Taken: A Mafia Romance Read online

  “You can go to your room now,” he dismisses me.

  His dark eyes hold mine. And that's the end of my attempt to rebel.

  The silver clock above his head ticks off the deadline to be back at Xavier’s. One day, I'll go wherever I want, just not today.

  I drag my feet out of his office, through the museum we live in, out the back door, across the lawn to my favorite alone spot—between the gnarly roots of the chestnut tree that sits close to the back of the grounds. A bird flutters from the branches when I sink down on the ground and lean back against the trunk. It roams the pink sky; free.

  “Hey,” Xavier says, dropping down beside me.

  “I can't go,” I tell him, staring straight ahead. “But it's okay. We have chocolate ice cream.”

  “Want to make milkshakes?” he asks. “You can bring your ice cream over to my house.”

  I look over, confused. “Where's Dean?”

  “He left.”

  “You didn't want to go?”

  “Nah,” he answers. “Not if you can't come with us.”

  I should be happy he chose me over Dean, but it doesn't feel very good. Feels kind of bad, actually. Now he doesn't get the crushed Oreos on his ice cream he really likes. Plus, his favorite is vanilla, and I only have chocolate.

  “Well, it's looking like that will never happen.”

  “We need to work on your bargaining skills,” he says. “I think I'd rather have no dad than one like him.”

  I pluck a blade of grass, twisting it around my finger. “Do you ever think about your father?” We never talk about his dad. And neither does Hannah. There's no pictures or anything saying he even existed.

  Xavier picks up a stick, discarded from the tree, and throws it. “Not anymore.”

  I don't want him to feel weird, so I change the subject. “When I’m old enough, I’m going to live in a giant castle.” It’ll be beautiful.

  “A castle? You live in one now.”

  I hug my knees. “No, a real castle with a moat and everything in some far-away land.”

  “Like Ireland?”

  I blink. “I don’t really know. Are there castles in Ireland?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, big ones.”

  “And I’ll always have ice cream.”

  “You know,” he looks over at me with a gleam in his eye, “we could always go anyways. It's not far, and I've got money.”

  “Well, technically,” I rationalize, “he said no to you and Dean. But Dean isn't going.”

  He grins at me, his dark hair catching the sun's rays, and I decide in this moment, underneath this chestnut tree, that there isn't anything much better than Xavier’s smile.

  3

  Rhiannon

  Fourteen years old

  The frowning girl staring back at me in the full-length mirror looks very mature for fourteen. Actually, she looks like a mini version of my mother—long auburn hair, beestung lips, thick lashed brown eyes, and a pert nose. All that's missing is a glass of wine in my hand. Today is my birthday, and mom insisted on an extravagant party in my honor, complete with a lot of people I don't even really know. I’d rather stay in my room and draw. I fiddle once more with the barely there straps holding up my ruby red dress. I look like one of those frilly dress wearing dolls that sits in a glass case. Minus the creepy.

  A knock, three quick raps, sounds on my door, and I rush to open it. “Xavier, get in here.” I grab his arm, pulling him closer to me. “You have to quit turning off the security system. My dad will kill you if he finds out it’s you.”

  “I'm too good to catch,” he says, before his eyes widen, taking me in. “Wow, you look like a girl.”

  “Ha ha.” I splay a hand on my hip. “I am a girl, silly.”

  With a roll of his eyes, he ignores my statement of fact and lunges onto my bed. His too tall body looks a little ridiculous shoved between the bubblegum pink pillows and zoo of stuffed animals. Last summer, his height took off, and now he towers over me. Not sure what was in the heated air, but last summer, my body changed as well; I’m no longer flat chested. I call it the summer of boobs. All the scrawny angles have filled out. Hannah says to be proud of my curves, but I'm not used to the new attention. Now, the boys who never noticed me, gawk like I'm the shiny new version of the Playstation.

  Except Xavier, of course. He still treats me the same. I could grow horns and a tail and he wouldn't care.

