Carnal (Paperback)

One work meeting created an obsession neither of us could shake.

My boss's brother was a friend...until the day he turned his dark-brooding eyes on me.For years, I studied Tristano at the club.I'd mimic his commands, dominating the most powerful, dangerous men.Now, he wants me to submit to him—the opposite role I usually play.So we make a deal.But the urges we think we'll overcome, we can't.When we finally come to terms with our secret, his enemy tries to destroy us.Then I wake up, not remembering anything.And the man who claims I'm his makes my skin crawl.If only I could understand the flashbacks of the dark-haired, chiseled-faced man.(CARNAL is book four in Mafia Wars New York. It's a secret friends to lovers, boss’s brother, Dark Mafia romance, interconnecting stand-alone, and guaranteed to have an HEA.)

Pina De La Cruz

Darkness fades as faint noises grow louder. A chill runs down my spine while sweat breaks the surface of my skin. My heart pounds harder, and the sound of metal slamming together is followed by horns blaring.

A gruff voice heckles, "Stupid motherfuckers. Look at those idiots, Kiko."

Kiko? Who is Kiko?

I blink, and the sunlight blinds me. Hammers pound in my head. I squeeze my eyelids shut, wondering why my mouth is so dry.

Why does my body feel so sore?

A whistle rings in my ears. Another man's voice replies, "That's not getting fixed. Too bad. That Porsche deserves better."

"Good thing I didn't bring my new Vette down to this dump."

Where am I?

I need to wake up!

"Still think you should have gotten red over the blue, boss," Kiko claims.

The other man grunts. "When you pay for it, you can choose it."

"Suit yourself."

I blink again and attempt to sit up, then whimper when pain shoots through my entire body.

"Biagio, she's awake!" Kiko exclaims.

The throbbing agony almost convinces me to stay asleep and not face whatever situation this is, but the voice inside my head tells me not to fall back into the dark abyss. I try harder and keep my eyelids open, letting everything come into focus.

Faded, chipped yellow paint covers the walls. A large window with dusty half-open blinds explains the sunlight. A brown door sits open across from me, and the hallway looks as worn as the room I'm in. Two men study me. One appears a lot older. He's maybe late fifties or early sixties even. The bald spot on his head is shiny, as if he polishes it. Several scars indent his face, and he wears a white tank top. So many tattoos run up his arms and neck, I can't see any skin without ink.

The other man could pass for being in his late thirties. Dark, thick hair fills his head along with a short goatee. He's in better shape than the older man. He has an arm sleeve tattoo and his designer T-shirt hugs his body, displaying his muscles. They're so big and veiny that he has to be on steroids. Unlike Kiko, he doesn't look like a thug. It's clear he's in charge.

Who are these men?

Panic washes over me. A flashback of me at a conference room table, typing, and warm, muscular arms sliding around my shoulders, pops into my mind. The scent of tonka bean, cedarwood, and geranium briefly filters through my nose. However, almost as soon as it appears, it's gone. The present replaces it. I try to sit up again, but the bald man pushes me down.

"Easy," he orders. I assume he's Kiko, based on his voice.

I freeze, unsure if I should try to fight, even though my body feels like I can barely move it.

Biagio lights a cigarette. The sound of his Zippo flicking makes me wince. Smoke seeps into my airway, and I cough. Sharp pain like nothing I've ever felt before erupts in my lungs.

He steps to the opposite side of the bed and reaches for a metal chair. He pulls it closer, turns it backward, and sits. A few moments drag on as he stares at me, never blinking, keeping his intense gaze on mine. Then he leans closer to me. His stale, cigarette breath flares in my nostrils.

"Wh—" I barely make a sound. I try to swallow the raw feeling in my throat, wincing from the pain.

"I've been waiting a long time for you to wake up," he asserts, then moves his hand toward my face.

I flinch, my breath hitches, and more pain assaults my chest. A tiny whimper escapes my lips.

He holds his hands in the air. "Easy. You've got a few broken ribs, a concussion, and extensive bruising."

"What?" I whisper, confused about how my body is so battered. Several beeps come from the machine next to me, and I glance at it.

He cautiously runs his finger across my forehead, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, causing me to I cringe. He sees it but doesn't move his hand off me. His lips twitch and he slides his palm over my cheek, holding me firmly. "Did you forget who we are?"

My pulse pounds between my ears. We? What is he talking about?

My lack of response answers his question. Instead of disappointment flooding his expression, it's as if he expected my reaction, which only adds to the confusion.

My voice cracks as I claim, "I-I-I don't know you."

He nods, insisting, "You do. In time you'll remember."

"Do you know your name?" Kiko interjects.

I tear my gaze off Biagio, turning toward Kiko. The longer I stare at him, the more horrified I get.

What is my name?

Oh God! Why don't I know my name?

"It's okay, baby. The doctor said there's a good chance it will all come back," Biagio declares.

I snap my face toward him and grimace from more stabs of pain. "What will come back?"

"Your memory," he responds.

My heart pounds harder against my ribcage, creating more horrible sensations. "I lost my memory?"

Biagio glances at Kiko and motions with his head for him to leave the room, ordering, "And shut the door."

Kiko obeys, and once the lock clicks in place, more fear pummels me.

Biagio places both palms on my cheeks. "Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

"Wh-who..." I squeeze my eyes shut, needing hydration like never before.

He grabs a glass of water off the table. "Here, baby. Have a sip." He holds it to my lips.

I drink, relishing the moisture in my mouth and throat.

