Anna Harding's Blog

Hiya m’beauties,

As most of you know, I write 3-4 books ahead of publication so it seems a long time since I wrote Hidden Emotions (just finished writing book 11 of Tangled Empires this week) so it’s nice to be talking about it again. I’ve got a very soft spot for Alessandro who seems to pop up in everyone’s book, lol.

This is the first time I’ve written an M/M romance but I knew it was going to happen from the very first time Alessandro turned up in book 1. There was never any question of him settling down with a girlfriend, I couldn’t push one of my favourite characters into a relationship that didn’t feel natural to him. As he comments himself :

‘I like men. ‘Fucking muscular hairy men with strong backs, big arms, and a cock I can ride to Heaven on.’

That said, Alessandro goes through a lot of pain before getting his happy ending…

This book doesn’t have a cliffhanger but it does work as a duology with book 9 where you’ll get the other side of the story about Alessandro’s disastrous marriage… You’ll see what I mean.

Please can I beg a favour. If you are enjoying my books I’d be ever so grateful for a quick review on whichever platform you usually do your reviews on (Amazon, Goodreads, Romance.IO, Fable etc.) It’s also always lovely to hear from readers too so welcome to drop me a line if you have any questions or comments: annahardingdarkromance@gmail.com

I’ll pop a snippet of the book down below

Anna xxxx

Leandro
February 1991

I sat down opposite Aurelio’s brother and noted yet again how well defined Alessandro’s upper body was. That had to be at least two to three hours a day in the gym. I smiled to myself at the tight T-shirt. I bought my shirts a size smaller to show off my muscles too. No point putting the work in if nobody was going to see it.

‘No interruptions,’ Aurelio told us brusquely, nodding at my pager. He hadn’t even bothered to invite his father. Everybody knew who was running the Mafia now—Aurelio in all but name. He was confident his father would step down within the year, which would make the three of us in the room the highest-ranking men in the mob.

I’d wondered a few times if Aurelio might appoint Alessandro as his underboss. Alessandro was younger than me but an intelligent man and a credible choice. I wouldn’t have resented being bumped to third place—Aurelio’s consigliere—but when I’d raised the subject, Aurelio had been very clear he wanted me as his underboss. I hadn’t been totally sure if Alessandro minded, but he never seemed bothered.

He grinned at me from under his lashes as Aurelio started moving papers into order on his desk. I grinned back. Alessandro had all Aurelio’s charm but none of his coldness. And he was a lot more fun. Much as I loved my best friend, I had to admit he wasn’t a man to share a laugh with. A drink, sure. A torture session, definitely. But humour wasn’t really in his nature.

Alessandro winked at me and pointed to a paper on the desk. ‘I added to his agenda,’ he mouthed at me. ‘He’s going to go apeshit!’

I tried to look disapproving, but Alessandro’s cheeky humour was so infectious I couldn’t help smiling. He was always winding his brother up, and it was very funny to watch. Meetings with Aurelio could drag on a bit, but a bored Alessandro really livened things up. I liked how he could turn the most serious of topics into something to laugh at.

We both listened politely while Aurelio talked us through his plans for the coming weeks. I could hear the frustration in his voice. He was still running the Mafia as his father had, but Aurelio thought bigger than crime and drug sales. He wanted to modernise the Mafia, to use legitimate enterprises to launder money and to grow investments. He wasn’t interested in drug routes and illegal gambling. One of the men had asked if he’d consider funding a cage-fighting club, and I’d never seen my friend look so disgusted.

Aurelio’s eyes widened as he looked at the next page and his voice was low and dangerous.

‘What the fuck is this?’

‘It’s a copy of the poem you wrote to Rose. It’s so good I thought you might like to read it to us as well.’

‘Where did you get this?’ Aurelio demanded, glowering at his laughing brother. ‘This is private, Alessandro.’

‘In your bedroom safe,’ Alessandro answered with a grin. ‘You changed the code to her birthday.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Let me see if I can remember it, “The flame of your hair and the fire of your eyes…”’

We’d both been amazed that cold Aurelio was interested in a woman. Alessandro knew more about it than I did, but Aurelio was whizzing all over the fucking place escorting Rose to galleries and concerts. For the first time since I’d met him, he was even gazing into space in meetings.

‘You went in my safe?’

Alessandro held his palms up. ‘You told me to! You needed some documents the other day.’

‘I didn’t tell you to go through my private papers and share them with other people.’

‘I thought you’d like to show Leandro your poetry.’

‘You’re a fucking liability,’ Aurelio snapped at his brother. ‘I suppose you thought this was funny.’

‘Hilarious,’ Alessandro agreed. ‘Hang on… I remember now: “I long for the touch of my lips on your lips. The world burns as I hold you in my arms.”’ He grinned at his brother again. ‘Her father will be on the next plane from England if you fuck her.’

‘I’d never insult Rose by offering her sex outside marriage.’

We both gaped at him. I’d never, ever heard Aurelio mention marriage without a derisory note in his voice. He liked women, sure, but I’d never even seen him offer a girl a second date. Now he was actually suggesting he might propose to an English girl. He was the future Capo—expected to marry an Italian—and Aurelio never went against Mafia tradition.

Alessandro’s face fell. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘She’s beautiful, intelligent and cultured,’ he replied icily. ‘Why wouldn’t I be serious?’

‘She fucking worships you, Aurelio. You’ll break her.’

Alessandro was right. I’d seen women fall for my best friend before, and he took an almost perverse pleasure in pushing them away when he was bored of them. He never dated Italian girls or anyone he might be serious about. He dated girls he could fuck and drop without making a scene or insulting any made men by defiling their daughters. I’d thought this English girl was just another of his conquests, but from the way he was speaking, Rose Lombard meant a hell of a lot more to him.

‘I’d never hurt Rose.’ Aurelio was glaring at his brother with heat in his eyes.

‘You might not mean to.’ Alessandro almost sounded desperate. His jaw tightened and he rubbed his head. It was clear he hadn’t been expecting this. ‘Aurelio, I love her, but she’s sensitive—seriously fucking sensitive. She’s already in over her head. She won’t be able to handle being ditched by you, and she sure as fuck wouldn’t be able to handle being married to you.’

Alessandro was a decent guy. He cared about people in a way his brother didn’t. I was so grateful that the third man making up that trilogy of power in the Mafia would be Aurelio’s brother. I could rely on him to intervene when Aurelio went too far. I studied him surreptitiously. Fucking good-looking too. If his brother was popular with girls, Alessandro was doubly so. Though I’d never known him chase casual pussy like Aurelio. Alessandro was always ruthlessly faithful to his fiancée and I admired that about him. The guy had integrity.

I almost wished he was less… about the girls. Alessandro was exactly the kind of man I was attracted to. Tough but not insensitive, fit but not vain, intelligent but not obnoxious with it—and sexy as fuck.

I imagined myself with him for a moment. Not just the sex—though that would be hot beyond words. But the company. Spending evenings together like Aurelio was planning to do with Rose. I wasn’t fool enough to think gay marriage would ever become legal in my lifetime, but my life could be a lonely one sometimes. Most of the men I’d been involved with had either been married and terrified of coming out or a good fuck I had nothing in common with beyond the bedroom.

Having someone to share my solitude and my home, even if I couldn’t do the marriage and kids thing, would mean the world to me.

I wanted a partner so much. Someone I could trust to keep my secret the way Aurelio always had. Someone fun-loving and carefree to balance out the responsibilities I’d had piled on my shoulders for years. Someone I could have a laugh with, who could help me relax and take life less seriously. Someone I could fall in love with.

Fuck, someone just like Alessandro.

Hiya all,

I can’t remember which book it’s in but I mention in passing the fact that Aurelio and Leandro got drunk when they first became made men. And I loved the idea of visiting these powerful antiheroes before they became the men they are in the series.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

So this bonus content tells the tale of Aurelio and Leandro, aged sixteen, about to take the oath to enter the Mafia and deciding to just have a quick glass of whisky first…

Looking forward to publishing book 8 in a couple of weeks. You’ll be glad to know book 11 is now finished and I’ve started on book 12 and I’m on track to finish writing the whole 14 book series by the end of the year!

Love you all.

Anna

The Induction

Leandro
Aged Sixteen

I glanced at my best friend nervously as we loitered outside the main bar of the hotel.

I agreed with him that we could both do with a drink but...

‘Aurelio, we’re underage. We’ll never get served.’

‘My father owns the hotel,’ Aurelio replied in that irritatingly self-assured manner he had. ‘They’ll serve me if I tell them to.’

We probably shouldn’t be drinking on what was definitely the most important day of our lives so far. Getting inducted into the Mafia at sixteen was a privilege. Eighteen had always been the usual age, but Aurelio’s father had agreed to waive the informal rule for his son, and he’d extended it to me too, as Aurelio and I had done all our training together. His father had been the mentor for both of us.

I didn’t want to let the Capo dei Capi down by not being responsible, but I didn’t want to look a pussy in front of Aurelio either. If he was having a drink, then so was I.

‘Whisky,’ Aurelio ordered the barman imperiously. ‘A bottle of it.’

‘What kind?’

I grinned at my best friend’s panic. He thought he was so sophisticated, but he couldn’t even name one brand of whisky. I’d tease the shit out of him about that later.

‘A strong one,’ he replied cautiously.

‘A cheap one,’ I interrupted, checking the contents of my wallet.

Becoming a made man couldn’t come soon enough for me. It was all right for Aurelio; his father gave him all the cash he wanted. I had to work for my money—and, given the choice of keeping my part time job at the wet fish stall in the supermarket or entering the high-reward world of organised crime, I knew which I’d rather be doing.

The barman shoved a bottle and two glasses at us and we moved to a table at the back of the room where we couldn’t be seen from the door.

Despite Aurelio’s bravado and constant banging on about how he’d be the Capo dei Capi himself one day, I guessed he didn’t want to be caught by his father in illicit drinking any more than I did.

‘So what did you do?’ he asked, pouring us both a full glass. ‘For your task? What was it?’

‘Some idiot who’d pissed your father off. I stabbed him.’

‘You stabbed him?’

‘Yeah, right in the guts. What about you?’

Aurelio scowled at me. ‘I shot mine.’

‘You shot him? Wasn’t that a bit pussy? I mean, shooting’s okay in a rush, but didn’t you want to make your induction task more memorable? You know that girls use guns?’

‘My father said it was an efficient execution.’

‘He would though, wouldn’t he? He’s your father, so he’s got to say that. He told me I’m a natural killer and that I don’t have any of the empathy which holds men back from rising in the Mafia.’

‘Did you puke?’

‘No. You?’

I grinned to myself as he went quiet. He so had. Aurelio reckoned he was so tough, but he’d puked that time I’d found the dead raccoon and investigated its guts with my knife. He’d also puked when we’d nicked a tape of his father torturing one of the Russians. He’d tried to claim it was seafood poisoning, but who gets fucking food poisoning from fish fingers?

‘I loved it,’ I said confidently. ‘There was blood everywhere. I wiped my knife on my shirt like I was some kind of maniac serial killer. They’ll probably have to burn his house down; there was so much blood. That’s the kind of guy I am. I make killing count.’

I knocked my glass of whisky back. ‘You reckon we ought to get names like all the really notorious ones do? You know, like Scarface or the Bull? I was thinking of calling myself Slasher.’

‘That sounds stupid. Like a shit superhero.’

‘Well, what would you be called then?’

Aurelio thought for a moment. ‘The Despatcher.’

‘That sounds like you work in a fucking mailroom!’

‘My father hasn’t got a nickname. Maybe we don’t need them?’

‘Be good to define ourselves though, start as we mean to go on. I mean, according to you, you’ll be the Capo one day and I’ll be your underboss, so we need to create some terror from the beginning. Maybe if we didn’t do the nickname thing, we should have a flourish instead...?’

‘A what?’

‘Like a trademark. Maybe we always carve a symbol into the corpses of our victims?’

‘Like what?’

‘A dragon?’

Aurelio scoffed in derision. ‘So we go on a deadly mission together, kill someone, and instead of getting the hell out of there we start cutting intricate images of mythological creatures into our victim? That doesn’t make us look hard, that makes us look like clowns.’

‘Well, we have to do something,’ I retorted. ‘You want to go down in Mafia history as much as I do. How do we separate ourselves from everyone else?’

‘We don’t have to. The top jobs are going to be ours for the taking. My father’s been training me to be Capo since I was five years old, and the reason he’s taken such an interest in you is because he knows you’ll be my underboss. We’ll learn everything we can, make a shitload of money, and then one day we’ll take the reins.’

‘You could change your mind,’ I said uncertainly, pouring us both another full glass.

That was always the problem with being Aurelio’s friend. We were never really very equal. My future depended on his goodwill and his friendship. Though I didn’t have much competition, I wasn’t just his best friend, I was his only friend. Everybody else thought he was a cunt.

‘I could,’ he said arrogantly. ‘I’ll be the most powerful man in the Mafia.’

‘Yeah, who pukes when he shoots people. You’ll need me around to do the stuff that makes you cry.’

‘I never cry.’

