Merciless Revenge

By Olivia Ashers

When Achille Mazzantini makes a deal with my father to get revenge on me for refusing to dance with him, I have no choice but to become his wife.

I'm determined to never give him what he wants.

He's the reason my best friend is dead, and I'll never forgive him.

But the chemistry between us is threatening to scorch us alive.

The temptation is getting stronger every second, especially when Achille whispers in my ear all the things he'd like to do to me.

Giving in shouldn't be an option, but the line between hate and love is dangerously thin, and once I find out the truth about him, nothing will ever be the same.


A standalone arranged marriage mafia romance. Mature language and content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olivia Ashers
• Release date: Apr 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224221783

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Gabriella

Honey, come on. We need to go, my mom says, extending her arm toward me.

I take another look in the mirror and sigh.

Everything’s perfect. By my dad’s standards, of course. I’d never wear my hair in a bun so tight that my head hurts, or a long blue dress, a heavy, shiny necklace and a bracelet that make me feel like I’m some kind of prop.

But today is one of my least favorite days of the year—my dad’s big party for all his close partners and friends. It’s my dad’s way of showing off his power and wealth.

He believes there’s no point in being the biggest and baddest mafia boss in the city if he can’t flaunt it in everyone’s face.

As I step through the door, trailing after my mom, dread fills my stomach. This year’s party is going to be even worse. I’m now old enough, so everyone expects my dad will find me a husband.

The whole idea of an arranged marriage to form an alliance makes me sick to my stomach. At least my mom managed to convince my dad that he should let me find someone on my own first.

The compromise is that it has to be someone from the mafia world because anything different would get complicated very quickly and potentially end up with the guy at the bottom of the sea to make sure he didn’t spill any secrets or talk to the cops or our enemy.

But I’ve spent my whole life in the mafia world, so it’s not like I know any regular people. I even go to a private school for mafia kids, and my dad has never let me go out anywhere on my own or with my friends.

I wish Ludovica were here. She would know what to say to make me feel better. Her pink lips would spread into a smile and her brown eyes would glow with mischief.

She’d toss her light brown hair over her shoulder and tell me that my knight in shining armor was on his way, and he’d defeat all the mafia guys vying for my attention.

My throat constricts.

Ludovica is gone, and she’ll never come back. I’ll never hear her laugh. She’ll never tell me everything’s going to be okay.

Wait here, my mom says as she glances over the railing.

Her smile widens as she straightens the imaginary wrinkles in her long golden gown, and she gently runs her hand through her dark brown curls.

My mom loves all the attention, and she especially loves when my dad announces our arrival and then we have to descend the stairs as if we’re royalty or something.

I hate it. It’s unnecessary and tacky because everyone in the room below knows exactly who we are and what we do. I step forward, gripping the railing as I take a peek at the guests who are waiting for my mom and me.

It’s easy to spot my dad. He’s the center of attention. A bunch of men in impeccable suits are gathered around him, laughing with him and pretending to be interested in everything he says.

I know what they want. Every single one of them wants to become part of my dad’s inner circle, and they’re willing to do and say anything to get it. I don’t even want to think about all the men who offered themselves—or their sons or even cousins—to be my husband.

My gaze falls on the handsomest guy in the room, and I grit my teeth. My grip on the railing is so tight my knuckles are white. My jaw hurts because I’m clenching it way too hard, but I can’t help myself.

I look at the smile on his face, and I want to race down the stairs and drive my fist into his perfectly-shaped nose.

Poke his dark brown eyes out.

Rip out his messy dark brown hair that Ludovica once described as impossibly soft.

Rake my fingernails over the elaborate tattoos on his neck, arms, and chest until they’re all gone.

Achille Mazzantini.

He’s the one responsible for Ludovica’s death, and there’s no way I’ll ever forgive him for that. He shouldn’t even be here, but my dad doesn’t give a damn about how I feel.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, but nothing helps to dissipate my anger. All I can think about is Ludovica’s text that she sent me a few minutes before she died. She should’ve never gotten in Achille’s car.

I don’t know how it even happened. He went to the same school as us, but he was a grade above. We never even hung out in the same circles, and Ludovica, like pretty much all the girls at our school, had a crush on him.

My dad is the one who sponsors the school, and since it’s private, only the kids whose parents are related to the mafia—and my dad’s friends—can attend. At school, I’m sort of free, like all the other kids, but after school, my dad’s guards come for me and take me home. I’m supposed to start university later this year, and things will probably be the same there.

Ludovica, as the daughter of one of my dad’s guards, could go out and had way more freedom, so we couldn’t always go everywhere together. I wish I had been with her that night and stopped her from going anywhere with Achille and his brand-new, fast car.

But I wasn’t. Achille must’ve been showing off, and the car skidded off the road. Ludovica was badly injured, and instead of calling an ambulance, Achille ran. He just left her there to die.

And she did die.

By the time someone found her, it was too late. I overheard my dad talking to hers. Ludovica would’ve survived if she’d gotten help in time.

