Page 1 of Dark Mafia Heir

1

Vivienne

The man sitting across the club has his dark eyes pinned on me. He’s swirling a glass of whiskey in one hand, while giving me a predatory smile that sends a shiver down my spine.

I’m celebrating my twenty-first birthday with my sister at De Angelo, one of the biggest Italian clubs in New York. My papa said today is the day I transition into full adulthood, which could mean a lot of things.

For girls outside the mafia, it might mean they’ve finally grown up to earn their freedom. But it’s different from girls in my world. For us, becoming twenty-one only means we’re way past the age to be traded off like breeding mares.

The man’s smile turns into a smirk as he signals for me to come closer.

I cringe, almost rolling my eyes. Does he think I am a stripper or something? Whatever, I don’t care. He gives me the ick.

I turn around to face my sister, who’s vibrating with the music and flipping her hair. Honestly, I can’t tell if she’s veryexcited or if she’s just drunk from all the drinks she’s had—which is only a few shots, by the way.

Harper is nothing like me. I’m a party animal, and my sister is the ladylike one—the one with good grades who makes our father proud. And she’s pretty, just like our mother used to be.

The only thing we have in common is our father’s emerald eyes. I look more like our mother with my straight red hair.

I poke my sister’s ribs to get her attention, and she shudders. “Are you okay?”

She stops flipping her hair and raises her head to look at me. Her emerald eyes crinkle under flickering neon lights, and she has the wildest smile plastered on her face. “I am. This is just so fun.”

I chuckle as I hold her hand and join in her dance. The bass thumps through my veins, syncing with the pulse in my ears as I let the music take over. I’m not thinking about anything except the rhythm, how it moves through my body, the way it makes me feel alive.

But more than the music, I am glad Harper is having some fun at last. “Come on, Harp! Don’t hold back!” I shout over the music, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to the center of the dance floor.

We’re both so lost in the noise around us that I don’t notice the man from earlier striding towards me until he wraps his arm around my waist.

I jerk, repulsed from his touch, as I turn around to face him with a frown.

The asshole has the nerve to smile. “I see you girls are having fun,” he says. “I want in, and maybe we can go somewhere else from here.”

I tuck Harper behind me and square my shoulders. We’d sneaked out tonight and there’s no bodyguard here with us. A stupid decision I made in the heat of the moment—a decisionI’m now regretting. Papa will be so mad if he finds out I got Harper in danger.

“The only place you’ll be going from here is your grave if you lay your hands on me again.” I tilt my chin, looking at him straight in the eyes, and ignoring the way my heart is pounding against my ribcage with fear.

“Feisty.” He pulls on his lower lip, eyes glinting with irritating lust under the flashing strobe lights. “I like it. I like you.”

I give him a once-over, at least making a feeble effort to assess him. Short dark hair sits in an unattractive mess on his head, his nails have dirt in them, like he works on engines at a car shop, and, worse, he smells bad.

Imitating Papa’s intimidating glare, I stand my ground and square my chin, hoping this loser gets the hint. “But I don’t like you. Scram, jerk face. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to have fun with.”

The wry smile melts off his face like heated wax rolling down a candle, and the real ugliness inside him is unmasked. Jerk face grabs my wrist, his fingers curling around my skin so tight, I know it’ll leave a mark as bright as a ruby bracelet. Snarling, he yanks me forward, momentarily cutting the breath from my lungs. I stagger. I didn’t see that one coming.

“Vi!”

“Stay back, Harper.” I wave her away, not wanting her even an inch close to this mad man. I am scared, terrified, in fact. My heart is running a marathon inside my chest, and my head is pounding.

But I’d rather fight until I draw my last breath than allow this man to even touch a hair on my sister’s head. She’s staring at me, lips quivering, fingers fidgeting helplessly, and eyes tearing up quickly. And I know, if I don’t do something soon, Harper is going to call Papa. And then all hell would truly break loose.

“I’m warning you for the last time: let me go, or else?—”

“Else, what?”

When his dirty finger touches my lips, my skin crawls, and a wave of nausea hits me at once. I want to puke and scrub off every trace of this man’s hand on my skin.

The world around us is still in crazy motion. It’s ridiculously loud. Neon and stage lights blink in rhythm to the ongoing beat while they jump, dance, and sing in unison to “Be My Lover.”

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