‘You cried when you got that B minus on your history essay.’

‘Yeah, and you cried when your fucking rabbit died.’

‘You fucking cried too. You loved Hoppetty as much as I did!’

We were silent for a moment as we drained our glasses.

Much as we bickered, the pair of us really were inseparable. Aurelio was right that we’d make a good team at the top of the Mafia one day. We both had that same driving ambition that propelled us forward. And we needed each other to achieve that ambition.

Without Aurelio I’d never be underboss. But without me, he’d never have a right-hand man he could trust with his life.

‘You nervous?’ he asked me uncertainly. ‘About today?’

‘A bit, yeah. You?’

‘Kind of. I asked my father what happens and he told me that people who haven’t taken the oath can’t know anything about the ceremony. But we’ve already proven ourselves, so it can’t be that bad?’

‘Fuck, you know how the Mafia’s into rituals. Suppose it’s something weird like... like getting naked?’ I didn’t know if I wanted to be a made man enough to take my pants down in public.

‘Why the hell would it involve taking our clothes off?’

‘Seeing as we don’t know, it could be anything, it was just a guess.’

‘A stupid guess.’ He filled our glasses again. ‘There’s some blood involved, I’ve heard.’

‘Our blood?’

‘Maybe...’

‘Well, don’t pass out,’ I told him with alarm. ‘You know what you’re like.’

Aurelio punched me. ‘You always make out like I’m less tough than you. But which of us couldn’t go in the garage when that big spider was in there?’

‘And which of us fainted when he had a blood test?’

‘That,’ he told me hotly, ‘was because I was ill.’

I sipped at my whisky thoughtfully. ‘I wish we knew more. Which of us goes first?’

‘Normally we wouldn’t go in together, but being the boss’s son I swung it for us to be inducted at the same time.’

That sounded better than I’d imagined. He could go first and then I’d know what I was doing when it was my turn. That way I wouldn’t embarrass myself.

‘I asked my father if you could go first,’ he added serenely.

‘Great.’

The little shit had obviously had the same idea I had, but unlike me he’d had the clout to get his own way. Now I was going to have to fumble through the whole fucking process like a dumbass while he got to sail through it after watching me make all the mistakes. Still, at least we’d be together. He was right, under any other circumstances we’d have been inducted separately.

‘I’ll get us more whisky.’ Aurelio announced. He stood up but immediately sat down again. ‘Shit, I’m dizzy.’

I glanced at the bottle. We’d drained the whole thing between us. A whole bottle of whisky and this idiot wanted more? I hadn’t realised we’d drunk that much. I thought I’d been steadying my nerves, but I’d been drinking like a fucking fish.

‘Dizzy?’ I asked incredulously. ‘We’re pissed, Aurelio. Twenty-five minutes before we stand up in front of the entire Mafia and take the oath. It’s bad enough for me, but everyone’s always going to remember the future Capo who got hammered the day he was sworn in.’

‘Shit, so what do we do?’

‘Water,’ I told him decisively. ‘We need to drink a fuck-ton of water. And… breathe on me.’ I smelt his breath. ‘You stink, and I probably do too. We need some mints.’

‘We can get water from the bar. Where do we get mints from?’

I looked across the bar into the adjoining restaurant.

‘They’ll have some in there. They keep them for handing out with the bill.’

I gave him a shove. ‘You’re the Capo’s son. Go and order them to give us a load of mints.’

‘What do I say?’

‘Say, “I’m Aurelio fucking Dinelli, and if I tell you to give me a shitload of mints, you do it.”’

‘Okay, but come with me.’

‘In case you puke?’

‘Yeah...’

He wasn’t wrong about feeling dizzy—the second I stood up the whole room started to sway. I should have stuck to beer. I was okay with beer. This stuff was stronger than anything I’d got my hands on before.

I grabbed Aurelio’s arm as he started to sway.

‘Look, just hold onto me. We’ll get the mints and the water and you’ll be okay.’

I dragged him into the restaurant and accosted the first waitress I saw.

‘Hi, can we have some mints?’

She took a step back, which I guessed was something to do with my breath.

‘This is the owner’s son,’ I persisted. ‘He wants some mints.’

‘Yeah... I do...’ Aurelio slurred.

‘Well... okay.’

She looked a bit unsure, but I doubted she gave a shit if someone took all the mints if it meant getting two drunks out of the restaurant.

She disappeared for a moment and came back with a box full, which she pushed into my hands. ‘I’d take him to the bathroom,’ she advised. ‘He doesn’t look well.’

It was good advice. Aurelio looked like he was going to be sick at any moment.

‘Can you give me a glass or a mug or something?’ I asked her.

She sighed and fetched me a water glass.

‘Seriously now, get out of here.’

I found the bathroom and pulled Aurelio into it. There was a man taking a piss, but I showed him my knife and told him to fuck off. He zipped up hurriedly and walked out.

‘Drink,’ I urged Aurelio, filling up the glass from the tap and pushing it at him. ‘Drink. Shitloads.’

It was just beginning to dawn on me that the Capo dei Capi, my future boss, wasn’t going to be incredibly happy with me if he found out I’d got his son drunk on our induction day.

I didn’t doubt at all that Aurelio would spin it to all be my fault—that was my best friend all over. He was cunning and sneaky. I needed to get both of us sobered up or my lucrative future in the Mafia just might all turn to shit.

‘More,’ I urged him, filling the glass again.

‘I’m going to be...’

‘Sick? Yeah, good. Go puke it all out of your system.’

I knocked a few glasses of water back myself while I listened to him retch in a cubicle.

The sound made me feel queasy myself, but I rested my head against the cool tiled wall and told myself firmly I wasn’t a lightweight like Aurelio.

He was still green when he came out, but he looked better than he had.

‘You get any sick on your shirt?’ I asked him. ‘Fuck, you did. Hang on.’

I unfastened my tie, drenched it in water and used the back of it to rub the marks off the front of his shirt.

‘Okay, better. Now you need to have some of these.’

He made a face at me. ‘Eat? No way.’

‘You want to breathe whisky fumes all over your father when you swear the oath to him?’ I demanded. ‘You want every elder in the Mafia to know you got drunk on what’s considered almost a sacred occasion? Eat the mints.’

He swallowed a handful, and so did I.

We stood back and looked at each other critically.

‘Maybe splash some water on our faces?’ I suggested.

I glanced at my watch ‘Actually, no fucking time. We’re due in the conference room.’

Aurelio straightened his tie with painful concentration before nodding decisively.

‘Right,’ he announced. ‘Nobody can tell.’

‘You’re walking into walls.’

‘I’m walking confidently.’

‘You’re fucked.’

‘So are you.’

He wasn’t wrong. I was going to have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.

I took one last mouthful of water and spat it into the sink as I stared at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, but I didn’t look as drunk as I felt.

It would just have to do.

‘Come on then,’ I muttered.

We left the bathroom shoulder to shoulder and headed for the conference suite. The hotel suddenly seemed strangely quiet. The closer we came to the double oak doors, the more the laughter and chatter faded until all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.

Two soldiers stood outside the entrance to the conference room and they both nodded respectfully to Aurelio as they opened the door for us.

There must have been over a hundred men in the room. Bosses from every Family— capos, soldiers and associates, all dressed in dark suits. Cigarette smoke hung beneath the chandeliers, and every pair of eyes turned towards us.

It was the first time I’d ever truly appreciated what the Mafia was. An entire fucking empire that one day would be headed by my best friend. Today marked our first step into a world that the two of us would eventually claim for our own. I wished I’d had the brains to stay sober. I wanted to remember this moment for the rest of my life.

‘Keep walking,’ Aurelio murmured without moving his lips. ‘You’ve got this Leandro.’

‘I’m trying.’

We crossed the room together until we reached the raised platform at the far end.

Carmine Dinelli stood waiting for us, flanked by his underboss and consigliere. These were the most powerful men in the Mafia. Induction was a big deal. One day it would be Aurelio and I deciding who joined the most powerful underworld organisation in America.

I looked nervously at a silver knife laid next to a small holy card with a picture of some saint on it and my stomach tightened.

Blood... Shit. Aurelio had been right. But who cut who?

I hoped to hell there wasn’t a lot of blood because no way could either of us handle the sight of it in the state we were in.

Carmine looked from his son to me and his mouth lifted slightly at the corner.

‘Leandro Barone.’

My mouth had gone so dry I almost couldn’t answer.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Step forward.’

I shot Aurelio a filthy look and the little bastard actually smirked. He’d definitely got his father to induct me first so he could be perfect on his go. Pretentious little shit.

I walked the final few steps alone and watched Carmine pick up the silver knife.

‘Leandro. Do you come here of your own free will, knowing that from this day until your death the Mafia comes before every other loyalty?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hold out your hand.’

I cautiously held my hand out toward him and winced as he sliced the blade across the tip of my index finger. I wanted to suck it as it started to bleed, but Carmine took my finger and pressed it against the card before folding it into my palm.

I glanced briefly towards Aurelio. The solemnity had sobered him up. He looked almost reverent. This mattered to him in the same way it did to me. We weren’t just two new made men, the two of us were the future of the Mafia. The men who would lead it into the twenty-first century.

I tightened my grip around the blood-stained card and raised my eyes to the man who ruled our world.

‘Do you enter freely of your own will?’ he asked me. ‘Do you pledge your life to myself and the Mafia?’

I took a deep breath.

‘I pledge my life.’

And that was it.

I was a made man.

Aurelio was fucking word perfect when it was his turn, of course. He didn’t even flinch when his father cut into him. He took the oath with a dignity that made him look like the ruthless Capo he would become and not the drunken schoolboy I knew him to be.

I did hold my breath when his father set light to the card and I prayed to all the Gods in the heavens that my best friend wouldn’t be sick at the smell of the smoke and fuck up his induction.

But he didn’t.

He carried himself with grace as we exited the room to the applause of the men who knew we would one day be their leaders.

Then I rushed him to the bathroom where he was violently sick over his shirt, his new suit, his freshly shined shoes and his expensive watch.

After watching him puke his guts up, I vomited all over the floor too.

One day Aurelio Dinelli and I would run the Mafia.

But for now, despite our new status as made men, we were still just two sixteen-year-olds who couldn’t hold our liquor.

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Book One Tangled Empires

Anna Harding

Prologue—Eloise

It wasn’t just his brutality I feared.
It was the power he now held over me—the power I had given him.

Tonight, I was expected to sleep with the man who had violently assaulted me.
The man I had screamed and fought against.
The man who had thrown me to the floor and forced me to submit.

The fear still burned in my nightmares.
Always the pain. Always the blood.
Always the cruelty in his dark eyes as he took what I hadn’t been willing to give.

But this time would be different.
This time, I was expected to accept it.
This time, he had a right to touch me—to invade my body with his—and to demand whatever response he wanted.

This time, I wasn’t his victim.
I was his wife.

I just wish it didn’t feel like the same thing.

Prologue—Alexi

Sometimes I wonder how differently my life might have turned out—if I hadn’t let my most hated enemy trick me into committing the worst act of my life.

If I were a decent man,
I’d regret what I did to that unwilling girl until the day I die.

But how can I regret the one thing that gave me everything I ever wanted?
How can I regret the act that brought me her?

Alexi

New York

December 1988

I shoved the girl off her knees and adjusted myself as my father walked into the room. He looked at me in disgust and jerked his thumb at the door for her to leave.
‘Don’t you ever do anything except fuck, Alexi?’

His words stung. I brought more money into the family than my other three brothers combined. Ok, I wasn’t a strategic mastermind like my elder brother Anton, but I knew the business inside out and I understood the weak spots of all our enemies. Especially the Italians.

Given the pressure I’d put the Italians under recently, I’d actually expected some praise from Father. But as usual, he was more interested in Anton’s casinos and Nikolai’s drug contacts.

That was the difference between me and my brothers. They created and I destroyed. They wanted to build up the business, but I was more interested in taking down anyone who opposed us. I mainly fought the Mafia, of course. But my fights were pretty fucking lucrative for the Bratva.

When I broke a drug run, I got the proceeds for myself with no cost except a bit of muscle and, if I was unlucky, the odd dead soldier. Nikolai spent weeks setting up a shipment—and paid for it. I just showed up and took what I wanted.

‘My evenings are my own,’ I retorted. ‘Anton hasn’t got a problem with it, provided the girls are fit for work when I’m through with them.’

Although Anton handled most of the family business and our father had stepped into the background, he still wasn’t officially out—and Anton wasn’t officially in. Which meant I was still answerable to my father. And lately, his patience with me was wearing thin.

It wasn’t just the whores. He may not like the fact that I spent most of my leisure time with my cock in a mouth, but he could overlook it. What he couldn’t ignore was my obsession with crushing the Italians—an obsession which he claimed was starting to damage the Bratva. I braced myself for another lecture about my feud with Aurelio Dinelli.

But for once, I was wrong. ‘You get a hard on for these sluts,’ he said suddenly, ‘but you haven’t considered marriage? Taking a wife would give you all sex all day and all night if you wanted it.’

