. Light-skinned, but dark, a deep tan, dark hair, dark eyes. Swarthy. I turned away when I saw him coming towards me, I have to admit, he may have been the handsomest man I had ever seen.

  “Marcus Morgan. Jesus,” said Tommy.

  “Marcus what? Who is he?”

  “A real asshole. But rich. Christ he's coming up to us I think.”

  He was walking towards us. “Who is he,” I pleaded with Tommy. He leaned in and whispered in my ear.

  “He's the Lieutenant Governor's brother. But he does high finance and shady deals. Or he did until recently anyways. He disappeared a few months ago.” He was able to turn me aside and whisper in my ear out of earshot to the other guests. “He's a Morgan, so he’s rich and has the stink of old money that so many of these other newly rich people want. But there's a rumor about him, -and about the Lieutenant Governor obviously because they're brothers.” He pulled me even closer and whispered even lower, “They took their mother's last name and have no father of record, publicly anyhow.” My eyes were still on the man walking towards us, but they were getting wider.

  Tommy continued in an even lower whisper, I had to strain to hear him now, “The rumor is their mother had a fling with a mafia guy. And not just any Mafioso, rumor is his father is the Don of the Marletti crime family. The clean rumors say his mother was kidnapped and raped by his father, and he's the result. The other rumors say she got involved with him willingly. Rumors about him and his business interests are that he's not much different than his father.”

  I couldn't believe it, so many follow up questions popped into my head. “How could they keep something like that a secret, and why haven't you told me this before? How could his brother be a state senator and a heartbeat away from the Governor?”

  “Money, lots of it.” He said and we broke apart, just in time. I'm sure my eyes were wide and the shock was still on my face when he appeared right in front of me. I looked into his dark eyes as he came up, so dark they were blue, or so blue they were black, I couldn't be sure, they had me spell bound, it seemed like an eternity before I heard voices and the room full of people around me.

  “Mr. Morgan, thanks for coming,” Tommy spoke to him and offered his hand. Morgan, or Marletti- he did look the part, something very elegant and refined about him, but at the same time dangerous, his face was almost wolfish. Marcus paid no attention to Tommy, he kept his eyes on me, and took my hand, the cold I expected was a warmth. But his hands were rough, scarred, strong. Not the hands of a high finance guy.

  Finally he released me and took Tommy's hand, though his eyes stayed on me. “I'm told I couldn't miss this event, and I'm glad I didn't.”

  “Not show up? But it's for the benefit of your brother.” I spoke up.

  His eyes narrowed, I was the only person in the whole world when he spoke, “Is it really? It looks like it's for the benefit of you and the people in this room to feel good about themselves.”

  Asshole!, screamed the voice in my head, but thankfully my mouth avoided blurting that out. There were too many people around for me to lose my cool like that. I was used to being criticized for being a political whore, but never to my face. Politics was Hollywood for ugly people, basically. So you needed some glitz and glamor for these events. How else do you expect these rich people to care about anything without throwing a party? You needed this window dressing to get them here. Give them an excuse to drink and dress up and feel good about themselves, and take their donations.

  I put on my fakest smile, and coolly said, “Thank you for coming, I hope you enjoy your evening,” I hope it came across the way I wanted it to, ‘Go fuck yourself’ but sometimes it’s difficult to communicate that. Tommy certainly understood my meaning, also shaking his hand and thanking him, and gracefully turning me to the person behind him, some blue-haired old lady and I ignored Marcus Morgan or Marletti or whatever for the rest of the night. I made sure if he was alone, I was surrounded by people. But I could feel him stealing glances at me, his eyes followed me wherever I went, and something about them and his smiling, smirking confidence upset me, slowly built and gave birth to a simmering confusion in me, not knowing whether to slap him, yell at him or kiss him.

  Finally my day was over, the guests had left and I was counting up the checks. My fee was already paid, but I always liked to see the amount I raised so I knew if next time I should raise my fee. If I did better than expected, they would pay the bigger fee next time, definitely.

  Most of the checks were for $500, but a few for the personal limit of $2,000 and a few more for larger amounts, written by various corporations and companies. One caught my eye, from “MMM, Inc” for $50,000. That was way bigger than the usual checks, and when I looked closer, I saw it was written to Michael Morgan, personally, not to the campaign, not to the party, not to the Political Action Committee, but only to him.

  He was still in the room with me, writing in a ledger book the amounts raised with the person or company who gave them, I guess so he could thank them somehow, but that was none of my business. “Senator Morgan? I think maybe this one was a mistake, it’s written personally to you, not the campaign.”

  He smiled and said, “That’s just the kind of mistake I like,” joking, and held out his hand.

  When he looked at it, his face went white and the smile vanished, “Uh this was a mistake, never should have ended up in this pile.”

  “Who’s ‘MMM, Inc’? One of your brother’s companies or something?” It was really none of my business and I should have kept my mouth shut, but part of my mind was still taken up by him.

  “Yes, yes it is.” Michael said quickly. “This isn’t a donation, it’s something different, forget about it, it won’t show up in the final numbers unfortunately.”

  “I met your brother, he’s kind of an asshole.” I wasn’t sure if I knew Michael well enough to talk like that, but I needed something to break the ice from the awkwardness.

  He laughed, “Yes, yes he is. You have no idea.”

  I have some idea.

  The senator put on his charming politics face again and told me, “Why don’t you go home, you did great tonight, we’ll recommend you and keep you in mind if we need your services again. Go home. Now. Shoo.” He said as he pretended to swat me away with the checks.

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  CHAPTER 2

  “You get these b
ad habits from Dad,” Michael lectured me. “You've been visiting him too long, it makes you forget how to act in the real world.”

  “This is the real world? And his is the fake one? Are you so sure about that brother?” He looked at me, disappointed again, and not wanting to get into another argument. I was tired of the arguments too, but since I had resurfaced a month ago for Michaels’s wedding, he had been trying to civilize me, domesticate me, introduce me to some vapid, air-headed, rich young lady. Just because he wanted that didn't mean we all wanted that. But he was a good brother. I was older by two years, and protected him from bullies all my life, now he wanted to protect me from myself, admirable in its way, if misguided.

  “I know it comes from a good place brother, but for all of his faults, father's way of taking what he wants has a certain brutish charm, an honest cruelty to it. It worked on Mom after all.”

  “Only until she could get away from him. And you are not him. But maybe that woman, Anna from last night? She asked me about you, after the event. Or actually, she told me you were an asshole, and I of course agreed with her. You must have insulted her, like you always do. I can see it now, she threw you off balance somehow, you’re all of balance even now, talking about her. But she's not the sort you carry off with you.”