Jaded Devil
A Mafia Romance
Nicole Fox
Copyright © 2021 by Nicole Fox
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Contents
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Also by Nicole Fox
Jaded Devil
Prologue: Kian
1. Renata
2. Kian
3. Kian
4. Renata
5. Kian
6. Renata
7. Kian
8. Renata
9. Renata
10. Renata
11. Kian
12. Renata
13. Kian
14. Renata
15. Renata
16. Kian
17. Kian
18. Renata
19. Kian
20. Renata
21. Kian
22. Renata
23. Kian
24. Renata
25. Renata
26. Renata
27. Kian
28. Renata
29. Renata
30. Kian
31. Renata
32. Kian
33. Renata
34. Kian
35. Renata
36. Kian
37. Renata
38. Kian
39. Renata
40. Renata
41. Kian
42. Renata
43. Kian
44. Renata
45. Kian
46. Kian
47. Renata
48. Kian
49. Renata
50. Renata
51. Kian
52. Renata
53. Kian
54. Renata
56. Renata
57. Kian
Epilogue: Kian
Extended Epilogue
Sneak Preview of GILDED CAGE
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Also by Nicole Fox
Mazzeo Mafia Duet
Liar’s Lullaby (Book 1)
Sinner’s Lullaby (Book 2)
Kovalyov Bratva
Gilded Cage
Gilded Tears
Jaded Soul
Jaded Devil
Bratva Crime Syndicate
*Can be read in any order!
Lies He Told Me
Scars He Gave Me
Sins He Taught Me
Belluci Mafia Trilogy
Corrupted Angel (Book 1)
Corrupted Queen (Book 2)
Corrupted Empire (Book 3)
De Maggio Mafia Duet
Devil in a Suit (Book 1)
Devil at the Altar (Book 2)
Kornilov Bratva Duet
Married to the Don (Book 1)
Til Death Do Us Part (Book 2)
Heirs to the Bratva Empire
*Can be read in any order!
Kostya
Maksim
Andrei
Princes of Ravenlake Academy (Bully Romance)
*Can be read as standalones!
Cruel Prep
Cruel Academy
Cruel Elite
Tsezar Bratva
Nightfall (Book 1)
Daybreak (Book 2)
Russian Crime Brotherhood
*Can be read in any order!
Owned by the Mob Boss
Unprotected with the Mob Boss
Knocked Up by the Mob Boss
Sold to the Mob Boss
Stolen by the Mob Boss
Trapped with the Mob Boss
Volkov Bratva
Broken Vows (Book 1)
Broken Hope (Book 2)
Broken Sins (standalone)
Other Standalones
Vin: A Mafia Romance
Box Sets
Bratva Mob Bosses (Russian Crime Brotherhood Books 1-6)
Tsezar Bratva (Tsezar Bratva Duet Books 1-2)
Heirs to the Bratva Empire
The Mafia Dons Collection
The Don’s Corruption
Jaded Devil
A Mafia Romance
I’LL SHOW HER WHAT A DEVIL DOES WHEN AN ANGEL FALLS INTO HIS LAP.
I met her the day I killed her father.
She stood there, soaked in his blood, and swore she’d make me pay when the time was right.
Twenty years later, that day has come.
She’s beautiful now.
A dark temptation I never expected.
But Renata Lombardi is in far over her head.
Because she thinks this is a game of kill or be killed.
She’s wrong.
It’s break or be broken.
Prologue: Kian
New York City
“Are you sure?”
I take a deep breath, trying to marshal my powers of patience. “That’s the tenth fucking time you’ve asked me that question,” I reply, letting the irritation seep in just a fraction.
“It’s a bold plan,” Cillian says in the tone he uses when he’s trying not to say something that Saoirse’s clearly told him not to.
“That’s exactly why it’ll work.”
“Did I say bold?” Cillian asks. “I meant stupid.”
“Cillian!” His wife Saoirse’s voice breaks through.
He grumbles, “Should’ve known that you were on the line, too.”
“I worry about you,” she says defensively.
“Both of you need to calm the fuck down,” I tell them. “Channel all that parental energy towards your actual child. How is my niece, by the way?”
“Don’t try and change the fucking subject,” Cillian snaps.
I roll my eyes.
“And stop rolling your eyes,” he adds.
“I… How did you know?”