Fuck me, that was unexpected. No, I hadn’t thought about a wife. And no way would I ever marry a girl of his choice. Some naïve little Russian virgin who’d run crying to her father—and worse, to mine—if I did anything in bed to her outside the missionary position. I couldn’t think of anything I’d enjoy less.

‘I’m twenty-five,’ I said, trying to think of a better excuse than just my age. ‘You always said a man shouldn’t settle down until he’s in his thirties.’

‘Alexi, the concept of you settled is so far removed from any kind of reality that I don’t think it warrants a discussion. I have no doubt that even if you were married you’d still fuck around and cause me trouble.’ He nodded when I raised my eyebrows at him in question.

‘Yes, I know about your brother bailing you out of your numerous debauched sexual escapades. And I know your attitude to women is generally appalling. Your mother would be heartbroken if she knew what a deviant she’d given birth to.’

That was a bit harsh. I know I use women. And I do go too far. But I didn’t think that qualified me to be described as a deviant. I wasn’t hanging about masturbating on street corners. I was only attracted to adult women—who the fuck wants a girl without tits?—and although for me it was a case of the rougher the better when it came to sex, it was usually consensual.

‘I’ll try and do better,’ I muttered.

‘I’m asking for more than that,’ my father replied. ‘I’m asking you to give some thought to the idea of getting married.’

Fuck! He was actually serious. I could feel the blue balls already.

‘Do you have anyone specific in mind?’ I asked him cautiously.

‘I’d like to ask Nemov if he’d consider his sister to be a match for you.’

I didn’t know her and I didn’t want to. This was fucking lunacy. He wanted me, ME, to marry the virgin sister of the unhinged boss of the Bratva. I didn’t want my boss knowing what I did in bed and I sure as fuck didn’t want Simon Nemov knowing what I did to his sister in bed. I might as well just take a jump off the Brooklyn Bridge now and save Simon the hassle of slowly dissecting me into small pieces.

‘It’s an idea,’ I mused while I stalled for time. ‘But why me and not Anton? He’d treat her better and Nemov rates him. He thinks I’m a cunt.’

‘You are a cunt, Alexi, but you come from a family that he’d consider making a match with. As for why not Anton, I’ve already asked him. In fact I’ve been asking him for weeks, but he won’t do it.’

This was interesting. Anton usually did whatever Father wanted. Why would he pass up a chance to please the boss and claim a pretty wife?

‘What’s his reason?’ I asked curiously.

‘He said he was too busy with work, and marriage would mean he couldn’t do his work justice or give a wife the attention she deserved.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Of course. But seeing as that was all he was willing to tell me, I’ve come to you instead.’

‘You’d do better with Nikolai. He’s soft as shit with women.’

‘Nikolai is only two years older than Anastasia. Nemov wouldn’t permit it.’

This was a nightmare. Father seriously wanted me to marry a girl I wouldn’t dare even ask to suck my cock. My future played out in front of my horrified eyes as I imagined not being able to get it up for fear of alarming her and sending her running with tales of my depravity to her ruthless brother.

‘Look, I’ll think about it, I promise. But work on Anton. He’ll come round if you push him enough. And think how much stress it would put you under if you knew I was taking Nemov’s sister to bed every night.’

Father didn’t look as if he disagreed with me on that point.

‘Imagine if it backfired,’ I pressed on, ‘and instead of bringing the families closer it caused problems because I wasn’t a good match for the girl. Nemov might even blame you for suggesting it.’

‘Are you seriously telling me you are so incapable of controlling yourself that you feel you’d be a risk to a woman you married?’

‘Are you telling me you want to take any level of risk where Nemov and his sister are involved?’

We glared at each other. I’d won the battle for now, but his look said it all—sooner or later he’d have some poor girl shackled to my bed for life.

Eloise

New York

December 1988

New York at last. I’d pictured it for years! I stepped off the plane and looked round frantically for my cousin. Everything about this city was faster than my life back in England.

‘Eloise!’ I saw a hand waving in the crowd and walked toward her in relief. I’d been worried I wouldn’t recognise her. Despite being penpals since we were ten, we’d never been allowed to meet face to face before. But Isabella was as cheery in the flesh as she was in her letters. She gave me a huge smile and flung her arms round my waist.

‘My brother Aurelio,’ she announced, stepping back carefully.

Her elder brother didn’t blink as his gaze swept over my dishevelled appearance—my hair untidy from sleeping on the plane—and he gave me a cold smile. ‘Welcome to New York.’ His eyes lingered with disapproval, and though the words sounded polite, there was no welcome in them. My stomach sank, but total exhaustion dulled the unease.

‘How did you get your stepfather to agree?’ Isabella asked, dragging me past a huge Christmas tree and a hundred twinkling windows that I kept trying to slow down to look in. America was amazing! Just like the shows I’d seen on television. Neither Isabella nor Aurelio showed any interest though. I supposed they were used to it—all the sights.

‘I just kept begging him,’ I told her, smiling at the memory. ‘He got fed up of me in the end. Though I don’t think he’d have let me come if I wasn’t staying with Uncle Carmine.’

‘Who could be safer to stay with than the Head of the Mafia?’ Isabella asked, laughing.

‘I told him you said your house is like a fortress.’

‘Guards everywhere,’ she replied comfortably. ‘All too terrified of my father and Aurelio to let any harm come to you.’

She pulled me over to a sleek red sports car. ‘Aurelio hates driving anything with four seats,’ she whispered. ‘But we wouldn’t all fit in his Ferrari.’

We sat in the back and she opened a packet of sweets and offered them to me. ‘What about your mother?’ she asked. ‘I bet she was harder to convince.’

‘She told me things would be different in a Mafia home.’ I pulled a face. ‘Half my clothes were too unsuitable, apparently. She wouldn’t let me bring any skirts above the knee.’

‘That’s probably for the best,’ said Isabella quietly, with a sideways glance at her brother. ‘Modesty is a major thing in my house.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Aurelio goes mad if I wear anything too short.’

‘What business is it of his?’ I asked. But I lowered my voice too. I didn’t want to get her into trouble, and I knew from her letters that Isabella had always been scared of her brother.

‘Elder male relatives make the rules,’ she said with a shrug. ‘They always have in the Mafia. I obey my brothers the same as I would my father. It’s just how things work.’

‘I don’t obey my brother,’ I told her with a grin. ‘We spend most of our time arguing with each other.’

Isabella laughed, but I saw a troubled look quickly flicker over her face. ‘Your mother’s right. Things will be different for you in our house. But I’ll help you get used to it.’ Her good mood returned. ‘We’ll shop and we’ll eat out and go dancing—we’re going to have so much fun now you’re here at last!’

I was looking forward to it. But when Aurelio’s dark eyes held mine in the mirror, a shiver crawled down my spine before I could stop it. Isabella’s way of life was more different to mine than I’d imagined.

Life with the Dinellis would be nothing like the life I’d left behind

***

‘Dinner!’ Isabella bounced up to me and linked arms. ‘I hope you’re hungry, because Mama’s made my absolute favourite. I could eat Cacciatore every day and never get tired of it!’

I laughed at her enthusiasm. ‘Every meal is your favourite!’ Isabella took after her mother—they both loved to cook and eat.

I couldn’t blame her. Aunt Ginevra’s food was next level. After a few days with an Italian family, I could see why the rest of the world mocked English cooking. I loved the richness of the sauces, the fragrant herbs and garlic, the huge, ripe tomatoes she somehow sourced even in winter. I was becoming just as addicted to dinner as Isabella.

I took my seat at the table, smiling across the candlelight at Uncle Carmine. He always made an effort to include me in the conversation—though when both his sons were present, business talk tended to dominate.

My uncle had gone out of his way to be friendly since I arrived. He was interested in English politics and often invited me into his office to get my opinion on one news story or another. Unfortunately, my reading material mainly consisted of fashion magazines, so I doubted I ever told him anything he couldn’t find in the American papers.

Uncle Carmine paused his conversation with Aurelio and turned to me. ‘Eloise! My wife tells me you want to see the city? I’d take you myself, but I’m tied up in meetings all week.’ He looked at Aurelio. ‘Perhaps you could take the girls to see the sights?’

Aurelio reached out for his glass of wine and took a sip, setting the glass down slowly. ‘No.’

The bluntness stunned me, and my head shot up to stare at him in disbelief. But Uncle Carmine didn’t react, and Aurelio clearly didn’t feel the need to explain himself.

I found Aurelio deeply intimidating. He carried the same quiet authority as his father, but Aurelio’s smile never reached his eyes. I always felt he was looking through me rather than at me.

I didn’t like the way he treated his sister either. He monitored Isabella’s friends, told her to change her clothes if he didn’t approve, and even dictated which books she could read. She accepted it all with barely a blink. I guessed that was what my mother had meant about a Mafia home being so different from the life I was used to.

Even Aunt Ginevra seemed to shrink around her eldest son. She’d blink a lot, clean her glasses, then look at him like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Aurelio was the kind of man people looked at twice. Not just because he was attractive—though I could definitely see my sister Rose being into those sculpted features: tousled hair darker than his eyes, and a neatly trimmed short beard that made him seem older than his twenties. But looks weren’t enough to explain the attention he commanded. There was something else about him—something that kept people fascinated…at a distance.

Uncle Carmine sighed heavily. ‘Perhaps you then, Alessandro?’ he asked his younger son.

Alessandro nodded good-naturedly at his father and shot a grin at me. I liked Isabella’s other brother a lot more than Aurelio. He was so much more relaxed.

Aurelio cut in. ‘I’ll arrange a bodyguard for Bella if they need to go into the city. Alessandro will be with me this week. Two of our restaurants have defected to the Russians. I can’t spare Alessandro for sightseeing.’

I felt my pulse quicken. It was strange to hear a family speak like this so openly. They discussed the criminal side of their business with the same ease other people talked about weekend plans. I couldn’t imagine my father ever discussing the illegal side of his art deals over the table—though I could definitely picture the look on my mother’s face if he did.

‘Which restaurants?’ Uncle Carmine asked, his face hardening.

‘Alfredo’s on Chester Street, and Rocco’s.’

‘Rocco’s I want back. It’s been ours for years. Alfredo’s you can deal with as you see fit.’

Aurelio gave a thin smile. ‘I plan to use it to send a message to anyone else who thinks they’re safer under Russian rule.’

‘Good. A show of strength is needed. But why the sudden interest in our restaurants? The Russians have never been big on protection. What’s stirred them up?’

Alessandro laughed out loud. ‘What do you think, Aurelio! The Russians don’t have a drug route left on the west side of the city since Aurelio blocked them all. Alexi Kostrov wants his blood.’

Uncle Carmine sighed. ‘Mikhail’s son? Weren’t we supposed to be co-existing in some kind of peace? I thought we agreed to give each other drug routes so neither side lost income.’

‘You did,’ Alessandro agreed. ‘But it started to unravel when Aurelio got half their whores working for us. And it fell apart completely when he blew up one of their casinos and had three of Kostrov’s men killed.’

Killed? I looked at Isabella in shock as my fork fell to my plate, but she was calmly buttering bread. This must be normal conversation for her. She hadn’t reacted at all to her brothers openly admitting they killed people.

‘Kostrov has baited this family long enough,’ Aurelio said, his voice as cold as his eyes. ‘I want him out of the picture.’

‘If you kill his son, Mikhail will go to war. That helps no one,’ Uncle Carmine was starting to get angry now. ‘If this turns into a feud, I’ll have to divert all our resources into protection. I didn’t build this business for you to waste my money fighting the Russians.’

I felt the glass in my hand tremble as I watched the anger simmer between the two men.

‘Killing him will not be necessary,’ Aurelio replied. He smiled again. ‘But I will make Alexi Kostrov regret the day he heard the name Dinelli.’

***

It wasn’t until everybody else had left the table and she’d had her third helping of dessert that I felt I could bring up the topic of the dinner conversation with Isabella.

‘Oh, they always talk like that,’ she said comfortably. ‘If they didn’t talk about business, then we’d just sit here in silence every night. Well, Father and Aurelio would. Alessandro is ok talking about other things, but he always gets caught up in the business talk too.’

She scraped her plate with her spoon. ‘I suppose it must be strange for you, the kind of things we discuss?’

‘It does shock me a bit,’ I admitted. ‘It’s just so weird to hear people talking about things like death and drugs so casually. But I get that not having secrets brings you closer together as a family.’

Isabella snorted. ‘Me, Mother and Alessandro maybe. Aurelio? No way.’

‘No?’

‘Can you imagine being close to Aurelio?’

‘He’s quite domineering,’ I said cautiously. ‘But you don’t seem to have a problem with him telling you what to do all the time?’

‘There’s no point arguing with Aurelio. He always gets his own way. It’s easier just to give in and get whatever he wants over with.’

‘He’s very protective of you.’

‘That’s not protection. Alessandro looks out for me. Aurelio just likes control. Especially when he’s bored. He agreed to tutor me for my exams two years ago when I was struggling at school. I was trapped in his office every single day of the whole summer holiday doing work that he set for me. I didn’t get to go swimming or out with my friends once. He’d just come in, look over my shoulder at the work I’d done, and then set me a pile more for the next day.’

