Stolen Bride's Baby: Carelli Family Mafia, #1

By Heather West

Stolen Bride's Baby is book 1 of the Carelli Family Mafia trilogy. Books 2 and 3, Stolen Bride's Veil and Stolen Bride's Vow are available everywhere now!

THEY TOLD ME TO KEEP MY HANDS OFF OF HER.
I TOLD THEM TO TRY AND STOP ME.

HER: The daughter of the mob boss. In other words, strictly off-limits.
ME: The man hired to protect her… and the father of her baby.

Pia's father is not a man to be messed with.
He's killed before and he sure as hell isn't afraid to get his hands dirty again.
But when Pia's life is threatened by a masked man with bad intentions, I get called in.

My job is simple: don't let anybody touch her.
But simple doesn't always mean easy.

Because the mafia princess is begging to be bent over and held down.
That body needs a man to show her how to use it.

And I'm just the guy for the job.

Because when I go to claim a woman, I don't do things halfway.
Pia won't just be my plaything.
She'll also be the mother of my child.

That is, if her father doesn't kill me before our baby is born.

I crossed the line – I know that.
But I'll be damned if I let this old man take me away from my new family.

He can try to marry her off to someone else, or to keep her away from me.
But I'm coming to claim what's mine.

My bride.
My baby.
Our freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sopris Page Press
• Release date: Aug 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386445807

Book preview

STOLEN BRIDE’S BABY: A Mob Romance (Carelli Family Mafia Book 1)

By Heather West

THEY TOLD ME TO KEEP MY HANDS OFF OF HER.

I TOLD THEM TO TRY AND STOP ME.

HER: THE DAUGHTER OF the mob boss. In other words, strictly off-limits.

ME: The man hired to protect her... and the father of her baby.

Pia’s father is not a man to be messed with.

He’s killed before and he sure as hell isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty again.

But when Pia’s life is threatened by a masked man with bad intentions, I get called in.

My job is simple: don’t let anybody touch her.

But simple doesn’t always mean easy.

Because the mafia princess is begging to be bent over and held down.

That body needs a man to show her how to use it.

And I’m just the guy for the job.

Because when I go to claim a woman, I don’t do things halfway.

Pia won’t just be my plaything.

She’ll also be the mother of my child.

That is, if her father doesn’t kill me before our baby is born.

I crossed the line – I know that.

But I’ll be damned if I let this old man take me away from my new family.

He can try to marry her off to someone else, or to keep her away from me.

But I’m coming to claim what’s mine.

My bride.

My baby.

Our freedom.

Chapter 1

Pia Carelli flipped off the lights in her clothing store. The racks of clothing along the walls, the circles of shirts in the center of the room, all went dark. The lights that were perfectly placed, that so carefully showed off the colors and shapes of her precisely chosen designer lines, now highlighted nothing.

She loved this store and everything it represented—her freedom, her good taste, her ability to hire and fire employees at will and order them around all day. It was fun, like her personal playground where she could do whatever she wanted. And her personal closet. If a piece didn’t look good on her, it wasn’t allowed to sit on her shelves. She was her own best advertising.

She stepped outside. The evening air was cool, but not so cool that her sweater was too light. She’d dressed just right for the weather. The early spring air hadn’t turned warm enough yet, though her new spring lineup hung through her store. Had to stay ahead of the seasons. That was how it worked. If she waited until spring was upon them to stock spring lines, she’d be behind and out of date. Her spring lines had been in the store for a month now. A full week ahead of the shop down the street that she hoped to put out of business.

She locked the glass door with a satisfying click and turned toward her car, a brand new Jaguar. She wasn’t sure she still liked this car, though. Maybe she’d have her father trade it in for a new Ferrari. That might be more fun. The Jag was boring her. She fished her keys out of her purse and clicked the button on the fob to unlock the doors. The lights flashed and the car beeped twice. She put her hand on the car’s handles and pulled.

But then a hand clamped down over her mouth and a man was pulling her. She struggled against him, but her Versace heels didn’t give her much traction. She felt the heel of one shoe snap and wanted to scream even louder. It was the first time she’d worn them, and she adored those shoes. Now they’d be ruined forever. And they were so rare, she probably couldn’t even get another pair.

