Synopsis
He’s a rockstar with deadly secrets.
She’s a mafia princess yearning for freedom.
Nick Tennant, the affable guitar hero of Muse of Darkness, has severed ties with his mobster family a lifetime ago. When he meets dazzling Angela, he knows she’s the only woman he wants by his side for the rest of his life. Too bad her father’s goons want to make sure that’s a very short time.
Angela Silvieri has led a sheltered life. Between boarding schools and her dad’s bodyguards, she’s rarely allowed to venture into the real world. A fundraiser for an honorable cause becomes the perfect ticket out of her gilded prison.
When the bosses of the Irish and the Italian mafia vie to turn their love-at-first-sight story into a tale of murder, Nick and Angela must find a place to hide. How will they manage that if he’s a rockstar?
Can Nick forsake his lifelong dream for a woman he’s just met? Can Angela trust her life into the hands of a man who’s been lying to everyone for years?
One-click this book today to find out.
This reimagining of Romeo & Juliet will make fans of Kylie Scott, Jaine Diamond, and Alexa Padgett swoon. No cheating or cliffhangers.
All other books in the Muse of Darkness Series are available now.
SNEAK PEEK
Chapter 2 – Angela – Unedited version
2022@ Liz Gavin
I throw my arms up in the air above my head, stretching one side of my neck and then the other. I allow a broad smile to split my lips as bones crack from my neck to the base of my spine. Hours hunched over my laptop always make me feel like I’m a hundred instead of twenty-one. But I wanted to take advantage of the silence in the house while Mom sleeps in. Once she wakes up, I won’t be able to apply to any other colleges. Come to think of it, she doesn’t give me space to do much on my own.
After shutting down the computer, I get to my feet, step out of the bedroom, and into the balcony. From the third floor, I have an unobstructed view of San Francisco Bay across the street, while the glass panels protect me against the gusty winds thrashing the shoreline. The red velvet dress I have on completes my protection against the chilly temperature. February in the Bay area can get quite cold but beats my hometown New York by a lot.
I watch a couple of joggers braving the late winter morning along Marina Boulevard. I envy their freedom. I used to love the feeling of the breeze on my face as I ran. But I hated being flanked by the two mountain of muscles Dad calls security detail. So, I ended up switching to a daily round of exercises at the gym we have at home. In fact, we have the exact same setup at all our properties around the world. Being the ultimate fitness freak that she is, Mom insisted on having state-of-the-art equipment for her exercises everywhere she went. As always, Dad indulged her without batting an eye. I believe he grants her every wish to compensate Mom for his many affairs.
Another runner in electric pink sweatpants, and matching top, catches my eye. She’s done her straight black hair in a tight ponytail at the top of her head, cascading to at least five inches below her shoulders. The dark strands sway behind her as she goes. Her hair color, style, and length mirror mine to a tee. I’d give an arm and a leg to be out there on my own like she is.
A soft rap on the door makes me turn on my heels and go back to the bedroom. “Come in.”
A tall blonde about my age opens the door, her cheeks beam red as she greets me, “Good morning, miss. Your mother would like a word with you in the master bedroom as soon as you can.”
“That’s your polite way of saying she wants to see me right this instant?” I offer a smile of encouragement and she answers with a shy one. I bet my mother’s behavior is the reason for her embarrassment. I ask, “She didn’t bother to pull up the covers when you brought her breakfast, did she?”
“No,” Gigi whispers, the red stains on her face turn a few shades darker.
“I know you’re new to the job, but your mom trained you well before you joined the team. She’s the best housekeeper we’ve ever had.”
“Thank you.” She straightens her spine, moving her chin up in the air.
I like this attitude better.
I nod in acknowledgment before I continue, “We’ve been here since New Year’s. You should’ve known by now that Mrs. Kate Silvieri sleeps in her birthday suit.”
“You’re right, of course. But I can’t help it. It’s just that I’m not used to this kind of thing.”
“I get it, believe me,” I murmur, with a smirk on my lips. “And please don’t take offense at her habit. Mom doesn’t understand when others get uncomfortable around naked people because she doesn’t feel that way.” I shrug. “Guess the many years she worked as a top model have given her a unique view of nudity.”
I choose to leave out the part about Mom’s inherent narcissism because it won’t help with the point I’m trying to make.
“I’m not offended,” she assures me in an eager tone. “Just really embarrassed.”
I follow her out of my room. When we reach the top of the stairs, halfway down the hall that leads to my mother’s room, we part ways. She goes down to the ground floor and I head to the end of the corridor.
I announce my presence with two loud knocks on the double doors before pulling them open. I squint my eyes but sigh in relief to find out mom’s put a floral silk robe on. She is savoring her daily dose of granola with yoghurt, sitting against the cushioned headboard of a bed that fits five adults without a hitch.
“Good morning, Ma. You wanted to see me?”
She puts the tiny bowl on the white tray table, pushes it to the side, and opens her arms wide. “Buon giorno, carina!”
Even though Mom’s lived in this country for thirty years, out of her forty-nine, she often switches to her native Italian, mainly when using terms of endearment.
Because she’s in the middle of the sprawling bed, I have to prop a knee on the mattress to reach her. She squeezes me against her chest for a couple of beats and I inhale the zesty scent of her shampoo, a mix of verbena and bergamot that takes me straight to my childhood.
I miss that time of innocence when I believed in fairytales because Dad called me his princess and I lived in luxury. Before my parents isolated me in boarding schools and ivory towers. Before I found out what kind of king my father really was.
She digs her long, manicured nails into my upper arms and pushes me away to scan me from head to waist. This awkward position puts a strain on the muscles of my calves, and one begins to cramp so I perch on the side of the bed.