‘Didn’t your father say anything?’

‘What could he say? I went from failing to being almost top of the class under Aurelio’s tutelage. Father’s a different generation, so when Aurelio tells him my clothes aren’t modest enough or my books are too trashy, Father believes him. Is your brother different, then?’

‘Well, Jamie is younger than me, so yes, it is different. It would be weird if he started telling me or Rose what to do. We’d probably tell him where to get off, if I’m honest.’

‘Eloise…’ Isabella hesitated, then glanced around the dining room to make sure it was still empty. She twirled a hair nervously around her finger. ‘Don’t say that kind of thing around Aurelio,’ she said. ‘Seriously.’

‘Why?’

‘He wouldn’t take it well. He might see it as a challenge. And you really don’t want to be on his radar. It’s hard to explain, but my brother isn’t someone you’d want to cross. If he makes an enemy, he goes all out to destroy them. I’d hate for you to say anything that might get you on the wrong side of him.’

She looked around again carefully and lowered her voice. ‘I probably shouldn’t say this… but Aurelio is dangerous. Not just dangerous in the sense that all made men are—Father and Alessandro are no strangers to violence— but there’s something about Aurelio that makes him different. He’s my brother, but even I’m afraid of him.’

I could see what she meant. Isabella’s two brothers were very different. Alessandro was so laid-back and casual. He was fun to be around and always volunteered to take us shopping. He would even watch a movie with us in the evenings sometimes, though that usually ended in a pillow fight between him and his sister when they argued about what movie to watch.

Aurelio was the total opposite. He was cold—almost emotionless. As far as I could tell, he had no interests beyond what he did in the Mafia. The look on his face whenever he spoke to me or Isabella made it clear he found our conversations dull and beneath him. I understood most men in their twenties weren’t exactly fascinated by the chatter of teenage girls, but the looks of derision from Aurelio were so barbed they could cut.

I realised then that Isabella wasn’t alone. I’d never been afraid of anyone in my life. But I was afraid of Aurelio.

Alexi

January 1989

The meeting had gone on for longer than planned, as usual. Father liked the sound of his own voice, and Anton had been too lost in his own thoughts to help me drag the discussion to a swift conclusion.

I fucking hated meetings. Sitting around all day wore me out. It was a waste of time when I’d wanted to take a few men and sound out a few more restaurants to see if they’d defect to our protection from the Italians. The protection racket bored me, but I knew how much it pissed Dinelli off when I stole a restaurant off him.

I loosened my tie and poured a drink, kicking back in my chair as I switched the computer on. When Nikolai had first shown me the thing, I’d looked at it the way all three of my brothers had looked at me when I’d had a phone installed in the Merc. But I’d got used to turning it on at the end of the day now.

The modem shrieked and crackled through its ritual—static, beeps, the grinding howl of a connection clawing its way through the telephone line—before the screen finally blinked to life.

I was planning to talk with someone tonight. A girl I’d met on one of those BBS boards Nikolai had shown me. We’d spoken a couple of times, and I wanted to arrange a meeting now. I didn’t mind a bit of chat, but I wasn’t one of those sad fucks who sat at the computer all night, jerking off while talking to women. This needed to get real, fast.

I’d made sure the girl was after the same thing I was, so I just needed to arrange a time to meet her. It was hard to read her tone online, but she’d been blunt enough to make it obvious that she wanted no-strings sex of the hard and rough kind. Which suited me perfectly.

I liked women, but I had little time for the social niceties that accompanied the whole dating scene. If I wanted sex, I paid for it. No questions, no complications.

I might feel differently if I were looking for a wife, but at twenty-five I felt marriage could wait a while. And, as Anton often reminded me, finding a wife who’d be willing to cope with my tastes in the bedroom would present me with a challenge anyway. I figured Father’s silence meant he agreed with Anton—no woman would be able to tolerate me for long.

I turned back to the screen. There she was. A pixellated red smile and cartoon tits. She’d definitely been thinking whore when she created that image.

Of course, I wasn’t naïve enough to think people on computers would depict themselves accurately but I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and an hour or two of my time. Though I’d be fucking pissed off if she turned out to be all talk.

I’d been on a few of these boards before and usually found them tedious and full of bored teenagers, but this one promised exclusivity and screened out the pretenders by asking for a hefty member fee. It also promised to cater for exactly the kind of thing I was looking for.

Her words started to appear slowly on the screen.

You said we could meet? Shall we sort something?

Direct and to the point. I relaxed in my chair. This was what I wanted.

Sure. When works for you?

If you’re free, I could meet you Thursday night. Early evening? Does that suit you?

Yes.

Good. No messing about. Though I wanted to check one more time she was OK with what she was agreeing to.

Tell me again. Exactly what you want me to do to you.

I wasn’t—just—looking to get off with some sex talk. I needed to make sure she was serious about the things we’d discussed. It was one thing to say it on a computer, it was another to put herself in my hands, in a situation where she had no control.

Her answer came quickly.

I want you to fuck me.

I looked at the words on the screen and frowned. I could get a quick fuck in less than thirty minutes by dialling any one of a handful of numbers.

And? I prompted.

Do whatever you want to me.

Women fucking annoy me when they say things like that. If I did half the things I wanted to, I’d be arrested and she’d be messed up for life. If she was genuine about meeting me, she needed to be realistic about the limits she had to set.

Don’t mess around. Anyone can type that kind of crap. Show me you’re serious.

The typing came all in a rush.

I want you to force me. Even if I scream and fight I want you to keep going. I need to fight and know you won’t stop.

Better. This echoed our previous conversations. Rough sex was what she wanted.

You want to feel like I’m forcing you?

I want you to promise that whatever I say or do, and no matter how much I fight you, you won’t take no for an answer.

That was more like it. I was intrigued by the prospect of such a realistic roleplay.

Promising that is hardly a problem for me. I shifted my cock as it stirred in my trousers.

I want to pretend… her typing paused a moment, That I don’t want you.

I see. You want it to feel real?

Definitely. It’s really important that you don’t stop because it won’t feel real if you don’t play along or if you stop and ask if I’m OK.

Trust me, I won’t give a fuck if you’re OK or not.

You promise? You won’t stop. Whatever I say? Even if I scream and beg you?

I liked the sound of that. It turned me on to hear women beg. Even if they were begging for more, that still worked for me. Her begging me to stop would guarantee her the roughest fuck of her life.

Agreed. I unbuckled my belt and started stroking my cock, which had thickened through the conversation.

Have you got a photo then so I make sure I fuck the right girl?

Yes. I’ll get a courier to deliver it. Where do you want it sending?

You know the club Nemesis?

Sure.

Just send it there in an envelope marked Alexi. I’ll get it.

I was short now that business was all but concluded.

You said you know where you want this to happen?

There’s a warehouse a few blocks away from me—nobody’s touched it in years.

She typed the map coordinates.

If you met me on the corner of the road then you could grab me and drag me there?

I laughed, her attention to detail amusing and exciting me at the same time.

It’s locked, she typed, But I can get the key. I’ll leave it in the door so you can lock it behind us.

OK. So it’s agreed. I grab you, drag you off the street, lock you up and fuck you within an inch of your life—without stopping, even if you beg me.

That’s exactly what I want.

Then that’s exactly what you’ll get, sweetheart.

I jotted down the details and, picking up the phone, I ordered one of the family’s whores to come round and deal with my hard-on.

Eloise

January 1989

It had taken me ages to find a dance class that matched what I’d been doing back home—and even longer to convince Isabella to come with me. So I was irritated when she bailed because Aunt Ginevra suddenly needed help sorting old family photos into albums.

‘She’d forgotten she planned to do it,’ Isabella told me with a resigned shrug. ‘But Aurelio decided to remind her. He did it on purpose. I told him last week that your class was tomorrow. He just didn’t want me to go. Still, you go—Father can get one of his men to drive you. Maybe I can come next week.’

‘Couldn’t you just tell him you’ve made plans already?’

‘I can’t. If I let my mother down, Aurelio would be furious with me.’

‘Did I hear my name?’ Aurelio came in and ruffled his sister’s hair. ‘Problem, Bella?’

‘No,’ Isabella assured him quickly. ‘There’s nothing wrong. I was just telling Eloise about the photos and Mama needing me to sort them with her. I wondered if maybe you or Father could get one of your men to drive Eloise to the class tomorrow so she doesn’t have to miss it?’

Aurelio nodded. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said, turning to me. His tone was casual but final, leaving no room for argument. ‘I’ve got some business on the other side of town, but I’ll pick you up and drive you back too.’

My stomach tightened; it sounded less like an offer and more like a command I had no choice but to obey. I didn’t like the idea of being alone with him at all.

‘I don’t mind missing the class,’ I told him. ‘I don’t want to inconvenience you.’

He looked at me as though I’d said something amusing. ‘If it inconvenienced me, I wouldn’t have offered,’ he replied, shrugging as if my protest didn’t matter.

‘If it’s out of your way…’ I lifted my chin a little. ‘I really don’t mind.’

‘It’s not out of my way, and I’d like you to be safe. You’re part of the family. Actually,’ he continued, ‘seeing as my mother is in the process of organising all her photos, we’d better make sure we have one of you for the album.’

He studied me for a moment, then turned to his sister. ‘Go fetch my camera,’ he ordered her. Isabella hurried off immediately at her brother’s command.

‘I take it you didn’t learn to drive in England?’ Aurelio asked me.

I wondered if he would have offered to lend me a car if I had learned, but I doubted it.

‘No, I had a few lessons but I wasn’t very good. I even tried an automatic, but I didn’t get on very well with roundabouts.’

‘Bella asked me for permission to learn, but I felt she was too young. She’s going to ask me again when she turns twenty-one.’

‘It’s seventeen to drive in the UK.’

‘It’s whatever age I deem appropriate in this household.’

I wasn’t sure how to reply to such blatant sexism, so I was relieved when Isabella turned up with the camera.

‘Here,’ she said brightly, handing it to Aurelio, who immediately stepped back and looked at me critically. ‘Try turning to the side,’ he suggested. ‘Show me your profile.’

I turned, self-consciously, into the pose he wanted and he took my picture.

‘This was such a good idea of yours,’ Isabella told him. ‘Though I’m hoping I won’t just have a photo to remember Eloise by. I’m trying to persuade her to stay in the States and do her degree here.’

She looked hopefully at her brother. ‘Maybe if you let me study Fashion, we could go to the same college?’

‘We have discussed this before,’ Aurelio told her coldly. ‘I will allow you to make clothes as a hobby, but you will not be studying it. The fashion scene is inappropriate for a girl in this family.’

He turned to me. ‘Are you academic enough for further education, Eloise? What would you study?’

I flushed. ‘Art. I like painting.’

‘Fine Art is a demanding discipline. I’d be interested to look over your work.’ He gave me a patronising smile. ‘Bring some pieces to my office when I’m free.’

I nodded politely, but there was no way on this earth I was going to show my paintings to my cold and condescending cousin. I’d rather stick them in the fireplace and watch them go up in smoke than take artistic criticism from Aurelio.

Aurelio smiled knowingly at me, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

‘I’ll get the photo developed this afternoon,’ he told Isabella. ‘Save a space in the album.’

I told myself it was only a picture. Just a family keepsake. But the way Aurelio’s eyes assessed me made it feel like something so much more…sinister.

Alexi

The girl was waiting when I pulled up. I was surprised she hadn’t tarted herself up like a whore. I’d expected short skirt and heels, not jeans and a ponytail. Though maybe this was her way of keeping the fantasy real. She was supposed to be the innocent bystander; I was the predator. That was the game.

It was a roleplay I’d played out a few times, but never with the detail we’d arranged. Usually, it stayed in the bedroom—kink, roleplay, a little brutality, nothing permanent. Force play, but not actual force. I’d always checked myself before going too far. I wanted a hard fuck, not a night in the cells.

I needed girls to set boundaries to control me because I couldn’t trust myself to know when I was going too far. And it had worked well enough. None of them had ever come back for a second go—I knew Anton had paid at least two of them out of prostitution. But I’d never left anyone in a state bad enough to cause me any trouble.

This girl was different.

She hadn’t drawn a single line. No safe words, no restrictions. In three late-night conversations, I’d pushed her, hard, asking for specifics. Every time, the answer had been the same:

Do whatever you want to me.

A fucking dangerous thing to say to any stranger, but it was verging on insanity to say it to me. Do what I want to her? Even I knew I’d have to stop before we did half the things I really wanted to.

She’d told me to do whatever I wanted—but she had no idea what that really meant. Maybe she thought she was in control, that this was still her game. It wasn’t. The second she said those words, it became mine.

Fortunately for her, I had no interest in drawing unwanted attention to the family, and I didn’t want the police at my door asking awkward questions. Sure, I could get a clean-up crew if things went too badly wrong, but that wasn’t my kink. I got enough opportunity to kill at work. Killing to me was a mundane and functional act. There was nothing erotic about it.

Even my darkest fantasies didn’t involve killing women. I just liked it rough. Force turned me on—terror, resistance, control. Not corpses. But I wondered if she had considered that? That some men get off on blood and death? Maybe that was part of the thrill for her.

