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.
SNEAK PEEK
Chapter 1 – Max Cagliari
2025@ Liz Gavin
Three Years Ago
The sacristy of St. Anthony’s Cathedral felt smaller than a coffin, and Max Cagliari had never been comfortable in tight spaces. Especially when they smelled like incense and carried the weight of expectations that could crush a lesser man. He adjusted his black tie for the third time, his reflection in the ornate mirror showing a face that belonged on wedding invitations, all sharp angles and calculated charm.
“You really going through with this?” Michael Silvieri’s voice cut through the suffocating silence, his tone carrying the kind of concern that came from years of friendship and shared sins.
Max turned from the mirror, meeting his best man’s dark blue eyes. “That’s the idea, right?”
Michael’s jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his dark hair, a tell that meant he was about to say something Max wouldn’t want to hear. “I love my little sister, and I care for you too much to keep quiet. So what if your father owes mine a debt of gratitude that this marriage should offset? I know too well that you’re bound by family duty and loyalty to carry on with this.” He paused, drawing in a long breath that seemed to steal oxygen from the already stifling room. The exhale came out as an exasperated sigh. “But this is so fucked up, man!’
The words hung between them like smoke from a gun barrel. Max had been expecting this conversation for weeks, dreading it almost as much as the ceremony itself. He clamped his fingers on Michael’s shoulders, feeling the tension radiating through expensive Italian wool.
“You’re spot on, my friend. But trust me. I’ve got this.”
Michael’s expression remained unconvinced, but he nodded. They both knew the weight of family obligations, the crushing pressure of inherited debts that could only be paid in blood or marriage. Sometimes both.
Squaring his shoulders, Max made his way out of the sacristy toward the bridal suite. The cathedral’s stone walls seemed to whisper with the ghosts of a thousand broken promises, and he wondered if Angela Silvieri would become another casualty of their families’ endless games.
But first, he had an urgent matter to sort out.
* * *
The sacristy door opened with a creak that sounded like a death knell. Max stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him with deliberate precision, his black tuxedo standing out starkly against the gray walls. As he stalked toward the bridal suite, the stone floor seemed to emanate a cold, sharp, and unforgiving chill, matching the ice that had settled in his chest the moment he’d agreed to this charade. Each step on the polished stones brought him closer to a conversation he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head, yet his pulse hammered against his collar like a caged animal desperate for freedom.
When he reached the oak door, he knocked once before opening it. “Excuse me!” His voice carried the authority of a man who’d never had to ask twice for anything.
A tableau of forced domesticity that made his stomach turn awaited him inside. Tony Silvieri stood with the rigid posture of a man who’d built his empire on the bones of his enemies, while Kate hovered beside him like a beautiful shadow, all practiced smiles and hollow eyes. Angela looked fragile in her wedding dress, a porcelain doll dressed for sacrifice, and the sight of her resignation hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. This was Michael’s little sister, the girl who used to steal cookies from family dinners and argue politics with men twice her age. She deserved better than to be a pawn in their fathers’ endless games of power.
The weight of what he was about to do pressed against his heart like a stone. In the next few minutes, he would either save them both or damn his family to a war they might not survive. But as he closed the distance between himself and the Silvieris, Max felt something he hadn’t experienced in years, the intoxicating rush of choosing honor over obligation.
Tony and Kate Silvieri turned toward him, their expressions shifting from parental anxiety to wary recognition. Max had known these people his entire life. He had shared dinners at their table. Most importantly, he had watched their daughter grow from a precocious child into a stunning, remarkable young woman who deserved all the happiness in the world.
“Hello, Max,” Tony greeted him, making no effort to hide his foul mood. The older man’s face was carved from granite, all harsh lines and barely contained violence; his dark blue gaze could freeze a lesser man.
Kate’s lips curved into a bright smile that didn’t reach her green eyes. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” Her voice carried the artificial sweetness of poison wrapped in silk.
Max ignored the comment entirely. Superstitions were for people who believed they had something left to lose. With a polite grin, he said quietly, “Could you guys give us some privacy?”
When Tony hesitated, Max arched an eyebrow and held the man’s stare. It was a game they’d played since Max was old enough to understand that, in their world, respect was earned through fear, and weakness was a luxury neither of their families could afford.
“Come, Kate. Let’s give them the room,” Tony finally said, his grip on his wife’s forearm speaking volumes about the control he wielded over everyone in his orbit.
The moment the door clicked shut, Angela’s composure cracked. “Did Laura talk to you?”
Max nodded, allowing an irritating smile to hover over his lips. He’d perfected that expression years ago. It was just smug enough to be infuriating, just charming enough to be disarming. “She did.”
Angela’s foot tapped against the cracked concrete, a nervous tic that reminded him she was still young enough to believe in fairy tales. “I’ve had the worst week of my life, wondering what had happened. Why didn’t she tell me so?”
Before Max could answer, Laura appeared beside him with a chuckle that cut through the tension like a blade through silk. “We decided it’d be better not to.”
Max watched Angela’s face transform from anxiety to relief to confusion in the span of a couple of heartbeats. When she glanced at him over Laura’s shoulder, he let his phantom smile develop into a full-on smug grin.
“To your question, Laura didn’t tell you anything because we were afraid you wouldn’t keep your mouth shut and ruin our plans.”
Angela’s reluctant nod spoke to a wisdom beyond her years. “I might have. What exactly are these plans?”
The smile vanished from Max’s face as he dug his fingers into her shoulders, feeling delicate bones beneath ivory silk. He pinned her with a somber gaze that had made grown men confess their sins. Angela’s almond-shaped gray-green eyes held his without flinching.
“Even before Laura came to me, I was trying to come up with an honorable way out of this mess for both of us. I don’t want to force a woman to marry me.” The scoff that followed was bitter as burnt coffee. “Hell, I don’t need to. But there’s that contract and the consequences of breaking it.”
