Twisted Obsession: A dark arranged marriage mafia romance (Underworld Kings) Read online

  Twisted Obsession

  Underworld Kings

  Dani René

  Contents

  Newsletter Sign Up

  Playlist

  Warning

  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

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Coming late 2022!

  Also by Dani René

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2021 by Dani René

  Published by Dani René

  Cover Design by Cormar Covers

  Edited by Illuminate Author Services

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  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. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

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  FREE NOVEL! Download CRAVE!

  “"It was raw, emotional, angsty - and yet- it was sweet and heartfelt. This was an intoxicating read!"

  - Jeannine Colette (Author of the Abandon Collection)

  Blurb

  A brand new dark mafia romance from USA Today Bestselling Author, Dani René.

  Obsession.

  It’s a sickness she brought upon me.

  And I’m about to make her pay.

  I shouldn’t bring her into my world. But it was my father’s wish, it was the ultimate revenge on our enemies.

  A poised, pristine princess, to pure for this life. And me, I’m the dark prince forced to be a King too soon.

  She dances gracefully, capturing my attention, before fighting me like a savage tigress. She’s fire, burning through my darkness, and I’m the ice that will bring her to her knees.

  Right where I like her.

  I will make her bow.

  I will make her submit.

  And when I do, she’ll be my Queen.

  Playlist

  Guys My Age - Hey Violet

  Sinner & Saint - Tommee Profitt

  Bang Bang - BELLSAINT

  Church - Chase Atlantic

  See You Bleed - Ramsey

  Scars - Boy Epic

  Kill Me Slowly - Sickick

  Hurt Me Harder - Zolita

  9 Crimes - Damien Rice

  Holy - Zolita

  Monster - PVRIS

  Shameless - Sofa Karlberg

  Find the playlist here

  Warning

  Please note, this is a dark romance which includes scenes that may trigger certain readers. If you’re sensitive to dark subjects, please be wary.

  Thank you!

  Dedication

  To my babes who love an unapologetic anti-hero who likes to play with knives…

  “I don’t care if I fall in love with a devil,

  as long as that devil will love me

  the way he loves hell.”

  Chapter 1

  Enzo

  My life changed two days after my thirtieth birthday.

  I am a man hellbent on revenge.

  Stalking down the long hallway, I button my suit jacket as I make my way toward the theater. New York is a city reveling in its nightlife, calling to those souls who need something more out of their existence. My family runs every theater in this city, and as we continue to purchase venues across the world. I know I’ll have my revenge soon enough.

  With a smile, I slide through the open doors and settle in the dark booth reserved for me. Mario, my right-hand man, joins me moments later. The seats are packed to capacity, and everyone is waiting with bated breath for the star of the show to appear.

  “Are you sure about this?” Mario has been my conscience ever since I can remember. From the moment I was sworn into the clan—with blood dripping from my palm—to this day as I glare at the stage, he’s been by my side.

  I was thrown into the world my father ruled, in a city filled with Made men and violence. Where bloodshed was the order of the day and cutting someone’s fingers off at sixteen was normal. This world is made up of three things that will always make more sense to me than living an ordinary life.

  Money speaks loudly.

  Threats are given with a smile.

  And life is as fragile as a thousand-dollar crystal flute.

  “Yes.” My voice is cold as the word that drips poison escapes my lips.

  The lights dim, the spotlight is on the blood red curtains as the gentle tinkling of classical music fills the room. Every nerve in my body sparks to life, my spine straightens, and my shoulders are tense, as I prepare for what I’m about to witness.

  When the crimson drapes slide open, silence hangs heavily as we wait. The male dancer prances onto the stage dressed in black. He’s the heathen in the show, the tormentor. I smile as I watch him move with grace and elegance, but it’s moments later that my breath catches as I see her.

  This isn’t the first time I have watched her dance. Time and again, show after show, I’ve been in the darkness, a shadow in her life.

  Mario leans in close, his voice a mere whisper, “It needs to happen tonight.”

  He’s right. I know he is.