I did plan to offer her cash afterwards. This might be her fantasy and she hadn’t seemed interested when I’d mentioned money, but when reality hit, she’d need a few dollars. Even if only for a medical check-up.

She gave me a polite smile as I crossed the street. Her acting was top tier. Clearly, realism mattered to her. So I got into character and stalked slowly to where she was standing.

The street was empty, just like she’d said. Not quite dark enough for the usual nightlife, but quiet enough that no one would be hanging around. Public enough to add a thrill. Private enough not to ruin my fun.

I stepped behind her. She tensed and moved away slightly. That tiny flinch—barely a shift of muscle—made me hard. Real fear leaked through no matter how well she acted, and I fucking loved it. Resistance, panic, her trembling body…I wanted to hurt her and leave her broken and destroyed on the floor.

If just my presence unsettled her, she was in for a hard few hours. Moving close enough to smell the sweat of her fear, I unsheathed my knife and pressed the point of it gently against her back.

‘Be silent,’ I said, in a low and deadly voice.

I’d mentioned nothing in advance about knives, but her open invitation to do whatever I wanted gave me no qualms about using my favourite tool. Knives were supposed to be props in roleplay, but for me they were something else. A promise. Once steel touched skin, I always wanted to go deeper.

She gave a sharp intake of breath but obeyed my command.

‘When I give the word,’ I continued, ‘you’ll turn around and walk beside me. No screaming. No looking at me. No hint that anything’s wrong. Understand?’

She gave a tiny nod.

‘If you draw attention to us, you’ll regret it.’

The girl swallowed, but I gave her no chance to react. ‘Turn around.’

She did, her eyes not daring to meet mine. Trembling. The shudder ran straight through me. I loved this—real fear, not giggling in lingerie and candlelight. This was what got me off. I appreciated her attention to detail and I appreciated her acting ability. This was going to be one hell of a fuck.

I motioned for her to walk ahead. I hadn’t touched her yet. I wanted to get closer to the warehouse before showing any muscle. No need for some idiot passerby to think they were watching a real crime. Though I was so turned on now that any passerby would quickly find himself gutted before he came between me and sinking myself into this girl’s tight pussy.

I’d scoped the place earlier. Derelict and dirty, the perfect backdrop for the scene of violence and violation. The key had been in the door like we agreed. I’d pocketed it and left it locked.

As we neared the entrance, I sheathed the blade and clamped my gloved hand over her mouth. She tried to scream. I’d expected that. I grabbed her waist, yanked her back into me, lifted her off the ground and squeezed the air out of her lungs. She was light as anything. Easy to carry and easy to silence. She flailed, but she had no chance against me.

I unlocked the door and shoved her inside. Her scream died against my glove as I forced her into the dark.

She thought she’d scripted this. She thought she knew the ending. She was wrong. Whatever story she thought she’d written, I was going to brand my own into her skin.

Dark Atonement is available for purchase on Amazon and to read in Kindle Unlimited.

Hiya,

You can always tell when I’m writing something dark because the bonus content gets a lot lighter! I’ve just finished writing book ten (Vilen Kostrov and Calina Nemov) and though he’s the most unlikely hero you can ever imagine, I ended up agreeing he could have his HEA in the end.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Don’t forget book seven Tortured Innocence is out next week and available for preorder here. (That’s one’s dark as hell so skip it if you don’t feel the aftermath of prolonged torture is your thing. It’s not too gratuitous though, the emphasis is far more on recovery than actual trauma and some of my early readers have said it’s really quite beautiful).

But I thought we’d go back to the Mafia for some fun first. Here’s your hero and mine - Aurelio Dinelli - trying to have a quiet dinner while his young daughters have got LOT of questions about what he does for a living and what exactly is a “mafeeya”…

Take care m’beauties

Anna

Leandro

By the end of a meeting with Aurelio, I was always desperate for a drink. I’d never known anyone talk as much as my best friend. He could make a two-hour meeting last all day, indulging his obsession with detail and his determination to make sure his inner circle knew his thoughts on every aspect of their businesses.

By the end of the afternoon, Alessandro and I had practically run to the boss’s sitting room to knock back as much of his alcohol as we could.

‘At the price I pay for that wine, at least swirl it on your tongue before gulping it down,’ he told me crossly.

That was Aurelio all over—an expert on everything from wine to women. I’d given up trying to appear as cultured and poised as him years ago. If being like the boss meant drinking wine that cost more than the average car and listening to all that classical music shit, then I’d happily take the hit to my reputation. Who gave a shit if I liked Madonna more than fucking Beethoven anyway?

‘Can you actually tell the difference?’ Alessandro asked him curiously. ‘Between the store-bought shit Leandro and I drink and your high-end stuff, I mean?’

‘Your wine is little better than paint stripper, Alessandro, which is the only use I’d ever have for it.’ He took a sip from his glass. ‘Smooth, rounded, elegantly balanced—this isn’t a wine you drink, this is a wine you practically make love to.’

Alessandro snorted and I laughed out loud. He really could be a pretentious prick sometimes. I loved Aurelio like a brother, but there were times I just couldn’t help laughing at him.

‘Philistines,’ Aurelio told us coldly, but he was smiling as he stretched out on the sofa. He’d given up on trying to educate the pair of us. We preferred beer to wine, the movies to the ballet, and rock music to Chopin, and there was no point him trying to teach us otherwise.

‘So, you want a breakdown on coke routes?’ I asked him, but he held his hand up to stop me, and I closed my mouth immediately as his daughters came into the room.

I’d always felt a bit sorry for Angelina and Livia. The poor kids lived more in a boot camp than a home. Their mother was gentle as fuck and Aurelio wasn’t cruel to them in any way, but he did believe in extreme discipline. I’d never met such well-behaved little girls, but I thought—and Alessandro agreed—that they should be allowed a bit more fun.

‘Daddy?’ Angelina put her hand up.

Six years old and he still expected his girls to raise their hands before speaking to him. I made a mental note to offer some babysitting and give those girls all the sweets, popcorn, and trashy kids movies they could handle.

‘You may speak,’ Aurelio told her benignly. ‘How are your Latin classes going?’

The poor kid was studying Latin at six years old?

‘Good, thank you, Daddy. May I ask you something?’

Aurelio smiled at his daughter. ‘You may.’

‘Daddy, the girls at my school were talking about you.’ She gave him a worried look. ‘They said you do bad things,’ she said quietly. ‘Really bad things.’

‘Bad things—in what respect?’

Angelina’s voice lowered and she almost whispered. ‘They told me you throw people in the river. I told them you didn’t, but they said I didn’t know anything and your job is killing people.’

Aurelio looked almost stunned for a second. ‘They told you I kill people?’

‘I told them you would never hurt anyone,’ Angelina reassured him quickly. ‘I told them how nice you are.’

Alessandro burst into fits of laughter and Aurelio glared at him. ‘Behave or get out.’

‘I’ll behave,’ he promised through his laughter. ‘This is too good to miss.’

‘Daddy…what exactly is your job?’

Now there was a question no mob boss ever wanted to be asked by his young daughters. They were both looking at him expectantly, hoping for an answer they could take back to school to stop what they believed were the lies of their little friends.

‘I’m a businessman,’ he said after a pause.

‘What kind of business, Daddy?’

It wasn’t very often we got to see Aurelio flustered or struggling for words. But this question was obviously one he hadn’t anticipated being asked for a few years at least, and it was clear he had no idea how to answer it.

‘I own clubs and casinos,’ he told her vaguely. ‘A lot of people work for me.’

‘Daddy, is it true that when you argue with people you put their bodies in the river?’

More than fucking true. The Hudson would burst its banks one day with the amount of enemies we’d chucked in it. He’d got me slinging corpses into unused quarries recently, as we’d decided we might have chucked a few too many in the river over the last couple of years.

‘Who told you that?’ he demanded.

‘Gemma.’

‘Tell me her surname. I’ll be discussing this with her parents.’

Angelina’s lip was starting to wobble, but she managed to reply with the name he wanted.

‘Daddy, why do you put people in the river?’ Livia piped up. ‘Won’t they drown?’

‘He kills them first,’ Angelina explained to her younger sister. ‘He doesn’t put them in the river until they’re dead.’

Livia looked at her father with interest. ‘Why, Daddy?’

‘Gemma says he does it when they make him angry… He runs them over with his car and then puts them in the river.’

The car thing was a bit out of left field, but I supposed that was all little girls could come up with when trying to imagine how grown-ups killed each other. And I was glad. I didn’t want the real images in the heads of my goddaughters. They’d never sleep again if they were forced to visualise their father slowly dismembering people while still alive.

‘Why the river, Daddy?’ Livia asked him. ‘Why don’t you bury them in the ground like Mommy does when our gerbils die?’

‘I don’t put people in rivers!’ Aurelio exploded.

I nudged Alessandro. ‘Help him out.’

‘No fucking way,’ he told me with a grin. ‘This is too much fun.’

Angelina turned to Alessandro shyly. ‘Uncle Alessandro, do you help Daddy put people in the river?’

‘Not me,’ Alessandro protested. He grinned at me. ‘But I can’t speak for your Uncle Leandro.’

‘Do you help Daddy with the river bodies?’ Livia asked me, looking like she was about to cry.

I stretched my arm out and pulled her towards me. I’d known the girls since they were babies and they both liked and trusted me.

‘Of course not. Sweetheart, how many people are saying this about your Daddy? Just one or two of your friends?’

She chewed her hair for a second. ‘Not many.’

I grinned at Aurelio in relief. ‘Just a couple of schoolgirls, nothing to worry about.’

‘All the other girls think Daddy runs the…’ She thought for a moment. ‘Mafeeya. Daddy, what’s a Mafeeya?’

Shit this was getting a bit close to home.

‘It’s where bad people go to do crimes.’ Angelina looked at Aurelio with big, troubled eyes. ‘Daddy, you’re not in a Mafeeya, are you?’

Aurelio had clearly had enough. He pressed a button on the intercom and spoke firmly into it before pouring himself another glass of wine. I laughed silently to myself—he didn’t take his own pretentious advice about swirling it on his tongue this time, he just threw it down his throat in one go.

‘Aurelio?’ His beautiful wife came in and kissed his cheek before smiling at me and Alessandro. We both loved his wife, and though we’d never dare tell him, we admired her immensely for being able to put up with the tyrant that was her husband.

‘The girls have questions,’ Aurelio murmured. ‘Some of the girls at school have been talking.’

Rose turned to face her girls kindly. ‘What’s worrying you, Angelina?’

Both the little girls spoke at once.

‘They said Daddy puts bodies in the river!’

‘Mommy, what’s a Mafeeya?’

Rose took both of their hands as she sat down. ‘One at a time,’ she said briskly. ‘Angelina, your Daddy most certainly does not put bodies in the river. I can only think someone has misheard and got things very wrong. Your Daddy has put bottles in the river before, but he has promised he won’t do it again.’

‘That’s littering…’ Angelina breathed. ‘That’s so bad.’

‘Yes, it is very naughty. But he knows it was wrong and he won’t do it again.’

She turned to her younger daughter. ‘You mean a “Mafia”, Livia. That word just means a group of families who help each other and run businesses together. Like Uncle Alessandro and Uncle Leandro help Daddy.’

‘Gemma and Sally said Mafias do crimes,’ Angelina questioned Rose.

‘Some people get the wrong idea and make it sound scary, but it’s mostly just grown-ups working together.’ She laughed. ‘You can’t imagine your Daddy and your uncles doing crimes, can you?’

Angelina looked relieved. ‘No.’

‘Exactly! Poor Uncle Leandro looks horrified at the very thought of it!’

Poor Uncle Leandro was actually admiring the deft and confident way she reassured her girls. It made me laugh that Aurelio, who was so powerful and erudite in his business life, always ended up hiding behind his wife when asked awkward questions by his children.

Livia patted my leg. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle Leandro.’

Angelina ran over and hugged her father. ‘I’m sorry, Daddy. I know you’d never do anything as bad as putting people in the river. Though,’ she said sternly, ‘it is bad to litter. You shouldn’t do that. If you put things you shouldn’t in the river, it can make the fish poorly.’

Aurelio’s face at the lecture from his young daughter was a picture, and even Rose was struggling not to laugh. Angelina looked delighted to have the moral high ground over her father, and I suspected he hadn’t heard the last about his immoral littering ways.

‘Daddy, when I grow up can I be in the Mafia?’ Livia asked thoughtfully. ‘I could go to work with you every day and we could eat hot dogs for lunch.’

‘Tell you what,’ Rose suggested, ‘how about you, me, and Angelina think about a job that might suit you better, and while we’re doing that we can open some cans of sausages and make hot dogs for dinner?’

Aurelio opened his mouth to object, no doubt to tell his wife he wouldn’t eat processed junk food if his life depended on it, but Rose silenced him with a look.

‘We will all be having hot dogs for dinner,’ she said firmly. ‘Some of us because we like them and some of us because we’ve caused a lot of trouble today by letting rumours about bottles being put in the river be spread round the school playground.’

