His Kingdom (Mafia Made Book 1)

  His Kingdom

  Mafia Made Book 1

  KL Donn

  Copyright © 2021 by KL Donn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing by KA Matthews

  Cover design & Formatting by Alluring Write Productions

  Photographer: Lindee Robinson

  Models: Daria & Daniel

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Introduction

  Prologue

  1. Natale

  2. Posy

  3. Natale

  4. Posy

  5. Posy

  6. Posy

  7. Natale

  8. Posy

  9. Natale

  10. Posy

  11. Natale

  12. Natale

  13. Posy

  14. Posy

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by KL Donn

  Synopsis

  From USA Today Bestselling Author KL Donn comes an all-new dark mafia series, co-written with Award Winning Author E.M. Shue. His Kingdom is book 1 in the Mafia Made Series.

  What Natale wants, he always gets. And Posy is his most wanted.

  Natale Morello lives and breathes darkness. His family is the most feared mafia in Italy, which makes living in America harder.

  Until he spots her.

  The girl with dark hair, bright blue eyes, and sadness filling every line of her lithe body.

  New to Atalanta Prep, Posy Ivanov keeps her head down and her books close by. Because every time she approaches her locker, she becomes a larger target.

  Until she has a shadow.

  The bad boy with tattoo’s, a nose ring, and more attitude than she’s ever seen.

  They warned her.

  He was bad news.

  But he treated her like his kingdom. With kindness and love. Two things Posy has lacked her entire life.

  They were right about one thing though.

  What Natale wants.

  Natale always gets.

  ––––––––––––––––

  This is a dark high school romance with aspects of bullying, sexual abuse, and graphic violence. Proceed with caution.

  Mafia Made Series reading and author order:

  Book 1 – His Kingdom by KL Donn

  Book 2 – Her Empire by E.M. Shue

  Book 3 – His Jailbird by KL Donn

  While each book can be read as a standalone, readers may find more enjoyment in chronological order.

  Dedication

  For Beth.

  Thank you for taking this series on with me.

  #MyRideOrDieBitch

  Introduction

  Welcome to the Mafia Made world, created lovingly by KL Donn. She was excited to invite her best friend, E.M. Shue, to write alongside her with Her Empire, book 2 in the Mafia Made series.

  You can find complete details of the series here: MAFIA MADE WORLD.

  Prologue

  Natale

  Woken from a dead sleep with a hand across my mouth and my mother’s voice in my ear, “Quickly, Natale, we must leave,” I know all hell has finally broken loose in our Sicilian home. The sounds of gunfire and men fighting reach my bedroom, and I know tonight my life will change forever.

  My papà, Carlo, is the capo of the Morello family. With his title comes enemies. Danger. Death.

  Tonight, it appears to be death.

  And I have one job.

  Protect my mother.

  Grasping her hand in mine, I lead her to my closet, where there is a hidden door and a gun on the shelf.

  Only we don’t make it.

  An opposing enforcer bursts through my bedroom door with gun in hand, blood splattered across his chest, dripping from a wound in his head. And I watch in horror as he raises the weapon, aiming for the one piece of light in mine and my father’s lives.

  “Mamma, nooo!” I scream, throwing my twelve-year-old body in front of hers. I don’t feel the piercing pain as we crash to the ground.

  I don’t hear the blood-curdling scream from the woman I just protected.

  I do see my father standing behind the man who fired the shot as he rips his Adam’s apple from his throat. The man’s body drops to the ground like a bag of garbage as both my parents kneel over the top of me.

  Mamma’s eyes are filled with terror and tears.

  Papà’s are filled with pride and sadness.

  I am his only son, and I can feel the life leaving my body as they beg me to stay.

  “Do not cry for me, Mamma, St. Nicholas awaits me,” I whisper.

  “Mio figlio, too wise for your years. Don’t go yet, stay strong for me,” she pleads, leaning down to kiss my cheek as I hear Papà screaming at someone.

  Too tired to stay awake, my eyes drift shut, and I suffer only a second of regret that I never got to experience the love my parents have.

  Chapter 1

  Natale

  Present Day.

  I’m uncertain of what angers me more.

  The lack of human decency or her unwillingness to stand up for herself.

  I don’t know where this temptress came from or how I didn’t notice her sooner, but the jet-black hair grabs my attention and refuses to let go.

  For one week, I have watched this girl—woman?—as she carries a cumbersome bag full of books to every class, always avoiding her locker, and now, I see why. They sit and wait for her like wolves hunting prey. But I’m no fucking wolf. I’m a goddamned lion, and these boys are about to learn just how cruelty works.

  So focused on the young beauty, the three assholes don’t notice me sauntering up behind them.

  “Hey, poser, when are you going to suck my dick?” one of them says. I’ll break his fucking nose.