Angela’s hands fisted on her hips, and for a moment, Max saw the fire that had made him notice her in the first place. “No shitting, Sherlock. Tell me something I don’t know.”
The unexpected profanity dragged a laugh from his chest, deep and genuine. “Man, you’re feisty. I like that.” When she huffed in frustration, he couldn’t resist a wink. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Max stood at the altar watching Angela walk down the aisle with her father, each step bringing them closer to a moment that would change everything. The wedding march poured from the organ like honey over broken glass, sweet and sharp in equal measure.
Tony’s face was a mask of patriarchal pride, but Max could read the tension in the older man’s shoulders, the way his eyes scanned the congregation for threats that might materialize from shadows. Angela moved beside her father like a woman walking to her execution, beautiful and terrified.
When they reached the front of the church, Max stretched out his hand and accepted Angela’s from her father. The moment required delicacy. One wrong move and the whole house of cards would collapse into bloodshed.
He waited until the music died down before addressing Tony, making sure every soul in the cathedral would hear him clearly.
“Thank you, Tony, for giving away your daughter to me. This is what this means, correct?”
Tony’s thick eyebrows met over his nose, confusion replacing calculation. “Yes.”
“Would you say that from now on, Angela is my responsibility?”
The older man’s shoulders tensed like violin strings. “Yes, of course.”
Max grinned, feeling the weight of destiny shifting in his favor. “Splendid.” He slapped Tony’s back with calculated familiarity. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
The front doors opened with a crash that echoed through the vaulted ceiling like thunder. Max’s heart didn’t skip a beat. He’d been expecting this interruption, had orchestrated it down to the second. Nick Tennant strode down the aisle like an avenging angel in a black tailcoat and dress pants. His white shirt was crisp in contrast with his black tie and light gray waistcoat. His red hair tamed, but his eyes blazed with purpose, and his grin was as wide as the horizon. Behind him came his brothers, Dave, Tommy, and Shelby, as well as their father, Jack Boyle, and a small army of dangerous men walking into the heart of enemy territory.
“What the hell is going on?” Tony’s voice cracked like a whip, confusion giving way to rage. He glanced over his shoulder at the priest, “Forgive me, Father.”
Father Lucca was too stunned to reply. He took a few steps back, eyeing the exits that flanked the altar, clearly preparing for an emergency escape in case of a confrontation. He knew that such a gathering of rival mafia men rarely ended up peacefully.
A dozen of Silvieri’s soldiers stood to their feet at various spots around the nave, drawing their weapons. The guests dropped to the floor for cover. More men swarmed into the church, coming from the side doors as well as the main entrance: all Cagliari’s and Boyle’s security. Over twenty, and still coming into the place, positioning themselves.
Max raised both arms above his head as weapons appeared like deadly flowers blooming throughout the congregation. “Put your guns down. You’re in the house of God, sacred ground.”
“At ease, boys,” Tony barked the order.
Dave glanced around and gave his men a brief nod.
The clattering of metal echoed under the vaulted ceiling as the soldiers obeyed their bosses and the guests returned to the pews.
Max turned to Tony with the satisfied expression of a man who’d just won a game the other player didn’t know they were playing.
“You’ve just given your control of Angela’s life over to me. You agreed that she’s now my responsibility. You said as much in front of these witnesses and God.” He gestured toward the altar’s crucifix.
Tony’s cheeks beamed an angry shade of red as his nostrils flared. “Your point?”
Max stretched his flat palm toward Nick and his family as if making an offer. “I’m relinquishing her to them.”
“This is unacceptable. We’ve got a contract,” Tony retorted, fuming.
“That establishes I may take whatever actions I deem appropriate regarding Angela, once she’s under my responsibility.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Isn’t it how you worded the document?”
Squinting his eyes, Tony scanned his daughter’s and Max’s faces. His expression began to transition from rage to concern. He muttered, “This might lead to deadly consequences.”
Gasps and murmurs spread through the congregation like wildfire in dry weather as Jack Boyle stalked past his sons to stand in front of his decades-long rival, hands clasped at his waist.
“Tony, we’re both fathers. I want the best for my son, just as I’m sure you want the best for your daughter. Our families have suffered through enough loss. I say it’s time we stop this endless feud.” He paused, watching the other man’s reaction.
Tony gritted his teeth in stubborn silence.
Jack resumed talking, “We’ve got the power to end this. If we do it now, maybe our kids can find happiness. Maybe it’s up to us to spare them this curse that has fallen on our families such a long time ago.” He stretched his hand out. “I promise you the Boyles will keep Angela safe. And Max has pledged to do the same. You’ll get two powerful allies instead of one.”
Tony’s face cycled through emotions like a slot machine. Rage gave way to understanding, until finally, a grudging respect, tasting like ashes in Max’s mouth, settled in.
The rest unfolded like clockwork: the handshake that sealed Angela’s freedom, and the careful choreography of exits that prevented a massacre.
As Max signaled his men and filed out of the church, his eyes caught a glimpse of golden hair and innocent blue eyes. Chiara Vitorelli stood by in her role of maid of honor, clutching Angela’s bouquet against her chest like it could shield her from any harm. A fallen angel in lavender silk, nineteen years old and untouched by the darkness that defined their world.
Too young, he reminded himself as he stepped into the gray afternoon. Too innocent for what you are.
But as his car pulled away from the cathedral, Max couldn’t shake the feeling that some hungers were too powerful to deny forever. He’d spent years telling himself that Chiara was forbidden fruit, that her innocence made her untouchable.
I’ve been telling myself for years now, he thought, watching the city blur past his window. This woman will be my downfall.
The prophecy felt less like a warning and more like a promise.