Crown of Sins

By Maria Ann Germain

Bellamy Byrne runs an empire. It may be a criminal empire, but hey, it's hers. And as the gorgeous Mafia Princess of DC, Bellamy gets everything she wants as soon as she wants it. No one dares to argue with her. That is until Raleigh Harding.

Make that Special Agent Raleigh Harding of the FBI. Specifically of the Organized Crime Unit trying to take down The Byrnes. He hates Bellamy even before meeting her, and when he does, she makes it worse by getting under his skin. Her stubbornness and that mouth of hers rival his—something he didn't know was possible. Logically, he knows she's bad news. But even still, he can't stop thinking about that body of hers, and all the things he'd like to do with it, with her.

Bellamy may have too much fun pushing Raleigh's buttons, especially since he's the last person she should be flirting with. But when situations turn dangerous and out of control, Bellamy's first call is to Raleigh. So when he offers her a deal, to work with the FBI and lessen the scrutiny surrounding her and everyone she loves, it's one she considers—even if both options are dangerous.

Can these two flirtatious enemies find a middle ground that benefits them both—or will the fires of temptation and betrayal Byrne everyone to ashes?


If you like angsty, drama-filed, dysfunctional contemporary romances with strong female characters and adventure with your steam, then Crown of Sins might be your next favorite book! It has love bullies, a billionaire, enemies to lovers, and the mafia. It'll keep you up way too late, reading just one more chapter all night.

It will appeal to lovers of romantic suspense, steamy action-adventure, and readers of Jamie McGuire novels like Beautiful Burn, Tarryn Fisher, Colleen Hoover, and Abbi Glines.

*Content Warning: sex, dysfunctional relationship behavior including increased anger and bullying, alcohol use, criminal behavior, and language*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maria Ann Germain
• Release date: Aug 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393399865

Book preview

Crown of Sins

Maria Ann Green

CROWN OF SINS

Copyright © 2020 Maria Ann Green

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Maria Ann Green

Formatting by Maria Ann Green

Editing by Carly Green

All rights reserved.

All works by Maria Ann Green

Crown Series:

Crown of Sins (Book One), dark and steamy romantic suspense

I Would Never Series:

I Would Never…But If I Did (Companion One), contemporary romance

Darkness Series:

Nothing but Darkness (Book One), psychological thriller

Deeper into Darkness (Book Two), psychological thriller

Edge of Darkness (Book Three), psychological crime thriller

Darkness Series Omnibus (Books One, Two, and Three), thrillers

Chasing Series:

Chasing Risks (Companion One), steamy romance

Betting Series:

Betting on Love (Companion One), steamy romantic comedy

Betting on Sin (Companion Two), steamy romantic comedy

Short works:

It Only Hurts When I Breathe

The Masque of Annabel

Young Adult:

In the Rearview, young adult poetry and prose standalone

For the babes shaking things up and forging new paths—keep at it.

Also, let’s start a club; I can get the matching jackets, just let me know where we’re meeting and when.

Chapter One

Bellamy

He runs his strong hands up my sides—the left skimming faster than the right in a race where they both win. They’re calloused, his surprising long fingers, and the difference in texture from my velvety skin is delicious. But I stop him, my hands stilling his, just before he makes it to the bottom of my tits.

He groans.

But I don’t give in.

No matter the amount of complaining, Caleb gets off on my being in control. And let’s face it—I do too. That’s why I’m on top, guiding the speed and depth of each thrust.

On top while he stares up at me with something like worship in his dark eyes, pushing me on even more.

When I let go of his hands, he thinks it’s to let him where he wants to go. But in a moment I readjust, twisting his wrists while pushing down—until his knuckles are pressed into the bedframe above his head. For a moment I consider tangling my fingers in his hair and pulling, but then he bucks up just enough for me to forget about that and anything else.

That’s when I let my eyes flutter closed, my head tipping back.

Bellamy, Caleb moans my name like there’s more to it than the three syllables, like it’s a book full of psalms.

Bell, he says. And this one sounds like a curse, like begging for mercy, like I have every ounce of his being at my fingertips and he’s just waiting for me to end him.

What a fucking fantastic end it would be too.

But, as I swivel my hips in a circle, driving both of us crazy, I let go of him. My hands find the back of my neck, finally giving him the access he’s been craving. And he doesn’t hesitate. His thumbs are on my nipples in less time than it takes to lift up and drop back down around him.

With his touch, his bronzed skin slick with sweat, rubbing and twisting the tip of my nipple, I feel the building inside me. It’s hard to keep my rhythm slow, still measured. I’m determined, but also know my composure will only last so long

It’s harder still as my name drops from his lips over and over—this time coated in devotion, in a protection that gives way to another round of my own excitement glides around him.

Bell, Bell, oh Bellamy, fuck Bell Caleb repeats over and over in question, in reverence, in pleas.