Achille never even bothered to call anyone. He didn’t give a damn. All he thought about was getting away. And even worse, he and has family blamed the whole accident on Ludovica.

They accused her of stealing Achille’s car and crashing it, but since she was gone, they graciously didn’t ask her family for repaying the damage. Everyone believed their story for some reason, probably because the Mazzantini family is way more important than the daughter of some guard, even if that guard works for my dad.

I showed the texts Ludovica sent me to my dad as proof that Achille was driving, but he couldn’t care less and forbade me from sharing them with anyone. He said it changed nothing, and that Ludovica should’ve stayed home like I did instead of getting in trouble. I could barely believe he was blaming her instead of precious Achille.

I thought about sharing all the texts online or with the press, but I realized it was pointless. People wouldn’t believe they were real, and the Mazzantinis would know it was me. It wouldn’t bring Ludovica back either.

Her family probably suspected she wasn’t alone in that car, but she’d been bugging her dad to teach her how to drive for weeks, so they accepted the Mazzantinis’ story, especially because Achille moved her into the driver’s seat before taking off.

But I know the truth, so being unable to do anything about it drives me crazy. Achille should pay for what he did and not enjoy his life as if nothing happened. I bet he doesn’t even think about her or maybe even remember her. Girls are always all over him, and he can’t even be bothered to remember their names.

My daughter, Gabriella Lucaferri. My dad’s voice booms through the room as everyone goes quiet.

I inwardly groan as I let go of the railing and head toward the stairway. My dad using every chance he gets to say our last name out loud is ridiculous too. I get that he’s proud because our family has ruled Rome for decades, but it still annoys me.

Maybe it’s because everyone expects my little brother, Riccardo, who’s only two, to take over everything after my dad retires, and I’m supposed to be married off, so it’s not like I get to uphold my family’s legacy.

Before Riccardo was born, Ludovica teased me I’d become the boss and she’d be my second-in-command. After all, she and I practically grew up together because her mom was my babysitter, and there was no one I would’ve trusted more.

I kind of liked that dream. It would’ve been nice to be in control of my own life and fate. If there’s something I hate about my family, it’s the feeling that I’m stuck in some ancient century and expected to perfectly play my role that most people would consider insane in this time and day.

But I can’t change who I am or who my family is. I can only hope that my baby brother will be a better leader and realize just how ridiculous some of our family traditions are.

My dad is too caught up in playing his role up to his father’s standards to even notice that the society has changed. But many mafia families seem frozen in time too, so it’s not really unusual. They all fear they’ll lose their power. I don’t really have any, so of course I’d turn everything upside down if I could.

As I straighten my shoulders, I carefully descend the stairs with a big, fake smile plastered on my face. It’s easier to play the pretense game than sulk and draw everyone’s attention to me. If I don’t do anything out of the ordinary to stick out, no one will notice me more than necessary, and they’ll leave me alone, which is exactly what I want right now.

I keep smiling, but I can feel someone’s intense eyes on me.

It’s Achille.

My smile falters a little. His father is right next to him, whispering something into his ear, while they both stare at me. Do I even want to know what they’re saying?

I don’t think so.

Tearing my gaze off them, I focus on the rest of the guests. My dad gives me a small nod of approval once I reach him. Only a moment later, everyone returns to doing whatever they were doing before this ridiculous show, and I can breathe out a sigh of relief.

No one really cares about me anymore. I’m like a pretty ornament. Men look at me, smile, tell me I’m beautiful, and that’s it. No one expects me to talk to them.

I catch Achille’s gaze again. He’s watching me so intently as if he’s studying my every move and every inch of my body. What the hell is wrong with him?

I move to the corner of the room, hiding behind people, so Achille can’t see me anymore and I can’t see him. If only I had my phone with me because I’m bored out of my mind, but my dad doesn’t allow any phones, and he’d be livid if I sneaked in mine with me.

When music fills the room, I inwardly groan. People step back as the center of the room turns into a dance floor. I hate this part of my dad’s party because his friends usually come ask me for a dance and I’m not exactly allowed to refuse.

But I’m smaller and faster than them. If they can’t catch me and I disappear into the crowd before they see me, I can avoid them. Maybe I can slip away to the bathroom without anyone noticing.

I glance over my shoulder as I push through the crowd. My dad is chatting with some guy, and his back is turned to me. My mom is right next to him, but she’s talking to someone’s wife. No one’s looking at—

I run straight into a wall.

No. Not a wall. Someone’s chest.

I look up right into Achille’s dark eyes.

Aw fuck. Seriously?!

Dance with me, he says, with his most charming smile on his face.

I scoff. How can he be so damn fake? Because I can’t imagine that smile is genuine. As I try to get past him, he catches my wrist.

Where are you going? he asks. The dance floor is the other way.

I glare at him. You think I’ll dance with you because you say so. Are you out of your mind?

Confusion flashes through his eyes. Has no one ever told him no?

I guess