Saoirse laughs. “Because he would react the exact same way if he were the one in your shoes.”
“Whose side are you on, woman?” Cillian growls.
“I’m on the clan’s side. Last I checked, we were all Clan,” she replies shrewdly.
“Jesus. You’d do well in politics, Saoirse,” I tell her.
“Hey, there’s no need to be insulting.”
Cillian laughs, but he squelches it pretty fast. I can sense that he’s worried, and that’s irritating me more than I’m willing to admit.
“Kian, all I’m saying is that an attack on this level… at this time…”
“I know the risks,” I cut him off. “I’m doing it anyway.”
“Yes, but—”
“Did you or did you not put me in charge of this mission?” I demand.
There’s a second of silence.
“Well?” I press. “It wasn’t a trick fucking question.”
“I did,” Cillian admits grudgingly.
“Right. You did. And that means I’m the one making the decisions and calling the shots,” I remind him. “This isn’t a spontaneous decision. I didn’t pull this plan out of my ass. I’ve been in New York for almost six fucking months, monitoring the situation.”
“Exactly! And six months isn’t enough time to—”
“The time for monitoring is done,” I interrupt. “I need to act. And what better
time to act than when their defenses are down and they don’t suspect a thing?”
“It’s a fucking wedding, Kian,” Cillian growls. “Security is going to be through the goddamn roof.”
“Yes, it is,” I agree. “Security is going to be through the roof—at the church. Where the wedding is taking place. I’m not attacking the church.”
“You’re not?”
I’ve purposefully kept the details of my plan as secretive as possible. It’s driven Cillian crazy the last few months, but I just consider that a bonus.
“Of course not. What kind of sick fuck attacks a house of God?”
“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not,” Saoirse pipes up.
“Good,” I say. “I like to keep you guessing.”
This time, I can practically see her roll her eyes.
“Kian,” Cillian chimes in, “this is still a risky plan.”
“Don’t tell me that marriage and fatherhood has turned you into a fucking sensible person.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Saoirse demands.
“Sensible people are boring.”
“Hey now…”
“Can we focus?” Cillian cuts in impatiently. “Marriage and fatherhood isn’t what’s changed me, Kian. Being don is what’s changed me. I’m responsible for every man under my command. That includes you.”
“And you gave me command,” I remind him again. “Trust me to do my job. After today, these Italian fucks aren’t going to be a problem for the Clan anymore. The Lombardis are just gonna be another mafia family that fell by the wayside when they fucked with the wrong Irishmen.”
“Have you kept Artem informed of your plans?”
I narrow my eyes. “No.”
“Kian.”
“Artem Kovalyov is a friend of the Clan and a valuable ally,” I concede. “And I know he’s like a brother to you. But I won’t have him interfering in my mission.”
“He wouldn’t be interfering. He’d be helping.”
I stop short of snorting into the phone. “Come on, Cillian,” I say. “The man’s a don. The moment he gets involved, he’s in charge. He’ll turn into a fucking bulldozer—not unlike someone else I know.”
“That wasn’t very subtle.”
I smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”
“Cillian, I told you,” Saoirse cuts in. “You need to trust Kian. He can do this.”
“About goddamn time that someone else gets in my corner,” I growl. “This is why I like your wife better than you, Cil. I like your daughter better than you, too. Hell, I like your cat better than you.”
“Care to continue?” he drawls.
“You rank somewhere in the low twenties. On a good day.”
I can tell he’s trying to fight the chuckle that’s managing to whistle through in small bursts.
“Excellent. Looks like you have nothing else to say, for a change. So now that we’ve got that done, I’ve got to go,” I say.
“Wait!”
I sigh. “What?”
“You call me the moment it’s done,” Cillian barks.
“Yes, Da.”
“Just do it, you little asshole.”
Saoirse’s sigh cuts between our jabs. “Can you two just say you love each other and be done with it?”
“Didn’t we just do that?”
Cillian chuckles. “Call me once it’s done, Kian. I mean it.”
The line goes dead. I put down my phone with relief. The call with my brother is out of the way.
Time to spill some blood.
I shake out the cramp in my hand and stretch my neck in both directions. I need to fucking concentrate. The last Lombardi security detail has just left to go and comb over the church.
The thirty-minute window I’ve accounted for has just swung open.
