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Mafia 10 eBook Bundle

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Save $21.91 Save $21.91
Original price $53.90
Original price $53.90 - Original price $53.90
Original price $53.90
Current price $31.99
$31.99 - $31.99
Current price $31.99

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TEN BOOKS AT A 40% DISCOUNT!

The DiLustro Arrangement (3 books)
Manhattan Mafia (3 books)
Mafia Kingdom (Standalone)
The Corruption Series (3 books)

Super hot, dangerous, borderline psychotic men who will do anything (and I mean anything) for the women they love.

EXCERPT from MAFIA BRIDE:

“I understand this may be difficult for you,” he says as he puts down his fork. “Your aunt and uncle never told you your situation.”

“Whatever.” I’m caught between hating them and the compulsion to defend them.

“They let you believe you were being raised a tactless, ambitious American woman. I didn’t realize that until it was too late, and for this…I apologize.”

“Talk to God about forgiveness.”

“My oversight changes nothing,” he says as if I didn’t just throw his apology back in his face. He separates a piece of fish. “You should eat. Celia’s very sensitive about leftovers.”

“How much?” I ask.

“All of it, if you can.” He shoves food in his mouth, and when he chews, the muscles of his jaw get even sharper.

“How much was I worth?”

“Hm?” He takes a drink of water.

“How much was the debt I paid?”

He looks at me as if I’ve confused him, then makes a tsk sound in his throat. “That’s not your business.”

“Yes, it is!” I don’t mean to shout, but I don’t care anymore either.

“Says who?” Santino asks as if my life’s a rhetorical question. “You’re mine. My business.” He spears another chunk of meat. “I decide what you need to know. This is how we do things.”

“We?” I scoff. There’s a sweating glass of water in front of me and I want nothing more than to throw it in his face. He doesn’t talk to me, not really, from the moment he kidnaps me—trades me, whatever—and this is the conversation he decides to kick us off with? “You mean you? Where you’re from? I’m from here. And that is not how we do things. You can go to jail for this.”

Santino sighs in frustration. He’s letting me know he’s being patient with me. The king does not like to explain himself. Or this situation. Or anything in general.

“You have an Italian passport. Every minute you breathe in the United States, you are under the jurisdiction of the Italian Embassy.” He digs in his pocket and extracts his phone. “Would you like to call them?” He puts the phone between us. “I know the number. I have a friend there.” A heavy pause sits between us. “He knows all about you.”

My husband is cruel. That’s what he is. Intensely cruel and calculating and cold. Just cold.

The precise weight of his revelation crushes me. I was born in Italy and my immigration status is perfectly fine until it isn’t. The list of reasons I can get deported is long, and I’m a resident because of my clean status with the Italian side.

Santino’s saying he can end that. He’s got his punishing fingers hooked where he can hurt me most.

One of the steps in my plan for freedom is shot out of the sky like a goose in the fall. I’m trapped with no legal protection. No one to call to help.

And he still hasn’t given me back my phone. God knows if it’ll ever be returned.

Overwhelming loneliness fills me, every inch. I’m alone, no one knows where I am because surely the king wouldn’t advertise the location of his compound, and there’s no legal recourse.

Digging my nails into my palms might make nice little flowers of pain to distract me, but not enough to keep me from crying. By the first hitching blubber, I can’t even feel them. Tears fall like the droplets on the water glass.

“Don’t. No.” Santino’s demeanor changes in a flash. He flicks a handkerchief from inside his jacket and passes it to me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I try to swallow down the grief and sadness, but they feel much too large to contain. My throat’s full of sticky gunk, and I can’t get control of my breath.

“Stop it!” he roars. “Do you hear me? My wife is not meant to cry.”