Single Malt Drama: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 3) Read online

  Single Malt Drama

  Kathryn M. Hearst

  SINGLE MALT DRAMA.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kathryn M. Hearst. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Excerpt from HOT MOMOSA copyright @ 2020 by Kathryn M. Hearst

  Worldwide Rights. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  First Edition published by Wyndham House, Inc. February 2020.

  www.kathrynmhearst.com

  Cover art designed by Dar Alexander, Wicked Smart Designs

  Editor Holly Atkinson, Evil Eye Editing

  Proofreader Book Nook Nuts Proofreading

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Marco

  2. Nicolina

  3. Marco

  4. Nicolina

  5. Marco

  6. Nicolina

  7. Marco

  8. Marco

  9. Nicolina

  10. Nicolina

  11. Marco

  12. Nicolina

  13. Marco

  14. Nicolina

  15. Nicolina

  16. Marco

  17. Nicolina

  18. Marco

  19. Marco

  20. Nicolina

  21. Marco

  22. Nicolina

  23. Marco

  24. Nicolina

  25. Marco

  26. Nicolina

  27. Marco

  28. Nicolina

  29. Marco

  30. Nicolina

  31. Marco

  32. Nicolina

  33. Marco

  34. Marco

  35. Nicolina

  36. Marco

  37. Nicolina

  38. Marco

  Chapter 1

  Also by Kathryn M. Hearst

  About the Author

  For that wicked hot antique dealer down on Royal Street.

  You drive a hard bargain…

  1

  Marco

  The movies got it all wrong. Scarface, The Godfather, Goodfellas were great flicks, but they only showed the splashy side of the mafia. In reality, the day-to-day operations created a metric ass load of paperwork. Depending on the day, there were contracts to write, business acquisitions to oversee, and lawsuits—always a new freaking lawsuit.

  That’s where I came in. Marco Cesare Marchionni, attorney for the mob, or my family’s part of it anyway.

  On paper, the Marchionni Corporation was a multi-billion-dollar enterprise with hotels, restaurants, and bars on all seven continents, but like the movies, the reality didn’t live up to the hype. The majority of our properties would have gone under years ago if not for the river of profits from other mafiosi’s illegal activities.

  After Joe, my eldest brother, was murdered, Gabe had taken his place as capo of the family, and my workload had quadrupled. Not because he’d earned himself a seat at the mafia’s version of the big boys’ table, or the Fratellanza. That would have been too easy. Nope, Gabe had decided to get us out of the mob—which was a good thing—except for the paperwork.

  Granted, my current office was a pool deck overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, and I’d traded in my suit and tie for board shorts. However, I had a lot more to worry about than checking items off my to-do list. One mistake, real or imagined, could mean blowing up an already escalating mob war.

  Gabe clamped a hand on my shoulder. “How’s it going?”

  I added another name to the ever-growing list of companies to dump and set the laptop aside. “If we get rid of anything that isn’t turning a profit without dirty money, we’re looking at selling seventy-five percent of our holdings.”

  “That’s less than I was expecting.” Frowning, he glanced over the water.

  My entire famn damily had come to Sicily for Gabe’s wedding, but what was supposed to be a two-week vacation had turned into an indefinite stay. I, for one, was ready to get back to my regularly scheduled life in New Orleans. However, that couldn’t happen until Gabe brokered a peace agreement with the other mob families.

  “How’s Pops?”

  My father lived on borrowed time. Stage IV lung cancer had seen to that. While I’d never call our relationship close, watching him suffer sucked. Not to mention, sitting around waiting for him to die made me feel like an asshole.

  “He’s resting. It’s been an eventful morning.”

  “So I heard. What was with all the shouting?” I loved my big fat Italian family, but I often wished they came with a mute button.

  Gabe scratched his jaw. “Enzo royally screwed up.”

  Between his tone, and the mention of our brother, my heartrate picked up speed. A couple of rival mob families had a problem with us walking away from the Cosa Nostra. One capo in particular demanded an ungodly pay-off, time to make alternative arrangements for his money laundering needs, and for Enzo to marry his daughter.

  Praying my brother’s mistake didn’t have anything to do with him going through with the wedding to Nicolina Lazio, I asked, “Fucked up how?”

  “He forgot to turn off the security cameras before he and Shanna got creative with a bottle of wine.” Gabe cracked a grin.

  “The feeds from the mansion go directly to Marchionni Corp’s security offices.” My God, anyone with clearance can access the recordings. I could only imagine the hilarity that had ensued when the security team got a look at Enzo’s do-it-yourself porno.

  “Yep. Needless to say, Ma had a fit.”

  “I feel bad for Shanna. Ma had a problem with her from the moment she set foot in this house. I thought she’d pop an aneurysm when she found out you’d sent Enzo back to New Orleans with her.” I felt bad for Enzo as well but for different reasons. His heart had always been three sizes too small, but it’d grown when he’d met Shanna.