  “Whoa, man, you want those garbage lips infecting your dick?” another chuckles. I’ll bust his face.

  “A blowjob is a blowjob!” the first guy retorts, and he high fives the second one.

  “Nah, guys,” the third asshole hisses out as he eyes the girl up like a piece of meat, “poser will be good for a short fuck.” He reaches forward, intent on pawing at the girl; she turns away.

  “Gentleman!” I wrap my arms across their shoulders, encompassing all three boys in my grip, holding tight to the necks of the two on the outside. I pinch until they wince but don’t let go. “What are we doing?” I ask casually, and the girl flinches when she flicks a quick glance up at me.

  I don’t miss the way her gaze admires the tattoos along my neck. I suddenly wish they weren’t there because I’d love to have her sucking on my flesh, marking me as hers.

  “Just trying to entice poser here with a little foreplay,” the first prick barks out with a laugh.

  “You mean asking for death, right?” I feel them all freeze, and I grin gleefully.

  “Huh?” the one who went to grab her asks.

  “You–” I smash the first guy’s face off the locker, satisfied when I hear the crunch of cartilage, confirming the broken nose I internally promised. “Ever fucking talk about her lips around your dick again, and I’ll chop it off.” I toss him to the ground as he whines and tries to stop the bleeding.

  The other two attempt to worm away from me, but I slam their backs against the metal doors. “You,” I snap at the second asshole, “have nothing nice to say, and I’d like to break your fucking jaw, but that is not a sound for a lady to
hear.” Before he can respond, I draw back my fist and punch him twice in the kidneys, once on each side. He falls to the ground.

  “Whoa, man, Natale, she’s just some los–” My hand is around number three’s throat, and I’m lifting his frame off the ground before he can complete his sentence.

  “You don’t want to finish that,” I warn, stepping closer and leaning into his ear. “You ever try and touch her again, I’ll rip your arms off and beat you to death with them. Then, I’ll light your ass on fire and piss on your decaying carcass.” I lean back to look him in the eye. “We clear?”

  He nods, and because I don’t want him to feel left out, I knee him in the groin as hard as I can. He drops, holding his crotch, crying like a bitch.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, I try to do as my mamma always told me: never speak to a woman with an angry mind. Because that anger often expresses itself when unintended.

  Turning to the object of this whole pissing contest—I still don’t have her name even though I’ve been observing her for a week—I try to release the tension from my body, but when I see the fear in her eyes, it ramps up.

  “Are you okay?” I grit out. My anger tends to burn under the surface, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop it.

  She nods.

  “I’m Natale Morello.” I reach out a hand towards her, and she flinches again but doesn’t move away from me. Likely terrified that I’m here to hurt her too. “They won’t touch you again.”

  Her cobalt gaze darts down to the three boys on the ground before meeting mine again, and still, she doesn’t speak. It’s beginning to get on my nerves. I want to hear her voice. I need to hear her voice.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, and the damn bell rings, signaling the end of lunch break. My apparently new obsession doesn’t answer me as she turns to rush away. I don’t like the feeling of being left behind.

  Catching up to her, I drag her bag off her shoulder, so she has to stick with me. “Can I walk you to class?” Startled eyes look at me, then her bag, and back to me again before she reluctantly shrugs and continues to walk.

  Placing my hand on the small of her back, the girl freezes, and I can feel she wants to brush me off but won’t. Probably because I fucking terrified her back there.

  “Cazzo,” I curse under my breath, but she hears me and sends an inquiring look my way before dropping her gaze again. “It’s dick or fuck in Italian,” I explain to her.

  As we stop, I think she’s finally going to speak, but she only reaches for her bag, and that’s when I notice we’re in front of the chemistry class.

  Reluctantly, I give the bag back to her, and for a second, she stares down at her shoes before gazing up at me. When her sparkling eyes repeatedly wander between me and the way we just came, I get the feeling she wants me to understand something, but like any other high school kid, I’m a fucking idiot.

  Exasperated, she blows out a breath before reaching her hand up to my neck, about to trace the pink water lily—my mamma’s favorite flower—with a soft touch when we’re interrupted.

  “Get to class, kids!” A teacher wanders by breaking the moment. My glare only meets the man’s back, and I realize she’s gone, entered the classroom. And I’m left craving the feel of her touch.

  Little does she know, though, this is where I’m supposed to be too.

  Posy

  I’m so used to the bullying that I anticipated more jokes and lewd comments when the fourth boy joined Eric and his friends. My heart jolted in my chest when, instead, he stood up for me. I didn’t hear all the threats he made because my ears had been ringing with fear, but I saw the carnage he left behind like it was nothing.

  It was another full minute before he turned and began speaking to me, asking if I was okay. Nobody has asked me that in years.