‘Can we stay to dinner?’ I asked.

Rose just nodded with a smile.

I grinned at Alessandro. It hadn’t been such a bad day after all—we’d drunk three bottles of the boss’s best wine, got to see him soundly told off by his young daughter and ordered about by his wife—and now we were going to enjoy watching him reluctantly chomp his way through a kid’s meal instead of his usual elaborate, chef-prepared dinners.

And next time the boss pissed me off? I was going straight to his kids to tell them I’d seen him chucking wine bottles in the river again.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Thank you to everyone who has joined the arc list team so far. I’ve got all the email addresses safe and I’ll send out PDF copies tomorrow.

If anyone else is interested please email me at annahardingdarkromance@gmail.com and I’ll be glad to add you to the list.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

This is an extremely dark book so just bear that in mind.

I’ll pop the blurb below

Anna

Tortured Innocencw

Sarah was innocent when a criminal gang murdered her family and locked her in a cage.

By the time she was found, that innocence was gone forever.
Violated and broken by men who treated her suffering as entertainment, Sarah learned endurance and how to survive long after her hopes of freedom had died.
Her rescue comes too late to save her unscarred.
Dragged from captivity damaged, traumatised, and barely alive, Sarah is given a death sentence by the sadistic boss of the Bratva.
But one man believes in her future.
And Lev Nemov cares enough to defy his brother’s order to kill her.

Lev is no saviour.

He’s shaped by brutality of his own, a man forged by violence and loyalty to an organisation that breaks every rule he wants to believe in.
Saving Sarah is one thing, but understanding her is another.
He cannot force his protection on her no matter how much he needs her to be safe.
Other men stole her choices. He refuses to be one of them.
Loving a woman who has been tortured means accepting that she may never be whole again. That she may never be able to love him the way he loves her — or at all.

Tortured Innocence is a dark, unflinching romance about survival after sexual violence, the long road through trauma, and the complicated, imperfect love that grows in its aftermath.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Hi everyone,

I do love writing bonus content, it’s usually a bit more light hearted and family focused than the darkness I put my poor characters through in the books and it’s a lot of fun to write.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

So seeing as book seven is all written, edited and lined up to be published on May 15th I thought we’d have some lighthearted fun with Aurelio before the dark dark horrors that await you in ‘Tortured Innocence.’…

Thanks to all those who have signed up for the book 7 ARC, they will be sent out 28th April. There’s still space left if anyone else wants to join!

Anna

Spoilers for book 3 and beyond (but nothing you wouldn’t know from the blurbs)

No frogs are harmed in this story.

……………………………………………………………….

Rose

Manners were important to my powerful husband. I knew a lot of people were horrified by how formal their Capo dei Capi was, particularly by the etiquette he demanded at meal times. Nobody was ever seated before my husband and nobody left the table without his permission. I’d got used to it now and it didn’t bother me. My children were used to it too. They’d grown up with their father’s strict rules and had never known anything different.

My sister Eloise hated Aurelio’s rules and said it was cruel that he made our girls raise their hands for permission before speaking. We hadn’t been brought up like that and she was shocked I stood for it in my home. But Aurelio insisted his discipline was bringing our children up properly. And Aurelio was always right.

So when I went into our formal dining room, expecting to see my girls smartly dressed and standing by their chairs ready to be seated for dinner, I was surprised to see them both crawling on the floor.

‘Angelina,’ I told her sternly, ‘your father doesn’t like to see play at mealtimes.’

She backed out from under the table. ‘I’m not playing…’

‘Then stand politely and wait for your father.’

‘She can’t,’ Livia chimed in gleefully. ‘She’s lost her frogs.’

‘Lost her what?’ I’d heard, but I just wanted a few more seconds before I had to face the reality that there were frogs hopping round my dining room minutes before Aurelio and his guests arrived.

I tried to think who was coming for dinner. Alessandro—he’d be fine. I loved my brother-in-law to bits. Leandro was always quite laid back too. Dante and Nico I didn’t know as well though—I hated the thought of embarrassing Aurelio in front of his senior men.

‘How many frogs?’ I asked my eldest daughter.

‘All of them,’ she answered gloomily.

‘How many is all of them?’

She held up a large box. ‘They were all in here.’

‘But how many were in there?’

‘Seventeen, I think.’

What my eldest daughter was doing with a box of seventeen frogs I didn’t know. Nor did I know if it was appropriate ‘frog keeping’ to store them in a box. If she wanted a pet frog her father would buy her a vivarium and all the equipment to keep the frog safe and happy. But what was she doing, just picking them out of the garden?

‘It could be worse,’ Livia piped up. ‘It could have been the bug box that got loose.’

Ok, I was going through my daughter’s room at the first opportunity and finding out what other living creatures she was keeping as pets. But my first priority had to be finding these frogs.

‘Did you lose them all in here?’

‘I tripped over and the box fell open.’

‘What were you doing bringing frogs to dinner anyway? Why on earth would you think that was a good idea?’

‘She puts the box under the table and slips them a bit of the fish course.’

I had to smile at Livia’s snitching. I’d been much the same with my sister. I’d always told on Eloise’s escapades. Though even Eloise had never gone so far as to bring frogs to dinner.

‘We’ll discuss that later,’ I told them firmly. ‘The important thing now is to find all these frogs and get them back into your box before your father and the other senior men of the Mafia come in to dinner.’

The concept of senior men in the Mafia was lost on my girls but the tone in my voice certainly wasn’t. I was panicking as much as they were now. Seventeen frogs loose in my dining room before my exacting husband hosted a dinner? Aurelio even noticed if the cutlery wasn’t aligned correctly. I’d seen him reduce waiting staff to tears for not serving him first at dinner.

A horrible thought hit me. ‘What kind of frogs, Angelina?’

‘Lots of different kinds.’ She twisted her fingers together and then blurted out, ‘One of them can kill ten men.’

‘What the absolute…?’ I didn’t know enough about the amphibian life of New York to know if the frogs here were poisonous or not, but I knew some frogs and toads could be toxic. This dinner might not just embarrass my husband, it might kill him as well.

‘Find them,’ I snapped at her. ‘Under the table, both of you. Get as many as you can in the box.’ I shoved Angelina toward the top end of the table, Livia to the bottom, and then knelt on the floor to start checking under the rest of the furniture in the room myself.

‘Got one!’ Livia cried triumphantly.

‘Put it in the box then.’ I peeked at it cautiously through the side of the box. ‘Was that the one that can kill ten men?’

‘No.’

No, of course it wasn’t. And what was I even doing, letting my girls look for creatures that harmful? I was a terrible mother.

I stood up quickly. ‘Both of you, out from under the table. I want you both standing on chairs. You spot the frogs, I’ll catch them.’

‘There’s two under the table, Mom,’ Angelina supplied helpfully. ‘Be careful though, the green one pees on you.’

Oh wonderful. I was wearing Versace, about to be adorned with frog urine. I doubted this could get any worse.

A male cough interrupted my frog catching and I hit my head on the table backing out.

‘You ok, Rose?’ Alessandro asked me with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Why’s your mom under the table, girls?’

I knew he’d find this whole thing hilarious but I also knew that two frog catchers would get this nightmare over quicker than one.

‘The girls have dropped their frogs,’ I told him shortly. ‘I need them caught before Aurelio comes to dinner.’

‘You’ve got a few minutes. He’s taken Leandro to go through some figures. Frogs though?’ He grinned at me. ‘He’ll go nuclear if he finds out.’

‘Then help me find the fucking things.’

‘Mom!’ Livia looked at me, shocked. ‘You said a bad word.’

‘I’ll say a lot more bad words if your uncle Alessandro doesn’t get under this table and start helping me catch these pesky hopping monsters.’

At the direction of Angelina, still safely standing on her chair, we managed to cram most of her frogs into the box. I counted them doubtfully.

‘How many did you say you have?’

‘Seventeen…’ There was a long pause before she admitted truthfully, ‘I think.’

‘You think? So you don’t know.’

I lifted the lid and counted again. Seventeen. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure as they all hopped around so much, but I thought we’d got them all.

‘One of them squirted me with water,’ Alessandro said indignantly. ‘It’s all over my shirt.’

Both my girls immediately opened their mouths but I glared at them quickly. I had enough to deal with without having to apologise to my brother-in-law for frog pee. I shoved the lid on the box.

‘Can they breathe in there, Angelina?’

‘I keep it propped open at the side for air.’

‘So that’s how they escaped!’ I thought quickly. ‘Livia, go ask cook for a sharp barbecue spike. Don’t tell her what it’s for.’

Angelina’s lower lip wobbled and she ran to Alessandro and flung her arms round his waist. ‘Mom’s going to kill my frogs,’ she wept. ‘She’s going to stab them and barbecue them!’

Alessandro was doing his best not to laugh but he put his arm round his niece.

‘I won’t let her, sweetheart. How about instead of skewering them we use the spike to put some holes in the lid so the frogs can breathe?’

‘That’s what the spike was for!’ I snapped at him.

But he just grinned at me. ‘Rose Dinelli, wife of the Capo and frog murderer.’

I was almost tempted to ask Angelina to run upstairs for her bug box and tip the lot over Alessandro. But I didn’t have time. Aurelio would be here any second and I still had to ensure a bunch of frogs could breathe before anyone took table.

‘Give it to me,’ I ordered Angelina as soon as she reappeared. ‘Now Alessandro, hold the box still.’

I was just about to carefully poke a hole in the box when Leandro wandered in. He looked at the box curiously. ‘What’s that?’

‘Frogs,’ Alessandro told him airily.

‘Yeah? For dinner?’

Alessandro just shoved him. ‘Don’t be an idiot. Live frogs. Is Aurelio on his way?’

‘He’s showing Dante some boring poetry book he’s had shipped from Italy.’ He yawned. ‘So why have you got live frogs?’

‘They’re mine, Uncle Leandro.’

Leandro ruffled Angelina’s hair. ‘I might have guessed. Don’t let your father see them. We had a frog in a meeting once and Aurelio wouldn’t carry on until I’d caught the fucking thing and put it out of the room.’ He winked at Alessandro. ‘Funny how many times we had meetings with frogs turning up since we discovered the boss doesn’t like them.’

I finally finished putting breathing holes in the box and handed it back to Angelina.

‘Don’t open it, put it somewhere safe and don’t mention frogs again this evening.’

‘He’s coming,’ Alessandro hissed at me.

‘Quick! Take your places, girls.’

We were just in time to stand behind our chairs when Aurelio and two of his top men strolled in. He glanced round the room, doing his customary check of the girls’ dress and appearance. His eyes flickered slightly with surprise when he looked at me but he said nothing, just sat down and motioned for everyone else to do the same.

I smoothed my hair self-consciously and wished I had a mirror. I must look a state after crawling under the table. I’d apologise to him later when we were on our own.

‘What did you learn at school today?’ he asked the girls.

Angelina put her hand up. ‘Please, Daddy, we learned that the Nile is the longest river in the world.’

‘And I learned some plants eat insects,’ Livia told him proudly. She looked with interest at the flowers on the table. ‘We could get Angelina’s bug box and…’

I met her eyes and shook my head at her but it didn’t matter. Aurelio was frowning at Angelina. ‘The Amazon is the longest river in the world.’

‘My teacher said…’

Aurelio held up his hand to silence her. ‘Your teacher is incorrect. Rose, ensure the teacher is corrected. The Nile is only longer if the Amazon’s true source in Peru is not considered.’

‘You’ve done it now,’ Alessandro told his niece with a wink. ‘You’ve made your father hopping mad.’

They both giggled and Leandro laughed out loud. I tried to keep a straight face and not burst out laughing but a snort exploded out of me and Aurelio looked at me in astonishment.

‘Eat, everyone,’ I said hurriedly. ‘Nico, Dante, I hope you both like French food. French onion soup is a favourite of Aurelio’s. He even permits the cook to use his best wines in it.’

They both assured me they were looking forward to the meal and I relaxed for the first time that evening. Both the girls were on their best behaviour, the soup starter had been served, Alessandro had stopped teasing me about frogs and I settled down to listen to Aurelio’s interesting comments on current affairs. There was always someone in Congress annoying my husband—usually when they were passing laws to tighten up money laundering.

‘Amazing food,’ Leandro told me. ‘I’d offer your cook double salary to work for me, but your husband would probably shoot me.’

‘We’ve always been very traditional with our meals,’ I explained. ‘But I wanted the girls to be aware of other cultures than Italian so we’ve been trying some more European dinners lately.’

I was finally about to start my own dinner when there was a massive splash at the head of the table. Soup flew everywhere, drenching my powerful husband who was staring, almost terrified, at the thrashing in his bowl.

Alessandro and Leandro started laughing hysterically.

‘French food?’ Alessandro shouted at his brother. ‘You do know your cook’s supposed to cook the fucking frog legs first?’

‘Frog?’ Aurelio stood up in a hurry. ‘Rose, what the hell?’

‘Aurelio… I can explain…’

Angelina looked at me sadly. Aurelio was so strict with her. A box of frogs would lose her most of the summer to extra lessons. A frog in his soup would probably mean Latin lessons with him for life. I couldn’t bear my daughter looking so upset.