Today is a wedding. Not just any wedding—it’s the wedding of the don of the Lombardi Mafia, a contemptuous fuck named Giorgio who thinks that he gets to decide how things operate in New York City. He’s very, very wrong about that.
It’s about to cost him everything.
My lieutenant Rhys jumps over the short brick wall that separates the grass from the narrow pavement. He gives me one swift nod to confirm that everything is unfolding according to plan.
I grip the detonator in my hand. My finger grazes over the red button and savor the calm before the storm. One last moment of peace before all hell breaks loose.
Then I press down firmly.
The explosions start in little bursts. Like a firework display that’s gone off too soon. It takes a minute before the explosions work their way down the chain to the front of the gated compound.
Rhys gets into the passenger side door the moment the gates start to tremble on their hinges.
“Fucking fall already,” I growl, watching the structure with a careful eye.
“You could just drive through,” he suggests.
“I like my face arranged the way it is. Not flattened by a two-ton gate.”
It takes another minute for the Semtex explosives to do their job. Which is a minute longer that the Lombardis have to prepare.
But I figure we can afford it. I don’t want this mission to be too easy. That shit’s no fun.
Another tense few seconds tick past. And then—
BOOM!
The big payload hits. Iron shrieks as it’s torn to pieces. A fireball the size of a Volkswagen billows up and then rips in every direction, taking the exterior perimeter with it.
The moment the gate crashes down, I stomp on the accelerator. Two more vehicles follow me inside, each containing five men. It seems like a relatively unthreatening group.
Which is exactly what I want the Lombardis to think.
Security is predictably massing up out front with their weapons drawn when I come to an abrupt stop in the paved driveway that precedes the Lombardi estate.
Leaving our weapons in the car, Rhys and I clamber out with our hands raised.
“Hey, boys,” I greet, smiling down the line at the gobsmacked security, all of whom look like they’re still trying to get their bearings after our admittedly aggressive entrance.
I glance back at the fallen gate. “Heard there was a wedding today,” I continue. “So I thought we’d gate-crash.”
I’m not expecting a laugh, so I’m not disappointed. But I do make a mental note to tell Cillian about my punchline later. It’s the kind of stupid humor he lives for.
“Hands up, stronzo! Don’t fucking move,” the soldier in charge says gruffly. He’s already got a sheen of sweat on his brow.
I raise my eyebrows. “My hands are already up,” I point out. “I’m unarmed. Like I said, I just came to give my congratulations to the groom.”
“You’re that Irish motherfucker, aren’t you?” he snarls. His dark eyes are growing more and more confident as he counts the number of men behind me. Dumb bastard really thinks the odds are in his favor.
“Kian O’Sullivan,” I confirm. “That’s a name you should already be familiar with.”
“Why would we care about some jumped-up brat from a backwater shithole?”
My eyes go wide. The smile drops from my face instantly. “Excuse me?” I ask dangerously.
“I said, some jumped-up—”
“The other part,” I snarl. “You mentioned my country.”
His eyes glisten with bloodlust. He realizes he’s stumbled on the one insult that’s really gonna get a rise out of me. Unfortunately for this poor son of a bitch, getting a rise out of me is only going to end badly for him.
To be fair, today was going to end badly for him no matter what he said.
But this certainly didn’t help matters.
“Ah. Yes. I called it an illiterate, potato-eating boondocks filled with drunk sheep fuckers and red-headed whores.”
He’s probably so focused on my reactions that he’s barely even concentrating on the men at my rear. All those proud Irishmen he’s just insulted right along with me.
I sha
ke my head. “You fucking idiot,” I sigh. “You had the option of a quick and painless death. I hope that pitiful cliché was worth it.”
He looks at me in surprise. His men laugh as though I’m high on something.
“You decided to crash the Lombardi compound with eleven fucking men?” he demands. “None of you are even armed.”
“No,” I admit with a shrug. Then I gesture behind him. “But they are.”
The collective click of fifty different guns being cocked at the same time has the exact effect I’m looking for.
While this fucking moron was busy throwing around the least inspired insults of my countrymen I’ve ever heard, three teams of O’Sullivan men were creeping around his flanks. And now that he realizes the mistake he’s made, it’s far too late to do anything about it.
His eyes dart from side to side. He’s too scared to turn around. There’s a mouthful of hot lead waiting for him in every direction.
“Drop your fucking weapons,” my lieutenant Conor barks.