  When he said his name, I think I melted a little inside.

  Natale.

  So foreign. Strong. Foreboding.

  My heart flipped at his slight accent. It wasn’t until he cursed on our walk that I realized it was Italian even before he said so.

  Taking my bag from me was another shocker. I’m an easy target for bullies, so I always expect the worst from my peers, but Natale seems different. He was genuine in his desire to help me.

  Trying to express my appreciation without words wasn’t easy, and he was confused at first, then I nearly touched him. The bright pink and periwinkle water lily on his neck captured my attention.

  When Mr. Wilson barked at us to get to class, shattering the moment, I quickly broke contact with Natale and was brought back to earth as the fog around us lifted.

  I’m late rushing into chemistry, which means the only seats left are at the front. I hate being up front. Not just because the teacher is more likely to call on me for answers, but because it gives people behind me an opportunity to throw things at me.

  To my dismay, Penelope Reynolds sits next to me. Since I started at Atalanta Prep at the beginning of the school year, she's been one of my biggest tormentors.

  “Hey, poser. You’ll do my work today; I’m feeling generous.” By that, she means lazy and unconcerned. I didn’t do it for her last time, so I don’t know why she thinks I will this time. “If you don’t, I’ll tell your new boy toy how you sucked the entire baseball team’s dicks last month.” It’s a lie, but something I know she’ll spread around.

  “Say one word about that, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.” Natale’s voice interrupts, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Penelope speechless. “Fuck off,” he barks at her, and with a glare of retribution towards me, she moves to another shared desk.

  I stare at Natale in disbelief.

  His lips quirk up to the side, but he says nothing as class begins, and he places an arm across the back of my chair, dragging me closer to him. Pulling out a notepad and pen, I notice he doesn’t have either and worry he won’t have the information we’ll need for our finals in a couple of months.

  Ripping off a few pieces of paper, I place them in front of him and grab an extra pen. Unexpectedly, he leans over, kissing my neck and mumbling, “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

  Natale reluctantly pulls away as the teacher begins talking, and while I appear to be taking notes, I’m not actually paying attention. I’m hyper-focused on this interesting boy next to me.

  He’s sweet.

  Too sweet.

  I’m so jaded at this point that I don’t know if I can trust these feelings towards him. Any affection I’ve ever shown to anyone has been thrown back in my face without remorse.

  My mother is a drug addict, and while she’s been clean for three years, she tells me all the time that she’s only one bad day away from losing everything.

  Due to her habit, she’s lost custody of me, and I only see her a couple days a month. Those are the only times I feel the warmth of someone’s devotion. For all her faults, she loves me fiercely.

  My father is a cop. A dirty one. A terrible human being. If he realized the secrets I know, I’d be buried in a field somewhere.

  His partner is just as bad as him. Worse actually.

  He’s the reason I don’t like to talk. Silence is best. Silence means I get to wake up in the morning. Silence means that I suffer alone.

  And that’s also why I hesitate to trust Natale. He can’t uncover my secrets because, after today, I don’t think he could hold his anger in check.

  Natale

  I don’t give two shits about what the teacher is saying; my sole focus is on the girl at my side. Noticing the tiny flecks of gold in her blue eyes like treasure when she stares at me. Recognizing that she never tucks her hair behind her ears because she’s trying to hide from everyone. The way she’s sitting on the edge of her seat, ready to bolt from class the second the bell rings.

  I don’t understand how I never noticed her before. I regret that I haven’t because now, it has me contemplating how long she’s been bullied by the assholes around here. Anger begins to blossom in my chest again. Comprehensi
on of all the fear and despair this girl must have felt has my hands clenching so tight I snap her pen in half.

  She notices and gazes over at me. Seeing my rage, she swallows roughly and chews on the side of her lip as her chin wobbles before reaching forward for my hand. Prying the fragmented pen from my grasp, she pulls my fingers closer to her, and the more I concentrate on her, the quicker my anger rolls away.

  She’s everything glorious in this world, and I decide I’m keeping her. This thoughtless action has guaranteed her place at my side until death.

  Now to convince her of this.

  I’m so focused on my girl that I don’t hear my name being called until her panicked eyes meet mine.

  “Yeah.” I don’t look away from her as I answer. I couldn’t even if my eyes were being torn from my skull.

  “Are you going to focus anytime soon?” the teacher asks, and I can see from the corner of my eye that he’s crossed his arms and is leaning against his desk, annoyance in his stare.

  “I am focused.” On her, the only important thing in this place.

  “That so? What does synthesis gas consist of?” He pops the question out like we haven’t learned about this shit yet.

  “Carbon monoxide and hydrogen.” I keep my eyes glued to the sweet girl at my side as she looks down, and when I see the shy smile appear on her lips, I feel like I’ve won the fucking lottery.