Merciless Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance (Varasso Brothers Book Book 4) Read online

  “Gabe!”

  I jumped as if someone had screamed into my ear with a megaphone when it was just the dull sounds of my car phone to the tune of Marco’s voice.

  “Yeah?” I hadn’t even realized I’d called him yet. “Sorry. Distracted.”

  “You called me,” Marco hummed. “What’s wrong?”

  I sighed. There was no clear answer to that question. Nothing was presently wrong, but it felt like everything was wrong. Like all of the books in my life were just slightly out of place. Not knocked over so much, but askew in a way that was noticeable, with one of the bookends dangling perilously close to the edge.

  “Luca wanted me to call you.”

  Marco let out an audible sigh. “You didn’t want to call me?”

  “Uh, no. I didn’t mean—”

  A laugh cracked across the line.

  “I’m fucking with you, man. God, I was hoping the last few years would have made you less skittish.” That was slightly comforting to hear. You couldn’t have convinced me my eldest two brothers were hoping anything for me, honestly. “What’s up?”

  “Have you talked to Sandro recently? Luca heard from Willow this morning, and apparently, it’s not good.” I turned my truck around a corner at my navigation’s behest. It was slightly scary that I was driving when I didn’t even remember getting to where I was. Marco hummed for a moment before going silent. “Hello?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Just trying to think of how to phrase it.”

  “Is it that bad?” I found the yoga studio I was meant to go to with time to spare. I parked my car in the nearest spot.

  “I mean. I want to call it boredom, but I don’t know. Sometimes he gives me this feeling. It reminds me of—”

  I cut him off. “Dad?”

  Marco sighed. “So you’ve felt it, too?”

  I wanted to tell him I saw it. That I watched our father reach up from the fiery pits of hell and drape himself around Alessandro. I wanted to tell him how much I feared that the same switch that had flipped in Alessandro was deep inside all of us. How I suspected that once flipped, that switch was difficult, if not impossible, to turn off again. It had to have happened to my dad at some point, too. The Varasso bloodthirsty switch. The thing that changed us from boys into beasts. Men into monsters.

  “Yeah, I’ve felt it.” I couldn’t bring myself to admit the truth. I was afraid the little bit of love and grace I’d earned from my brothers would fly out the window. Between Alessandro and me, they’d choose Alessandro every time. “It’s not good.”

  “Somedays I go over—Kelly and I have dinner with them whenever we can—and he’s fine. He’s laughing. He has work stories, and he’s taking really great care of Willow and Alexis. Then, other days, he’s restless and unsettled. I think he’s bored, but not bored like if he goes to the movies or the mall, he’ll be okay. It’s not like you don’t know. Our lives have been nothing but nonstop chaos and violence. I found it relaxing when that wasn’t my life every day anymore, but something else is wrong with Alessandro. Like he craves it.”

  “That’s really why Luca wanted me to call. He’s hoping you can hang out with him even more, really try and knock him out of this whole thing.” I sighed, imagining Willow reaching her wit’s end and leaving Alessandro again. Losing her once brought him to where he was now. If she left again, no one would be safe. “Before something irreversible happens.”

  Marco used to be in the witness protection program. After his wife Kelly’s brother tried to get him, and really our whole family, arrested, Marco had no choice but to give up sensitive information on the Binachis to wiggle free. There was no love lost. They’d already called out a hit on our dad, and any remaining traces of an alliance between our family and theirs was gone when the Binachi patriarch, Donovan, rolled over on Marco. He was perfectly fine to give up Donovan and his sons Dario and Dante in order to save himself and chase a happily ever after with Kelly. Luca approved of Marco’s choices even though he disagreed with them because Marco had saved his own life.

  For almost a year, we only had contact with Marco through our family attorney, eventually our brother-in-law through Willow, Ricky. It wasn’t until Alessandro snapped and went rogue on Luca that we unearthed an operation of the Binachis keeping tabs on Marco. Even though Alessandro was way out of bounds, we were able to take out one of the Binachi’s head henchmen, and with Donovan, Dario and Dante convicted, the need for Marco to stay under wraps dissolved.

