Mafia Claimed (Severin Family Book 3) Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2020 Winter Sloane

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0137-0

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, I hope you enjoy Lucas and Grace’s story as much as I loved writing it.

  MAFIA CLAIMED

  Severin Family, 3

  Winter Sloane

  Copyright © 2020

  Chapter One

  Grace Weaver had a plan.

  Finish off her bag of burgers and fries. Have a glass of wine. Sit her ass in front of the TV and watch Netflix until midnight. The perfect Friday night. After her eight-hour shift at the diner, Grace was beat. She opened the door to the apartment she shared with her best friend Sadie, half expecting the place to be dark.

  Sadie was always gone on Friday nights. Same with most of the people in the city. Everyone seemed to have a social life except for her, but it didn’t matter.

  The lights were on tonight. She found Sadie in the living room, all dolled-up and in a short red dress, barefoot and dancing to some pop song she didn’t recognize. Golden-haired, blue-eyed, slender, and full of attitude, Sadie was the life of every party. Grace was her exact opposite. Shy. Introverted. Invisible. Curvy. Full of freckles.

  Sometimes, she wondered how they became best friends, how they were still best friends even after high school.

  “Grace. Finally, you’re home. I’ve been waiting ages for you.” Sadie collapsed on the couch and picked up her incredibly tall heels from the floor. Her fuck-me heels. Grace tried one of Sadie’s heels once. One time was enough. She could barely walk in them. Grace preferred her sneakers.

  “What’s up?” she asked, unable to keep the wariness out of her voice.

  Sadie looked at the brown paper bag in her head and snatched it away. “You’re not going to waste another Friday night eating alone in front of the TV.”

  “I’m not?”

  “We’re going out. Put on your best dress. We’re going to a fancy art exhibit uptown.”

  “What? No way. Rich ditched you again?” Grace shook her head. Sadie might have an art degree, but she didn’t have much interest in art. She knew her friend only went to those things to hook up with guys. Grace loved Sadie like a sister but she didn’t exactly approve of how she easily went through guys like toilet paper.

  Live a little, Sadie liked to say, but then Sadie’s trust fund took care of her student loan. Grace still had a mountain of debt to go through.

  That was why Steve dumped her. You’re just a boring, fat bitch who works all the time and don’t put out. Steve’s hurtful words floated back in her head. He’d broken up with her six months ago. Sadie would’ve moved on by now. Grace wasn’t wired the same way. The hurt lingered, festered in her heart.

  She wasted five years of her life with that waste-of-space A-hole who didn’t know how to appreciate her, as Sadie liked to call him. They’d been together since they were sixteen. Where did that get her? Nowhere. Just an empty space in her heart waiting to be filled.

  He never knew her. Not really. Grace had tried to change, to be someone for him, but love shouldn’t work like that. It took her a while to figure that out.

  “Rich is an asshole. I don’t need him. Come on, Grace. I need you.”

  “I have an early shift tomorrow.”

  Sadie pouted. “Just for a little while?”

  “Sadie, I don’t want to waste my Friday night looking at abstract shit I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, Glass isn’t boring. I can tell you that.”

  “That the name of the artist?” she asked. “Remember that one time you took me to that exhibit of dirty clothes? Half an hour later, you ditched me to hook up with some investment banker. I couldn’t find a ride home.”

  “That won’t happen again. Promise.” Sadie did her puppy-dog expression. The one Sadie knew Grace couldn’t say no to. Damn it.

  Grace sighed. “Do I have to?”

  Sadie grinned, already knowing she had her.

  “Glass does erotic paintings.” Sadie tossed a pamphlet at her. “Think of it as high-class porn.”

  Grace widened her eyes, unable to help herself. Each painting on the canvas looked like a scene from a porn movie, except each image was done in oil. Made it look classier, somehow. Porn seemed like a poor word choice. Were nudes better?

  Grace knew nothing about art and had no interest in it but she found herself greedily devouring each tiny print on the pamphlet, heart racing. Good girls didn’t look at pictures like these and she was exactly that. Good. Her father, a cop, liked to brag about that to his friends. That was what attracted Steve to her when they were younger.

  Grace was sick of the label. If she was that girl, then why did her mind sometimes take her to dark, erotic, and forbidden places?

  She felt a flash go off. Sadie was laughing, still holding up her phone. “The expression on your face is priceless, girl.”

  Grace could feel her cheeks heating up. She knew Sadie was only teasing her but sometimes, it was too much. “If you’re going to be like that all night—”

  Sadie hugged her from behind. “I’m kidding. Sorry. Just hang out with me for a little while. An hour tops, then you can leave. There’s good food. Paolo’s catering the event.”

  “That pricey Italian place on Garden Road?” Grace asked with surprise.

  “Unlimited alcohol,” Sadie added.

  Grace rolled her eyes. She looked at her wristwatch. It was a Seiko, nothing fancy, but her dad gave it to her on her twentieth birthday, the year before he passed away. Eight in the evening.

