Corrupted Heart: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

“Seriously. Where the fuck were you?”

There’s a shocked numbness in the car as Nico roars through the city toward Mt. Sinai Hospital. I still don’t know where Kratos’ gothic church is, because the car that’s taken me away both times I’ve been there has blacked-out rear windows. This time, when I jumped in, I told the silent driver to take me to Nico’s address.

He refused with a shake of his head, and would only drop me off back at my house. So that’s where Nico’s just picked me up, to bring me to the hospital.

“Bianca!”

I flinch, my face burning as I turn to him.

“I stayed late at work,” I lie, feeling like shit.

“With your fucking phone off?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble as I turn and stare out the window. “I…”

Nico exhales. His hand reaches across the center console of the car, taking mine.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m just…”

I twist to look at him, watching his eyes grimly staring at the road as his jaw grinds.

“This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

His eyes soften as he glances at me.

“Stop it.”

I blink back tears. “No. It is. This is because of what I did.”

“Bianca, this is the world we live in, okay?” he hisses. “This is the mafia. Shit like this happens⁠—”

“I torched Kratos Drakos’ fucking car, Nico!” I yell, my face paling.

I swallow down the lump that’s formed in my throat as I glance at the streets of Manhattan speeding past us as we roar toward the hospital where Dad is being taken care of.

And here I thought the punishment for my sins had just been doled out, back in the church, by Kratos’ own hands.

And mouth.

And cock.

Oh, God.

As it turns out, I was wrong.

Dad was in the basement of one of the restaurants our family owns, hosting one of his monthly poker games, until a homemade firebomb was tossed through the window, blowing the place all to hell.

The bomb was thrown by men wearing masks who drove off in a very specific vintage car: a ’67 Camaro Z28, black with white racing stripes. There’s all of one of them registered in the state of New York.

It’s owned by Hades fucking Drakos.

“Where the fuck were you?!”

I flinch as Dante grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me hard. His face is livid and haggard, his mouth lined around the edges. His eyes look wild in the overhead fluorescent hospital lights.

“I—”

“Jesus, Dante…”

Tempest’s face is as worried as my brother’s. But she puts a restraining hand on his arm and shakes her head at him.

“Take. A fucking. Breath,” she says quietly, looking straight at him.

Dante closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily before he opens them. This time, there’s a softer look in them. In seconds, he’s hugging me tight, pulling me into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he growls quietly. “I was just fucking terrified after it happened and we couldn’t get hold of you.”

“I…”

Fuck, I hate lying to my own family. But if I wasn’t going to tell them I was, oh, you know, indulging in some fucked-up primal fetish sex stuff with Kratos Drakos before all of this, I sure as hell am not now.

“I stayed late to get in some conditioning before going home,” I mumble. “My phone was off⁠—”

“It’s okay,” Dante breathes, pulling away and smiling wanly at me. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Tempest hugs me next, wrapping her arms around me tightly. I meet Dante’s eyes over her shoulder. When he sees the look in my eyes, he shakes his head.

“Don’t.”

“Dante,” I choke, pulling away from Tempest.

“This wasn’t because of you.”

“Of course it was! I blew up his car, and this is their response!” I hiss quietly, feeling the panic clawing at my chest. “This is⁠—”

“Look at me.”

I shiver as Dante grabs my shoulders and peers hard into my eyes.

“This is not your fucking fault. Do you understand me?”

I swallow, looking away.

“How is Dad?”

My brother nods slowly. “He’s…okay, surprisingly enough. There was a lot of blood when they pulled him out of the building.”

I tense again, my eyes flying wide. Dante shakes his head.

“It wasn’t his,” he reassures me.

“It was Tony Pagano’s,” another voice says.

I pull away from Tempest, smiling weakly as an older man in a black coat and an old-school fedora comes over.

“Piccola piuma,” Aldo says somberly, pulling me into a hug.

Aldo Bernardi has been one of Vito’s closest consiglieres since…well…forever. He’s been like an uncle to Carmy, Nico, Dante and me our whole lives. “Little feather” is his favorite nickname for me, from when I was first discovering ballet, and used to flit around the room.