  He and Alessandro lived in California with their wives and children. They were supposed to be living carefree, domestic lives, but things were not panning out exactly as we had hoped.

  “I’m doing the best I can, Gabe, but I have a family, too, you know?” Marco’s rough, exhausted voice pierced my thoughts. “This is bad timing all around.”

  I hunched my brow. “What does that mean?” Before Marco could answer the question, I got another incoming call from none other than Alessandro himself. “Oh, this is actually Sandro. Hang on. I’ll add him to the call.”

  I clicked over to my other line, hoping that I could mask my concern for him. “Sandro.”

  “Hey, Gabe.” His voice sounded pretty normal. Nothing out of sorts. “How have you been, man? It’s gotta be stressful just being with Luca.”

  “It’s not too bad. I’m actually on with Marco, too. I’m gonna join the calls.” I clicked a few buttons to conference Marco and Alessandro in together. “Hello?”

  “I’m here,” Alessandro replied.

  “Hey, Sandro,” Marco greeted.

  Alessandro chuckled. “What’s up, brother?”

  “This is pretty cool. I don’t think I’ve ever done a three-way call before. Modern technology, eh?” Marco said.

  Alessandro’s chuckle developed into a full laugh. “People have been doing this since calls required operators, Marco.”

  “Oh.” Marco snickered. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. It’s not new.” Alessandro sighed. “Anyway, I called to check on you, Gabe, not explain seventies tech to Marco. How’s it going?”

  “Not bad.”

  Alessandro groaned. “I can tell you’re lying, and I’m not even looking at you.”

  I thought of Luca and Molly and that final, unfrayed strand. “You know. Luca’s beyond stressed. This is all falling down on him. I’m trying to do my part, but you know me.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Marco hissed. “You’re a Varasso. You seriously gonna let Luca take all this shit on himself because you’re a little soft?”

  That was closer to the Marco I was used to. I looked away from the car speakers nervously as if Marco was peering at me through them. “I’m not…I’m trying.”

  “Lay off him, Marco. What right do we have to criticize him when we packed up our shit and left?” Alessandro jumped to my defense, just like always.

  “Hey, fuck you. I had to go. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Bullshit. You rolled the dice with Kelly. I’m not saying it was a bad gamble to make. I’m just saying there was a point where you knew what you were into, and you kept on anyway.” He grumbled. “Besides. You’re not in witness protection anymore. If it was so against your will, why don’t you go back home and help out?”

  “I could say the same about you,” Marco spat back. “You’re not even in WPP. You’re just shacked up.”

  I didn’t want them to be arguing, especially not in a way that made Alessandro feel like he’d made the wrong choice by leaving the life. “Guys.”

  “Willow won’t go near this shit, and you know that. The only reason we’re together right now is because I left.”

  “Yeah, join the fucking club. You think Kelly was just gung-ho to join the mob lifestyle? She’s not Molly.”

  “I think Luca and Molly might split up.” The words rushed out like liquid from an overflowing glass. They weren’t necessarily true, and they weren’t necessarily false, but it did bring silence between Alessandro and Marco.

  “What makes you think that?”
Marco asked.

  “All the extra weight. I mean, Marco, you weren’t there, but Sandro, you saw what happened when Luca flipped out about Willow last year. It’s that, times ten. Most of the time, they’re good, but when they aren’t…I just feel like they’re gonna break soon.” I was already spinning a web that I wasn’t sure how to not get myself stuck in to later be devoured. “I thought it’d be nice if they could take a family vacation or something. Just get away from all this shit.”

  “That’s brilliant, Gabe!” There was electric excitement to Alessandro’s voice that I didn’t like. “I can come home for a bit. Not permanently, but for a couple weeks. I can help you keep things afloat while Luca’s gone.”

