Page 2 of Mafia Book Boyfriend

“You must be Adorra,” she said, with a slight Greek accent. “I’m Adelpha, Xander’s grandmother. But everyone calls me Yaya.”

Her skin was pale with light brown spots, but when I shook her hand, her grip was solid and sturdy. This woman was older, but she wasn’t weak. “It’s nice to meet you, Yaya. Thank you for accompanying me.”

Her dark eyes, so like Xander’s, twinkled. “The pleasure is mine, dear. I seldom get to play chaperone these days. Xander insisted that you have a… what did he call it? Ah, yes, a ‘buffer’ for the flight. He wanted to make sure you felt comfortable.”

My cheeks warmed like I’d been in the sun all day. “That’s very thoughtful of him.”

Yaya patted my hand as we settled into plush leather seats. “It was my pleasure. Though I must admit, I was surprised when he asked me to do this. At first, I wondered if this was an elaborate prank or set up for a surprise party. But, no, here you are.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Xander, I was a little shocked. He’ll think that means disappointed and will work double-time to throw me something that I do not want. I swear, I get more parties now than I did when I was young. And that was when I wanted them. I suppose everybody just wants to congratulate me for making it one more year. They don’t know, I don’t plan to go anywhere. Why would I? Life is just getting interesting.” She patted my hand. “Speaking of interesting, tell me all about yourself, and how you met my grandson.”

As the jet took off, Yaya’s stories filled the cabin as we flew across the ocean and then the sea. When we touched down in Greece, my butterflies had settled from a fluttering roar into a low hum. If he’d sent his grandmother to lull away my nerves, he’d chosen wisely.

The Mediterranean sun felt like a car slamming me into a wall of heat. A steady sea breeze diffused its blinding light. As we left the small island airport, Yaya led me towards the docks. She chattered about the local sights, but I barely heard her. My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for—

There.

Standing at the end of the dock was a man who could only be Xander. Tall and broad-shouldered, even from a distance, he towered above everyone else. I made out the sharp angles of his face and the slight scruff along his jaw. As we walked closer, his eyes drew mine—dark and intense. Mysterious and tempting, just like in our video calls, but a hundred times more potent in person.

Our gazes locked, and for a moment, the bustling docks faded away. Isolating Xander and me in our charged bubble.

“Adorra,” he said in a low voice. “Welcome to Greece.”

I held my hand out to shake his, as I’d done with Yaya, but he brushed it away. Pulling me into his arms for a brief hug. Not too long. Not improper. Mere seconds.

Impossibly quick seconds.

Seconds that were just long enough to tell me that my dreams of becoming a writer, my carefully laid plans—none of it had prepared me for the reality of Xander Gataki.

Xander

Why did Gataki men fall fast and hard? I’d been on my cousin’s cases when they tripped over their feet, stumbling face-first into love. First, Leo, which was sketchy as hell, because he’d acquired his wife as payment for a debt. Now, he and Valentina were all lovey-dovey, as if they hadn’t met in dark and ruthless ways. Next was baby boy Theo, who’d kill anyone who called him that. He’d become a hothead, working overtime to prove his toughness. It only took his curvy little bride a few weeks to break him down. Leo had ordered us to hold him captive when he wouldn’t stay away from Valentina’s best friend. Luckily for us, she hadn’t left the island. A fate that saved our lives and the lives of everyone we knew.

Matthias surprised me the most. He’d sworn he’d never, ever marry. I just barely convinced him to not throw his new wife overboard after their forced marriage and honeymoon. Which was good because his surprise-twins needed their mother. And since that was the reason they’d married…

I’d always been different from my cousins. I wanted to fall in love and marry. This life was dangerous and cruel. Lives were lost in instances because situations could flip real quick. If God gave me a short life, I wanted to fill it with love and happiness. I wanted to come home from a day of work, that I could never share, to a woman who didn’t ask but still understood. That shit was brutal. Hard on a woman, who never knew if or when her husband was coming home. Hard on a man, who couldn’t sit on the couch and share what went wrong at work. Even harder on a relationship. But my parents made it work, and I’d seen other examples from Uncle Cosmo and Aunt Evangelina. Even Yaya had been happy with my grandfather.

When Cora and Lyra pulled their dumbass prank on me—signing me up to be some chick’s mafia book boyfriend—I’d nearly strangled them. They were my cousins, and we all goofed off, but they’d gone too far. A book boyfriend was ridiculous—mafia, even more so. But then they showed me my agency match.

Adorra.

I looked at her photo and nearly spilled my morning brew all over my keyboard. I’d taken more than one blow to the solar plexus, and this was another one. She was a librarian from a small town in Iowa, just a few hours from where I lived in Chicago. Her favorite movies were Goodfellas, fucking rat bastard, and The Godfather; okay, I liked that one too. She read Mafia romance books and wanted to experience the real thing. Mafia romance books? What the actual fuck? If she’d been anyone else, I would have told her that there was not one damn thing romantic about this organization. Without love, it stripped your soul like turpentine on fresh paint.

We talked on the phone a few times. And each conversation was like taking that first breath after drowning. A gasp, a cough, then a surprise that you were still alive. A surprise that your heart still worked.

When she stepped off the small plane that had transferred them from Athens to Kouris, I turned my head to hide another gasp—to breathe again. Ava was stunning—much more beautiful in person. Her nutmeg-colored skin highlighted her high cheekbones and the elegant line of her jaw. The sweep of her long lashes over the graceful arc of her eyes gave her face an exotic appeal. Full lips curved into an intriguing mix of shyness and confidence.

Her dark hair was pulled back, revealing the graceful curve of her neck. She walked with a model’s stride and grace, even in casual travel clothes—every movement fluid and effortless. But more than physical beauty struck me—intelligence and curiosity lit up her face as she swept her surroundings.

“Hi,” she said huskily.

“Hi,” I returned. My conversation skills skipped out when they saw her face.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Welcome to Kouris. How was your flight?”

“It was… entertaining,” Adorra said, her eyes darting to Yaya, who was busy instructing the staff about her luggage. “Your grandmother is quite the storyteller.”

I groaned inwardly. “I can only imagine. I hope she didn’t scare you off with stories—I raised my voice—she shouldn’t be telling about me.”

“Why did you send me if you wanted me to keep quiet? You know I love to talk about my grandchildren.”