Synopsis

Three ruthless mafia bosses. One woman running for her life. One week of passion that will change their lives forever.

Fearing for her life, Chiara runs away from her father’s empire of lies. Only to get caught in a web of deceit and vengeance spun by three ruthless men she shouldn’t trust.
Yet only they can protect her from the mafia goons her father sends to fetch her. All they demand in exchange is her unconditional surrender for one week of passion.
Seven days in a luxury resort in New Orleans with three skillful Masters sounds easy enough for a lifetime of freedom.
But what happens when their desires only intensify and they find themselves craving more and more.
This heart-pounding reverse harem mafia romance is the newest addition to the bestselling series Sexy & Sinful.
Fans of Allyson Lindt, Mari Carr, and Jayne Raylon will find their next book boyfriends in this standalone novella. Happily-ever-after guaranteed with high levels of heat wrapped around plenty of sass and wit.

APPLE

SNEAK PEEK

Chapter 2 – Chiara Vittorelli

2025@ Liz Gavin

Three Years Ago

Chiara’s breath caught in her throat as Max Cagliari strode down the cathedral aisle. His broad shoulders cut through the sacred space like a blade through silk. Even amid chaos with guns drawn, alliances shifting, her best friend’s fate hanging in the balance, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

God, I’m pathetic.

At nineteen, she was old enough to know better than to harbor fantasies about a man who probably saw her as nothing more than Angela’s tag-along friend. Eleven years stretched between them like an insurmountable chasm. Besides, she was fully aware that Max moved in circles where innocence was a liability she couldn’t afford to keep.

She scolded herself. Men like Max and Michael don’t fall for girls like me – they use them. They’re from Dad’s world, where women are possessions to be traded.

But watching him orchestrate Angela’s escape from a loveless marriage with surgical precision, seeing the dangerous intelligence that lurked behind those dark brown eyes, Chiara felt something molten unfurl in her chest. This wasn’t the crush of a schoolgirl anymore; it was the forbidden feelings she had hidden for so long that had turned into something darker, hungrier, infinitely more dangerous.

The lavender silk of her bridesmaid dress suddenly felt too tight against her skin as she watched Max’s retreating form. She’d spent countless nights imagining what those hands would feel like on her body, what that mouth would taste like against hers. Sometimes in her dreams, it wasn’t just Max. Michael Silvieri featured prominently in her midnight fantasies, too. She wasn’t always alone with either one of them.

Heat flooded her cheeks at the direction of her thoughts. Here she was, standing in the house of God, watching her best friend’s life change forever, and all she could think about was the way Max’s tailored pants hugged his muscular thighs and round…

“Wait a second, please,” said Dave Boyle, his booming voice cutting through her inappropriate musings, snapping her attention back to the drama unfolding at the altar.

Nick’s older brother joined their father and brothers, pressing papers into Father Lucca’s weathered hands.

Chiara’s heart hammered against her ribs as she noted Angela’s stare searching Nick’s face as if probing him for answers. Even from her position among the other bridesmaids, she could see the love radiating between the couple: raw, desperate, beautiful in its intensity. It stirred something deep inside her, a longing so sharp, so painful, that it pricked behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth to avoid crying and making a spectacle of herself.

What would it feel like to be loved like that?

The thought whispered through her mind like smoke, foreign and intoxicating. She’d never experienced anything close to the passion she witnessed between Angela and Nick. Her few fumbling encounters with boys her own age had been disappointing at best, leaving her wondering if there was something fundamentally wrong with her.

But when Max had looked at her just now, only for the briefest moment, his gaze seared across her skin like a brand. She’d felt more alive than she ever had in some college boy’s inexperienced hands.

Nick dropped to one knee in front of Angela, and Chiara’s breath hitched. The cathedral fell silent except for the whispered comments of the astonished guests and the distant echo of traffic beyond the stone walls.

“Will you make it official? Will you show the whole world that I’m yours?”

The words hung in the air like incense, sacred and profane all at once. Chiara pressed Angela’s bouquet of white roses against her chest, using the flowers to hide the way her hands trembled. She wasn’t sure if it was from the raw, emotional scene unfolding before her or from the memory of Max’s eyes on her skin. If she were to be honest with herself, probably both.

When Nick revealed the rings, a wedding band made to resemble a miniature collar with angel wings, and a Claddagh, Angela gasped. It was clear that those held some private meaning for the couple. Even though Chiara didn’t understand it, her throat tightened with unshed tears. The Irish wedding ring caught the beams of light filtered by the tall stained windows, throwing rainbows across the bride’s tear-stricken cheeks.