The man pulled her farther and she managed to back away from his hand long enough to scream. The rough hand clamped down again.

Shut up, bitch, he hissed in her ear. I’ll cut your throat.

She tried to push against him. Now that her heel was broken, what did it matter if she scuffed the shoes? They were no good anymore. She kicked and dug her heels in the gravel.

The man slapped her across the face. Her cheek stung, but her pride stung worse. Who was this man? Who did he think he was to lay his hands on her like this? Did he know who her father was? And what he’d do when he found out she’d been so mistreated? This man would be dead, and whoever he worked for would be dead, too. Idiots. Her father was far too powerful to let this crap go on. You didn’t mess with the daughter of the head of the Italian mob and live to tell the tale. Her attacker would pay for this. She’d make sure of it.

They were almost to his car now and the reality of the situation settled over her. This wasn’t just about her shoes and being mistreated. She was going to be put in this man’s car. What would he do then? Take her somewhere? Was this about money and kidnapping her to get it? Or was this something worse? Was he going to touch her and hurt her? Was he going to kill her?

The fear bloomed in her chest and spread through her body. She started shaking with it. She tried to plead with him, to tell him she’d give him money, anything if he let her go, but she couldn’t say a word with his hand so tight on her mouth.

The skin of his hand was dry and coarse. She felt little pieces poking at the delicate skin around her mouth. He smelled, too. Like sweat and grease. Probably just crawled out from under a truck somewhere. Gross. Who knew where this guy had been and what he’d been doing. He was probably ruining her new Marc Jacobs sweater, too.

Pia pulled harder, still trying to get free of the man’s grasp. This time, she broke free. She pulled so hard that she fell to the ground, putting a rip in her Givenchy skinny jeans. She ignored it for now and scrambled to face the man.

But he wasn’t coming for her like she expected. Wasn’t reaching to grab her again. Instead, he fought a man. Someone had come to her rescue.

Pia sat on the ground, afraid to move for fear of drawing attention to herself. And besides, her purse was near their feet and she didn’t see her keys. They’d fallen from her hand and landed somewhere.

She could see the fight in full view. Her attacker wore all black. Sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, a knit cap over his head. All cheap junk clothing. Probably got it from some big box store. Her savior was slightly better dressed. His jeans hung well, though they weren’t a brand she’d ever carry. Too low end. But his leather jacket looked somewhat expensive. Middle grade, at least. Still far too cheap for her tastes. But the leather moved with him so well. She would have expected his movement to be too restricted in it, but his arms moved freely as he swung at the attacker.

He landed several punches, clearly the much better fighter. The attacker ducked and swung back, but only landed one punch for every four her savior landed. Whoever this man was, he knew what he was doing.

She wished she could see his face better. It was growing darker every minute and he moved so fast, it was hard to make out any features. The baseball cap on his head didn’t help either. She would have to thank this man and make sure her father rewarded him. Who knew why he’d been in the area or who he was, but he’d taken the time to help her and was putting himself in physical harm to protect her, so he deserved something for that.

In fact, her father should maybe think about hiring this guy. Of course, he hadn’t jumped in in time to save her outfit, and that would cost her almost a thousand dollars to replace the damaged pieces, but he’d stopped her from being put into the attacker’s car, and who knew what would have happened next. He might have saved her life. He’d at least saved her dignity. A savior story was much better than a kidnapping story. All her friends would swoon over the fact that she’d been saved by a man in leather. They’d talk about it for weeks. Months maybe. They’d sympathize with her ruined outfit, then help her shop for a new one. She could hardly wait to text them all later.

Her savior was definitely winning this fight. The attacker looked ready to crumble to the ground. His back was to her, but she bet he was a bloody mess. Maybe he even needed a hospital.

As she watched, she thought he was starting to fall. His hand went to his back. But instead of landing on the ground, he pulled a gun from where it’d been tucked in a holster under his pants. He pointed the gun at the savior, who then put his hands up.

The attacker took off, running past her toward his car. The car he had tried to get her in. He yanked open the door, hopped inside, and sped away.

No! she shouted, unthinking. He couldn’t just get away like that. Where was the justice? That man needed to be taken to jail, then killed by her father’s men. He didn’t get to attack her like that and just