Claimed by the Crime Boss (Severin Family Book 4) Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2020 Winter Sloane

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0161-5

  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 Marco and Lila’s story as much as I loved writing it.

  CLAIMED BY THE CRIME BOSS

  Severin Family, 4

  Winter Sloane

  Copyright © 2020

  Prologue

  Five years ago

  Lila Rossi couldn’t remember the last time she set foot in a church. She stared out the windows of her beat-up, second-hand blue Toyota. The small but charming church of St. Mary looked back at her. Lila ran her fingers over and over the ceases of her black dress. She couldn’t even remember if she ironed her dress.

  Damn it. She decided she needed a cigarette before going inside. With trembling fingers, she grabbed a stick from the box and lit it.

  Lila drew out a smoke slowly. She promised her father she’d quit. Then again, her father was dead.

  “Killed by those bastards.” The vehemence in her voice surprised her.

  Lila wasn’t the kind of person who raised her voice or cursed. Good girl. That was what her father and his pals called her. Lila was a bookworm. She got good grades, stayed away from bad boys, and kept her head down. Right now, she had plenty of internal ammo to unload.

  She finished her smoke and let out a frustrated scream that could’ve gone on forever. Fortunately, no one heard her. She debated leaving then she remembered the reason why she was here in the first place.

  She’d driven thousands of miles back here, back to this wretched city she used to call home for the funeral. The last conversation Lila had with her father on the phone had been a disaster and ended with the two of them screaming at each other. Nothing new, except it was all she could think about during her silent drive here. The last words the two of them had exchanged had been harsh ones.

  Lila could never take them back. She should’ve known better. Men like her father could never change or turn away from old habits. This was the only life he’d known.

  “No use backing out now,” she told herself.

  Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach but another emotion suppressed it. Rage. When she left her apartment, quiet, deadly anger grew inside her like a fetus. Now, it felt like it was about to burst out of her skin like some monstrous force.

  Lila breathed in and out. She’d go in, face her father, and then quietly leave the church without any commotion or fuss. That was what good Catholic girls did. That label started to get on her nerves.

  She opened the car door and stepped out, her heels crunching on gravel. Other cars had arrived in the parking lot during her little dilemma. People she didn’t recognize were there in the parking lot. Men wearing expensive Italian suits and fancy leather shoes that probably cost more than her car, than everything she owned. The women who wore fur even in the hot summer with their tiny designer bags and dogs. Women who had steel in their spines.

  Lila used to admire them from afar when she was growing up. She wanted to be just like them. She only had to look at her own mother. Look how well that ended.

  They talked amongst themselves, in groups. Lila knew they packed guns under their coats, just like her dad. They’d walk past cops like that, with no fear of being patted down because the cops here were crooked. Always had been.

  When she walked past them, one of the women spoke about her.

  “That’s her, Stefano’s daughter. She turned nineteen this year.”

  Twenty-one actually, but Lila didn’t bother correcting her. She didn’t care about the gossip. They’d probably be talking about her all day. Come next week, new funeral, new topic of conversation. The thought sickened her.

  She walked past the parking lot and found herself in front of the doors of the church. Churches always felt oppressive to her. Touching the heavy wooden paneling on the door gave her chills, made her mind wander to the vaults of memories she thought she’d buried.

  Her mother used to drag her to Sunday service all the time when she’d been younger. What she prayed for, Lila never knew. What did it matter? Her mother was gone.

  “Now both of them are dead.” Lila sounded bitter to her ears.

  It seemed wrong her parents should pass away before she did. Lila had no family left now. She always told her dad to stop calling her, kept insisting she had her own life now, but privately, she’d looked forward to his calls. Lila had no one waiting for her back at the single apartment she called home. No dog, cat, or man to console her when she got the dreadful call.

  She went inside and didn’t recognize anyone sitting in the pews. Strangers. Like the incident in the parking lot, the people there grew quiet as she walked past them to reach the raised coffin. One craggy face gave her a tight smile. Gino, her father’s best friend and the only member of this little gathering she could stomach. Lila nodded to him and continued forward.

  She didn’t know why, but she began to shake again. Lila suddenly didn’t want to look at the corpse inside that fancy mahogany box. Gino hadn’t wanted to share the exact details of her father’s death but she persisted and asked until he gave her all the answers she wanted.

  Lila touched the glass over the coffin. The morticians must’ve fixed the hole where the bullet punctured her father’s left cheek, did a good job at it, too. The dead man looking back at her wasn’t her father anymore. Too much makeup. Her dad looked like one of those figures in a wax museum. Not real.

  She shivered, unsure how long she stood there. Lila vaguely heard voices in the background. Someone asked who she was, but she recognized Gino’s voice, telling whoever it was to give her space, all the time in the world.