“You’re okay?”

“She was at practice,” Dante sighs with an edged tone.

Aldo smiles fondly and pats my hand. “But of course you were.”

Nico frowns. “How’s Don Pagano?”

Aldo grimaces. “Missing his eyebrows and pissed the fuck off. He took a piece of the poker table itself through his leg. But he’s going to be okay.”

I turn to Dante. “Where’s Dad?”

“In there.” He points toward a closed hospital room door, with two big guys I know as Barone muscle—Leo and Rocco—and about ten other obviously made men standing guard.

I pull away from Aldo and start to march over, but Dante puts out an arm to stop me. I glare at him with fury in my eyes.

“What the fuck, Dante!”

My older brother frowns. “Easy, Bianca. He’s⁠—”

The door to the hospital room suddenly opens, and Carmine steps out. When he sees me, he visibly relaxes as he storms over to hug me.

“Fucking hell, Bee. Keep your goddamn phone on.”

“I need to see⁠—”

“Soon. There’s an emergency Commission meeting going on in there right now. Sit tight, Pop’s okay.”

I nod meekly. When I suddenly notice the bandages on Carmy’s hands, my eyes go wide.

“Oh my God, Carm!”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Just burns.”

“Carmy was at the game with dad,” Nico explains. “Pulled him out, too,” he adds, clapping our brother on the back.

“Dad’s really going to be okay?” I ask quietly, eyeing Carmine.

He nods. “Totally. He’s mostly just pissed about one of his favorite suits getting fucked up, and that he was on a serious heater when the bomb went off.” He frowns as my face twists miserably. “C’mon, don’t, Bianca.”

“It… It all got out of hand,” I blurt hoarsely. “I never meant⁠—”

“What you did was fucking stupid,” Carmy growls. “There, you happy? It was fucking reckless and fucking stupid. No one’s saying otherwise, Bee.”

My shoulders slump.

“But it wasn’t an act of war,” he hisses. “And it sure as fuck didn’t merit a response that was as good as a goddamn assassination attempt,” he spits angrily. He gives me a wry look before pulling me into a tight hug. “The important thing is, everyone’s okay. Yeah?”

I nod miserably into his chest.

I don’t feel okay. At all.

I feel used.

Aldo’s phone dings. He pulls it out of his coat pocket and turns away as he answers it quietly. We all watch as he nods somberly, then slips the phone back into his pocket and turns back to us.

“Your father is about to be discharged. He wants to meet with all of you.”

I grin, turning toward the door to my dad’s hospital room.

“Not here,” Aldo adds. “Back at the house.”

“Easy, easy, Bumblebee,” Vito chuckles as I all but vault into his arms the second he walks in the door to the study, where we’ve all been waiting.

He hugs me just as fiercely as I’m hugging him before he slowly pulls back. When he does, I can’t help but notice that he won’t meet my gaze.

“Dad—”

“This isn’t your fault, Bianca,” Vito says quietly, smiling softly as he pats my hand. “But…” His mouth thins. “There’s a lot we need to discuss right now.” He turns and clears his throat, nodding to Leo and Rocco and a few other Barone men present. “I need to speak to just family. Aldo, that includes you.”

The men nod solemnly before turning and filing out. When they’re gone, Carmy closes the door behind them, then joins the rest of us on the chairs and couches near the fireplace. With the Barone muscle gone, it’s just Dante, Tempest, Nico, Carmine, Aldo, Dad, and me.

Dad exhales slowly as he sinks into his favorite chair. I plop down on the end of a couch right next to him, and he pats my hand before turning to Aldo, who’s standing by the window.

“I could use a drink, Aldo.”

Wordlessly, Aldo pours two Fernet-Brancas, handing one to Dad, and tapping the side of the glass he’s kept for himself against it. They both drink deeply before Dad exhales again. He turns to me, a strange, dark look in his eyes.

“I want to be clear. This isn‘t Bianca‘s fault,” Dad growls quietly, dragging his eyes around the room. “She’s not to be blamed, and none of you gets to hold this over her head. Ever.” He arches a brow at Carmine. “You’ve all pulled way worse than torching a car. Is that understood?”