"Better?" he asks, his dark eyes softer than before.

"Yes. Thank you."

He sits the glass down, then picks up my hand. He kisses it, then tilts his head, reassessing me.

"Please say something," I beg, unsure what question I should ask first and feeling too foggy to put my anxiety into words.

He takes a deep inhale, strokes my cheek, then answers, "The doctor said you have amnesia."

"What?" I try to sit up again, but he holds his forearm against my neck so I can't move. It freaks me out, but I'm too hurt to fight.

"Pina, stop moving. You need to not make any quick movements, or you could hurt yourself further," he directs.

Pina. My name is Pina.

Is it?

Oh God!

I freeze, blinking hard, but tears fall. Why can't I remember anything?

"Listen, baby. You don't need to worry about anything right now," Biagio declares.

"Why can't I remember anything?" I sob.

"Shhh. It's okay. The doctor said it's probably temporary," he reiterates.

"But I... I don't..." I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stop the emotions overpowering me, but I can't. More pain shoots through my ribs as my chest heaves with scared sorrow.

He firmly holds my face in his hands and orders, "Pina, look at me."

I manage to obey.

He asserts, "Everything will be okay. I'm going to take good care of you, just like I always have."

"But I don't remember you," I cry out, and more tears roll over his fingers.

His eyes stay in control. There's no emotion in them, only confidence. It strikes me as odd, but I can't pinpoint why. He replies, "Yes. And one day, you will. In the meantime, I'm going to take care of you. All you need to know is that you love me, and I love you."

Love? How can I love a man I don't remember?

I shake my head, and more hammers pound into my skull.

He holds my face tighter. "Stop moving."

I obey again, unable to fight.

"Good girl," he praises, but it makes me cringe inside. The machine next to me beeps faster, and he arches his eyebrows. "Your IV is empty. I'll send the nurse in to change the bag."

"What is it?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Hydration. Vitamins. Everything you need to make you well enough for me to move you."

Goose bumps break out on my arms. I don't know where I am right now, but something about leaving this room scares me. "Move me?"

He runs his thumb over my lips. " Yes. You don't think we live in this dump, do you?"

My eyes dart to the paint-chipped wall and dusty blinds. I refocus on him.

"Well?" he asks.

"I-I don't know," I admit.

He smiles. "You'll love my place. It's unlike this one."

"Then why am I here? Why aren't I in a hospital?" I interrogate.

His eyes turn to slits. He purses his lips for a moment, then chuckles. "That's the Pina I know. Always asking smart questions."

His remark sends a bolt of pride through me. I think, At least I'm not an idiot.

He adds, "The doctors and nurses are the best in the country. I can assure you that your medical care has been nothing less than superior. I had to bring you here until the risks were over." The machine beeps again, and he reaches for it and then pushes a button. The loud noise stops.

My agitation grows. "What risks? I don't understand."

A dark storm swirls in his orbs. He snarls, "The Marinos."

"Who are the Marinos?" I ask.

"Our enemy," he fumes. He leans down and pecks me on the lips. The hairs on my neck rise. I turn my head and blink hard.

Biagio moves my face toward him again. Arrogance replaces the anger in his expression. He claims, "I'm your fiancé. Soon enough, you'll be all over me again."

My lips quiver. I whisper, "Fiancé?"

He smiles, but nothing about it comforts me. "Yes. We were starting to work with the wedding coordinator to plan our big day."

"We were?" I ask, unable to recall anything about a wedding.

"Yes," he confirms, then releases me and sits back in his chair. "Any more questions before I send the nurse in?"

I take a few breaths, trying to prioritize my thoughts.

"Pina?"

I blurt out, "How did I get hurt?"

His face darkens so much I can see the evil in it. He seethes, "You were on a motorcycle."

I attempt to remember it, but I can't. I ask, "With you?"

His voice oozes with hatred. He responds, "No. With him."

"Him?"

He grinds his molars before replying, "Tristano Marino."

Everything stays blank. I ask, "Who is Tristano Marino? And why was I on his bike if I'm with you?"

His nostrils flare into wide triangles. He grabs my hand and traces his thumb over my knuckles, answering, "He attempted to kidnap you. But don't worry, baby. I stopped him."

A burning sensation fills my belly and climbs up my chest. "Why did he want to kidnap me?"

"Because you're mine," Biagio states.

Maybe I should feel good that this decent-enough-looking man is claiming me as his, but I still don't remember anything. So I stay silent, trying to process all of this. I finally ask, "Is he okay?"

"Why do you care?" Biagio barks.

I jump, then wince from the bruises on my back.

"Shit. Sorry," he says in a softer voice, but something tells me he isn't.

I reprimand myself for questioning him when he's my fiancé.

In a controlled tone, Biagio declares, "He's still in the hospital. For now, he's alive. But I guarantee you it won't be for long."

My stomach flips. I can't say why. I don't know this man Tristano who kidnapped me. I shouldn't care about his life after what he did.

Biagio kisses my hand and rises. "I'll send the nurse in to change your IV. As soon as I can bring you home, I will."

Too tired to argue or figure any more of this out, I just reply, "Thank you."

He hesitates, then arches his eyebrows. "Any more questions?"

I start to shake my head, then stop. "Who are you?"

Pride fills his face. He lifts his head and puffs his chest out. Something about his answer sends chills to my bones, but I have no idea why. He states, "I'm Biagio Abruzzo. Son of Jacopo and next in line to rule the family. And you, Pina dela Cruz, will be queen of the Abruzzos."

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