Mafia Claimed

By Winter Sloane

Grace: Lucas Glass. Artist. Those are the words on the elegant white card he gave me but I know better. He tells me I’m his latest muse but I can tell he wants to do more than paint my body. Every inch of him screams danger. My bestfriend tells me to run while I still can. A dead cop’s daughter, a nice girl like me can’t handle a man like him. I’m about to prove all of them wrong.

Lucas: I wanted out. I left my past behind, hoping to start fresh but blood’s always thicker than water. I need to stay away from Grace but one taste of her sweet lips and I’m hooked. Grace’s the light to my darkness, but one misstep and I can drag us both to the underworld I’ve escaped from.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Mar 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9780369501370

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

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