  Grace supposed she could handle one hour. Then she’d be back in the apartment—well, it was under Sadie’s name and she was just paying rent. Grace would be in her PJs and ready to become a couch potato before ten.

  “Fine.”

  Sadie let out a whoop. “Wear a sexy little number and put on some heels. Let’s party.”

  ****

  An hour later, Grace found herself alone in the gallery. Sadie had wandered off with an older man in a gray suit ten minutes earlier. Grace doubted she would be back. She’d head to the buffet area, maybe get a few more shrimp cocktails before bailing, except she found herself wandering back to the paintings.

  Something about Glass’s work grabbed her interest. They were raw. Visceral. Besides, it was a fun way to pass the time, hearing people talk. Apparently, the artist seemed to be a man of mystery. Glass seldom showed his face in public. Rumor had it that Glass used to be a member of some dangerous mafia family but was now retired. Hitman turned painter.

  That would make for a hell of a story, she thought.

  She studied one work in particular. This one was simpler than the others—a painting of a beautiful and curvy black woman lying on a white leather couch, masturbating. Glass captured her expression perfectly. Head thrown back against the pillow, lips parted into an O, eyes glazed. There was a figure standing to the far right of her. A man, his features wreathed in shadow.

  Grace imagined herself being that woman, pleasuring herself while someone, a stranger looked on.

  Someone tapped her on the shoul
der, and Grace jumped in surprise. Seeing a man in his fifties, wearing a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, she relaxed a little.

  “Interesting composition, isn’t it? Perfect blend of unity and harmony.”

  “Uh. Sure.” Grace felt uncomfortable. She was used to staying in the background, unnoticed, but this guy seemed to be talking to her. The polite thing to do was linger a little longer then excuse herself. Maybe pretend she was looking for the ladies’ room.

  “I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Matthew Marshall. I know this is a little unorthodox, but I’m Mr. Glass’s manager. He’d like to meet you, miss…” Marshall trailed off, as though expecting her to fill in the blanks.

  Still embarrassed at being caught thinking dirty thoughts, Grace managed to mutter her name. “Weaver. Grace Weaver.”

  The artist wanted to meet her? That information stunned her for a second. Maybe Glass mistook her for someone else. She was nobody. Certainly not a buyer or a wealthy socialite. The kind of people Sadie mingled with.

  There were no prices written next to the paintings but she bet they cost more than what she earned in a year in the diner.

  “This way, please.” Marshall didn’t wait for an answer. He merely grabbed her elbow and started leading her past the room. They made a few twists and turns. Marshall was stopped by a few people asking about the paintings. Okay. At the very least, Marshall hadn’t lied about who he was.

  “Excuse us,” Marshall said, leaving a couple who seemed interested in buying a painting of a ménage. They resumed walking, left the main gallery area, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. It was quiet here, devoid of people. Another artist’s work was on display but the paintings were not as provocative as Glass’s work.

  The mist in her head started to clear. Ever since she was a kid, Grace had this problem. The urge to be polite. To please others. Saying no. She cared too much what others thought of her. Mulled over words and conversations she had with people, always trying to see what she said or did wrong. That was why she preferred being a wallflower, never being noticed.

  “Hold on a second,” Grace said, finally finding her voice. They stopped in front of a door that had the words Authorized Personnel Only. “I didn’t agree to this.”

  “Please, for my sake. Will you speak to Glass? It won’t take long. Ten minutes.”

  This situation was becoming stranger by the second. She heard it, though. Fear in Marshall’s voice. For some reason, Marshall was scared of Glass. Faint alarm bells rang in her head. She could walk away. Something felt off about this entire situation.

  Still, Grace had an odd feeling fate made her agree to accompany Sadie here tonight. Why Glass’s paintings called to her.

  “Five,” she said. Marshall opened the door for her.

  Chapter Two

  Lucas Glass couldn’t take his eyes off her the moment he saw her moving from room to room in the video surveillance room. Lucas knew he needed to meet her. Soon. Tonight. He told Marshall to fetch her for him.

  He usually didn’t attend his own shows. Even if he did, Lucas never made public appearances. He hid in the background, in this room, and people-watched. Right from the start, he could tell this woman didn’t fit in. Like a fish out of water.

  He hit the pause button on the computer. Technology these days—such a marvel. In his old life, Lucas used surveillance videos to watch his targets. He’d isolate them then pick them off behind the scope of his rifle. This woman whose name he didn’t know yet, she was next. His prey. Except, she didn’t know it yet.

  Lucas was one of the few individuals in this city the real monsters feared. No one messed with the Severin Familia and even if he’d hung up his guns, his name was still whispered in fear in the underworld.

  He touched the computer screen. She seemed fixated on one of the paintings. On Susan. One of the few works in the exhibit which featured only a single subject. Well, two, counting the shadow man behind the couch, but the man had no features. His breaths came short. His blood quickened, just like it did when he was about to make a kill.

  Lucas was now looking at his new muse.