“Yes!” Angela’s voice rang through the vaulted space, and Chiara couldn’t help but smile through her own misty eyes.

Their kiss was electric, sending ripples of energy through the gathered crowd. Father Lucca’s scandalized throat-clearing only made Chiara’s smile grow wider. Even amid mafia politics and family obligations, love had found a way to bloom.

Maybe there’s hope for the rest of us, she thought, unconsciously scanning the pews for a glimpse of dark hair and dangerous eyes, but Max was long gone.

The wedding ceremony that followed passed in a blur of blessings and exchanged vows. Chiara found herself studying Angela’s face, memorizing the joy that transformed her best friend into something luminous. Twenty-one and already claiming her forever. It all seemed impossibly romantic and terrifyingly adult all at once.

“I, Nicholas Boyle, take you, Angela Silvieri, for my lawful wife…” Nick’s voice carried clearly through the cathedral, each word weighted with promise.

When Angela repeated the vows, her voice strong and clear, Chiara felt something shift in her chest. Her best friend was no longer just Tony Silvieri’s daughter or Michael’s little sister. She was becoming her own person, choosing her own destiny.

“Sorry, Father,“ Angela said with a rebellious grin that made Chiara bite back a laugh. “To have and to hold forever because not even death can do us part.”

The modified vow sent a shiver down Chiara’s spine. Such fierce, unapologetic love; it was everything she’d dreamed of and nothing she’d ever experienced. Watching Nick slide the rings onto Angela’s finger, seeing the way they gazed at each other like they were the only two people in the world, Chiara felt both inspired and achingly lonely.

Before the newlyweds made their way down the aisle, Chiara handed the bouquet to Angela and fell into step behind the couple. Her own bouquet was wilting slightly in her sweaty palms. The cathedral doors opened to reveal a gray Boston afternoon, but Angela’s radiant smile could have powered the entire city.

Outside, as the wedding party arranged itself for photos that would never appear in any society pages, Chiara caught fragments of Nick and Angela’s conversation.

“How did you pull this off, getting the rings done in only a couple of days?”

“When I gave you that collar, I told you that it came with accessories. These are just two of them.“

Chiara’s eyes widened at the kinky implication in Nick’s words, heat flooding her cheeks. She’d always known Angela was more experienced than she let on, but hearing about submissive collars and accessories made Chiara’s imagination run wild. What kind of sexy games did people play behind closed doors? What did it feel like to trust someone enough to surrender control completely?

The thoughts were dangerous territory for a virgin who’d never even been properly kissed. Still, Chiara couldn’t stop herself from wondering, especially when images of Max Cagliari’s hands kept flashing through her mind, along with darker fantasies she barely understood.

As Nick helped Angela into the waiting limousine, Chiara heard her friend’s next words carried on the afternoon breeze: “Too bad we’ve left your toys at the cabin on the other side of the country.”

Toys. The word sent electricity racing down Chiara’s spine, awakening parts of her body she’d only recently begun to explore in the privacy of her bedroom. She pressed her thighs together, grateful for the full skirt of her bridesmaid dress.

“I’ve brought them with me.” Nick’s response was low, intimate, but Chiara was standing close enough to catch every syllable. “I want only the best for you on our wedding night.”

The limousine door closed with a soft click, taking her now-married best friend away to a future filled with passion and possibilities that Chiara could only dream about. Standing on the cathedral steps in her lavender silk dress, surrounded by the remnants of a wedding that had begun as a business transaction and ended as a love story, she felt as though she was teetering at the edge of a cliff.

Somewhere in the city, Max Cagliari was continuing his life, probably forgetting she existed. But Chiara knew with bone-deep certainty that she would never forget the way he’d looked at her today, like he was seeing something he wanted but couldn’t have.

Eleven years, she reminded herself as her family’s car approached to pick her up. He’s thirty and I’m nineteen. He probably thinks of me as a child.

But as she settled into the leather seats, smoothing her skirt over trembling legs, Chiara couldn’t shake the feeling that some chasms were meant to be crossed. Some age gaps were just numbers waiting to become irrelevant.

Three years, she thought, watching Boston blur past the window. In three years, I’ll be done with college. I’ll also be twenty-two and he’ll be thirty-three. That’s not so impossible.

The thought should have felt like a comforting lie. Instead, it felt like a promise.

After all, some hungers, once awakened, refused to be silenced..