Carmy nods. “Of course, Pop.”

“Good.” Vito clears his throat. “I’ve been in contact with Ares Drakos.”

Carmine’s lips instantly curl. “Fuck those fucking Greeks⁠—”

“Carmine.”

Vito’s tone quiets my brother.

“Please, allow me to finish uninterrupted. As I was saying, I’ve spoken with Ares. He’s not a rash or reckless man, and firstly he wanted us all to understand that the restaurant tonight was selected because they believed it was empty. The restaurant itself was closed, and the apartments upstairs are very obviously being gut-renovated. The game in the basement isn’t exactly publicized, either. After talking with Ares, I don’t see any reason to suspect that the Drakos family was intending for anyone to get hurt.”

“So those fucking pricks decide to bomb a goddamn building just because an old car got burned?” Nico hisses. “How the fuck is that an appropriate response?”

“The issue isn’t so much the car itself,” Dad mutters. “It’s what was in the car.” He grimaces and takes a heavy swig of his Fernet. “Though they were bidding rivals for the West Side building, the Drakos family have recently been in alliance talks with Davit Kirakosian.”

Sitting on the couch across from me, Dante scowls deeply. Aside from running Club Venom, my brother trades in whispers, secrets, and information. But it’s clear this proposed alliance is news to him, and I can tell that’s pissing him off.

“Te Mallkuarit loaned an artifact that’s been in their family for generations to the Drakoses, as a show of goodwill. A 12th century crucifix made from human bones.”

Nico makes a face. “What the fuck?”

“That’s Te Mallkuarit for you,” Dante mutters. “Deeply religious Albanian crime weirdos with serious roots in Eastern European mysticism.”

Carmine shifts uncomfortably. “Please don’t tell me this fucking thing was in the car.”

Vito’s expression says it all.

“Shit,” Carmy mutters.

Dad sighs, taking another sip of his drink. He’s still avoiding looking at me. “The Greeks had no choice but to retaliate, or face trying to explain to Davit that his creepy-ass relic got torched without payback. The problem is, Kirakosian isn’t satisfied. That fucked-up bone statue held a lot of meaning for his family. They don’t know it was Bianca, but they do know it was someone at least connected to our family.” His face darkens. “And now Davit’s calling for war.”

I shudder, my face paling as I desperately try to meet Dad’s gaze. He still won’t look at me.

“So that’s one problem,” Dad continues. “But there’s more. Davit isn’t the only one banging his spear on his shield.”

“Don Pagano,” Dante mutters.

Dad nods slowly. “Yeah. Tony’s got a hot temper, and he wasn’t backing down after the attack. The problem is, as you know, his son Gio just got engaged to Ciara Marchetti. So now Don Marchetti’s obliged to side with the Paganos if they were to go to war with the Greeks over the restaurant fire. My guess is, when any shooting started, Nero De Luca would have joined in, because he’s got too much to prove, being new to the table. And if he jumped in, you could bet Don Amato would have, too.”

There’s something about his wording that suddenly makes me frown.

“You just used were and would have a lot.” My brow furrows. “So is this war officially not happening now?”

My dad doesn’t meet my eye. Instead, he turns to Aldo again.

“Got a smoke, Aldo?”

Wordlessly, Aldo pulls a silver cigarette case out of his jacket pocket, pops it, and offers one to Vito. He lights it and my dad takes a deep puff as he nods a thanks.

“I’ve struck a deal.”

The words come out sounding rough, like he’s having a hard time forcing them over his lips.

Carmine frowns. “What sort of ‘deal’?”

“One that the other Commission families are in complete agreement with, and one that will smooth things over with both the Greeks and the Albanians.”

“Pop,” Carmy growls quietly. “What’s the deal.”

Dad turns his head slowly, leveling a sad, deeply remorseful look at me. “Bianca…”

There’s a knock at the study door. It opens, and Leo pokes his head in.

“They’re here, Don Barone,” he grunts.

Dad nods slowly. “Send them in, Leo.”