  She’s poised and elegant, moving across the stage like a queen. The corner of my mouth tips upward slightly as I take in her long legs, her slight curves, her tits that are bigger than most of the other dancers.

  She’s built for so much more than dancing, like taking my cock until she’s crying. But she’s born to grace the stage with her beauty. As much as I hate her, I can’t deny my cock loves her.

  “Do it.” The two words are an order and Mario moves befo
re I can say anything more because he knows that this is a matter of life and death. Not mine. But my pretty little dancer. He’s gone before the next twirl of her small frame.

  I sit back and relax, enjoying the rest of the ballet as my mind replays what happened three years ago. A nightmare. The moment I knew I would take over from my father and ensure the De Rossi name is feared in every part of this city, as well as by every Familia that attempts to cross us.

  Something is wrong.

  Terribly fucking wrong.

  At thirty, I haven’t yet found my passion. Even though I have a slew of men who would die for me, and I love my parents, there’s nothing more in my life that fills me with fire. And as I pull up to the house that I’ve called a home for most of my life, the twisting in my gut has me on edge.

  My intuition has always been strong. When I have a bad feeling, I know I need to listen to it. The moment the engine purrs up the drive, and I come to a stop outside the ornate wooden doors of the De Rossi mansion, my stomach drops.

  I’m out of the car within seconds. As I step onto the gravel of our driveway, the familiar scent of New York greets me. Our home is just outside the city, overlooking the bright lights of the Big Apple. I’ve missed it. Even though Sicily had welcomed me with open arms, New York is in my heart. I buttoned my suit jacket as I saunter up the steps which leads to our front door.

  By the time I reach the entrance, I find two of my father’s men standing near the office door. My father’s sanctuary, which will soon be my own, has always been a place I have always felt at peace. The soft lighting with dark wood called to me from a young age. Father would allow me to sit in an armchair and I would read while he worked.

  I overheard conversations no child should, knowing that one day I would have to be the cold, ruthless killer my father was. It was only later in life that I learned that Salvatore De Rossi never got his hands dirty. He had men for that.

  I on the other hand, love it.

  The slippery crimson fluid on my hands has brought me a constant feeling of satisfaction. I don’t just kill anyone either. I ensure they deserve it. And the more deserving, the better. I allow my sadistic side to shine through while I slice flesh from bone.

  “What’s going on?” I ask my father’s confidante, Valentino, when I step into the office. The older man looks up as I walk in, but stays silent. It is my duty to know what’s happened since I’m the Underboss, the second in command, but as I near the heavy oak desk, I realize that whatever has happened is bad. Very fucking bad.

  For a long while, Valentino doesn’t respond. The silence hangs heavily with foreboding. He doesn’t need to speak because even before he utters the words, I know what he’s about to say. That intuition I’ve trusted all my life burns me from the inside with the truth about what I’ve walked into.

  The stench is obvious the deeper I move into the room. I stop at the armchair I’ve claimed as mine, my hand gripping the backrest as my fingers dig into the leather. A smell I know so well permeates the air. Moments pass as I breathe in the scent of death.

  Valentino steps aside and my head spins with the sight before me. My eyes lock on the sight and my stomach rolls as the acid rises to my throat. I swallow back the lump in my throat, and my nails rip at the smooth fabric of my favorite chair.

  “Who was it?” I don’t recognize my voice as rage takes over. My heart thuds against my ribs in a painful rhythm of torture as I take in the horror. A sigh from Valentino causes me to snap my gaze to his, and once again, I grit through clenched teeth, “Who the fuck was it?”

  I hear footsteps behind me, but I don’t turn. I can’t look away from my dead parents behind my father’s desk. Salvatore sitting in his enormous black leather office chair, with my mother sitting on his lap as if they were sharing a joke.

  Only, they’re both bleeding from multiple stab wounds. There’s so much blood, my mother’s blouse is stained deep red, and my father’s crisp linen shirt is nothing more than ribbons from the blade. They’ve used a blade, a knife, my weapon of choice for completing my jobs. This feels as if it’s personal.

  The sight before me blurs.

  My lungs struggle to pull in air.