  “Um.” I was wavering. Alessandro was already so beyond himself. “I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”

  Alessandro laughed again, but that time it wasn’t light or friendly. It was dark and slightly sadistic. “You don’t think you can run shit, do you?”

  “Sandro,” Marco warned. It was weird for him to be the one looking out for me.

  “No, come on. Gabe knows that I think highly of him. This just isn’t his world. You’re not going back to do it, Marco. That leaves me.”

  The silence between us was thick, and though I couldn’t see him, I knew Marco’s gears were turning in search of a rebuttal as well. That neither he nor I said anything was indicative of the fact that neither of us had found one.

  “Um, it might not be so bad, Sandro. I’ll keep you posted on what I’m thinking, okay?” I had to change directions as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

  Luca and Molly needed something to keep their relationship intact, but I couldn’t drag Alessandro back into the thick of the business, either. I’d have to figure something out, but I needed more time to do it than the ten minutes I had left before my yoga session.

  “Look, I gotta go. I got yoga.” A beat of silence preceded both Alessandro and Marco erupting with laughter. I chuckled along, myself. “Shut up.”

  “You got yoga?” Alessandro asked. “Like breathing and down…facing…dog shit?”

  Marco’s laughs had heightened to the point of causing him to wheeze. “How dare you not start with that.”

  I laughed. “What? My body has been all creaky and tight lately. Molly signed me up for a private yoga session.”

  Their obnoxious laughs got louder.

  “Fuck you guys, all right. At least I’m trying to be a little more relaxed.”

  “Are you wearing a suit?” Alessandro asked with a squeaky, amused tone to his voice.

  “No!” I looked down at the sweats I had on. “But it took me like two hours to find these sweatpants.”

  “Are they mine?” Marco asked. “Please take a picture.”

  “No. Fuck you.” I scoffed, but there was still an amused smile on my face. It was nice to break the tension. “I gotta go.”

  “Namaste,” Alessandro hummed, and Marco snorted.

  “Whatever. Bye.” I ended the call with both of their laughs roaring across my speaker until the line went dead.

  Chuckling as I went, I gathered my phone, wallet, and a bottle of water I’d grabbed. I climbed out of my car. I walked into the studio Molly recommended and was greeted with a friendly smile from a young-looking blonde at the receptionist's desk. She wore glasses, and her cheeks developed a little color when I walked in.

  “Hello. How can I help you?” she asked.

  I rubbed my head, suddenly wondering if I needed some sort of reservation number from Molly. “Um, I’m here for a private session.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. We only take appointments on Saturdays. We have walk-ins on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, though those are group sessions. If you’d like, I can schedule a private appointment for you for next weekend?”

  I probably at least should have had Molly on the phone. “My sister-in-law called and made an appointment for me earlier. Molly Varasso.”

  Her jaw dropped a little, and her eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry, she wasn’t clear on the phone. Yes, of course!” She motioned to a glass door to her left. “Please, head right in. The instructor will be with you soon.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  I walked into the studio and was immediately smacked with the smell of lavender and vanilla. A couple of burning incense sticks seemed to be the culprit, and there were two mats rolled out, facing each other, one at the head of the studio and another more towards the middle. The wall behind the head mat was covered in pictures, articles, and awards, all surrounding a center, framed degree.

  I assumed I was meant to sit at the one in the middle, so I walked over and set the bottle down next to the mat. I still had a few minutes, so I walked over to the wall of photos and started to scan them. The first few pictures were of groups of people doing yoga, nothing too interesting, and a few articles sang the praises of the studio owner, Stacy Everett. Just as I started to wonder what she looked like, I got to a picture with a woman holding the degree that was framed on the wall.

  She had long, blond hair in perfectly flowing waves down her face and over her shoulders. Her head was encircled by a crown of cherry blossoms, and she had a bright but humble smile on her face. Her dazzling, hazel-green eyes and smooth, pastel-pink lips elevated her already picturesque face to something almost ethereal, like she wasn’t of this world. My heart started to race as I looked at her.

