Savior of Regrets: A Mafia Romance Standalone (Verona Legacy Book 4) Read online

  Savior of Regrets

  A Verona Legacy Story

  L a cotton

  Published by Delesty Books

  SAVIOR OF REGRETS

  Copyright © L. A. Cotton 2021

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  Edited by Andrea M. Long

  Proofread by Sisters Get Lit.erary Author Services

  Cover Designed by Lianne Cotton

  Image Licensed from Michelle Lancaster Photography

  Contents

  Verona Legacy

  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

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Verona Legacy

  Angel of Tears

  A Verona Legacy Short Story

  Prince of Hearts

  Nicco & Arianne’s Duet Book #1

  King of Souls

  Nicco & Arianne’s Duet Book #2

  Villain of Secrets

  A Verona Legacy Story

  Savior of Regrets

  A Verona Legacy Story

  Chapter 1

  Caitlin

  His eyes followed me as I worked the floor, serving drinks and collecting up empties. They never left me, constantly reminding me that my life wasn’t my own.

  That he owned me.

  God, I really hated this gig. The leering men and wandering hands. I didn’t work the stage no more; Zander had put a stop to that after he almost killed a guy for getting too handsy with me. Back then, part of me had thought it was charming—him protecting my honor like that—but I soon learned that protection came at a cost.

  One I had been unwilling to pay.

  Zander DiMarco owned this place. It was one of his high-end strip clubs in and around Providence, its door only open to those with fat wallets and expensive tastes. I’d thought it would be a safe bet.

  I was wrong.

  “Caitlin,” Shaun yelled over to me. “Table four drinks are up.”

  Nodding, I made my way over, trading my empty tray for the one full of glasses of whisky.

  “It’s the good stuff,” he said with a wink. “So serve it with a smile.”

  I rolled my eyes, and he stuck his tongue between his teeth, making a tsking noise. “Lover boy can’t take his eyes off you tonight.”

  “Don’t call him that.” A shudder raced through me.

  “Is it so bad to have the boss’s attention?”

  I forced a false smile.

  If only he knew.

  Of course, everyone at DiMarco’s knew to some extent. They saw the poorly covered bruises, heard me cry in the bathroom. But the number one rule of working here was not to ask questions you might not like the answer to.

  And nobody, nobody questioned the boss.

  I was Zander’s favorite girl. Too good to work the stage, but not good enough to avoid floor duty. Because everyone had to pay their dues, even the boss’s favorite.

  Tray in hand, I headed for the table. One of the guys looked up and gave me a wolfish smile. “Well, hey there, pretty lady.”

  Oh good, a charmer.

  Offering him a fake smile, I gently placed down their drinks. The other two guys barely acknowledged me, too entranced by Gisele as she worked the pole with her lithe, scantily clad body.

  “Enjoy your drinks,” I said. But the second I stepped away, Charmer’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

  “What’s the rush, sweetheart?”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to—”

  “Relax,” he chuckled, “we’re all here to have a good time. Right, Dominic?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I could have a real good time with you, darling.” Charmer’s friend ran his eyes up and down my body, making me feel like a thousand spiders crawled under my skin. “How much for a private dance?” he grunted, pulling out his wallet.

  “I’m just a server. You can speak to the boss about a private dance with any one of the dancers.” I flicked my head to the stage.

  “Thing is though, Red,” he said, referring to my thick, auburn curls. “I don’t want a dance off any of them. I want one off you.”

  My eyes darted to Shaun, hoping he would spot me and run interference before Zander realized something was wrong.

  Gently yanking my arm out of Charmer’s grip, I flashed them both a saccharine smile. “You enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Just as I turned to leave, a hand slammed against the table, startling me. “Hang on a minute, you little bit—”

  “Gentlemen,” Zander appeared at the table at lightning speed. I should have felt relieved, but this never ended well—for anyone.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the one called Dominic asked.

  “I’m Zander DiMarco, the owner of this fine establishment.” He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair before straightening his tie. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

  “Your girl here denied me a dance. My money not good enough for you, DiMarco?”

  “Your money is plenty good enough, Cabrioles.”

  The guy’s brows went up. “You know who I am?”

  “Dominic Cabrioles.” Zander’s eyes narrowed. “Clocked you the second you walked into the joint. It’s not often we have one of Lombardi’s men in here. This is Marchetti territory,” Zander added.

  The guy snorted. “The Marchetti are a dying breed. Rumor has it Antonio is sick and that son of his has gone all soft since marrying the Capizola heir.”