  “He looks at peace, doesn’t he?” a new voice, a man said.

  Lila tore her gaze from her father’s body to look at the speaker. Eight years must’ve passed since she last saw Marco Severin but she knew it was him all the same. God. Lila hated every one of them, Marco especially.

  He looked as handsome as she remembered. A beautiful monster. A well-dressed predator. Too bad clothes couldn’t disguise the beast that lived under Marco’s skin.

  “Your family made all the funeral arrangements without consulting me. I’m his daughter,” were the first words out of her mouth. Lila knew she was adding gas to the fire but she wanted to pick a fight with someone, anyone.

  Marco Severin might not be the best choice. His family owned this city but at that moment, she didn’t care who he was. The two men in suits behind Marco looked at each other, tensed up at her confrontational tone. Lila wanted to laugh. As if a woman half their size could do anything to the son of their precious boss.

  Marco looked at her for a long time with those vivid blue eyes of his. He seemed much older than she remembered. An old memory surfaced of her stealing a kiss from him during Christmas back when she was fifteen. Back then, she used to come along with her father to his family’s enormous house during special occasions.

  That felt like another lifetime ago. Both the grinning boy and that laughing girl were gone. Vanished. Two brok
en people were left in their place.

  “We decided it was best we handle everything. Take the load off your shoulders,” he said in a reassuring voice that only pissed her off.

  Lila wasn’t some puppy, some pet he could console and cajole. He must be used to people obeying his every whim.

  “He’s my dad,” she repeated. Lila hated the tears that slipped down her cheeks, hated herself most of all for showing weakness to the one man in the entire world she wanted dead. Marco probably knew her relationship with her father had become strained over the years. The bastard knew everything. Lila didn’t even know how Gino had managed to contact her. She changed her phone number after the last time she spoke to her dad.

  Connections. This fucking family had their tentacles on everything and anyone, including her. They probably kept tabs on her simply because of her dad.

  Marco said nothing, simply reached out and brushed away her tears with the back of his knuckles. She angrily flung his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice hard and cold. Like ice. Lila was becoming like her mother every single day and loathed herself for it. “You killed him. My father died taking a bullet for you.”

  “Watch your mouth, bitch,” said one of the men, Marco’s bodyguards.

  “Show her some respect, Lorenzo. She’s Stefano’s kid,” Marco said in a voice that lacked any warmth. Lorenzo shut up immediately after that, although he didn’t look happy. Marco placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “We should’ve consulted you. That’s true.”

  “I don’t hear an apology.”

  Marco regarded her again. Right. A man like him didn’t hand out that word freely to anyone. To him, she was probably just another errand. He probably did this all the time, offered his condolences to the family members of the men who worked for him, men who died for the Severin Familia.

  “You’ll be taken care of. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Did he hear himself?

  “I don’t want your money,” she snapped. “Money can’t bring him back.”

  “No,” he agreed. “Let’s sit down for a minute to talk.”

  “Don’t want to cause a scene?” she asked, sarcasm leaking into her voice.

  Marco nodded to the coffin. “Do you really want to do this right here, in front of your father’s coffin?”

  “That thing inside that box isn’t him,” she said. “The dad I knew used to take me on fishing trips when I was a kid. He’d come home on plenty of nights, all banged up and I’d patch him, never asking questions.”

  Lila curled her hands into fists and came at him. One of his bodyguards began to intervene, but Marco held out a hand, let her pound her fists into his chest. It felt like she was punching a brick wall. He took her blows, not saying a single thing. Part of her appreciated that. She let her hands fall to her sides after. To her shock, he pulled her close, into a fierce embrace.

  He was big, warm, and comforting.

  This time, she lacked the energy to shove him away, to tell him to go screw himself. Lila lost all her strength, whatever witty remarks she wanted to say to him. All her energy had been depleted simply coming here and punching him. She was so tired, she could curl into the arms of this killer and sleep. It was an appalling thought but never before did she feel so alone before, so isolated.

  Lila left this city, left her father as a statement. She didn’t want to be pulled into the life her father and mother had chosen for themselves. Her dad let her leave, helped paid for her college tuition fees because he wanted something better for her.

  Marco stopped touching her. She shivered and hesitantly took a step back. Lila felt like she just woke from a bad dream—except reality was still the same. A nightmare. He took off his jacket, placed it over her shoulders, and steered her away from the coffin.

  Numbness filled her. She didn’t know she let him lead her. Marco found them seats at the last two pews in the back of the church. People mostly left them alone. His bodyguards stood a few feet away but she hardly noticed them. She didn’t know how long they sat there, not speaking to each other.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth at first. Maybe it was the guilt talking. Marco knew he was at fault. Her father died protecting him. Did her dad think about her, the people he’d left behind if he passed away?