  Is she the owner?

  I continued to scroll down the wall of photos, seeing the magnificent woman in many of the photos, including one with her standing in front of this studio, using a giant pair of scissors to snip through a red ribbon. She was the owner.

  “Hey, Sam.” Musical tones rang from the entryway, and I looked over my shoulder.

  There she was, a milky-skinned angel from heaven.

  Was I supposed to survive an entire yoga session with her as the instructor?

  My lips lolled open. “There is no way.”

  4

  Stacy

  I hated getting to sessions so close to the time they were supposed to happen, but I was chalking it up to the fact that it was a last-minute scheduling.

  “How are you?” I addressed Sam, whose whole face was a light shade of pink. “The client isn’t upset, is she? Is she here?”

  Sam let out an awkward chuckle. “Uh. So, here’s the thing. It’s not a she. It’s a he, and he is stunning.”

  I turned my head and looked into the studio and saw a guy sitting on one of the yoga mats with his head down, flicking through his phone. I couldn’t make out much of his image the way he was situated, but I could at least verify that it wasn’t a woman.

  “Is he that good looking?” I thought back to my ex-boyfriend, Peter Clouse, who I ended up splitting with because he was pursuing his acting and modeling career. He was pretty much my benchmark for a good looking man. The typical tall, dark, and handsome type, who seemed perfect in every way but was really emotionally stunted and more concerned about his career than me.

  “Well, I guess I’ll be the judge of that.” I set my purse on the desk and smiled. “You can head out if you want.”

  Sam shook her head. “Oh, uh. No, it’s okay. I can stay.” Her eyes were already slowly gliding over to look at the client again. “You might need help.”

  “I won’t need help.” I crossed my arms. “Really. You’ve been here all day, so you can go.”

  Sam’s daydreaming expression left her face, leaving irritation in its wake. She grabbed her things and stood up, grumbling. “I’m the one who sat here all day, and now you get to stay and hang out with the beautiful guy.” She walked past me. “Must be nice!”

  “Goodbye!” I spat at her.

  Once Sam was out, I locked the door behind her. I didn’t want anyone walking in while I didn’t have my attention on the entryway, and once the private session was over, I could just let the client out. I turned off the sign saying we were open and took down the shades before finally turning and walking into the studio.

&
nbsp; “I apologize for being a little late.” I immediately walked over to my mat and set my workout bag down. “I came straight from my parents’ house. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

  “Not at all.” His voice was husky and low and caused me to look up from my bag.

  If there had been music playing, it would have done a movie-like screech to a stop. Sam told no lies. The man looking back at me was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. He had a young-looking face, younger than I imagined he actually was. His cheekbones sat high on his face and were perfect mountains for the snow of freckles that were sprinkled across them. He looked at me through a pair of obsidian eyes that, despite their lack of color, were still vibrant and welcoming, especially with the wisps of his feathery black hair hanging down into them. I allowed my eyes to trail down his form, seeing his arms stretching the fabric of the t-shirt he was wearing to their full capacity and the very noticeable way his sweatpants poked away from his body at the crotch before closing in again on his legs. He was tall, but not obnoxiously so, and even at his height, he carried his shoulders in front of himself, keeping him hunched and a little shorter than he might be if he stood with his chin in the air.

  When his mouth curled into a quiet smile, my heart skipped a beat. He stuck out a hand. “Are you Stacy?”

  I stood up from my bag, taking his hand in mine. “Yes. I. Am. Stacy. She is me.” What the hell was wrong with me all of a sudden? I’d seen the name Molly Varasso on my appointment log, and Sam wasn’t prepared for a man, either. “You are not Molly.”

  “No,” the man chuckled, “Molly is my sister-in-law. Sorry about that. I guess she didn’t think to mention the appointment was for me. I’m Gabriel.”