The Beast I Can't Tame: A Forbidden Lovers Mafia Romance: Brooklyn Kings, #3

By LK Shaw

Giovanni

 

One year. That's how long I've wanted Francesca. I've worked my way up the ranks, dedicating my life to the syndicate while I tried easing her fear of men.

 

The time has finally come for me to claim her.

 

Francesca

 

Seven years ago, my family's enemy took everything from me. I've been determined to get it all back. When those same enemies nearly kill Giovanni, our friendship changes to something more.

 

Until a secret emerges that could destroy everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LK Shaw
• Release date: Sep 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201353568

LK Shaw

LK Shaw is the bestselling author of sexy, sinful suspense. She resides in South Carolina with her high maintenance beagle mix dog, Miss P. An avid reader since childhood, she became hooked on historical romance novels in high school. She now reads, and loves, all romance sub-genres, with dark romance and romantic suspense being her favorite. LK enjoys traveling and chocolate. Her books feature hot alpha heroes and the strong women they love. Want a FREE short story? Be sure to sign up for her newsletter and download your copy of A Birthday Spanking, a short story set in the Doms of Club Eden world! http://bit.ly/LKShawNewsletter

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Francesca

---

I hate funerals.

Not that I’ve been to many. The last one I attended was my father’s when I was six. Before that, there was Aunt Rosalie’s, although I don’t remember hers. I do remember my father’s, though. Mostly, I remember my mother not shedding a single tear. 

That’s not the case at Uncle Sal’s. 

Brenna, Mila, and I stand at the back of the sanctuary of the family church near the aisle between the last two rows of pews. Despite the fact Brenna is the most powerful woman in the room, she still manages to stay near Mila and me and adopts our wallflower status. 

"You would think she’s his widow, the way she’s carrying on." I lean over and whisper to Mila. 

She watches my mother wail with a wide-eyed expression. It does seem a bit…extreme.

I snort at the understatement. My mother has never been the nicest woman. I always tried being the dutiful daughter, but no matter what I did, it was never good enough. I was never good enough. So, I stopped trying.

My gaze travels around the crowded church. Funerals, along with weddings, are the rare time all the families within the syndicate are in the same room together. I forget how many of us there are. 

Standing against the wall, under the massive stained-glass windows depicting a scene of worshippers surrounding Jesus, is a small cluster of men, including my brother. My cousin is next to him. He stands tall and powerful, but there are lines of sadness and fatigue in his face. 

How’s Jacob doing? I ask Brenna, who’s been quiet most of the afternoon.

I have no idea, she sighs. He’s gone to meeting after meeting ever since we got the call from Marta. I’ve been asleep when he finally comes to bed, and he leaves before I wake up. We’ve barely spoken in a week.

Pierce hasn’t been home much either, Mila adds. 

I just wish he would talk to me. Brenna’s expression softens as her gaze travels across the room and lands on Jacob.

A pinch of envy grips me. The love she has for my cousin is obvious. It’s in the way she touches him. Looks at him. It’s even more obvious that her love is returned.

I want that.

I want someone to look at me the way Jacob looks at Brenna. The way Pierce looks at Mila. No, not someone.

Giovanni. 

As if by magic, he enters the sanctuary. My breath catches in my chest. His dark brown hair is damp, making it appear nearly black, and it’s slightly curled around his ears as though he recently stepped out of the shower. The dark suit doesn’t quite fit—the single sleeve of his unbroken arm is a little too short, and the shoulder seam strains—but Gio still strikes an imposing figure. He adjusts his tie and rolls his neck, as though not entirely comfortable wearing it.  

My lips turn down. His limp is even more pronounced than it was last week. He’s supposed to be taking it easy. He just got out of the hospital a few weeks ago. I take a step forward, about to march through the room full of people and scold him, but Jacob calls him over to their group.

Is it just me, or did Gio look a little pale? Brenna asks.He’s pushing himself too hard, I tell her. He won’t admit it, but I know he’s still in a lot of pain. The doctors said it could be months before he’s fully healed. He almost died, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he’s acting. 

There’s a twinge of guilt inside my belly, because a small part of me hopes he remains, not in pain, but not at his full strength. He can’t hurt me if he’s still a little weak. 

No matter how many times I tell myself that Gio would never hurt me, a niggle of doubt always manages to creep in. I need another session with Theresa soon. 

I remember the first time I had to tend to one of Jacob’s wounds, Brenna says. "He’d gotten shot in the arm. Wouldn’t take any pain medicine. He had me, instead of a doctor who actually knew what he was doing, take care of it. It had to hurt, but he barely flinched. It’s like these men can’t show any signs of weakness." 

---

He’s trying to prove that he can still be trusted with his duties, I tell her. 

Brenna stares at me in disbelief. Of course he can be trusted. He’s being ridiculous. I knew he was going to blame himself for what happened that night. 

