Coveted: Men of Mayhem: Book Two Read online

  Coveted

  Men of Mayhem: Book Two

  Kristen Luciani

  Contents

  1. Julia

  2. Antonio

  3. Julia

  4. Antonio

  5. Julia

  6. Elia

  7. Julia

  8. Antonio

  9. Elia

  10. Antonio

  11. Julia

  12. Antonio

  13. Julia

  14. Antonio

  15. Elia

  16. Antonio

  17. Julia

  18. Julia

  19. Antonio

  20. Elia

  21. Antonio

  22. Elia

  23. Antonio

  24. Antonio

  25. Julia

  Epilogue

  Mob Lust Series

  Severinov Bratva Series

  Men of Mayhem Prequel

  Men of Mayhem Series

  Love Drunk Series

  Standalone Romance Titles

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Julia

  “You’re a very beautiful woman, Julia,” the man murmurs, his dark, leering eyes making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. His deep gravelly voice shudders through me, chilling my insides. “But what captivated me the most was your hands — they are so powerful and controlling. They command whatever they touch, forcing it to submit.” He grabs one before I can even process his words and holds it to his lips. I feel my own twist into a grimace as he brushes the top of my hand with his mouth. “Ah. So soft. I knew they’d be soft.”

  Fucking creeper.

  How the hell did he even get past my security?

  I force a smile and give my hand a swift tug to release it from his grip, but he’s damn strong and refuses to let it go. “Thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed the performance.”

  “I enjoyed you,” he says, a wide Joker-like smile stretching across his face. “I am a big fan, and I’ve followed you for quite some time now.”

  I recoil at the look of unmasked desire in his eyes. Jesus. To elicit this kind of response is a little odd, to say the least. I mean, I’m a violinist, not a freaking porn star. It’s not exactly the type of career that attracts stalkers.

  My eyes dart left and right down the darkened corridor. I’d just finished my last performance here at Politeama Garibaldi, the performing arts center in Palermo, Sicily, before a brief hiatus. My security detail seems to have taken their leave a bit early, saddling me with this nutcake.

  Papa has never been comfortable with my touring around the world and he always made sure I had plenty of protection at my shows, especially when he wasn’t going to be in attendance.

  No chances taken. Ever.

  He’d blow off the heads of my security team without a second thought if he knew they had let this crackerjack get close to me.

  “Well, I need to be going now, but thank you again for coming,” I say in a loud voice, trying once again to rescue my hand.

  The man’s dark eyes crinkle at the corners. “Don’t thank me yet. Save it for later…when it happens,” he hisses. My stomach roils as his tongue sweeps over my skin before dropping my hand.

  “Let me go, you sick freak!” I yelp, stumbling backward in my haste to get away from this psychopath, the stench of scotch on his breath making my stomach churn. He doesn’t try to close the distance between us, though. He just watches me, his dark and sinister laugh reverberating between my ears.

  “Miss Graziani! Your car is here.”

  With a loud squeal, I run toward the guard whose friendly face just appeared around the corner. I don’t recognize him, but right about now, all I can think about is putting as much space as possible between me and that lunatic. I don’t have a clue where Pietro, my head of security, is right now, but when I see him, I’m firing his ass.

  The guard flashes a pleasant smile and my teeth grit. “Where is Pietro?” I demand, clutching my violin case. My pulse throbs against my neck, goosebumps pebbling my skin. I point a shaky hand in the general direction behind me where I’d just been pinned against my dressing room door. “That man just accosted me, and I want him thrown out of here! And maybe you can tell me how the hell he got down here in the first place!”

  The guard frowns, peeking his head around me. “Miss Graziani, there isn’t anyone back there. We’re alone.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you blind? He’s right—” I swivel around, but the guard is right. There’s no sign of anyone in sight, and I know for a fact that there’s only one exit out of here. “Wait. He was right there! Where the hell could he have gone?” I tug at my hair, my eyes wild, combing the dim and desolate space.

  “Don’t worry, Miss. Nobody will bother you again. I do apologize for Pietro’s absence. He asked me to look after you when he left, to make sure you got to your car safely.” The guard smiles again. “May I take that for you?” he asks, gesturing for my violin case.

  I purse my lips, shaking my head. Fucking Pietro. He won’t have to worry about my father’s wrath when he finally shows up. I’ll skewer his ass myself!

  I allow the guard to escort me out of the underbelly of the concert hall, but my eyes are peeled with each step I take. That sick fuck is out there somewhere, and if he makes another appearance, he’s going to take a high heel to the eye.

  As the cool night air whips across my cheeks once we exit the secluded back entrance, away from the fanfare and tourists milling about, all I can think about is diving into the back of the Mercedes and closing my eyes for a few minutes.

  Twenty, to be exact.

  The amount it’ll take my driver to shuttle me over to Palermo Airport for my flight back to Rome. I let out a contented sigh as my eyes droop closed. In just a few hours, I’ll be wrapped in a plush comforter at my apartment in Parione, a young, hip neighborhood in Rome. I’m counting the minutes. Even though I adore my place, I don’t get to enjoy it nearly as much as I’d like. My touring and appearance schedule is hectic enough where I end up spending most of my time living out of my well-worn set of Louis Vuitton luggage.