She furrows her brow over eyes that have the same gray-green shade and almond shape as mine. “Why do you insist on wearing this horrendous caftan? It looks like something out of a Shakespearean play, old-fashioned and stuffy. I swear I’ll set this shit on fire one of these days.” She moves her hands in circles between us, gesturing to the parts of my anatomy that are the exact opposite of hers: my wide hips and double D breasts. “You’ve got a closet chock-full of gorgeous clothes that flatter your figure.”
Her Italian accent gets thick when she’s upset.
I slip my cold hands inside the wide sleeves and hug my waist. I wish protecting my heart from her scorn was this easy. Reminding myself not to allow her that power over me, I square my shoulders.
“You didn’t call me here to discuss my wardrobe, right?”
She resumes eating and replies in between spoonfuls of cereal. “Your father called. He’s got a surprise for you, so he wants us to fly back tomorrow.”
My chest caves in under the pressure of the blow her words deliver. I grip the base of my throat and gasp for air when I can’t breathe. “But he promised me he’d give me more time to visit the universities in the area. I spent the morning applying to the schools I’ve chosen.” The last part gets out as a strangled squeal, so I pause. I have to control my wayward feelings and keep the anger out of my voice. I never get anywhere with her when I get emotional. After a couple of long inhales and sighs, I add, “I was hoping to convince you to go visit Berkeley today.
Mom grabs my pointy chin with her long fingers. Her nails graze my cheeks as she shakes her head at my suggestion. “No way in hell your father will allow you to go to that place!” She releases me, grabs the tray table between us, and sets it on the nightstand with a thud. She crosses her arms. “To be honest, I wouldn’t either. It’s too damn far. Besides…” She clams her mouth shut as if changing her mind about what she was going to say.
I arch an eyebrow. “Besides what?”
“Nothing.” Her blurted denial doesn’t convince me, but I won’t waste my breath arguing with her. Nobody gets my mother to talk when she doesn’t want to. She adds, “There’s plenty of great schools close to home.”
“That’s the problem. You guys want me to go to a college in New York so that I can keep living with you. That’s not good for me. Both of you need to let me make my own mistakes and grow up, you know?”
She screws up her face into a dark frown. “That’s non-negotiable, Angela Rose Silvieri. Keeping you home is the safest way and your father and I don’t gamble with your life.”
I roll my eyes, “You and Dad are paranoid about personal safety. Not to mention police surveillance.”
Mom tilts her head and squints her eyes. “Not without reason and you know it very well. I’ve lost count of the many law enforcement people who have tried to boost their careers by sending your father to prison.”
“And they ended up in his payroll. I know,” I whisper.
“Or at the bottom of the Hudson River,” Mom adds.
An icy sensation zings down my spine and I shiver. Most of the time, my family’s business doesn’t bother me. Probably because I prefer to ignore the fact that my father, Tony Silvieri, leads the largest Italian syndicate of the East Coast.
A commotion downstairs interrupts my gloomy thoughts.
“Guess Phoebe is here.” My mother laughs.
Every Tuesday and Thursday when the masseuse arrives for Mom’s session, the woman gets into an argument with the bodyguards.
I push up the mattress and volunteer, “I’ll check what’s going on.”
“You’re a sweetheart.”
I’m also in need of a breather.
When I get to the second floor, I call out, “Fred! Vinny! Take it easy. No need to pat her down like she’s a punching bag or something.”
The bodyguards stop frisking the willowy middle-aged woman. I understand their job is to look for potential threats but thinking she can be wearing a wire or carrying a gun is ludicrous. But I know better than to mention all this to the two men.
Vinny grabs her backpack, slides the zippers open, and rummages through her things.
At the same time, Fred pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “We’ll return this when you’re done.”
With a loud huff, she snatches her bag from Vinny’s outstretched hand, and follows me upstairs to the seating area of the master bedroom, where my mom lies on her stomach on a massage table. She has discarded the robe.
As Phoebe takes care of relaxing my mother’s toned muscles, I sink into a chair beside the table, and go back to the topic we were discussing before. “Dad will have to come around and let me go to the university I choose. I agreed with him when he suggested I took a sabbatical, didn’t I? With everything that’s happened in the world, that year turned into two. But now I want to go to college.”
Mom dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “We’ll see what he has to say when we get home tomorrow.”
I clear my throat as I prepare to tackle the second topic of my agenda. “About that. There’s this fundraiser tomorrow evening that I’m dying to attend. It’s for an amazing organization called Welcoming Hills here in San Francisco.”
“What kind of work do they do?”
“Help orphans.”
I hold my breath waiting for her verdict. Despite Dad’s illicit practices, Mom loves the spotlight too much to lead an obscure life. Over the years, she’s embraced charity work as a way to keep her name and likeness in the media. Cultivating a favorable public image for the Silvieri family has been just an added bonus.
“I guess your surprise can wait another day. Have you gotten our tickets?”
“I’ll do that now.”
Unfolding from the armchair, I manage not to jump for joy but barely.
Phoebe’s fingers knead my mother’s lower back, and she moans, “Yeah, right there.” When I get to the door, Mom shouts, “After you’re done with the tickets, be a good girl and change into something that won’t embarrass me in public. I’ll take you shopping for the event.”
“Sure,” I agree and hurry back to my room.
I’m too ecstatic to bother with her insinuations.
Opening the laptop again, I squeal, “I can’t believe it! I’m going to meet my favorite band in the world.”
I neglected to mention that to Mom. Or that the fundraiser is a masquerade. Or that I already have the perfect costume in mind. After all, I wanted her to take me to the damn thing.
Nick and Angela’s story releases on October 29th.
Pre order Book #4- Muse of Darkness series now – Nick.
All other books in the Muse of Darkness Series are available now.