  Grinning, he tosses the ball cap that's always covering his dark hair on my comforter. “You think your dad will let me come to the party dressed like this?” He points to his worn jeans and black t-shirt.

  I smile at the mischievous look in his eye. He would do it. “I don’t think he’ll let you come to the party no matter what you wear.”

  It isn’t a secret my father still isn’t Xavier’s biggest fan. Instead of a nuisance, he’s now ‘trouble with no future.’ But he does have a future, and it's definitely brighter than mine—he’s the star baseball player at his public school. And he's smart, like genius, top of his class. He has some kind of photographic memory, because he never needs to study. And he has this freaky ability to get into my dad’s house undetected. Actually, into anything with a security system.

  “I have something to tell you,” he says in a tone that lets me know it's not something I want to hear.

  Worried, I perch on the edge of the bed and gaze into his troubled blue eyes. “Ok, go ahead.”

  He picks up the ball cap and studies the fraying brim as if the peeled back threads hold the courage to say what he's about to tell me. “Your dad asked me to come work for him when I graduate.”

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  I haven't had to count to calm myself in a long time. You get older and learn to just deal. But this. I'm old enough to know my father gets what he wants, and for some reason he's set his sights on Xavier.

  Four.

  Five.

  “Say something,” he urges.

  “Why does he need you?”

  “Don’t you get it, Rhi.” He stands from the bed. “He wants to hire me to do his dirty work.”

  I shake my head, pushing his words away. “No, he wouldn’t.” But, who am I kidding? It is so like my father to take the one good person in this world and try to corrupt him. Once, Xavier told me he would take me away from this place, and I was afraid, but now I pray for it.

  With each passing day, I realize the depth of what it is my father does. The “business associates” who come and go at all hours. The mayor and police chiefs who visit often. The Internet is a powerful tool, and so is my curiosity about the words I've overheard dropped: Omertà, soldier, underboss. I know what they all mean. I know Ralph doesn't carry a gun when he drives me to school to protect me from the everyday moms and dads dropping off their kids. I know Sam and Lester aren't just carrying guns to keep the mailman out of the big iron gate. And I know my mom doesn't have a shadow following her everywhere she goes because she wants one.

  I won't let this happen.

  Xavier is everything wonderful in this world. And he’s all mine.

  Well, maybe not mine, but I spend more time with him than my own family. Unlike Xavier, I may have a father in my life, but he might as well not be there except to give me a last name.

  “I thought you were going to leave and go away to college?” I finally respond. “And then I’d join you.”

  That's our plan: when we graduate, we’ll go far away and leave all this behind. I have my life all mapped out, and it takes place in Maine now. I'll have a house, with a wraparound porch, on the shore and a little shop where I sell greeting cards I've designed.

  “It’s ok. I would never work for your father.” The determination in his voice rings strong and true throughout the room.

  I bite the corner of my lip, my eyes meeting his. “What are you going to do?”

  My dread vanishes with the curve up of his lips. It's still my favorite thing. Xavier has one of those easy smiles, like
you're the only one in on a secret with him. He can flash it at me from across a room, and it instantly changes my mood.

  “Don't worry about it.” And just like that, he dismisses all the negativity weighing down the room to pull something from his jeans pocket. “I got you a present.”

  “What is it?” I try to not sound overly eager, but gifts from Xavier are always special. The stuffed rabbit sitting on my bed meant more to me than the expensive dresses my parents gave me last Christmas.

  He steps closer, dangling a delicate, gold chain from his fingers. “Happy birthday,” he says, dropping it in my outstretched palm.

  I glance down and run my finger across the cool metal of the attached charm—golden birds nestled, side by side. “I love it.”

  “They’re turtle doves. My mom used to tell me the story of the two turtle doves when I was a kid.” He reaches in and separates the charm, holding one of the doves in his hand. “Legend says, they’re a symbol of friendship. As long as you have one, and I have the other, then we’ll be friends forever. No matter what your father does.”