I pick up speed—no longer able to hold onto anything but him, the room spinning around us, or at least that’s what it feels like. I have no patience left inside me—there’s no room for anything other than him—and my hips move quicker as my breath hitches in the back of my throat.

The building is overwhelming.

And then my own sounds start filling the room, taking over Caleb’s grunts.

Not quite screaming, but not far off, the high pitch of my declarations bring me, and Caleb, closer and closer to the edge. All of the pressure of the world, every atom pressing into me and all of my nerve endings, moves to one spot. To one end goal.

As my fingers find my raw and throbbing clit between us, moving in circles to the beat of our cries, there’s no going back. I feel Caleb’s gaze, the depth in those chocolate eyes, move to where we’re connected, sending me higher and higher as his adoration turns more than just physical, visual too.

And then everything I’ve been working toward is ripped from my sweating fingers, leaving me clawing at nothing. Screaming silently into the void that sucks the air from me like a vacuum.

The world tips sideways, or maybe upside down, as I suck in a breath—this time in surprise rather than ecstasy. And it sticks to my throat, coating it with something sticky and sour, with no hope of letting go. Fuck this. Shock and fear, almost foreign by now, reach into me and take hold of the marrow inside my bones. More than stilled, I’m frozen for a moment that stretches beyond the breaking point.

Suffocating while I breathe shallowly, quicker than normal, I gasp.

Instead of going to covering up, my hands find Caleb’s muscles to steady myself before I completely fall off of him or the bed. He grounds me as the world starts to dissolve at the edges, my pulse rising more than it was even on the edge of release.

Some serious bullshit.

As my vision clears from the fuzzing edges that had been creeping in, Caleb stills beneath me. The crashing, the terrible timing of it, collides into the reality that was a moment away my pussy’s heaven, and all of it breaks my damn heart—pissing me off.

What the fuck? Caleb growls as he looks past my body—not what I’d been hoping for in this moment.

The fuck part—yes. For sure.

But with the word what and the before it—not so much.

And then, I don’t care anymore. Despite the gruff cough behind me, the gravely embarrassment. It doesn’t matter. Nothing does, nothing that isn’t my coming. And Hard. I’m going to get what I’ve been working toward for the last hour, what I deserve. What I need. Come hell or high water.

My hands find Caleb’s cheeks and turn his face until his eyes lock on mine.

Stay with me, I beg him. The softness to my voice, tender and barely above a whisper, very different than how I normally speak, turn him inside out. I can see it happen in an instant, and it’s like the last few seconds didn’t happen.

I start grinding on him again, pressing myself into him as hard as I can for more friction.

Feeling frantic, I move with precision, ignoring the stomping of heavy boots behind me.

Knock it off, a gruff voice says, pulling me toward the kicked-in door behind me.

Fuck you, I shout to the crimson-painted wall, to the tray ceiling, to the entire damn room.

But it’s gone, the feeling and everything behind or inside it. Popped like a fucking balloon by a jackass with a pin. And I know I won’t be getting it back.

So I bite my lip, knowing shit that shouldn’t come out is about to, as I turn to see six-and-a-half-feet of discomfort shuffling from foot to foot just inside my busted apartment door.

He, his striking averted eyes and pink cheeks deepening, tugs upwards on both corners of my mouth—surprising myself as much as anyone else. Probably more.

Are you going to pay for a new door? I ask the FBI agent looking anywhere in this room but at me or the man I’m still on top of. I’m still not attempting to cover up any part of myself even as I turn toward him, and it only reddens his cheeks a few more shades.

I almost wish he would look…

He clears his throat, still saying nothing. But watching the muscles in his face and jaw clench over and over is endlessly entertaining.

Because you sure as fuck didn’t have reason to break the damn thing in; I haven’t done a single thing wrong, I saw as his gray-blue eyes—steel just under the surface of water—meet mine. And I can’t fucking help myself… Other than not coming when I needed to, I add with a wicked grin.

Get dressed, and meet me downstairs, he barks at me.

If his words weren’t so detestable I might like his voice better. More than I already do anyway.

No, I say, my lips returning to a straight line.

I don’t give a shit what you want to do. Or if you ever get off again—it looks like you don’t really deserve it anyway, he says a lot louder than he should.

And what the fuck does that even mean?

Caleb tenses beneath me, even more than he was before. If he were twisted any tighter all the springs holding him together would break. But I don’t look to him. Instead I cock my head, angling it to look harder at the only person clothed in this room.

Excuse me?

Probable cause, the jackass mutters, looking toward my floor now. Then he clears his throat once more, his eyes very pointedly locking onto mine and avoiding all the skin on display.

How’s that now? I already know what he’s going to say, but it’s a little too fun getting under his skin. The redder his stubbled cheeks get, the higher my mood lifts.

I thought you were in trouble…getting hurt…your screams. Probable cause. Not that that was any kind of coherent sentence, I still get the point. And I was right.

