Title: Regretfully Yours
Author: Sunniva Dee
Genre: Romantic Suspense/Mafia Romance
Release Date: April 17, 2018
Our relationship was a sin, they said, but how can it be a sin to love so deeply?
She shouldn’t have listened to them.
Shouldn’t have left us behind.
You can’t help whom you love, and without Silvina, I didn’t give a damn.
A mafia prince without a cause is a rebel with nothing to lose.
My brother owned an adult entertainment studio.
He wanted me nowhere near it. Thankfully, his competition did.
I auditioned. Landed a contract.
It’s how I took my sins to a new level, my up-yours to la famiglia.
Until Silvina was kidnapped, and my world was thrown upside down.
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The bane of my existence is cleaning the dance floor with his body. Elbows wide and eyes dangerous, he leaves a path of annoyed partiers in his wake. They’ve only seen the beginning. He’s about to get us banned from this club.
I put down the beer John just bought for me and lean against the bar counter. There isn’t much I can do anyway. It’s always the same.
My heart thunders with the music. I do put a little distance between my lab partner and me because it might save his teeth. Only problem is, he tried to kiss me. Gioele doesn’t like that.
John moves in closer, putting a hand on my shoulder to apologize. We’re in Biology together, second year at Diamond University. I had six months alone here in San Francisco before Gioele moved after me. He couldn’t take it anymore. And I? I was dying inside.
“John!” I shout over the music. “This was nice, but I need to go now.”
He leans in to discuss this further, which I should have anticipated. He doesn’t understand—he wants to know why—and here, here’s the bane of my existence, now, barging right at him. Gioele sure crossed that dance floor fast.
“Get your fucking hands off her, asshole.”
John doesn’t have time to obey. I can almost hear the crunch as Gioele’s fist rams into the side of his face. It sends his bottle sailing into the table behind us and John to the floor.
In less than a minute, Gioele transforms him into a heap of whimpers. People around us scream. Some chick is actually crying. That’s a bit overboard. Have they never seen guys fight before?
“Stop it. I like this place!” I shout. “You’re getting us banned again.”
Silver-streaked eyes blaze with fury as he kicks the crap out of John on the floor. Security storms toward us while I claw myself onto his back like I’ve done countless times since high school. “Fuck, baby love,” I mutter. “You suck.”
Here they are, now, three big, burly, angry bouncers who throw themselves at Gioele. They never want me in the crossfire. Doesn’t mean I haven’t been there.
The déjà vus roll in, of bouncers accidentally hurting me and Gioele losing his shit. He’d display superhuman powers, clean the bar counter of glassware, and knock partiers out, before barreling out of the club with me towed behind him.
Usually, we’re caught and hauled off to the police station. Once there, Gioele refuses to give them his ID, and he’ll physically fight the police. I don’t know why he does that. With their manpower, they get what they want anyway.
Gioele di Nascimbeni, it says on his ID, and not a single policeman in the State of California misses what that means. Gioele di Nascimbeni means son of Il Lince, the uncrowned capo di capi in the U.S. It means he’s the prince of the underworld, heir of a ruthless mafia dynasty with headquarters in Los Angeles and Venice, Italy. That’s what it means. There’s always some policeman at the station who’s in Il Lince’s pocket, so next up, all signs of his arrest are erased.
It’s not as bad this time. The guards don’t hurt me, which means Gioele doesn’t see red. Almost apologetic, he shows his palms to them and links us off before they can escort us to the door by force.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I say once we’re in the alley.
He throws his hands up, the silver streaks in his irises as prominent as they are when he’s desperate. “What was I supposed to do, Ina mia? He tried to kiss you.”
“I’m supposed to kiss men. I’m supposed to have boyfriends. You know? I’m twenty-one years old, and I haven’t had a single boyfriend in my life.”
“Yes, you have!” he shouts, “Me. Always.”
“You don’t count.” I hate it when my bane and I fight. That lump in my throat threatens to implode.
“Ha, no way. I count, baby. I did before, at least. Back when we didn’t know what we were doing.” He laughs, and it’s loud and violent. Those eyes; I’d kiss his eyelids. I’d kiss down along the side of his nose where it’s wet now, and I’d lick the salt off his lip. I liked not knowing what we were doing. It’s been so long since I could feel him with my mouth.
“Why do we have to walk around knowing?” He does this, finishes the thoughts in my head for me. “There are places, Ina mia, where we can forget everything and just be us. I’ll take you there.” Desolate, he laughs again. I open my arms. He can still hold me. People hold each other all the time.
Sunniva Dee is a lover of great writing and wild, passionate characters. In the beautiful city of Savannah, Georgia, she divides her time between her “petting zoo” and writing sexy novels. Sunniva ado-o-ores breaking stereotypes and describing the flip side of bad-boy alphas or good boys and their savage streak.