  I bound off the bed and tackle-hug him. “This is the best thing I've ever received.”

  He pulls away, smiling. “Ok, ok. Don't get all weepy on me.”

  “I made you something too.” Grinning, I cross to my desk, pull open the drawer that hides my secret hobby, and grab the envelope with his name.

  “It's not my birthday,” he says, taking it from me.

  “I know, but I've decided I don't want all the attention. It's awkward.”

  He laughs, opening the envelope and sliding out the card I made—a smiling hand drawn chestnut.

  “‘You're my favorite nut,’” he reads inside. “You know, this may be the best one yet. You're getting really good. Someday when you're rich and famous, I'll have the originals.”

  Later, when I’m down at the party, standing with Morgan and Daphne, the daughters of one of dad’s friends, I hold the dove between my fingers and smile. Nothing will separate us. There isn’t anything my father could do to make him into a bad guy.

  When I look up, Xavier is there.

  “How did you get in here?” I ask, checking over my shoulder to make sure my father hasn’t spotted him yet.

  “I came in the service entrance,” he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, “through the kitchen.”

  I smile. “My father will…”

  He cuts in, “Kill me, I know.”

  There’s a twinkle of mischief in his eyes and a slow grin curves his lips. “Let’s get out of here. Unless you’re having fun standing here in the corner.” He winks.

  “Xavier, you’re going to get me into trouble.”

  He shrugs. “Nah, come on, it’ll be fun.”

  He doesn’t need to say any more. Next thing I know, we’re sneaking out of my party and through the front door.

  Somewhere across the lawn he grabs my hand.

  “Let’s go to the lake.”

  There’s a small lake right at the edge of my father’s property. I’m not usually allowed to go to it, except during the summers when I’m well-monitored.

  But, I’m older now. And even if I wanted to say no, the thrills of excitement that race through me as Xavier sneaks me away from my house scream yes. It’s more addictive than chocolate.

  He removes his sneakers and drops my hand as he hits the tip of the shore. “Water feels good,” he tells me, dipping his toe in.

  His shirt flies off and in my direction. And I don't move looking at his bare chest. It has ripples and muscles. He’s sixteen and already has the physique of a hard-working teen. He drops his jeans, revealing his black boxer briefs, and my mouth hangs open like the fish we hook in the summer. Not attractive, I’m sure. And then, splash, he wades into the water deeper.

  “Come on,” he urges.

  I glance down at my dress and toe off my dress shoes. “Well…” I’m not sure how to finish this thought.

  This thought being ‘I can’t be in my panties and bra alone with a sixteen-year-old.’ Especially not Xavier. I have boobs and stuff. And my bra isn't even a full bra, it's a special half one that doesn't cover much.

  “Rhiannon,” my father’s voice booms from behind me, causing a momentary knee-jerk reaction of panic all throughout my body.

  I turn slowly. “Hi, I was just stepping out for a little fresh air.”

  His face turns a deadly shade of red when he catches sight of Xavier. “Go back to the house, Rhiannon,” he orders.

  I gaze out at a very calm Xavier, pushing his hands through the dark water, and then back at my dad.

  “It's okay, Rhi,” Xavier calls out. “Go ahead.”

  My feet won't move, because they are too scared to leave Xavier out here alone with my father.

  “She doesn't listen to you,” my father scoffs. “Go, Rhiannon,” he tells me again.

  My stupid, stubborn feet won't go, they just won't, and then I'm picked up and tossed like a rock to skip across the lake into the chilly water. My feet finally do something, kicking and thrashing me up to the surface.

  “Fuck,” Xavier says, reaching out for me.

  “Is that what you wanted?” my father's cruel voice asks Xavier. “For her to swim with you? Now get back to the house, Rhiannon.”

  “Rhi, I’m not kidding, go,” Xavier whispers.

