Deviant Hearts

DEVIANT HEARTS A DARK ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS MAFIA ROMANCE DARK HEARTS BOOK ONE JAGGER COLE Deviant Hearts Jagger Cole © 2023 All rights reserved. Cover and interior design by Plan 9 Book Design Photography by Anthony Meyer This is a literary work of fiction. Any names, places, or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Similarities or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events or establishments, are solely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, distribution of, or use of this copyrighted work in the training of AI is illegal and a violation of US copyright law. Created with Vellum CONTENTS Playlist Trigger Warning Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Epilogue Dark Kingdom Also by Jagger Cole About the Author PLAYLIST Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy Lavender Haze - Taylor Swift So Long - Danielle Ponder I Put A Spell On You - Nina Simone Fascination Street - The Cure Bang! - AJR Here - Alessia Cara Misery Business - Paramore Weightless - Arlo Parks Into The Groove - Madonna Sinnerman - Nina Simone Enter Sandman - Metallica Twisted - Two Feet Dreamy Bruises - Sylvan Esso Hang Me Up To Dry - Cold War Kids Desire - Meg Myers For You - Serena Ryder Liberation - BUZZ 45 - Bleachers Listen to the playlist on Spotify! TRIGGER WARNING This book contains darker themes and graphic depictions of past trauma, as well as mentions of SA. While these scenes were written to create a more vivid, in-depth story, they may be triggering to some readers. Please read with that in mind. 1 NEVE Fuck. Me. He’s doing it. Again. I tell myself not to look. I tell myself to keep my eyes on the book and the study notes in front of me, because NYU seriously does not care what my last name is, and they’ll have no issue failing my sorry ass from my government and public policy master’s program if I don’t focus. I tell myself it’s high time I bought some fucking curtains, so I can avoid this…distraction…since it’s clearly shaping up to be a frequent thing. But the problem with telling yourself not to do something that deep down you really want to? The “deep down” part always wins. Always. Or, at least it does with me. Which might say more about me and my own self-control…or lack thereof. No. It’s definitely easier to go ahead and blame my new neighbor across the street. Let’s go with that. I mean, he’s the one that keeps walking around naked in a penthouse made out of fucking glass. Mark Twain once said, “There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.” But, smart as he was, it’s clear Mr. Twain never had the neighbor I do. If he had, I’m pretty sure he’d have taken a whole lot of the whimsical “charm” out of that statement. And sure enough, despite my best—or, okay, let’s be real, mediocre—efforts, soon enough, my gaze shifts from the notes in front of me to the man across the steel canyon from me. Sweet Jesus. He’s a freaking god. Tall and lean, and as muscled as a superhero. Shoulders and arms built to take away your ability to speak. Chiseled abs and those grooved hip-muscle things that I don’t even know what they’re called but they seem to be evolution’s way of making even smart women go fucking stupid. Tattoos for days. Deeply tanned, Mediterranean skin, with a shadow on his razor-sharp jaw, and dark, perfectly tousled hair. It’s like living next to a goddamn Avenger who models for Armani while he’s not busy saving the world from Thanos. No wonder he seems to have a problem with wearing clothes. Heat floods my cheeks as I glance across the chasm between us. The morning light streams right through his penthouse, which is another annoyance. Two months ago, my place was a dream apartment. A modern, light-filled loft at the top of a thirty-eight-story building. So high up that I didn’t even have neighbors who could see into this place. Is it more than a little ostentatious? Well…yeah. It’s a thousand square feet of modern glass and steel on the West Side overlooking the Hudson. Was it absurdly expensive? Also, yeah. But there’s gotta be some perks that come with being a Kildare to offset the downsides. Issues making friends my entire life because my family is the Irish Mafia? Check. Problems having any sort of romantic relationships, for the same reason? Check and double check. Aimless, drifting, utterly unsure of what I want to do with my life, because what exactly do mafia princesses do all day? Check and fucking mate. For the last year, I’ve been throwing myself into this government and policy master’s program at NYU. But after that? Who knows. For now, I’m at least finally living on my own. But life still sort of feels just like something I’m drifting through. Truth be told, I was pretty sure my uncle Cillian was going to shut down my plans of finally moving out of the main family house and into this place. Especially with all the violence and upheaval in the last few months as the fighting between the Irish Kildare and Greek Drakos families escalated to world-war-three levels. But my dream apartment and the building itself are incredibly secure and easy to defend.