He was still looking at me expectantly. ‘Go on?’

I opened my mouth with no idea what I was going to say, probably to confess that the stray amphibian belonged to me. I was the only person who ever escaped Aurelio’s wrath so I could confess without worrying.

But Dante beat me to it. ‘It’s frog season,’ he told his boss with a straight face. ‘They’ve been coming in our house too.’

Leandro took the cue. ‘Yeah, same in ours. They jump up and scare Gabriella.’

‘Frog season…’ my husband echoed.

‘Frog season,’ I confirmed firmly. ‘But look, Angelina and Livia have been catching them for you as they know you don’t like them. They’ve caught seventeen today already!’ I quickly brandished the box at him. ‘It’s so thoughtful of them, Aurelio. More evidence of how well you’ve raised our children.’

‘You’re good girls,’ my husband told them, fishing in his pockets for a moment before brandishing a stack of hundred-dollar bills at them. ‘You both deserve a treat.’

The girls stared at their unexpected windfall in awe as Aurelio went to change his shirt.

‘I’ll catch the frog,’ Alessandro told me with a laugh. ‘Want me to stick it in the garden?’

‘I think so, yes. I think this house has given up on frog keeping.’

‘Do my bugs have to go too?’ Angelina asked mournfully.

I thought for a moment. ‘No, they can stay.’ I winked at Alessandro. ‘You never know, they might come in useful one day, like the frogs did.’

All the grown-ups laughed but my girls just looked puzzled and went back to counting their hundred dollar bills.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Hi everyone,

Just a quick reminder that I’m sending arcs for book 7 Tangled Empires out soon. I’ll pop the blurb below. Ping me your email (annahardingdarkromance@gmail.com) if you’re interested in receiving a copy to review and I’ll send the pdfs out on 28 April.

Thanks to all who have replied, I’ve added you to the list.

Sarah was innocent when a criminal gang murdered her family and locked her in a cage.

By the time she was found, that innocence was gone forever.
Violated and broken by men who treated her suffering as entertainment, Sarah learned endurance and how to survive long after her hopes of freedom had died.
Her rescue comes too late to save her unscarred.
Dragged from captivity damaged, traumatised, and barely alive, Sarah is given a death sentence by the sadistic boss of the Bratva.
But one man believes in her future.
And Lev Nemov cares enough to defy his brother’s order to kill her.

Lev is no saviour.

He’s shaped by brutality of his own, a man forged by violence and loyalty to an organisation that breaks every rule he wants to believe in.
Saving Sarah is one thing, but understanding her is another.
He cannot force his protection on her no matter how much he needs her to be safe.
Other men stole her choices. He refuses to be one of them.
Loving a woman who has been tortured means accepting that she may never be whole again. That she may never be able to love him the way he loves her — or at all.

Tortured Innocence is a dark, unflinching romance about survival after sexual violence, the long road through trauma, and the complicated, imperfect love that grows in its aftermath.

Hi everyone,

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

There wasn’t room in Dark Atonement for this. It’s mentioned that Alexi takes Eloise to England but I thought we’d enjoy seeing what happens when they go. He’s on his best behaviour but when a high ranking murderous Bratva gangster meets a middle class English family there’s bound to be challenges…

Thanks for all your ongoing support everyone. I really appreciate each and every one of my readers.

Anna

Bonus Content

Alexi and Eloise go to England

March 1990
Eloise

Alexi automatically patted the gun in his jacket as he helped me out of the black cab when we arrived at the hotel. The first thing he’d done after we’d cleared English customs was meet up with a local contact to get firearms for him and the six men he’d brought from New York to act as security.

‘Doesn’t look much like a hotel,’ he told me loudly, glancing around the foyer distrustfully. ‘Looks more like fucking Buckingham Palace.’

The perfectly manicured receptionist looked up from the desk and stared at him, almost in horror. I guessed they didn’t have many Russian gangsters turning up with a full security entourage and swearing at the top of their voices.

‘It’s an old stately home,’ I whispered, shifting the baby in my arms uncomfortably. ‘A lot of them have become hotels because the upkeep is too expensive to maintain as a family home. My parents like it here because it’s very formal and dignified.’

‘Yeah…? Well it had better be fucking secure too.’ He turned to the receptionist. ‘Kostrov. If someone asks for my room number, what do you tell them?’

It was clearly a question that nobody had ever asked before, as panic flitted quickly over the receptionist’s face. Her training clearly hadn’t equipped her to deal with guests like Alexi.

I interrupted before my husband could draw the conclusion I knew he would from the silence. ‘The staff are trained not to give out personal details, Alexi. They would always ask you first before giving out your room number.’

‘Ok. Cameras? Who monitors them?’

‘My husband is just cautious,’ I explained, aware that not only was the receptionist gawking at us, we’d also drawn a crowd of other staff and guests who were watching in fascination. ‘Perhaps if we could just have our room key?’

‘How many keys are there to the room?’ Alexi demanded.

‘Three, sir. Two guest and one master.’

‘I’ll take all three.’

‘It’s hotel policy just to issue two, sir. The hotel reserves the right to access the room in case of emergency.’

‘There will be a fucking emergency if you don’t hand all three keys to me.’

I held my hand out with a sigh and accepted the two keys that were offered. ‘Perhaps we could just agree housekeeping between specific hours?’ I suggested. ‘And no access at any other times. Privacy is very important to my husband.’

The receptionist agreed with relief and, although Alexi looked like he still wanted to argue with her, I pulled him away gently and led him up to our room.

I watched as Alexi prowled every inch of the suite, testing windows and scowling when they didn’t open far enough. His lip curled at the hospitality tray.

‘Like I’d be fucking stupid enough to eat or drink anything set out for me.’

His horror as he came out after inspecting the bathroom really made me giggle.

‘No shower—one tap that’s too fucking hot and another that’s too fucking cold. How much am I paying for this?’

‘Things are just different in England,’ I explained. ‘It’s older than America and a lot of the buildings haven’t changed much since Victorian times.’

‘I don’t think the fucking wallpaper has changed since Victorian times.’

But his eyes lit up when he saw the bed. ‘Ok, they know what they’re doing here.’

He reached out to run his hand down one of the posts and tested the sturdiness, grinning at me. ‘I never knew the Victorians were so kinky.’

‘It’s just a bed, Alexi.’

His smile was knowing. ‘Sure it is. I’ll show you later exactly why they built it like this.’

I ignored the sudden warmth between my legs. We had to get through dinner with my parents first before we went anywhere near the bed. And given how my husband had reacted to England—and England had reacted to my husband—so far, I had an uneasy feeling that tonight’s dinner might not go as smoothly as I had hoped.

***

I rushed into my mother’s arms and hugged her, then threw my arms around my father. I’d missed them both so much. I’d only intended to go to the States for a few weeks, but it had been over a year since I’d last seen my family.

‘This is my husband,’ I told them awkwardly as we broke apart. ‘Alexi Kostrov.’

‘How do you do?’ my mother asked politely, though I could see the shock in her eyes at the sight of my powerful gangster husband. Whatever kind of man she had expected me to marry, Alexi definitely wasn’t it.

Alexi grinned at her. ‘Yeah, I’m doing ok. England’s too fucking cold though.’

My parents both winced, but he continued cheerfully.

‘Fucking nightmare sorting the security for a visit, but Eloise really wanted to see you and she’s promised to show me her gratitude later in the way I like best.’

I stopped him before he could go into detail about what I suspected would be me on my knees giving him a blow job—and changed the subject.

‘It’s a lovely hotel, we both really like it and the menu for tonight looks amazing.’ I took Catriona off Alexi. ‘It’s so elegant though—are you sure it was ok to bring her?’

‘My granddaughter?’ my father asked, stroking my baby’s soft hair. ‘We wouldn’t have it any other way. I can’t believe our little girl’s become a mother.’

‘I’ll probably knock her up again soon,’ Alexi announced casually. ‘Russians like big families. I’ll expect a few more kids before I turn thirty.’

‘That’s down to Eloise to decide, surely?’

Alexi just laughed, then realised my mother wasn’t making a joke.

‘Oh right… Our culture is different to yours. In my world wives do as they’re told.’

He was only half joking. It was true that the Bratva saw women as inferior to their husbands, but it was also true that when I put my foot down Alexi ran for cover. I wasn’t the boss in our marriage, but I wasn’t a sweet, dutiful little wife he could impose his will on either. Though from the way both my parents were staring at him in shock, I could see they were imagining the worst.

‘Shall we order?’ I asked brightly, passing Alexi a menu and kicking him under the table at the same time. ‘Father, will you order the wine?’

‘Any particular wine you like?’ he asked Alexi.

‘Most of it just tastes like soap. I’ll stick with vodka.’

My parents ordered their meals and then the waitress turned expectantly to Alexi.

‘And you, sir?’

Alexi looked at her over the top of his reading glasses. ‘Why is the menu in French?’

She blinked. ‘It’s traditional…’

‘Yeah? It’s tradition to not know what the fuck I’m ordering?’

‘Perhaps I could recommend the suprême de poulet with velouté de champignons…’

‘Chicken,’ I whispered quietly under my breath.

I braced myself for his comeback, but to my relief Alexi relaxed. ‘That sounds ok. I’ll have that—and so will my wife.’

‘Eloise can order her own meal.’

My father couldn’t stop himself objecting, but Alexi just looked surprised at the criticism.

‘She likes chicken.’

‘I do,’ I agreed, kicking Alexi again and gazing at my father imploring him not to push it. I’d never be able to explain how the Bratva worked to my parents, and how my husband—despite being happy to treat me like an equal—was part of a misogynistic culture where women were expected to do what their husbands commanded.

‘So Alexi,’ my mother murmured when our first courses arrived, ‘what is it you actually do?’ She flushed. ‘Eloise has told us about… the organisation you belong to, but what role do you play in it?’

Alexi thought for a moment, his fork paused on the way to his mouth.

‘Killing, mainly. My elder brother decides who needs to be killed and then I gut them for him.’ He seemed to realise how inappropriate his response was because he quickly added, ‘I sell a lot of heroin from the Middle East too.’

My parents were no strangers to the wrong side of the law, but my father’s illegal art business was worlds apart from drugs and murder. They just stared at him, slack-jawed.

‘Alexi runs a lot of businesses too,’ I explained, glowering at him. ‘He’s a successful New York businessman. The crime stuff is only part of the picture.’

‘The fun part,’ Alexi added with a grin. ‘I’d rather gut someone than do paperwork.’

‘And how did you meet?’ my mother asked faintly.

This time I jumped in first. I wouldn’t put it past Alexi to tell her the whole story of him being tricked into forcing me to submit to sex. Much as I hated my cousin, he was my mother’s nephew and I didn’t want her knowing Aurelio was capable of using her daughter as bait.

Besides, I didn’t want my parents worrying themselves sick about me the moment I went back to the States. I’d never expected them to be reassured by meeting Alexi, but I wanted him to leave the most positive impression he could.

‘We met at his club,’ I said firmly. ‘Alessandro took me and Isabella dancing there.’ I didn’t point out that in New York the idea of the Mafia and the Bratva dancing at each other’s clubs was ludicrous. My parents didn’t know any better. ‘We hit it off from the moment we first met and things just grew from there.’

Alexi laughed loudly but subsided after a sharp look from me. What mattered was that we were in love with each other now. The long, painful journey to our happiness I intended to keep to myself.

‘And decided to marry with no family there?’ my father asked. ‘Rose was distraught to miss your wedding.’ He gave Alexi a cold look. ‘She was devastated to miss tonight too, so was Jamie, but you didn’t exactly give us much notice for this visit.’

‘Security is tighter if things happen quickly,’ I told them apologetically. ‘Alexi and his brothers don’t take the risk of planning things too far in advance.’

‘Three days notice? And will you be coming back again? Can we expect this to be a regular thing? Will we be able to watch our granddaughter grow up?’

‘It won’t be often,’ Alexi told him brutally. ‘I’m taking a fucking risk every time I leave the States and the bigger my family gets, the bigger the risk. But seeing you is important to my wife, so I’ll bring her again.’

‘You could come and visit us?’ I suggested, but I saw the way my mother looked at my father in panic. She hadn’t been back to America since she left to marry him and I knew she was afraid to go back.

‘You’d be safe with us,’ Alexi told her perceptively. ‘If you’re not safe with the fucking Bratva, then you’re not safe with anyone.’ He looked at me in confusion for a moment. ‘Though isn’t the Italian Capo her brother?’

‘Yes, but it’s a long story.’

He shrugged. ‘Well, the offer’s there. My wife’s parents are always welcome in my home.’

He stood up and threw his napkin down on the table.

‘Ok, I’m taking her to bed now, but we’ll do dinner again before we fly back.’

‘You must be tired…’ my mother said politely. ‘We understand.’

Alexi looked at her blankly for a moment, then his brow cleared.

‘No, I slept on the plane. But the hotel has this bed that’s just fucking made for bondage and we want to try it out.’

And he stalked from the dining room with the confidence of a man who genuinely believed he’d made a good impression on his in-laws.