  Marco reached for her arm, gave it a squeeze. His touch had been welcomed before but now, it felt repulsive again. She didn’t want comfort from this man. He was her enemy.

  “Your father treated me like I was his own son. He went out like a warrior, if that helps,” Marco said.

  “It doesn’t. Nothing’s going to be all right ever again.” She took off his jacket, shoved it back at him, and left the church. The emptiness inside her continued to grow and she wondered how long it would take before it fully consumed her.

  Chapter One

  Present

  Lila knew she was being watched and she didn’t care. Her silent stalker wasn’t a threat to her yet. She understood why he was here, but she didn’t want to confront him yet. Old emotions swirled deep in her chest, threatened to rise and drown her again, but she stuffed them back.

  Lila shut her eyes and blocked out all the negative emotions. She’d left her father’s funeral grief-stricken and full of rage. Five years later, she returned, not for vengeance but to learn to forgive. To let go and for other reasons as well.

  She opened her eyes and gazed at her father’s tombstone. He’d been lain to rest right next to her mom. Lila pushed aside her own personal problems. Standing here in the quiet cemetery felt peaceful.

  She noticed the wilting roses next to the fresh white ones she’d lain earlier.

  Someone else had been here recently and she wondered if it was him. She sent a silent prayer above before turning to face the man waiting for her.

  Marco Severin looked older than she remembered, his profile harsh under the bright afternoon sunlight. Five years ago, she still saw hints of the boy he’d been, the boy she’d shared her first kiss with. Now, a man stood before her. Deadly and beautiful.

  Today, he wore a dark gray suit perfectly tailored for him. Marco seemed to have gotten only bigger. He’d bulked up. There were a few grays in his dark-brown hair now. Those blue eyes looked like a dark storm cloud today, troubled. Haunted.

  “Hello, Lila,” he said in that deep voice of his that made her suppress a shiver. She wondered if he also used that same voice whenever he was having someone tortured for information or seducing other women.

  Other women. She bet he had women falling all over him. His last girlfriend had been a model or an actress. She remembered reading the article online once.

  Lila stayed clear from that line of thought. Going down that path would ensure she’d have a tombstone right next to her parents. Marco and the Familia would probably make all the funeral arrangements as well.

  Violence was in Marco’s blood, just like it was with her father and everyone else she knew from the Severin Familia.

  “Did you have someone place those roses on his tombstone?” she asked because she didn’t know how to start a conversation. Remembering the way she’d acted the last time she saw him appalled her.

  Lila hadn’t forgiven him completely, but she could’ve acted more mature back then. Instead, she’d acted like a brat. A child.

  “I did. I come by here often.”

  “Why?” she had to ask.

  Lila had only stayed until the burial. She’d lingered in the back, never spoke to anyone. She was thankful Marco kept his distance. Lila hadn’t visited her parents in five years. She didn’t have the guts to. Hatred held her back from returning to this place but now, desperation forced her to return to her beginnings.

  “To remind myself of the sacrifices others made for me over the years. People like your father are the reason why I’m alive and where I am today,” Marco said.

  Lila glanced over his shoulder but saw no one for mil
es. Was it only the two of them here in the cemetery? “No bodyguards with you today, I noticed.”

  “They’re around,” Marco said with a shrug. “Let’s get a coffee. Catch up.”

  Refusal came to mind, but Lila surprised both of them by saying, “Okay.”

  Guilt crept into her. She wondered if Marco knew just how much trouble she’d landed herself in.

  “Did you drive here?” Marco asked.

  She shook her head. “I took a cab.”

  “My car’s parked nearby. Come.” He held out his hand to her. A truce? Of course, a man like Marco issued commands and expected others to obey his orders. Lila stepped forward, gave his fingers a squeeze, and then let go. His hands were big compared to her own, callused and rough.

  Marco didn’t make a big deal out of it, merely started to lead the way. They said nothing to each other until they arrived at the parking lot. Lila began to feel self-conscious around him, like she was a nervous teenager again.

  No one spoke to Marco the way she did and lived. Lila knew that well enough. Maybe he only let her off that day because she was grieving. Did he hate her as much as she despised him? With her father dead, there was no reason for him to talk to her, much less invite her on a coffee date.

  This isn’t a date, she reminded himself. Why was she acting this way around the man whose guts she hated with a passion? Right. Because she was desperate and needed his help.

  What did that make her? Worse than her father?

  Marco opened the car door to his black Ferrari for her. She slipped in, wondering why the hell she hadn’t politely refused. She could still back out, except Marco closed the door for her and took the driver’s seat.

  She didn’t expect him to act like a gentleman. He started the car and the engine gave out what sounded like a purr.