Page 2 of Mafia Beast

“You don’t have to get involved, per se.” Emilia gives a naughty little wink. “Just have a little taste test.”

“A taste?” I flash her a grin. “Really?”

Kylie chimes in. “Besides, we’re all so curious about… you know…” Blinking rapidly, Kylie makes a circular gesture below her waist. “You know.”

“What?” I ask, not giving her the satisfaction of participating in such a ridiculous discussion.

“You know what we’re talking about.” Emilia elbows my ribs, waggling her brow. “His… size.”

Standing six foot five with shoulders that fill a doorway, I know it’s not the man’s striking physique they’re talking about. Whispers of his… penis… have been floating through the Beauties ever since he joined the family.

“And what does his size have to do with me?” Please don’t let me be blushing as hard as I think I am.

“Come on!” Emilia croons. “You’re single. He’s single. We can’t find out ourselves. He’s obviously interested. Besides, we Beauties kind of have bets going on. You could settle them for us.”

Have they seriously been discussing his size? I can’t believe this. “Bets? Really?”

Kylie gives a serious nod. “Yes, there’s actually been quite a bit of arguing lately. Some feel that it isn’t humanly possible to be that big—”

“Mainly Hannah the scientist,” Emilia adds.

“Right. It’s like, don’t always be so logical, Hannah. Sometimes you just gotta believe.” Kylie rolls her eyes.

Emilia’s voice drops to a hushed whisper. “Others have said they’ve heard it’s true.”

The heat is cranking up in this room. I pull a stray leaf off the back of the wall, fanning myself with it. “Well. Oh my. Dear me.”

If it’s anything close to the size of the rest of him…

They start to argue amongst themselves, talking about a friend of a Beauty who apparently has had the pleasure. The racy image they plant in my mind turns the prickly heat on my skin to an inferno.

I pull away from them. “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe this is even a conversation we are having. Leave me out of it, please. I am so not interested.”

I move toward the exit. I need air.

Emilia and Kylie’s hushed whispers and silly giggles trail behind me as I make my way toward the open door of the terrace. It’s unseasonably warm tonight and a gentle breeze instantly cools my skin, my hair swirling around my shoulders. It’s a moonless evening. The sky would be an inky black but in the city that never sleeps, I’m surrounded by the soft orange and white glow from the lit buildings.

It’s noisier here than I remember, sirens and car horns blaring into the night.

I’ve grown used to the quiet sounds of Liam’s bachelor pad, an Italian lakeside estate where I’ve been living, my peaceful escape from the dozens of happily married couples in the Village. I did all his decorating for him.

Since his marriage to Emilia, he no longer needs my help. They begged me to stay but nothing rubs salt into the wound of my loneliness like living with two hot-to-trot newlyweds who can’t keep their hands off one another.

It’s good to be back in the Village. Right?

Our family is a secret mafia, the Robin Hood of bad guys, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Men get in through a grueling initiation process. Women, only by marriage. And the unlucky few of us who become widows, well, we still have a place in the family. Being a Bachman is for life.

Our hub, our base of operations, is this Village. Entirely surrounded by a gray stone wall, it’s the size of a full city block. Behind the backs of the windowless buildings that surround the wall are dozens of double-entry black gates, a security pad used to open them.

The businesses and shops that form the square are all owned by the family. Each with their own secret closet in the back of an office, storeroom, or cloak closet, concealing blocked exits accessible only to Bachmans.

The housing is gorgeous, all row homes, three stories each. Seven homes to a street, and seven streets. Each structure is identical, except each individual makes their place their own with paint color, gardening, and landscaping. Large windows are on both the western and eastern sides of the homes, and also open to the back gardens and the streets. The perfectly manicured streets are tree-lined, with one main park in the center.

We have a rooftop bar, a schoolroom, cafes, and most recently added, this events center.

As I gaze over the balcony, I find my fingers tightening around the railing of the terrace, feeling like I’m lost, like I’m floating since I’ve been back. I know I need to join the others…

Speaking of…The first notes of “Rock the Boat” beat through the night. Peals of laughter fill the air. I turn back toward the ballroom, watching as a rainbow of Beauties make their way to the dance floor.

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