Page 238 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

SAVAGE BEAST

PROLOGUE

MARCHELLA: TEN YEARS EARLIER

Ipeer at my reflection in the full-length mirror, doing a half-twirl in my new dress. I swipe the pink lip gloss wand across my lips and pucker them, puffing out my chest. Then I flip my long, dark curls so that they snake down one of my bare shoulders.

The corners of my lips lift.

Perfect.

Tonight is the night that Roman Villani will see me as a woman, not as Frankie Amante’s little sister.

I’ve caught him staring on more than one occasion. I know it. But he’s never made a move.

And I’m about to give him a reason.

My heart thumps in my chest as I pull open the door to the ladies’ lounge and walk back into the wedding reception. The music pulsates and the lights flash in the darkened space. Dinner has been served, and now all of the guests have migrated onto the dance floor to work off the scrumptious meal.

I smile and nod at whomever I pass, not really paying much attention to anyone except my target.

When I spot him standing casually against a wall a few feet away from the deejay, my breath hitches.

Good Lord, he is a delicious specimen of a man. Short, dark hair, olive skin, piercing blue eyes. Just staring at him from across the room has my panties smoking under my dress.

But I’m tired of staring and wondering and hoping.

I want action.

And since he’s not going to make a move, I’m prepared to do it myself.

I don’t care that our fathers are business partners.

I don’t care that he’s my brother’s best friend.

And I definitely don’t care that he’s way too old for me.

For once, I just want to see him look at me the way I always dreamed he would.

I take a deep breath and smooth down the front of my dress, and just as I take a step toward him, he turns in my direction. His bitable lips lift into a knowing smile as his gaze sears my skin, making it tingle from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair.

Chills dance across my skin and I smile back, slowly walking toward him.

My pulse throbs against my neck, my hands cold and clammy against my sides.

What am I even going to say?

We’ve barely exchanged ten words since he and Frankie have been friends.

I’ve spent most of that time admiring and lusting from afar.

But the way he’s staring at me now tells me I haven’t imagined anything.

He wants something.

And my God, I hope it’s me.

I swallow hard as I cross the dance floor, perspiration pebbling on the back of my neck when a tall figure in a black tux steps in front of me, blocking my path. I look up with a scowl.

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