Agent, I say slowly, drawn out like I’m talking to someone too young for what I’m about to say. Clearly you’ve never had good sex. And you probably wouldn’t know it if it sat directly on your face, I say with sticky-sweet sugar on and between my words, coating every letter, every measured second.

And then whatever I’ve been pushing toward boils over all at once, and he snaps. His gray eyes flashing almost silver, like lightning. I jump as his fist connects with the already dented door. I’m surprised it’s not hanging off the hinges at this point. But I also know just how heavy and thick that wood is, so the fact that there’s any sort of mark says a lot about him and his abilities.

Caleb knows it too as he starts to lift up into his elbows. Until I still him with just the tips of my fingers on his chest. I don’t have to shake my head, but I bet he’s imagining just that I am as he obeys. There’s no hesitation in his submission either.

It should piss me off—the damage to my very sturdy door, the rudeness in such a towering package—or even worry me. But instead I struggle against laughter.

"I’ll be waiting at the bar. And if you’re not down in five minutes I’ll take that as your request to talk in my office with a lovely pair of cuffs on instead of in the buff," he mumbles.

Asshole.

It ends the conversation just like he wanted. Though, the slamming of my door on his way out helps make his point too.

And like a child, like the spoiled brat he already thinks I am, I flip off the closed door in his absence. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see me doing it. My proud middle finger, the nail perfectly manicured in the blackest of blacks, feels better than my swearing. Both are cathartic, though, as I regretfully get off of Caleb.

Chapter Two

Raleigh

No matter how hard I try I can’t get my fucking fingers to stop tapping on the bar top. Not that I can hear the sound of it over the music, the click of heels on stage, the heavy breathing of greasy men starting deep in their beer guts and wheezing on the way out of their open mouths.

But it’s still annoying that every time I try to stop the fidgeting I fail.

I don’t fail often. So when I do, it’s not gracefully. I can admit that.

And now my foot is doing the same, drumming out some kind of Morse code for how pissed off I am. I think I’d be less surprised to see steam coming out of my ears in the mirror behind the bottles of booze across from me than I would if the POTUS walked into this strip club and started jacking off in the middle of the room. And not only because she renamed it Think Pink, which is just too much.

But that woman…

Under my skin would be an understatement.

That annoying, beautiful, inked woman with a thousand secrets.

But I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I let it out as slowly as I can, trying to remind myself that she’s a criminal, just one among many in a list that needs crossing off.

I try not to think about the curves of her hips as they arch from her thin waist to the slope of her round ass, and the heaviness of her tits as they…

God damn it, Raleigh, get your shit together.

She’s a sneaky crime boss, above almost all others, and I may be wasting my time here trying to talk to her. I have to keep reminding myself that, no matter what she looks like, the truth beneath the—admittedly, and annoyingly gorgeous—surface is tainted.

Tarred and feathered, poisoned and stained. Tainted is an understatement.

And when I open my eyes, finally able to keep my heart at a normal rate, she’s moving those delicious—fuck, wait, I mean deviant—curves toward me and behind the bar of hers.

The black shining surface, outlined with neon pink lights, darken for just a moment as Bellamy’s shadow passes over the counter. There’s flecks of pink glitter in the resin beneath my fingers, and it’s the most unique bar top I’ve ever sat at. Everything in here is based on one theme—pink pussy. Yet, somehow, the beauty and the fun she’s put into it is unnerving.

I could have waited upstairs, outside her apartment two floors above where I sit now. But now that she’s moving toward me I’m relieved I went with my gut. The distance between us, the physical barrier of the wood and metal and resin, even now, is helpful as hell. It reminds me of everything that should also be keeping us several feet apart.

My badge, just for starters.

Narrowing my eyes, I watch as Bellamy moves lithely behind another bartender and around an untapped keg, like she’s wearing ballet shoes instead of the  black, laced, knee-high combat boots that she is.

The crisscrossing going all the way up her shins is distracting. But not as distracting as the bits of tattoo peeking from below the hem of her shirt—dress? Shirt-dress? Whatever. Ink I hadn’t had the right angle to see before on top of her thigh, just below that dress is displayed now, and it’s so fucking hard not to examine it. That dress-thing also leaves a shoulder exposed, rips in the thin fabric, and I don’ get it, but it accentuates those curves without hugging them. Somehow she looks both badass and sexy as hell simultaneously, and it irritates me even more.

The look, one I’m sure she’s perfected over time, pairs well with her long, straight, black hair. Hair that’s still tousled enough to make it clear what she was doing before this, even if I hadn’t see it with my own eyes. I can see hints of both her Irish and Russian lineage, taking the best of both and leaving out the rest.

But her most striking feature, the thing that keeps pulling me back to her over and over are her light green eyes. Something in them is hidden, something begging to be found. Plus they’re a shade of green I’ve never seen in real life.

I shake my head to clear all of that nonsense.