  Everyone knew who the Marchetti were; the local crime family who ran most of Rhode Island. They hailed from Verona County but held power across the state. Their men came this way every couple of months to collect pizzo—protection money—and while Zander always paid up, he never did it with a smile.

  Tensions between him and the Marchetti were even worse since there had been an incident a few weeks back. DiMarco’s got trashed in a series of break-ins targeting Marchetti owned businesses and their associates.

  But you didn’t just cut ties with them.

  “It’s all a game,” Zander said smoothly. “You just have to know how to play it.”

  There was something in his smirk. A wicked dark glint that made me bristle.

  “I only like playing games if the prize is worthwhile,” Dominic drawled, swirling his glass around. “And she…” He pointed at me. “Is a prize worth winning.”

  Zander stiffened, his entire posture tight with anger. But he managed to rein it in. “Caitlin is o
ne of my best.”

  “I want to buy a dance. A private dance. I’ll make it worth your while.” He ran his finger over his thick leather wallet.

  “Cait, go get us another round of drinks. It seems like me and my friends have things to discuss.”

  “Wha—”

  “Now, Cait.”

  I hurried away, my heart in my throat. Surely, Zander wasn’t seriously going to make me dance for him?

  Bile sloshed in my stomach as I approached the bar.

  “What’s up?” Shaun asked.

  “Table four needs another round please.” My voice shook.

  He studied me, leaning closer. “Something happen?”

  “I… no, I’m fine.” I smiled weakly. “Zander knows them. Or they know Zander.”

  “Just… be careful, Cait. Guys like that,” he flicked his head toward them, “they always want something.”

  Wasn’t that the truth.

  He set about making their drinks and when they were done, I headed back toward the table on slow, shaky legs.

  Zander reached for me, his hand slipping around my waist to steady my approach. “Thank you, Cait.” He waited for me to place down the drinks. “Dominic, Jasper, and I were just discussing your… talent.”

  “Zander was telling us, you’re quite the dancer.”

  “I…” Heat flooded my cheeks as I dipped my gaze.

  “Don’t hide.” Zander’s fingers dug into my waist. “I’ve arranged a special viewing for my new friends. In the Purple Room.”

  The air left my lungs.

  “I-I don’t dance anymore.” My eyes locked on his, silently pleading with him not to make me do this.

  “Well, tonight you’ll make an exception. Go and get ready. We’ll be there in twenty.”

  “Zander, please.” My voice cracked.

  “Run along now, dolcezza. And change into something a little more… enticing.” Zander slapped me on the butt, and I stumbled away from the table, hardly able to believe what was happening.

  “Cait, what is it?” Mariella intercepted me as I burst into the back room.

  “Zander… he…” I gasped, a big greedy lungful of air that did absolutely nothing to ease the fear taking over me. “He wants me to dance in the Purple Room.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” She rested a hand on my shoulder. “It kind of comes with the territory.”

  It did. But not for me, not anymore.

  Zander was too jealous. He’d almost killed a guy for touching me. I couldn’t believe he’d just hand me over to that… that sleazeball.

  “You know what happened the last time I danced for someone,” I said to Mari.

  “Maybe he’s moving on.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” It came out harsh.

  “I’m just saying… perhaps you’re not his favorite toy anymore and this is his way of letting you know it.”

  “Wow,” I breathed. “Thanks a bunch.”

  “Shit, Cait, I don’t mean it like that. You know I love you, girl. But I thought you wanted out from under his shadow?”

  “I do… but…” At least I knew what to expect with him. Zander was the devil in sheep’s clothing, yes. But sometimes it was a case of better the devil you knew.

  “It’s one dance. Do it and you might win his favor. Don’t do it and…” Her expression fell.

  “Yeah, I know.” I rolled my shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Can you help me get ready?”

  “Sure thing.” She laced her arm through mine. “Let’s go see what we can do.”

  The music thrummed through me, amplifying the wild beat of my heart. It was dark, the mood lighting casting a deep purple hue around the small room. There was a long chaise and a wingback chair, a dark wood coffee table, and then the stage where I stood, my hand poised on the pole.

  Mariella had given me one of her outfits to wear, a black lace bralette with matching booty shorts, and six-inch killer stiletto boots.

  It was worlds away from the dainty and graceful outfits I used to wear dancing ballet.

  I ran my hand up and down the pole, trying to expend some of the nervous energy coursing through me. But it only doubled when the door opened, a ring of light illuminating the profile of Dominic… and Zander?

