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Secrets, lies, corruption, and bosses of the illegal kind.The laws don’t pertain to them, not even a little. It’s their way or no way; accept it or watch as those around you drop like flies. Wicked & Ruthless is a mafia romance, limited run anthology.


Snagging a pen and notepad one of the waitresses had left on the counter, he scribbled an address and then tore off the sheet and tucked it into the pocket on her shirt. She stood stock-still, not flinching when his fingers brushed against the top swell of her boob.

Slowly, he pulled his hand away, and then, just as gradually, he leaned forward. Was he going in for a kiss? God, she hoped so.

Was that crazy? To desperately want him to kiss her? And maybe do more? She’d never been so bold before—she never had the chance with her overprotective brother and other security detail—and somehow, that was all okay, because she was glad she’d held out, even if it hadn’t been by choice.

She had a feeling Pietro would be worth it.

His hand came up and stroked her cheek while he stared down at her. Tomato juice was splattered across the front of his apron, almost like blood. The sauce simmered quietly on the stove behind him. Normally, all these scents heavy in the air reminded her of her parents, of her father stirring his homemade sauce in this very kitchen while her mom kept trying to stick her finger in for a taste, but now, after today, she was certain the smell of garlic and oregano and basil would forever remind her of Pietro.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, his breath feathering across her face.

“Please,” she said, her voice breathy, her heart rate escalated.

He smiled again and untied the apron, balling it up and tossing it toward the hamper in a far corner.

And then his lips descended, pressing against hers, his fingers curling against her cheek while he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

She twined her arms around his neck and canted her head and opened her lips, her tongue tentatively flicking out, testing the waters. The hand on her cheek shifted, threaded into her hair, and tightened there, tilting her head a little more before he opened and thrust out his tongue, exploring her mouth with single-minded intent.

The edge of the counter dug into her ass as he pressed closer, the kiss intensifying, and Lord, if he lifted her up and plopped her down on that cold stainless steel, she might just orgasm on the spot.

The door banged open, and the chords of a Prince song preceded Luigi as he strolled into the kitchen holding his boom box in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

“Yo, I finally found decent basil—oh, hey, Aida.”

She leaped away from Pietro, dropping her gaze to the floor and wishing her hair was not in a ponytail so that it would fall forward to hide her burning cheeks.

Pietro grabbed a slotted spoon and the top of the pot and then cursed and dropped the hot handle.

Luigi stood in the doorway taking this all in, his eyes narrowing as he slowly moved into the room and shoved the grocery bag at Pietro.

“You got a little something right there,” he said, lifting his thumb and swiping it across the corner of Pietro’s lip. He stared at the appendage for a moment. “Huh. Must be sauce.” And then he arched his brows at Aida. “Saw your dad in the parking lot.”

“Dad?” Pietro echoed a scant moment before Aida’s father stormed through the door shouting about this being the last time that supplier shorted them any damn basil.

Pietro stared at Aida, his eyes huge in his face.

“My boss is your dad?”

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