  Gabe chuckled. “Enzo will do what he wants, regardless of Ma’s feelings on the matter, but Shanna’s liable to put his balls in a jar when she finds out about this. If she doesn’t, I’d say it’s true love.”

  I admired his optimism, but to quote Tina Turner, what’s love got to do with it? “Does it matter? The situation with the Lazios isn’t going away.”

  Gabe’s expression darkened. “Like I’ve said before, we aren’t living in a Jane fucking Austen novel. I’m not selling our brother’s hand in marriage to get the rest of us out of the business.”

  I appreciated his sentiment even if it was naive. “For what it’s worth, Nico doesn’t want the marriage either.”

  Gabe smirked. “She sure as hell acted like it.”

  “Did she?” I wiggled my brows. For once, being in the friend-zone had its advantages, namely Nico had confided in me.

  “One. She hung on Enzo like an ornament. Two. She was homicidally jealous of Shanna. Three—” His eyes widened, and the proverbial lightbulb came on over his head. “You mean to tell me she was behaving like a two-year old coming off a sugar bender because she didn’t want to be with Enzo?”

  I tapped the side of my nose. “Never let anyone make you think you don’t have a brain beneath all that long flowing hair.”

  He flipped me the finger. “Now that you mention it, her behavio
r did seem over-the-top.”

  “What can I say? None of you know her like I do.” I’d worshipped the ground Nicolina Lazio’s red-soled, Christian Louboutins walked on since I stopped believing girls had cooties.

  What man in his right mind wouldn’t? Nico was a model, a wannabe fashion designer, and had a whip-sharp sense of humor. Unfortunately for me, she’d friend-zoned me at the age of nine. Back then, she preferred older men, namely my brothers. By the time she came of age, my mother and Nico’s father had decided she was best suited for Enzo.

  I absolutely disagreed, but I hadn’t gotten a vote—until now.

  Stretching out on the lounge chair, I placed my hands behind my head. “Nico could marry another Marchionni.”

  He winked, but the tension in his jaw ruined the effect. “You’d throw our baby brother under the bus? Dante’s still in grad school, and I’m not sure he’s had his first kiss, let alone dated.”

  Joking or not, Gabe wasn’t completely wrong about Dante. While I’d spent more time playing the field than Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, and Hank Aaron combined, our baby brother had warmed the bench…mostly.

  I met Gabe’s gaze and used my professional attorney voice. “One of us has to marry the supermodel. I’m willing to take one for the team.”

  He folded his arms and gave me a look that reminded me way too much of our father. “No one in this family is marrying Nicolina Lazio. Capisci?”

  “Capisco.” I understood he wanted to protect us, but that didn’t mean I agreed with him. Someone had to do what was best for the family, and it looked like that someone would be me.

  My phone dinged with an incoming text.

  I checked the screen and shot upright. Speaking of the devil in Prada.

  Gabe arched a brow. “Is that panic on your face because of business or pleasure?”

  “It’s personal.” I stood and waved the phone. “I need to make a call. Are we done here?”

  “As long as you stay the hell away from Nico, we’re good.”

  No can do, bro. “Sure, whatever. I offered a solution. You declined. What do I care?”

  He gave me a curious expression and walked into the house.

  Shoving my feet in my shoes, I hit redial.

  Nico answered on the first ring. “Marco, thank God. Are you alone?”

  “I’m working on it.” I grabbed my towel and headed down the steep path to the beach. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure what changed, but my father just announced mine and Enzo’s wedding date.” She sounded tired and stuffy as if she’d been crying. “It’s in five days.”

  Keeping my voice low, I said, “Let’s just say my parents got an eyeful of how much Enzo likes Shanna Isaac this morning.”

  “Oh.” She went quiet.

  What the hell? Is she upset he’s with another woman? Does she have feelings for him after all?

  “This only proves my point.” Nico sighed. “Enzo and I can’t go through with this wedding. We will both end up miserable and bitter.”

  I wanted to run an idea past her, but it didn’t seem like the right time. Then again, was it ever a good idea to propose over the phone? “I know, Nic, I know. But what are you going to do?”

  “I went with my father to speak to our priest this morning.”

  My brain stopped working, so much so, I tripped over a rock and nearly face-planted. “You spoke to the man who’s going to marry you to my brother?”

  “Yes.” She lowered her voice. “But he cannot perform the ceremony if there is no bride.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “I’m not following you.”

  “I pretended to go along with it. When my father dismissed me, I made up an excuse I needed to see the baker. Instead, I went to visit Maria and Alessio.”

  “Your old nanny and groundskeeper?” I remembered the couple. They’d practically raised her after her mother had passed away.