Nico frowns. “Send who⁠—”

Instantly, he, Carmine, and Dante spring to their feet, reaching for guns tucked into waistbands and inside jackets as Ares Drakos strides into the room.

“Put them down!” Vito barks with the full authority of his crown. “All of you,” he growls, shooting dark looks at my brothers as Hades Drakos walks into the room behind Ares, followed by Deimos, and then Callie. “They’re our guests here,” Dad mutters, standing.

For a brief second, I almost visibly exhale in relief. When Ares stepped in just now, especially when his siblings began to follow him in, obviously, my thoughts went to one place.

One man.

Kratos.

So far, my…“interactions” with him have been happening in almost a dream state. We meet in the darkness of his crumbling church. He wears a mask, for God’s sake. The point being, what we’ve done and where we’ve met up is in the shadows, away from the light.

Like a dirty little secret.

For a second, I was terrified to think that he was going to be here too, forcing me to confront those dark, dirty parts of my psyche right here in the open, in front of my family. But it seems only his four siblings have⁠—

I freeze as a massive shape fills the doorway. My heart clenches as my eyes lock with his icy blue ones. A small, almost invisible smile curls the corners of his mouth.

Hungrily.

Dangerously.

The man literally has to duck his head a little as he steps through the door into the study. His eyes lock on mine, and even though his face is blank and emotionless, when he tilts his head to the side slightly, I can feel the tingles rippling over my skin.

Mask or not, I know that look.

And it does something to me.

As the room goes quiet and still, I realize something. I see it in the way his siblings interact with him—the way Callie reaches over to him and squeezes his hand. The way Hades good-naturedly pats his shoulder.

They don’t see him the way I do.

And when Kratos smiles downright warmly at something Ares says to him, it really does click for me:

I don’t think his family knows him at all.

Not the way I do. They don’t realize the kind of savagery that lurks under that smiling, friendly-giant surface.

They don’t see the monster, or the beast he is.

But I do.

Ares and my dad meet halfway and shake hands firmly.

“Bianca,” Vito says gently, turning to me.

I clear my throat, looking at Ares, heat creeping up my neck and into my cheeks.

“I…” I swallow. “I’m truly sorry about the car,” I murmur quietly. “I was pressured into it, and I know that’s no excuse, but I⁠—”

“What’s done is done,” Ares says in a cool, even tone. “We appreciate the apology. But our options now are limited. You’ve got the other Commission families to consider. Meanwhile, we’ve got our own allies to think about. Not to mention, what you inadvertently destroyed in that car meant a lot to, frankly, a very crazy Albanian.”

He turns to my dad.

“How are you feeling, Don Barone?”

Dad smirks. “Like I’ve been barbecued. But I’ll survive.”

Ares dips his head. “My apologies again. As I mentioned earlier when we spoke, we didn’t know your poker game was going on in the basement.”

“Thank you for being the level-headed man and strong leader I’ve always been told you are, Mr. Drakos,” Dad replies with a nod.

Ares draws in a breath as his eyes slide to me. So do those of his siblings. I shift uncomfortably as they all openly size me up.

All except him.

Kratos isn’t looking at me like he’s sizing me up, or even like he’s angry.

He looks unreadable.

And it’s throwing me off.

“Have you told her yet?” Ares growls quietly.

I frown. “Huh?” My head snaps around as I look quizzically at my dad. “Have you told me what yet?”

Vito’s mouth is tight and unhappy. He clears his throat as he steps closer to me.

“That…thing…we agreed wouldn’t ever happen…”

Oh God.

Instantly, whatever color was left in my face drains away. My head starts to shake slowly, my eyes staring into the middle distance as my breath chokes off.

“No—”

“I have no choice. It breaks my heart, but I gotta break that promise, Bumblebee,” Vito says quietly, his face twisting with emotion.

“I—” I stammer, my head swimming as the room spins. “I—what does that mean?”

“It means, dear…”

I shiver, my core clenching and my skin tingling all over as I turn to the sound of his baritone voice rumbling from across the room.

Kratos smiles a wry, cold, slightly unhinged smile at me.

“That you and I are getting married.”