  But tonight marks the end of a very busy year for me, and I’ll finally be able to enjoy a long-awaited break in my favorite city.

  If only I can erase the image of that crazy bastard from my mind.

  I tug my coat tight around me and shoot off a text to Pietro to call me immediately.

  What would have happened if that guard hadn’t shown up when he did? I shiver against the luxe leather seat. Papa has told me time and time again that self-defense training isn’t a choice, but a necessity with our lifestyle, but I always brushed off his warnings.

  It’s one of the reasons why he pays top dollar for my security team, a team that pretty much left me in the lurch a few minutes ago.

  My mouth twists, the memory of the man’s slimy tongue on my skin making my throat tighten.

  Blech!

  Maybe it’s time I do learn a few moves. I can probably gouge out an eye with one of my violin bows, but it’s not like I keep a spare in my back pocket for emergencies.

  I let out a frustrated sigh. Every time I let my eyes float closed, I see his lecherous grin and that tattoo creeping down the side of his neck into his starched, white shirt collar. I rub my temples in an attempt to erase his image, but it doesn’t help. He’s still there in my mind, front and center.

  I debate whether or not I should tell Papa when I see him tomorrow. He’d bulldoze Sicily to find the guy, but I don’t want him to worry, especially now when we should be celebrating the success of our charity foundation. The Music For All Foundation, co-chaired by me and Papa, has reached five-million euro
s in donations and grants aimed at improving access to music education for young people in Italy. I just got word that we hit the milestone, and I couldn’t be prouder to be part of such a worthwhile organization. It’s always been my dream to bring music to children who have a talent and an ear for it, and because of the network I’ve built over the past years as a violinist, my dream has finally become a reality for so many.

  So, no. I’m not going to bring up the creeper.

  I am forcing him from my mind forever!

  When we pull up to Departures, the driver gets out and opens my door. He offers to take my violin case, but I shake my head. Nobody touches that case other than me. It’s my lifeblood, and I am fiercely protective of it. I’d rather hand over an eye or a foot than my instrument.

  I step onto the pavement and smile at the driver when he nods his head at me and wishes me a safe flight. I hoist my handbag higher on my shoulder and grip the handle of my case tight. A quick glimpse at the clock hanging over the ticketing counter tells me I’m damn-near close to missing my flight home, and I push through the crowds to get to security. My team usually travels separate from me since they have to manage all of my costumes and equipment, and without Pietro, I’m on my own for this trip.

  I pull out my phone, frown at the screen, and send one more text to him. I’m getting on this plane, with or without him. It’s not like him to pull a disappearing act, and while I get that things come up, a simple text would have been appreciated.

  I tap my foot impatiently as I wait in the security line, slipping off my shoes and putting my bags on the conveyor belt for inspection. Just as I drop my phone into a plastic bin, the ring tone blares.

  Pietro?

  My eyes fall to the screen. It’s my assistant, Marisa. I stab the Accept button. “Hello?”

  “Julia, hi! Listen, there’s been a change of plans. Your flight is delayed, and I’ve just booked you on the next one out. There’s some kind of mechanical issue that caused the delay, and as soon as I got the alert, I took care of it. The only problem is it doesn’t leave for another couple of hours. Can you kill some time?”

  My assistant, Marisa, talks so fast it makes my head spin sometimes. But she’s on top of my entire life, and I can’t live without her.

  I didn’t even know which airline I was flying before I pulled up to the airport.

  “Thanks, Marisa. Yeah, I’ll find some way to occupy myself.” I’m thinking wine and a very comfortable couch. I sigh and nod at the guard who motions me to end the call and get my ass moving. “I’ll call you back as soon as I get to the lounge, okay? I’m getting a death glare from a security guard right now.”

  She snickers. “Okay. Ciao!”

  I put the phone back into the plastic bowl and walk through the X-ray machine without so much as a beep. Once I have all of my bags, I trudge toward the Gesap VIP Lounge, a deep sigh shuddering my shoulders. I guess my bed and plush comforter will have to wait a few more hours.

  In the meantime, I need a drink. My throat is so dry, you’d think I had been singing tonight instead of playing. I put down my violin case and check in at the reception desk, flashing the woman the boarding passes Marisa just emailed to me. She is such a godsend. I wouldn’t know which end was up without her. I duck into a private area hidden behind some fake foliage and sink onto a white leather love seat, leaning my head back against the cushion.

  Not as good as a bubble bath, but it’s the best I’m going to get for the next few hours. I slip my feet out of my shoes and flex my aching toes. The dancing part of my performance requires a lot of coordination and balance in high heels, so it’s a relief to feel the blood circulating once again.

  Sweats would make this experience near-perfect, but I opted instead for tight jeans for the flight home. Bad call on my part.

  A woman walks toward me, flashing a bright smile. “Can I get you something?”