  “Yes. I told them a little of what is happening and they have agreed to help me escape.”

  This time my brain not only stopped working, but smoke seeped from my ears. “Are you crazy? Your father will have them, and everyone they love, murdered.”

  “They’re leaving Trapani.” Her voice thinned. “I’m going to help them join their family in America.”

  I hated this idea more than I hated her father for putting her in this position. “Do you even have a plan?”

  “Alessio and Maria are meeting me on the beach with a boat, but it is too small to get to the airport on Pantelleria fast enough, which is why I need your help.”

  “I’m happy to smuggle them into the US, and afterward, I’ll whisk you away to some exotic corner of the world, preferably a corner with a clothing-optional beach.” Truer words had never been spoken. I wasn’t exactly a happily-ever-after kind of guy, but a few months with Nico’s legs wrapped around my waist wouldn’t suck.

  “This is not the time for jokes.” She sighed.

  Who’s joking? “Sorry. Go on.”

  “Remember when you said to call you if I needed anything?”

  Oh boy. “Yes?”

  “I need you to meet us off the coast of Formica tomorrow morning. Please tell me you have access to your family’s yacht.”

  “I do.” If I can convince Gabe to let me off the compound long enough to meet her. I’d find a way. I had to. I’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress, especially when that damsel was Nico. “What time?”

  “They are meeting me before sunrise.”

  I did some quick mental math. The trip to Trapani was nothing to sneeze at. Even at cruising speed, it would take six or seven hours to reach her. If I was late, she’d be a sitting duck. “Formica is too exposed. Go to our secret place on Levanzo. We can hide Alessio’s boat in the cave.”

  The memory of the first time we’d run away from home together crossed my mind. We had been ten or eleven years old and determined to escape our overbearing families. The two days we’d spent on the tiny Aegadian Island had been amazing. At least until my father’s men had found us down by tracking my phone.

  “Don’t forget to turn off your cell this time.” Nico laughed.

  “Ha ha. Are you sure about this?”

  “I have never been more sure.”

  I absolutely hated this plan. She was taking an enormous risk by defying her father. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if she was caught trying to escape. “Nic, I hate to state the obvious, but airports, ferry terminals, and train stations are the first place your father will look.”

  She sighed. “I know, but I’m praying he will search larger places first. If so, we will make it to Pantelleria before his men.”

  Pietro Lazio had an army of employees at his disposal. Some would undoubtably head to the island. There was no way in hell we would arrive before them. No yacht could outrun a helicopter.

  “Forget Pantelleria. I’m bringing you back here and putting you on the Marchionni Corporation jet. No Lazio would dare set foot in Comiso, not with the current tensions.”

  Current tensions was putting it mildly. A couple of weeks ago, someone had fired shots over Enzo’s head. A few days later, armed men had been apprehended in the crowd at Gabe’s wedding. The escalating violence wasn’t restricted to Sicily. It’d spilled over to New Orleans. Enzo’s restaurant had been ransacked, and his girlfriend’s apartment had been burned down. While Pietro Lazio denied any involvement, my brothers and I believed he’d issued the orders.

  “Think about it. It’s summer—there are thousands of boats around the islands.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. My father has spies everywhere, even in Comiso. If he found out I left Sicily on your family’s plane…” Nico went quiet. “It’s better if you only take us to Pantelleria.”

  Rather than argue, I decided to table the conversation. I’d have hours at sea to change her mind. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise.” She drew a breath. “I will text you f
rom my burner phone once we are offshore.”

  “And before you leave the house.” Reluctant to end the call, I said, “We could put Maria and Alessio on the plane, and we could take the yacht to Malta. Santorini? I hear Cyprus is nice this time of year.”

  “There is no we, Marco. I have to get them to the United States, and then I must disappear. Alone.”

  Yep, I hated this plan. “Can you at least tell me where you’re going?”

  “It’s probably best if I don’t tell you everything.” Nico sighed again. “I should go.”

  I stared at the phone after she disconnected. One way or another, sweetheart, I’m going to convince you to become my wife—for a few months, anyway.

  2

  Nicolina

  Elliptical machines were great cardio, but let’s be honest, working out in a gym doesn’t prepare a girl for the real world. Not when said girl is running for her life from the very people who should protect her.

  I reached the edge of the manicured lawn and took one last glance back at my ancestral home. Portions of the rough stone walls had been built in the 12th century as part of a military fortress. Fitting, considering the mansion had been my prison since I had the misfortune of being born into the Lazio family.

  “Nico! Stop!” My brother, Giancarlo, charged across the grass.

  I half-ran and half-slid down the stony cliff leading to the Mediterranean Sea. As a child, I’d played on these rocks. I knew the terrain, where to step, where to avoid, and how to win a race to the water’s edge.