Gio was had been assigned as her bodyguard, and the Russians had managed to take her. He didn’t care that they’d shot him multiple times and left him for dead. He still thought he’d failed her. And Jacob.

Didn’t the crash come out of nowhere? Mila asks. 

It did. One minute, he and I were talking, and the next, I’m flying across the back seat and slamming into the door. It happened in a split second. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

Still, I say, he feels like he bears the responsibility. 

A sudden ruckus behind us draws my attention. 

Let me in, a strange, older woman slurs. I have a right to be here. 

She’s dressed in a skin-tight black dress that reveals more than it hides and wrestles with a couple soldiers at the door. More and more people turn in her direction. Even from twenty feet away, the smeared eye makeup and lipstick are obvious. She manages to stumble past on too-high heels and casually pulls her purse strap farther up on her shoulder. 

Mother? 

I swivel my head toward Giovanni, who’s staring at the woman in horror. His gaze darts around and a flush crawls up his neck. Finally, his feet unstick and he hurries over to where she stands, unsteadily, and grabs her arm. He tries dragging her toward the exit, but she jerks out of his grip. 

No. Don’t touch me, she barks out. 

What are you doing here? he whispers harshly, his gaze still bouncing around as all the focus in the room is entirely on them. 

I’ve never seen Gio this disconcerted before. Before I can stop myself, I move the short distance between us until I’m standing beside him. 

Hello, I’m Francesca, I introduce myself, sticking out a trembling hand. You’re Giovanni’s mother? 

She looks me up and down, ignoring my gesture, and her smile turns almost snakelike. So, she coos. You’re Sal’s niece. The one Giovanni has been panting after all this time? 

Panting after me? He has?

The silence grows. Somehow, he grows more tense.

Excuse me, but can someone tell me what the fuck is going on? Jacob’s deep voice booms from next to me.

My head whips in his direction. He’s towering over the three of us, his expression tight and fierce.

Ahhh, Giovanni’s mother draws out. The prodigal son. I’m sure your return made Salvatore happy. 

I glance at Gio, who’s remained deathly quiet. His face has gone pale. Some instinct makes me slide my hand through his. It’s the first time I’ve willingly touched him. He jerks, and his hand is clammy. He still doesn’t take his eyes off his mother. 

Madam, I’m not sure this is the appropriate time for you to be here, Jacob scolds.  

She laughs, but it lacks humor. Actually, I think this is the perfect time. The bastard is dead, and so is his lackey, Paulie, and there is nothing more either of them can do to me. 

My cousin stands more rigid than I thought possible. His eyes burn with anger. Jacob raises an arm and gestures with his fingers. Two men approach the woman and none-too-gently begin to drag her out of the sanctuary.  

You can’t do this to me, she shrieks in outrage, her face a mask of fury. 

My cousin raises a haughty brow. I assure you, I can do anything I want. 

Gio’s mother continues fighting the men, her purse dangling off the crook of her elbow, and they almost make it to the door before she screeches again. You can’t treat your brother’s mother this way. 

Like a vacuum, all the air is sucked out of the room. Everyone within hearing range freezes.

What did you say? Jacob gapes. 

The men’s grip on her goes as slack as their jaws. She manages to right herself, and her expression shifts. It’s like she’s trying to appear innocent. You mean your dear father has been keeping secrets from you? Imagine that. She chuckles.

Enough. He slashes his hand through the air. Then he turns to Gio and jabs his finger in his direction. Come with me. 

Jacob strides away, Pierce right behind him. Bring her with you, he calls over his shoulder. 

The two men pull the woman along, and Giovanni’s hand slips from mine. He stands there a moment longer, his eyes trailing after them, until, finally, without even glancing in my direction, he follows.

What the heck just happened?

CHAPTER 2

Giovanni

---

Of course, Beatrice Saccone would show up here and embarrass me like this. She’s been an embarrassment my entire life. I trail behind my mother and her escorts. She’s managed to walk on her own. Although walking is a relative term. More like stumbling along, no doubt already either high or drunk or both. It’s not even three in the afternoon. That’s never stopped her. 

Your brother’s mother.

What the fuck did she mean by that? Jacob leads us into a back office. He positions himself behind the desk. The two men deposit my mother in the chair, and after a wave of his hand, they leave. Pierce takes a stance against the wall and stares coldly at her. 

Close the door, Gio, he commands.

I shut it and stand next to the desk, facing the woman who gave birth to me. She’s sitting there, seeming to be not the least bit concerned with anything. Not even Pierce. 

Now, explain to me who the fuck you are and what you meant out there, Jacob demands, leaning on his palms on the desktop. 

I told you, she says with a hint of impatience. Giovanni’s your brother. Well, half brother, I guess.

The bottom of my stomach drops. She can’t be serious. His eyes flash to me and back to her. He doesn’t speak for several minutes. Is he doing the math in his head like I am?

