Dante: A Dark Mafia, Enemies to Lovers Romance (Chicago Ruthless Book 1)
Dante: Chapter 1

SIX YEARS LATER

“Piece of junk,” I mumble, slamming the door of my beat-up Ford Focus with my foot. Juggling a bag of groceries in one hand and cleaning supplies in the other, I make my way across the front lawn and toward the front door which is slightly ajar.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I swallow a gulp of air. I definitely locked it this morning. I triple check it before I leave. As I scan the street behind me, I notice a beautiful Black Porsche SUV with the tinted windows.

My hands trembling, I place my bags on the ground, straining to hear any noise from inside the house. Placing my hand on the door, I edge it open a little further. If my asshole older brother has dragged his sorry ass back here looking for money, then I swear to God I will kick him straight in the nuts.

But at least if it’s him, I know what to expect. I know how to handle him. I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen and our mom died. There’s no way he’d be here in that fancy car though, so who the hell does it belong to? Somebody looking for him, perhaps? Yet another person he’s screwed over.

My heart beats wildly as I stand on the porch. I knew I shouldn’t have offered him a place to stay, but when he’d turned up at my doorstep four weeks earlier, standing in the pouring rain with no coat, what the hell else was I supposed to do? He had nowhere else to go and he’s my brother after all. So I offered him my sofa, and for a few weeks, it was actually nice having him around. I wasn’t surprised at all two mornings ago to wake up to replace him gone with nothing but a note that said he’d be in touch when he’s back on his feet. I was even less surprised to replace all the money in my purse and my emergency fund gone too. Asshole!

If they’re looking for Leo, then they’ve come to the wrong place.

Suddenly, I wish I’d taken my cousin’s advice of carrying my gun in my purse. I push open the door and step into the house, leaving it open behind me in case I need to run. The sound of voices carries down the hallway from the kitchen. Men’s voices and they don’t sound happy. Passing the stairs, I reach for the baseball bat I keep tucked behind the coat stand and grip it tightly as I make my way to the back of the house.

Two men — large and bulky — are sitting at my kitchen table. Dressed in black tailored suits that probably cost more than my entire year’s rent and black shirts open at the collar. Both have dark hair and beards. Are they brothers? They sure look similar.

Dark ink covers their hands and their necks. When they look up at me, my heart almost gives out. They don’t move, but their presence is suffocating. It’s visceral. These men… they don’t listen to reason or logic.

“You must be Katerina?” one of them says, and his voice makes every hair on my body stand on end. It’s deep and smooth like chocolate but dark and menacing. I bet he likes to talk to people while he kills them. Confuses their brain with his velvety rich voice while he pulls out their fingernails.

They stare at me while I remain frozen on the spot. I’ve experienced this before. Paralyzed into inaction by my own fear, and it led to…

No, I can’t go there now. I need to think.

I react on instinct, launching the baseball bat I’m holding in their direction and distracting them while I make a run for it. My heart pounds as I race down the narrow hallway to my bedroom. The sound of the bat and my wooden chairs clattering to the floor behind me makes me pump my arms faster. Instead of escaping out of the open front door, I head for my room, where there’s a bolt on the door and a handgun beneath my pillow.

My bedroom is my sanctuary. The only place I ever feel safe. If either of them steps foot in there, I will blow their goddamn heads off. I stumble inside, scrambling to get to safety, but footsteps thunder after me. My nails scratch the wood as I fumble to close the door, but I’m not fast enough, and it flies open, sending me hurtling across the room where I land on the edge of my bed.

When I look up, one of the bearded men is advancing on me, not the one with the velvet voice, but his colleague. His eyes are dark as he glares at me for daring to run.

“Get the hell out of my house,” I shriek as I scoot back along the bed. Reaching beneath my pillow, my hand curls around the handle of my Glock.

I point it at him as he gets closer and… his lips twitch. Rude, arrogant asshole actually smiles at me. “You sure you got the guts to use that thing?” he drawls and his voice is just as terrifying as the other guys. Do they teach that in bad guy school? How to distract your enemies, or in this case, your prey, with your voice alone?

“One step closer and you’ll replace out.” My heart is racing faster than a Chevy at Daytona, and my hand is trembling as I aim the gun at his chest, but he’s mistaken if he thinks I’m afraid to use this weapon.