  Fiery red hair fell in waves down her hair. The hazel eyes that gazed back at him seemed innocent. Pure. Like a doe caught in a trap. The black dress she wore looked ill-fitted, like it wasn’t her size but still. The material didn’t hide her curves, it only accentuated them. His mouth watered.

  He could already imagine throwing her on a bed of silk sheets, crimson, like her hair and pinning her down. Ripping off that dress to reveal her creamy, white skin, her luscious breasts. He’d set his teeth on her, layer them with savage kisses. Lucas bet she’d look good with his marks on her. Souvenirs of his passion.

  Violent desires make his blood boil, his skin flush and his dick hard.

  “Down boy,” he murmured to himself.

  The last thing Lucas wanted was to scare her away. Hearing the door to the room opening, he pulled himself back to the present.

  “Mr. Glass, I’ve brought Miss Weaver,” Marshall said.

  Marshall, wisely, took his leave.

  “Grace,” she said, taking a wobbly step inside the room.

  Lucas moved unthinkingly, catching her before she tripped. She gripped his biceps then looked up at him, eyes wide. Lucas felt the sudden urge to slip his fingers through that silken mess of red curls, tug them back to expose her white throat, those ruby-red kissable lips.

  He contained himself. Lucas reminded himself that he had plenty of time for that later on, once she accepted his proposal—and she would. None of the women he invited back to his studio refused him. He helped set her back on her feet and took a step back.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m not used to wearing heels. I’m more of a sneakers kind of gal.”

  “That’s fine,” he said, smiling.

  Lucas couldn’t remember the last time he did that. Lucas noticed her sneaking looks at him under her long lashes. Grace reminded him of another prey animal, a skittish rabbit who could bolt any moment.

  “Mr. Glass?”

  “Glass is a pseudonym. Call me by my first name, Lucas. Pleased to meet you, Grace.” He held out a hand, which she hesitantly shook.

  “Pardon me, Lucas, but why am I here?”

  “I want you to be my next muse.”

  ****

  For a second, Grace thought she misheard him. She couldn’t stop gawking at him. Lucas must be the largest man she’d ever seen. Large as a house, every inch of him seemed to be made of hard muscle. The charcoal-gray suit he wore sat on his six-foot-plus frame like it was specially made for him.

  He had a thick mane of dark-brown hair, cut almost military short, pale-blue eyes that spoke of coldness but now seemed to warm up to her, and thin lips she was certain was capable of cruelty. Why she thought that, Grace didn’t know. Lucas Glass was certainly nothing like she expected.

  She imagined some tall, gawky, and unsociable artist type, not this dangerous behemoth of a man who could easily break her in two if she wasn’t careful. It took her a second to realize Marshall had left, leaving the door closed behind her. She was alone with this stranger and all she could think about was how Lucas’s lips would feel on hers.

  Grace bet he’d kiss her rough. A man like Lucas would take without apology. He’d run those big, callused hands over her body, even impatiently rip her tiny dress to shreds simply to gain access to her skin

  “Grace? I expect an answer.”

  That commanding voice raised goosebumps across her arms, made her aware how cold it was in here. Her nipples peaked up against her bra, against the silken fabric of her dress. Lucas’s gaze moved from her face and down to her breasts. She felt hot all over even if the room was chilly.

  “Could you repeat that question?”

  He did.

  “Your muse?”

  “The next subject of my painting. I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you through the cameras. I’ll compensate you generously, of course.”

  Grace blushe
d at those words. Lucas seemed like the kind of man who didn’t mince words. He wanted her? That was a first. Wait a second. Grace couldn’t let her mind go to the gutter. She snapped back to reality. What was she doing, letting this man affect her like this?

  Then she finally processed the entirely of what he just said. Lucas had been watching her. It was wrong. Made him seem like a stalker. She wasn’t turned off, but she should be.

  Harsh, white light from a single bulb illuminated the surveillance room. A strange place to meet. Behind Lucas were numerous TV screens, all showing the visitors of the gallery. Maybe Lucas invited women to be his muse all the time. Grace wasn’t a special snowflake, just one of many.

  “I have to think about it,” she replied. Safe enough answer.

  “Sounds fair.” Lucas slipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers. She tensed but he only pulled out a metal card case. Lucas handed his business card to her, which she accepted.

  Grace suddenly felt silly for harboring filthy thoughts, yet she didn’t imagine the hunger in those eyes.

  “I should go back to the party. My friend’s probably looking for me,” Grace lied. Sadie probably went back with her latest conquest of the night but Lucas didn’t need to know about that. This man intrigued her and scared her shitless at the same time. A potent combination.

  “I’ll escort you out.” Lucas placed a hand on the small of her back and led her out of the cold room.

  She didn’t make a move to stop him. His palm on her skin felt like a small brand. It felt right there. This time, Grace was thankful she didn’t trip.

  This entire situation still felt surreal. Grace had a dozen questions on the tip of her tongue but she still had trouble formulating complete sentences. Lucas dropped his hand. She missed it already.

  She studied his card now. It was plain white with his name embossed on the front.