‘He’s…’ I began.

‘He’s your husband and you love him,’ my mother interrupted. ‘That’s all that needs to be said. And Eloise, I can tell from the way he looks at you that the love works both ways.’ She kissed my cheek. ‘All we ever wanted was for you to be happy—and you are.’

My heart was light as I skipped through our suite to find my husband, who I knew with total certainty would already be tying things to the posts of the four-poster bed in preparation for the night of kinky sex he’d got planned.

He wasn’t a man I’d ever expected to take home to my parents.

But they were right. I loved him, he loved me, and that was all that mattered.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Hi everyone,

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

There wasn’t room in Dark Atonement for this. It’s mentioned that Alexi takes Eloise to England but I thought we’d enjoy seeing what happens when they go. He’s on his best behaviour but when a high ranking murderous Bratva gangster meets a middle class English family there’s bound to be challenges…

Thanks for all your ongoing support everyone. I really appreciate each and every one of my readers.

Anna

Bonus Content

Alexi and Eloise go to England

March 1990
Eloise

Alexi automatically patted the gun in his jacket as he helped me out of the black cab when we arrived at the hotel. The first thing he’d done after we’d cleared English customs was meet up with a local contact to get firearms for him and the six men he’d brought from New York to act as security.

‘Doesn’t look much like a hotel,’ he told me loudly, glancing around the foyer distrustfully. ‘Looks more like fucking Buckingham Palace.’

The perfectly manicured receptionist looked up from the desk and stared at him, almost in horror. I guessed they didn’t have many Russian gangsters turning up with a full security entourage and swearing at the top of their voices.

‘It’s an old stately home,’ I whispered, shifting the baby in my arms uncomfortably. ‘A lot of them have become hotels because the upkeep is too expensive to maintain as a family home. My parents like it here because it’s very formal and dignified.’

‘Yeah…? Well it had better be fucking secure too.’ He turned to the receptionist. ‘Kostrov. If someone asks for my room number, what do you tell them?’

It was clearly a question that nobody had ever asked before, as panic flitted quickly over the receptionist’s face. Her training clearly hadn’t equipped her to deal with guests like Alexi.

I interrupted before my husband could draw the conclusion I knew he would from the silence. ‘The staff are trained not to give out personal details, Alexi. They would always ask you first before giving out your room number.’

‘Ok. Cameras? Who monitors them?’

‘My husband is just cautious,’ I explained, aware that not only was the receptionist gawking at us, we’d also drawn a crowd of other staff and guests who were watching in fascination. ‘Perhaps if we could just have our room key?’

‘How many keys are there to the room?’ Alexi demanded.

‘Three, sir. Two guest and one master.’

‘I’ll take all three.’

‘It’s hotel policy just to issue two, sir. The hotel reserves the right to access the room in case of emergency.’

‘There will be a fucking emergency if you don’t hand all three keys to me.’

I held my hand out with a sigh and accepted the two keys that were offered. ‘Perhaps we could just agree housekeeping between specific hours?’ I suggested. ‘And no access at any other times. Privacy is very important to my husband.’

The receptionist agreed with relief and, although Alexi looked like he still wanted to argue with her, I pulled him away gently and led him up to our room.

I watched as Alexi prowled every inch of the suite, testing windows and scowling when they didn’t open far enough. His lip curled at the hospitality tray.

‘Like I’d be fucking stupid enough to eat or drink anything set out for me.’

His horror as he came out after inspecting the bathroom really made me giggle.

‘No shower—one tap that’s too fucking hot and another that’s too fucking cold. How much am I paying for this?’

‘Things are just different in England,’ I explained. ‘It’s older than America and a lot of the buildings haven’t changed much since Victorian times.’

‘I don’t think the fucking wallpaper has changed since Victorian times.’

But his eyes lit up when he saw the bed. ‘Ok, they know what they’re doing here.’

He reached out to run his hand down one of the posts and tested the sturdiness, grinning at me. ‘I never knew the Victorians were so kinky.’

‘It’s just a bed, Alexi.’

His smile was knowing. ‘Sure it is. I’ll show you later exactly why they built it like this.’

I ignored the sudden warmth between my legs. We had to get through dinner with my parents first before we went anywhere near the bed. And given how my husband had reacted to England—and England had reacted to my husband—so far, I had an uneasy feeling that tonight’s dinner might not go as smoothly as I had hoped.

***

I rushed into my mother’s arms and hugged her, then threw my arms around my father. I’d missed them both so much. I’d only intended to go to the States for a few weeks, but it had been over a year since I’d last seen my family.

‘This is my husband,’ I told them awkwardly as we broke apart. ‘Alexi Kostrov.’

‘How do you do?’ my mother asked politely, though I could see the shock in her eyes at the sight of my powerful gangster husband. Whatever kind of man she had expected me to marry, Alexi definitely wasn’t it.

Alexi grinned at her. ‘Yeah, I’m doing ok. England’s too fucking cold though.’

My parents both winced, but he continued cheerfully.

‘Fucking nightmare sorting the security for a visit, but Eloise really wanted to see you and she’s promised to show me her gratitude later in the way I like best.’

I stopped him before he could go into detail about what I suspected would be me on my knees giving him a blow job—and changed the subject.

‘It’s a lovely hotel, we both really like it and the menu for tonight looks amazing.’ I took Catriona off Alexi. ‘It’s so elegant though—are you sure it was ok to bring her?’

‘My granddaughter?’ my father asked, stroking my baby’s soft hair. ‘We wouldn’t have it any other way. I can’t believe our little girl’s become a mother.’

‘I’ll probably knock her up again soon,’ Alexi announced casually. ‘Russians like big families. I’ll expect a few more kids before I turn thirty.’

‘That’s down to Eloise to decide, surely?’

Alexi just laughed, then realised my mother wasn’t making a joke.

‘Oh right… Our culture is different to yours. In my world wives do as they’re told.’

He was only half joking. It was true that the Bratva saw women as inferior to their husbands, but it was also true that when I put my foot down Alexi ran for cover. I wasn’t the boss in our marriage, but I wasn’t a sweet, dutiful little wife he could impose his will on either. Though from the way both my parents were staring at him in shock, I could see they were imagining the worst.

‘Shall we order?’ I asked brightly, passing Alexi a menu and kicking him under the table at the same time. ‘Father, will you order the wine?’

‘Any particular wine you like?’ he asked Alexi.

‘Most of it just tastes like soap. I’ll stick with vodka.’

My parents ordered their meals and then the waitress turned expectantly to Alexi.

‘And you, sir?’

Alexi looked at her over the top of his reading glasses. ‘Why is the menu in French?’

She blinked. ‘It’s traditional…’

‘Yeah? It’s tradition to not know what the fuck I’m ordering?’

‘Perhaps I could recommend the suprême de poulet with velouté de champignons…’

‘Chicken,’ I whispered quietly under my breath.

I braced myself for his comeback, but to my relief Alexi relaxed. ‘That sounds ok. I’ll have that—and so will my wife.’

‘Eloise can order her own meal.’

My father couldn’t stop himself objecting, but Alexi just looked surprised at the criticism.

‘She likes chicken.’

‘I do,’ I agreed, kicking Alexi again and gazing at my father imploring him not to push it. I’d never be able to explain how the Bratva worked to my parents, and how my husband—despite being happy to treat me like an equal—was part of a misogynistic culture where women were expected to do what their husbands commanded.

‘So Alexi,’ my mother murmured when our first courses arrived, ‘what is it you actually do?’ She flushed. ‘Eloise has told us about… the organisation you belong to, but what role do you play in it?’

Alexi thought for a moment, his fork paused on the way to his mouth.

‘Killing, mainly. My elder brother decides who needs to be killed and then I gut them for him.’ He seemed to realise how inappropriate his response was because he quickly added, ‘I sell a lot of heroin from the Middle East too.’

My parents were no strangers to the wrong side of the law, but my father’s illegal art business was worlds apart from drugs and murder. They just stared at him, slack-jawed.

‘Alexi runs a lot of businesses too,’ I explained, glowering at him. ‘He’s a successful New York businessman. The crime stuff is only part of the picture.’

‘The fun part,’ Alexi added with a grin. ‘I’d rather gut someone than do paperwork.’

‘And how did you meet?’ my mother asked faintly.

This time I jumped in first. I wouldn’t put it past Alexi to tell her the whole story of him being tricked into forcing me to submit to sex. Much as I hated my cousin, he was my mother’s nephew and I didn’t want her knowing Aurelio was capable of using her daughter as bait.

Besides, I didn’t want my parents worrying themselves sick about me the moment I went back to the States. I’d never expected them to be reassured by meeting Alexi, but I wanted him to leave the most positive impression he could.

‘We met at his club,’ I said firmly. ‘Alessandro took me and Isabella dancing there.’ I didn’t point out that in New York the idea of the Mafia and the Bratva dancing at each other’s clubs was ludicrous. My parents didn’t know any better. ‘We hit it off from the moment we first met and things just grew from there.’

Alexi laughed loudly but subsided after a sharp look from me. What mattered was that we were in love with each other now. The long, painful journey to our happiness I intended to keep to myself.

‘And decided to marry with no family there?’ my father asked. ‘Rose was distraught to miss your wedding.’ He gave Alexi a cold look. ‘She was devastated to miss tonight too, so was Jamie, but you didn’t exactly give us much notice for this visit.’

‘Security is tighter if things happen quickly,’ I told them apologetically. ‘Alexi and his brothers don’t take the risk of planning things too far in advance.’

‘Three days notice? And will you be coming back again? Can we expect this to be a regular thing? Will we be able to watch our granddaughter grow up?’

‘It won’t be often,’ Alexi told him brutally. ‘I’m taking a fucking risk every time I leave the States and the bigger my family gets, the bigger the risk. But seeing you is important to my wife, so I’ll bring her again.’

‘You could come and visit us?’ I suggested, but I saw the way my mother looked at my father in panic. She hadn’t been back to America since she left to marry him and I knew she was afraid to go back.

‘You’d be safe with us,’ Alexi told her perceptively. ‘If you’re not safe with the fucking Bratva, then you’re not safe with anyone.’ He looked at me in confusion for a moment. ‘Though isn’t the Italian Capo her brother?’

‘Yes, but it’s a long story.’

He shrugged. ‘Well, the offer’s there. My wife’s parents are always welcome in my home.’

He stood up and threw his napkin down on the table.

‘Ok, I’m taking her to bed now, but we’ll do dinner again before we fly back.’

‘You must be tired…’ my mother said politely. ‘We understand.’

Alexi looked at her blankly for a moment, then his brow cleared.

‘No, I slept on the plane. But the hotel has this bed that’s just fucking made for bondage and we want to try it out.’

And he stalked from the dining room with the confidence of a man who genuinely believed he’d made a good impression on his in-laws.

‘He’s…’ I began.

‘He’s your husband and you love him,’ my mother interrupted. ‘That’s all that needs to be said. And Eloise, I can tell from the way he looks at you that the love works both ways.’ She kissed my cheek. ‘All we ever wanted was for you to be happy—and you are.’

My heart was light as I skipped through our suite to find my husband, who I knew with total certainty would already be tying things to the posts of the four-poster bed in preparation for the night of kinky sex he’d got planned.

He wasn’t a man I’d ever expected to take home to my parents.

But they were right. I loved him, he loved me, and that was all that mattered.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Hiya everyone,

I’m so glad to be able to offer an ARC for Tortured Innocence (book seven Tangled Empires) as it would be great to get some early thoughts on Lev and Sarah and their dark, traumatic story before the book comes out.

If anyone would like to receive a (free of course) PDF copy prior to publication please email me directly on: annahardingdarkromance@gmail.com and I’ll send you a personalised copy next month.

I’d be really grateful for honest reviews but if you choose to review/rate it and what you choose to put in the review are entirely up to you. The only thing I ask is please don’t pass your copy to anyone else.

I’ll pop the blurb below so you can decide if you’d like to be an early reader. (I can provide the Trigger warning list if required too).

Tortured Innocence

Sarah was innocent when a criminal gang murdered her family and locked her in a cage.

By the time she was found, that innocence was gone forever.
Violated and broken by men who treated her suffering as entertainment, Sarah learned endurance and how to survive long after her hopes of freedom had died.
Her rescue comes too late to save her unscarred.
Dragged from captivity damaged, traumatised, and barely alive, Sarah is given a death sentence by the sadistic boss of the Bratva.
But one man believes in her future.
And Lev Nemov cares enough to defy his brother’s order to kill her.

Lev is no saviour.

He’s shaped by brutality of his own, a man forged by violence and loyalty to an organisation that breaks every rule he wants to believe in.
Saving Sarah is one thing, but understanding her is another.
He cannot force his protection on her no matter how much he needs her to be safe.
Other men stole her choices. He refuses to be one of them.
Loving a woman who has been tortured means accepting that she may never be whole again. That she may never be able to love him the way he loves her — or at all.

Tortured Innocence is a dark, unflinching romance about survival after sexual violence, the long road through trauma, and the complicated, imperfect love that grows in its aftermath.