He steps closer anyway, and I close my eyes as I squeeze. No gunshot sounds. Just a soft click of the trigger.

“Oh yeah, we found that,” he snorts as if this is funny, enraging me further.

I pull the trigger again and nothing, so I throw the gun at his head, but he ducks. Still, it gives me long enough to spring from the bed and dart past him — and straight into the arms of his colleague.

“You are a feisty little kitten,” he sneers.

I lash out, scratching his face as I try to escape his grip, but he catches my wrist in his giant hand and squeezes until pain shoots up my forearm. Then he twists me around so that my back is pressed against his chest and he has both of my arms pinned behind me. He rests his mouth close to my ear and his warm breath dusts over my neck, making me shiver involuntarily.

“I kind of like it when you struggle, kitten,” he whispers.

“Then you’ll love this.” I throw my head back, but he dodges me.

“You really shouldn’t warn people when you’re about to headbutt them,” he hisses as he pushes me toward the kitchen with my hands still pinned behind my back and his arm around my waist so I’m caged against his body.

“She actually tried to fucking shoot me,” the other one says incredulously as he follows us. “And she threw the fucking gun at my head.”

“Well, at least she’s got a terrible aim,” the one holding onto me replies. “Take a seat,” he snaps, pushing me forward.

I stumble as he releases me from his grip and plant my hands on the table to stop myself from falling flat on my face. He picks up one of the chairs from the floor and stands it upright.

“Sit!” he barks.

In this moment, I realize they know way more about me than I’d like them to. They found my gun and they know my name. And with them blocking my exit, I have no chance of escaping. So I reluctantly take a seat.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I think we’ll be asking the questions,” the one who just had his hands on me says. Something about his demeanor and the way he talks tells me he’s in charge. I mean, they’re both terrifying, but this one has that air of arrogant authority about him too. You know what I mean? Like the top jock in high school who dated the head cheerleader and could walk around the halls like he goddamn owned them.

“Where is Leo?” the other one asks me.

I snort and shake my head. I knew this was about him.

“Was that a fucking answer, D?” he says to Velvet Voice when I don’t reply.

“Didn’t sound like one to me, Max,” D says as he rights the other chair, taking a seat and watching me intently.

“Where. Is. Leo,” the one I now know is Max asks again. “And if you want to keep those pretty blue eyes of yours, I’d suggest you answer.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“You know, that’s what they all say at first.” He laughs, then continues, “Until I start applying a little more pressure. You know what I mean?”

“Pretty sure a monkey could understand the threat you just made, asshole,” I snarl, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I have no idea where my brother is. In fact, when you replace him, could you let me know? He hauled ass two days ago, taking all of my savings with him.”

Max looks at D, who has an arrogant smirk on his face as he watches the exchange between us. “Did she just call me an asshole?” he asks with a frown.

D nods, and his colleague turns back to me. Max steps closer, before crouching down on his heels. That brings us eye to eye because he is a goddamn giant.

“You think this is some kind of joke we’re playing here, sweetheart?” he hisses, and my blood turns to ice. “Your brother owes my boss money, and we will not be leaving this house until we have taken some kind of payment.”

“I-I don’t have any money.”

“So, tell us where he is.”

“I don’t know. I swear. He just disappears and then turns up when he’s in trouble again.”

“You know you’re covering for a lowlife piece of shit, right?” he continues.

I scowl at him. Leo is a top-notch jackass who has brought me more trouble than anyone should endure in two lifetimes, but he’s still my big brother, and this asshole doesn’t get to talk about him like that.

“Says the man who breaks into people’s homes and threatens women?” I snap.

“Fuck’s sake!” he mutters. Closing his eyes, he sucks in a deep breath as though he’s trying to keep a lid on his temper.

“Max, let me handle this,” the one named D says. His voice is soft, calm and controlled, yet laced with so much menace it makes me shudder.

“She’s all yours, boss,” Max replies, then he throws me a sympathetic look. “You should have let me handle it, sweetheart.”

I swallow as his boss stands and takes two steps until he’s towering over me. He’s about an inch taller than Max but not quite as broad. He fills out his suit like it was painted on his body, and he wears it like he was born in one.

“Katerina,” he says as he pulls up the other chair and places it directly in front of me. He takes a seat and we are so close that his knees are almost touching mine. “My name is Dante Moretti.”

Holy fuckballs, Leo. What have you done? Dante Moretti is Mafia. He is THE Mafia.