  “We have reason to believe it was the Cavallone clan,” Valentino finally speaks. He has worked for my father since they were both teens. Dad took over from his father when he was only nineteen. And now, at fifty, he’s nothing more than a corpse.

  “I want every man on this,” I tell Valentino. “I want to know all there is to know about the Cavallone family. I don’t care how long it takes.”

  Realization takes hold of me as Mario’s hand lands on my shoulder. My best friend. My confidante.

  I will now have to step into my father’s shoes and run the business. I already know the basics, how to read the books and deal with money. He said I would be ready for the upcoming challenges I may face. But this is too soon. It should’ve been years from now.

  I graduated from Columbia with honors. But being top of my class was irrelevant right now.

  Nothing could have prepared me for this.

  Not any of the classes I attended. Not any of the parties I frequented.

  My father stood watching the day I collected my degree. I don’t know if he smiled in that moment, or if he even applauded my achievement. The black suits that surrounded him ensured he was hidden away.

  Everyone in New York knew who Salvatore de Rossi was.

  And everyone stood at least a few meters from where he stood.

  They gave him wide berth, for good reason.

  And now, I stand before him, and I must find it in my heart to say goodbye.

  Valentino motions to the soldiers, who enter the room and stop on either side of the desk. Guards stand vigilant, but they don’t speak. The air is heavy with sadness. I can feel their eyes on me, and even if they want to sympathize, they don’t. I am the Underboss, and that position commands respect.

  I take a step closer, needing to see, needing to burn the image into my mind because when I get my revenge, this is what I will remember. Valentino joins me, and Mario flanks my left.

  “What is that?” I ask, gesturing with my chin toward the desk where my father’s hand has been positioned perfectly, holding a piece of paper.

  “We moved nothing, so I’m not sure,” Valentino answers and I reach for it, tugging it from Father’s fingers. The rest of him doesn’t move, and my stomach rolls at the sight.

  I allow my eyes to scan the piece of paper, a letter of sorts. My father’s scrawl is jagged, as if he truly was afraid. Or in so much pain, he couldn’t focus on holding a pen.

  I did something bad a long time ago. Something I shouldn’t have done. When you seek revenge, remember to do it with a clear head. Don’t rush. Never run into a burning building without a plan on how to get out. I’m sorry, figlio, I’ve failed you in life, but I hope I can make it right in death.

  In my safe is everything you need.

  Frustration ebbs through me as my muscles tighten with anxiety and I race to the safe hidden behind a painting. I don’t know how my father came to have the note in his hand when he was killed, but I believe whoever murdered him didn’t realize it was there.

  The lock combination is one I remember as if it were my blood type. And soon, the heavy metal door swings open. Inside is cash, a lot of it, but that’s not what I’m looking for. The dark blue folder with our family crest sits front and center. The silver emblem shimmering as I pick it up and bring it out.

  On the first page in the folder is a contract. An arranged marriage in the event of my father’s death. It makes no sense. He’s always told me I’m able to do my own thing. That I didn’t need to marry anyone I didn’t want to.

  Contratto in Morte

  The three words hit me right in the chest, slamming into me like a fist from my worst enemy.

  I don’t turn to face anyone else because I can’t come to terms with what I’ve just found. I’m poised to race out of this room and find the b
astard and annihilate him. I still have no clear indication of what happened, but my blood burns hot as it runs through my veins.

  That’s what mother used to tell me; I was a bomb waiting to explode. I take after my father. We can most certainly keep our cool, but if someone comes after our Familia, our blood, that’s when you see our true colors.

  “Bring the men into the dining room. I want a meeting while you clean up and sort this out.” My voice is ice, cooling each syllable as I voice it. My tongue tingling with the need to throw out curses, but Father taught me a long time ago, swear words don’t have people cowering in fear. Don’t tell them about your anger. Show them. And I’ve always lived by that rule. His advice has never steered me wrong.

  Valentino sighs because he knows what’s coming. “Yes, sir.” The respect in his response is clear. Even though I’m not yet his boss, he must obey my order. The chair behind me creaks, which means both the soldiers who walked into the office earlier have started their work.