  They sat down. Zander in the chair, Dominic sprawled back on the chaise. Neither of them spoke as the music rose and a spotlight went on over my head. But I heard their intake of breath as I slowly circled the pole, letting muscle memory rise to the surface. It had been a while, months. I hadn’t forgotten though, gripping the pole above my head and arching my back to gently dip down. Turning on the rise, I hooked a leg around the cool aluminum and spun myself around with ease, adrenaline drowning out everything else.

  I loved to dance.

  Loved the freedom that came with giving over to your body’s movement. I reveled in how my muscles contracted and expanded to allow me to become one with the music.

  The track shifted to something slower, more seductive as I danced my heart out, completely ignoring Zander’s possessive stare, and Dominic’s dark, hungry gaze. In that moment, it didn’t matter that one of them owned me and one of them wanted to own me. Up there on that stage, I was free.

  My eyes fluttered as I dipped and rolled, swayed and flew. Dancing wasn’t just something you did; it was something you became. The music was my heartbeat, fueling me, pushing me. Breathing life into me.

  I didn’t dare look at Zander or Dominic. They were mere spectators. For these few moments, I held all the power here.

  The closing notes of the song started to fade out and I came to a stop, my chest heaving, my breaths ragged. My muscles zinged and popped but I’d never felt better.

  Until Zander stood, calling my name. “Come over here,” he demanded. “Come and give Mr. Cabrioles what he’s owed.”

  Owed.

  God, I hated that word.

  I hated everything about it.

  Gingerly, I moved to the steps leading down from the stage. Each one was like a shotgun to my heart, the adrenaline melting away. I didn’t want this life. I never wanted this life. But sometimes bad things happened to good people.

  “Dance for me, Red.” Dominic shuffled on the chaise, letting his legs fall open. He patted his thigh, indicating I should sit on his lap.

  “Go to him,” Zander demanded.

  Steeling myself, I approached him, refusing to acknowledge the obvious bulge in his trousers.

  My stomach churned as I began to sway my hips, running my hands up and down my body. Throwing my head back, I dipped low, spreading my legs wide and then I glided back up. Dominic’s eyes turned hooded, a wicked glint there. I risked glancing at Zander to gauge his reaction.

  Dominic wasn’t touching me… yet. But sexual energy radiated from him. Carnal lust and hunger swirling in the air around us.

  I wanted to yell at Zander to stop this madness, to get on my knees and beg, but I wouldn’t. Not now, not ever. Because my dignity was the only thing I had left. And no matter what Zander did to me, no matter how hard he pushed, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of believing I needed him anymore than I already did.

  “So fucking hot.” Dominic’s hand shot out and he grasped my hip, dragging me closer. I stumbled a little, my hands going to his shoulders to steady myself. I waited for Zander to lose his cool, to put an end to this game. But he didn’t.

  “I paid good money for this,” he drawled, trailing his fingers over my bare skin. “Make it worth my while.”

  “Do as the man says,” Zander said calmly. Too damn calmly.

  What the hell was going on?

  My palms were sticky, my heart a runaway train in my chest. I could smell the overbearing scent of his cologne, taste the bitter scent of liquor on his breath. His hands were too big, too wandering as he mapped the curves of my body.

  “Ride me, Red.” He smirked. “Show me what you can do.”

  Bile rushed up my throat as I tried to keep my distance. I didn’t want to be here, doin
g this. My life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.

  It wasn’t supposed to—

  Dominic cupped my ass and pulled me closer as he slid forward on the chaise, making all of him press up against all of me. I gulped, trying not to vomit all over him.

  “Watch your fucking hands,” Zander finally protested.

  “Yeah, yeah, keep your hair on, DiMarco. I know the deal.”

  Deal…

  My body began to tremble as I fought the urge to knee him in the balls and make a run for it. I’d stupidly thought this was all over when Zander took a shine to me.

  But maybe Mari was right—maybe he was over me.

  I didn’t know how to feel about that.

  I didn’t love Zander, not even close. Most of the time, I hated every fiber of his being. And I was definitely scared of him. But at least I knew what to expect with him.

  Dominic relaxed back against the chaise again and left me to my own devices. The air turned thick with tension as Zander tracked my every move. I didn’t meet his heavy gaze. I couldn’t. Just as I refused to make eye contact with Dominic.

  After two more songs, Zander finally stood. “You had your money’s worth, now get the fuck out.”

  Dominic chuckled, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. “I’ll give you whatever price you want if you let me fuck her, right here.”

  I froze, his offer echoing through my skull.

  “You couldn’t afford her.” Zander laughed, but nothing about it sounded amused.