He narrows his eyes at her. If what you say is true, and I have my doubts, then that would mean Sal had an affair while he was married to my mother.

You make it sound so scandalous. Her voice dips at the end. Sal had an itch. I scratched it. 

I glance in Jacob’s direction. His jaw clenches and, as though sensing my gaze, he turns to me. Do you know anything about this? 

I blink at the tone he’s never used on me before. It’s filled with a suppressed rage.

What? No. I shake my head. I have no idea what she’s talking about. I swear.

His eyes bore into mine. I withhold my flinch. Barely. He turns back to my mother. So, let’s say you’re telling the truth, why are you just now coming forward with this? Giovanni is, what, nearly thirty? 

Finally, she appears halfway sober. Because Sal threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone. But now he’s dead. 

Jacob narrows his eyes. "What makes you think I won’t kill you?" 

Half of those people out there heard me say Giovanni is your brother, she points out. They’ll wonder why I suddenly turn up dead. 

He laughs. "Madam, those people don’t even know who you are and couldn’t care less if I slit your throat in front of them." 

For maybe the first time, my mother’s expression shifts to fear. Then, just as quickly, to pleading. I’m only trying to do right by my son. He deserves to know the truth. 

Beatrice Saccone has never tried to do right by me. I can’t stay quiet any longer. What are you trying to get out of this? Because there is going to be something. 

My mother’s gaze flicks to mine, and hurt flashes across her face. She places a hand on her chest as though wounded. Too bad, it’s merely a ploy. I know you better than you think, Mother. 

How could you think I want anything? What a hurtful thing to say to your mother, Giovanni, she whines. 

This time I can’t hold back my disbelief. Because you always want something. More alcohol. More drugs. More of somebody taking care of you. Is it money? Is that what you think this little game of yours will get you? 

Of course not, she sniffs. 

I turn back to Jacob. Once again, my mother has managed to ruin my life. I apologize, Mr. Ricci. I’ll make sure neither of us disturb you again. 

For Christ’s sake, Gio, sit down, he demands and looks over at Pierce. Call Dr. Marino. Tell him we need a DNA test done, now. 

His second in command nods, sends my mother another glare, and steps out into the hallway. Jacob’s gaze meets my confused one, and he gestures abruptly to a chair. Sit. Down. 

I drop into it. You don’t really believe her, do you? 

Why wouldn’t he believe me? my mother asks with faux affront. 

I don’t know, my voice drips with sarcasm. Maybe because you’re a pathological liar.

I’m not taking anyone’s word about anything until someone can offer me proof, Jacob interrupts before she can say anything. Which means we’ll take a test. I want answers just as much as you do. 

Pierce steps into the room. Marino’s on his way. He said it’s going to take time to get the results back. But he’ll collect the samples and get them to a lab for processing. 

How long? Jacob growls. 

Could be weeks. 

Pay to expedite it, then, my boss snaps. His heated glare returns to my mother. Why don’t you tell me about this itch of my father’s you scratched. How did you two meet? When did this happen? How long did it last? 

She leans back in her chair as though she’s settling in for a long story. I was a dancer. Sal was a frequent visitor to the club back then. Held a lot of meetings. Big tipper. I was one of his regulars, if you know what I mean. My mother winks.A few times he paid for a, let’s just say…special dance.

"And it was during one of these dances that you managed to get pregnant?" Jacob’s sarcasm is clear. 

My mother shrugs. Accidents happen. 

He stares her down. Yes, they do. You should remember that. 

Once again, her confidence seems to leave her, and she straightens. No disrespect intended. I’m just telling you what happened. 

How did he react to the news that you were pregnant? Jacob asks. 

My mother chuckles. He was pissed. Then he gave me a bunch of money and told me if I ever told anyone, he’d kill me.

So, you’ve held onto this secret for thirty years. 

Yes. But it’s not fair to my baby—she throws me a pitiful glance—that he doesn’t know that he has a brother.

Christ. This has to be her best performance yet. Jacob glances at Pierce. 

Watch her, he instructs before circling the desk and stopping at my side. I tilt my head and stare up at him. Outside, he says.

He strides toward the door, and I shoot a final hateful glance at my mother, before I follow him into the hallway.

The second I close the door behind me, he rounds on me. Tell me about your mother.

I sigh. I despise talking about her. I’ve done everything I could to separate myself from her over the years. Jacob doesn’t care about any of that, though, I’m sure. I haven’t seen her for a few years, I finally admit. As you can see, she’s not really maternal. Well, not unless it suits her. She’s an addict. An alcoholic. Just depends on the day. Fucks men for money, but refuses to acknowledge that makes her a prostitute. As you heard, she merely ‘scratches itches’. 

Jacob studies me, his expression colder than he’s ever directed to me