  This time I do, so I don't make it worse. I wade out, my watery dress sagging like my pride, and reluctantly pass my father. A shoe wallops me in the back and then another.

  “You forgot those,” my father says. “Don’t disobey me again.”

  Halfway up the hill, I turn back but can’t make out anything.

  Right up to my bedroom I go, slam the door, and cry like a baby until I pass out.

  4

  Xavier

  “Throw the ball,” Dean calls to me from across the field near my house.

  “Chill.” I throw the ball right into his catcher’s mitt. Catch that, fucker.

  I smile as Dean shakes out his hand from the fast pitch of my ball.

  The sun blinds me for a moment as he throws the ball back, and I do a little dive to clutch it out of the air. I land facing the DeLaurio mansion.

  Black sleek cars line the drive. Dinner party. Shannon DeLaurio, Rhiannon’s mother, loves throwing the extravagant parties to show off her perfect life. Every weekend it's something.

  Last weekend was Rhiannon’s birthday party, this weekend a prestigious dinner event.

  It must be a big deal, because the security has been beefed up. Most likely politicians.

  I turn and throw the ball back with enough force to knock Dean back a few steps when he catches it.

  After a few minutes, out of the corner of my eye, I see a small figure emerge. Rhiannon. I haven't seen her since the lake; my punishment.

  “Hey,” she says, lifting her hand in a little wave. “I made you something.”

  I drop my glove and race over to her.

  “Oh, come on. We playin’?” Dean shouts.

  “Give me a minute,” I call back as I jog across the grassy field.

  Rhiannon is cute today, in a pink sundress and her long hair pulled back in a braid. She clutches a Tupperware container like it’s going to jump out of her hands, and my stomach smiles knowing I’ll get some of her delicious treats. She makes the best sweets.

  “I felt bad about my birthday party.” Her brown eyes frown at me with regret as I reach her. “You know, with my dad.”

  I wave off her guilt. “Oh please, it’s fine.”

  “I made some lemon bars for you.” She bites her bottom lip. “I just wanted to apologize for him.”

  I place both hands on her shoulders and bend at the knees to stare directly in her eyes. “Hey, don’t ever apologize for him.” And I mean it. Asshole doesn’t deserve it.

  “I know.” She holds the bars out a little and I smile. “What did he do after I left?”

  I won’t tell her how he tried to make me feel less than human for even thinking
about wanting to spend time with his daughter. Or how after, he had his minion, Mike, sucker punch me in the ribs.

  “Nothing. Told me to get dressed and go home.” I give her a little wink to let her know all is well.

  She lifts a brow. “Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s all good.”

  “Dude, you about done?” Dean calls from across the field.

  I grab the container of lemon bars and hold them up. “Sorry, more important things.”

  Rhiannon laughs, popping open the top.

  “Hey, want to stay and watch us practice?” I nod toward her house. “I mean, I know you guys are having some sort of party.”

  She beams. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s never really fine.” I walk backwards, smiling at Rhiannon as I take a bite of my bar. “And that's what makes it fun.”

  She drops down in the grass to watch as Dean and I resume practice until the sun droops in the sky and the wind chills.

  “Five more minutes,” I call out to Dean. Two guys, dressed in slacks and button-down shirts, obviously guests from the event happening at her house, wander our way.

  “Rhiannon, what are you doing out here?” the lanky, blond kid asks.

  “Hey, Ian,” she says, standing. “Just watching my friends play.”

  He glances our way, his eyes assessing and judging everything about the situation.

  “Throw the ball,” Dean yells.

  I put up a hand, wanting to watch to make sure she’s ok.

  “Why don’t you come back to the house, instead of hanging out with these guys,” Ian says.

  The way he says ‘these guys,’ like we’re toxic waste threatening to contaminate her, pisses me off. I’ve noticed this asshole around her house before. His dad is a Senator or something else equally important. The other tool beside him, with short black hair and squirrely brown eyes, is probably a politician’s kid too.

  I drop my glove and walk over.