“Your brother owes my family a lot of money and I want it back.”

“I told you I don’t know where he is,” I whisper.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Then I’ll have to take something else of value to him.”

“He doesn’t have anything. This house is a rental, and it’s mine. He doesn’t even have a car.”

“Hmm.” Dante runs a hand over his jaw as he stares at me, and I can’t help but think I’m missing something here.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” I say.

For some reason, that makes Max laugh and I swear I want to kick that crazy asshole in the balls.

“I think you’re overlooking his most important asset, Katerina,” Dante says with the hint of a smile.

Leo has no assets. Zero. Whenever he makes even a little money, he gambles it away. He’s never been able to hold on to anything he makes. “And what’s that?”

“You,” Dante says deadpan.

“Me?”

“That’s what I said.”

“B-but I… I don’t have anything. I mean, we could set up a payment plan, I guess, but I can only spare a few bucks a week.”

Suddenly, Max howls with laughter.

“Katerina,” Dante says quietly. “Your brother owes me over a quarter of a million dollars.”

I open my mouth and close it again. That’s not possible. Leo couldn’t owe that kind of money. It’s insane.

He shifts closer, edging his chair closer to mine so that our knees touch. “And when I say I’m taking payment, I do not mean a payment plan. I’m talking about you.”

My head spins because I don’t know what he’s saying and what the hell he means.

“Like, take me? You can’t do that.” I shake my head. “I’m a person.”

Dante sighs softly. “If I found your brother and he couldn’t pay, you know what I would do?”

I could take a pretty good guess, but I’m not going to verbalize it and give him any ideas, so I shake my head.

“I would kill him,” he says, so matter-of-fact, like it’s an everyday activity for him. No doubt it is. “And I would do it very slowly, so that he would feel every single cent that he stole from me.”

My heart is thundering in my ears, and I can’t breathe. The head of the Mafia is sitting in my kitchen, talking about torturing my brother as calmly as he would talk about what to buy for dinner. And somehow, I’m involved in this payment?

“But I haven’t found your brother,” he goes on. “Instead, I found you.”

“S-so you’re going to kill m-me instead?” I stammer as my eyes scan the kitchen, looking for a weapon or a way out.

But what chance do I have anyway? If their physical presence wasn’t enough, their names are. If this is Dante Moretti, that means Max is Maximo DiMarco — ruthless enforcer and unhinged psychopath. Dante slaughtered his fiancée and her entire family on the eve of his wedding. The things these men do to people make those twisted shock-value, horror movies that Leo used to make me watch seem like high school pranks.

Dante leans back in his chair as his eyes scan over my body. “I might be willing to come to another kind of arrangement.”

I pull my coat tighter around myself, as though it might shield me from him. At least it covers my huge boobs straining at the one size too small uniform. Pity my cheap-ass boss won’t buy me a different one. Focus, Kat!

I stare at the devil sitting in front of me. “What kind of arrangement?”

“D?” Maximo says with a frown, earning him a stern look before Dante trains his eyes back on me.

“I think I’ll just take you instead. I’m sure I’ll replace a use for you at my house. You can work off your brother’s debt for him.”

Take me? His house? “You can’t do that. You can’t just take a person like they’re a goddamn car or something. You can’t just walk in here and expect me to —”

He stands and looks at Maximo. “Start throwing some of her things into a bag.”

I jump up from my chair. “I am not going anywhere with you,” I shout, but Maximo is already walking out of the room.

“Do not touch my things,” I yell, about to run after him, but Dante holds out his arm and stops me.

“Behave, little kitten,” he warns, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You won’t like me when I’m upset.”

I screech in his face, “I hate you. You fucking monster! You can’t do this. You can’t…” I beat my fists against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. I may as well be punching a steel wall. After a few seconds, he takes hold of my wrists and I’m left staring up into his face with tears running down my cheeks.

“If I let you go so you can help Maximo pack your things, do you promise not to throw anything else at his head?”

No. I’ll throw my goddamn TV at his head if I get the chance. “Yes,” I sniff instead.

He releases my wrists and steps aside to allow me out of the room, before he follows me down the hallway.

“You can’t do this. People will miss me, you know? They’ll wonder where I am.”

“No, they won’t,” he replies in that calm, confident tone that also drips with arrogance and entitlement.

I die a little more inside as I realize he’s right.