King of Vegas Part One: Mafia Romance: (Kings of Commission Series #2)

King of Vegas: Part One Kings of Commission Series A.J. Wyatt Contents Prologue Prologue 1. Vincenzo di Napoli 2. Tahlia da Volterra 3. Vincenzo di Napoli 4. Tahlia da Volterra 5. Vincenzo di Napoli 6. Tahlia da Volterra 7. Vincenzo di Napoli 8. Tahlia da Volterra 9. Vincenzo di Napoli 10. Tahlia da Volterra 11. Vincenzo di Napoli 12. Tahlia da Volterra 13. Vincenzo di Napoli 14. Tahlia da Volterra 15. Vincenzo di Napoli 16. Tahlia da Volterra 17. Vincenzo di Napoli 18. Tahlia da Volterra 19. Vincenzo di Napoli 20. Tahlia da Volterra 21. Vincenzo di Napoli 22. Tahlia da Volterra 23. Vincenzo di Napoli 24. Vincenzo di Napoli 25. Tahlia da Volterra Epilogue Untitled Coming Next Also by A.J. Wyatt Join A.J. Wyatt’s Mafia World on Facebook Acknowledgments About the Author Copyright © 2022 A.J. Wyatt All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author. [email protected] Cover by Pretty Little Design Co. Created with Vellum Prologue Vincenzo di Napoli Before Neal Sanders stepped up and killed his predecessor, I was the youngest Don on the Commission. It was a position I was proud of and one I grabbed with both hands, hungry for the power that was my due. I didn’t think twice when I killed the fucking idiot who was sitting in the chair that I wanted, effectively making my way onto the Commission of Dons of Cosa Nostra. It placed me exactly where I needed to be to make sure the changes I wanted in the organization were within my reach. I kept my eye on Neal, hoping he’d be the one who would be able to help me, the one who sees the same kind of potential in our organization. Luckily, he didn’t turn into the narcissistic bastard that was his uncle. Because if he didn’t kill him, I surely would have. But instead of another enemy, he became the closest ally I’ve had in my entire life. We’ve always been aware of each other, moving in the same circles, but I made sure not to make my interest in him too public. That would have tipped the rest of the Dons off, and they would have intervened. More than they already did. Now, we’ve grown to be brothers in arms, both working toward the same goal. The goal of growing Cosa Nostra into the most fearsome organization in the entire world. That’s why I didn’t think twice before jumping into action when I realized the entire thing was a fucking set-up. We only had one enemy we needed to neutralize, one enemy who insisted on poking us with a stick, over and over again. One enemy who blew up our building and left bodies strewn in alleyways for us to find. The Sicilian Camorra. In retaliation, we were supposed to target the main buildings, the centers of their most profitable businesses. It would allow us to effectively cripple Danielle da Volterra and make him understand that he no longer holds the power. That Cosa Nostra is not there for him to take, but to fear and respect. Everything was going according to plan. We were nearly there. After months of planning and two full weeks of laying low in Sicily, we just had a few more hours until we were home free. Until our mission was accomplished. But I assume one of the sycophants who worship the ground Da Volterra walks on, got word of our plans somehow and warned him—because they were fucking ready for us. The building me and my team were supposed to terminate was completely empty. No soldiers in sight, no sign of the human trafficking business they run to increase their profits. There was nothing pointing to them ever being there in the first place and using it to ship their merchandise across the world. It was a fucking fluke. That’s when I made sure to get to the estate Neal was attacking along with his team of men. We made it there with barely any time to spare. He was out cold and wounded, with nobody but Killian de Luca to drag him out of there. We took more hits than we anticipated and I was more than happy to return the favor. It was my fucking pleasure to take my team and fuck up the rest of the Sicilians who attacked them, who attacked our Godfather. But as much as I hate to admit it, I got cocky. The smile on my face grew wider and bloodier with every man I killed, the adrenaline coursing through my veins made me feel invincible. We were so fucking close, I could taste it. I could fucking taste it. Roaring in frustration, I yank on the chains keeping me in place. The shackles around my wrists are burning the welts already there, the metal cutting into my skin for the umpteenth time. The pain, the bite, is almost comforting. It’s been two months. Two months of darkness. Dampness. Putrid, bleak dampness. At least that’s not all. Along with the smell of decaying flesh and blood, the cell is filled with my regret and absolute fury that I allowed myself to get caught. That and uncertainty if anyone will come for me. And if they do, if I’ll still be alive. These fuckers haven’t been too forthcoming about their plans for me, but it doesn’t take a genius to know it isn’t anything good or remotely pleasant. Looking down at the stump that used to be my finger, the one with my signet ring, marking me as one of the most powerful men