  I return the smile, grateful to not have to walk to the bar. “I’d love a glass of pinot grigio, please.”

  “Do you have a particular one in mind?” she hands me a leather-bound cover. “Here is the wine list—”

  I wave it away. “You choose. I don’t have a preference. As long as there’s alcohol in it.”

  She snickers. “Of course. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  I settle back against the cushions, letting my eyes droop closed. I rest my hands on my stomach, my fingers tingling as they always do after a show. The pure adrenaline that courses through me as I dance around the stage, strumming the bow back and forth over the strings—

  Fuck!

  My eyes fly open, and a loud gasp escapes my lips.

  My violin!

  I leap off the sofa, still barefoot, swiveling around to get a look at the reception desk. With a thundering heart, I run toward the entrance of the lounge.

  I forgot it? How the hell could I forget to pick it back up?

  My gut twists like a pretzel as I dash across the lounge, the desk blocked by clusters of tables and travelers.

  Please let it be there, please let it be there…

  “Oh my God!” I yelp. “Stop, thief! Don’t you dare even think about taking a single step with that!” I shriek at the top of my lungs, my feet slapping against the polished marble tile floor as I close the distance between myself and my most precious belonging.

  The man gripping the handle turns to look at me, his deep chocolatey gaze stunning me into silence. The amused expression on his face makes my heart skid to a halt.

  “Oh, you think I’m joking?” I hiss, grabbing the case from him, trying to compose myself now that my outburst has commanded the attention of the patrons, security, and the staff.

  Jesus, I really hope nobody recognizes me and uploads this scene on social media. My publicist would definitely not be happy to see her biggest client screaming at some guy, a hot mess and completely unhinged in an airport lounge.

  He holds up his hands and smirks, his smile catching me off-guard enough that I momentarily forget why I’m yelling at him. “No. I was just imagining what you were gonna do if I didn’t hand over the case.”

  “And you think it would be funny? You think it would make you laugh?” I lift an eyebrow, my breath hitching at the gold flecks in his irises dancing in the soft overhead light. “This case is my life. I never let anyone else touch it. So trust me, I’d maim you if you tried to take off with it.”

  “Okay, well, you should know that I wasn’t going to run off with it. I was only going to hand it to the girl behind the desk.” He takes a few steps toward me, a curious look on his face. “But I like this game. Maim me, huh?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Elaborate. Would you tackle me first?”

  My pulse throbs against my neck when a whiff of his musky scent wafts under my nose. “Um…” I take in a sharp breath. “Maybe?”

  His gaze smolders my insides, the crackle of energy between us sending delicious chills down my spine.

  “So, you’d throw yourself at me, full force…all in the name of saving whatever is in this case?”

  “Yes,” I croak because all other words stall on my lips. He’s so close…and he smells incredible…and I’ve never been so captivated by a man in my entire life, even though he’s clearly playing with me. Still, I’m happy to go along for the ride.

  He inches closer still, a mischievous smile tugging his lips upward. “You’re kind of making me want to take that case away from you right now.”

  My jaw drops because I kind of want the same thing right now.

  I quickly snap it closed and flip my hair over my shoulder. “You should be so lucky,” I snap, turning on my bare heel and padding back to my hidden corner. I take my time, since I suddenly have a lot of it. But more so because I still feel his eyes on me with each step I take.

  I peek back over my shoulder, hating myself for letting him think he got to me but needing to know if his attention has already been captured by some other lucky female.

  My breath hitches as our gazes tangle for that split-se
cond and my God, I could swoon on the spot as his half-hooded stare travels over me.

  I bite down on my lower lip, a hot flush creeping into my cheeks. I drag my eyes away, forcibly twisting myself back in the direction of my secluded hiding spot and recoil, a gasp slipping from my lips as my shoulder smacks into something hard.

  “Ahh!” Glass shatters on the floor around my bare feet as cold liquid drizzles down the front of my black top, making the drenched fabric cling to me. The sharp scent of alcohol stings my nostrils as droplets of white wine pebble my skin.

  “Miss Graziani, I am so sorry!” The waitress holding the now-empty tray gushes, a horrified expression on her face. “Please don’t move! Let me clean this up. I don’t want you to step in any of the glass!”

  “It’s fine, really,” I say, staring at the shards glittering on the floor around me. Shit. I’m really kind of stuck since pieces of the huge glass taunt me from all directions. “I think I can, um—”

  But before I can finish my thought, a pair of strong arms circles my waist and I’m suddenly airborne.

  Literally swept off my feet and intoxicated, not by the spilled wine but by my savior’s spicy cologne.

  God, he smells good…

  I grip my violin case with one hand, my other hugging his neck as he carries me out of the puddle of glass and pinot and sets me down next to the sofa I’d claimed earlier.

  The second my feet hit the floor, my heart sinks into them.

  Why did it have to be such a quick walk?

  Why couldn’t I have picked a couch on the opposite side of the lounge just so I could relish being in his embrace for a few seconds longer?