Malicious Wedding – Crowley Mafia Family Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Mafia Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)

An obsession spanning decades. A ghost from my past.
I turned away from the darkness—but Carson wants to drag me back.

I thought my life was charmed. I own a bar, have great friends, and things always seem to work out in my favor.
At least until Carson Crowley comes storming back into my world.
He’s a mafia prince, the kind of man that smolders whenever he enters a room. I’ve always been drawn to him—and equally repulsed by his violent lifestyle.
Now my brother’s in trouble, my father’s been killed, and I’m next, unless I marry Carson.
His protection feels like possession.
Things only get weirder. The moment I put his ring on my finger, he acts like he’s completely enamored with me.
Gifts, attention, praise, physical affection. He showers me with his love, and it’s completely overwhelming.
It doesn’t make sense. I thought this was a business arrangement.
Until one night, Carson shows me the truth—and I find out how deep obsession can go.

Welcome to another Crowley Family story. I think you’re going to love Carson. He’s totally obsessed with Ash in all the best ways. As always, it’s a standalone with no cliff-hanger and a happily-ever-after guaranteed. Enjoy!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1


The crew of Bottle of Smoke, the Irish pub I’ve run since my granddaddy left it to me ten years ago, looks like they’re lining up for a wake.

“It’s not that bad,” I say staring down at the pathetic scrawl of paper I refer to as the books. “We have money.” Although the number is pathetically small.

“Not a lot,” Bernie says, my cute fireball bartender with tattoos, short red hair, and a terrible attitude.

“She’s right, not a lot.” Fulco glowers at me in his cook whites. He’s a tall guy, brown skin, hooked nose, in his early forties. “You gonna make payroll, boss?”

“I’m going to.” I glare at him. “I always pay you guys, don’t I?”

“There was that one time—” Fulco starts, but I cut him off.

“I was a day late one time, okay?”

Fulco just shrugs like once is more than enough.

“Business has been slow.” Keely, my main waitress, pale skin and stupidly pretty, sits with her legs crossed in all black wearing steel-toed boots and a glare that earns her extra tips. Somehow. I think all Boston men are masochists.

“Very slow,” Jamila confirms, the final member of the team. She’s tall, dark brown skin, beautiful full lips, and acts as second waitress or bartender, depending on what needs doing. “Even slower than normal.”

“It’s really not that bad,” I say, pushing back my rising panic, because it really is that bad, but I’m trying to keep my positive attitude flowing, otherwise everyone else is going to spiral.

Once a week, we have a team meeting. Call me an idealistic idiot, or call me a good owner and manager, but I like to tell my employees how the business is doing. Sometimes, I’ll share hard numbers with them. That way, they’re motivated to make up for the shortfalls and eager to take the bonuses when we’re killing it. Although bonuses basically never happen, but still, if we ever made a solid profit then I’d gladly share it with my people.

That’s why I’m the best boss in the world.

Well, minus the whole failing-business part.

Bottle of Smoke used to be a bustling pub back before retail started to die out, and in the last three years, everything’s gone to shit as foot traffic’s leveled off. I still have my regulars and the occasional bachelorette party roll through, but otherwise it’s been quiet in what I think is the best authentic Irish pub in a city crawling with authentic Irish pubs.

“Ash, hon, we love you, but it sucks.” Bernie levels a hard stare as she dries off a glass and puts it back. The bar’s closed for the night and everyone’s ready to get out of here. “Have you ever thought about advertising?”

I laugh sharply. “Gee, great idea. I’ll go buy some ad spots right now. Except, oh, wait, we don’t have any money.” I wave the numbers at her.

She glares harder. I didn’t know that was even possible. “I don’t mean expensive commercials. We could print out cheap flyers from Office Depot and plaster them all over the commons. Heck, get Keely to wear lower cut tops—”

“Hey,” Keely says, frowning down at her chest. “It’s plenty low cut.”

“—Put her out front and she can be a walking billboard.”

I lean forward, finger on my lower lip, studying my waitress. She’s tall and beautiful in that I’ll-stomp-your-nuts sort of way. “Not a bad idea.”

“I’m not acting as creep bait, not even for you, Ash.” Keely waves a hand at Jamila. “Let Jams do it.”

“No thanks. I still have some dignity left.” Jamila looks at her nails, frowning. “I mean, not a lot, but some.”

“We don’t need advertising,” I say, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. I pour a shot for everyone. “What we need is hard work. Knuckle under, 110 percent, bootstraps, whatever. You guys know what I mean. Besides, everything always works out for me.”

Fulco groans. “Not this again.”

“It’s true,” I say, raising my drink in the air, glancing up toward the ceiling, trying to ignore the water stains. “I have an angel watching out for me.”

Everyone stares with varying levels of annoyance. I beam at them, raising the drink higher. I’ve been saying it for years, and I’m aware of just how awful it makes me sound, but for some reason, things have always come together. Not neatly, not in the way I ever imagined, but I’m still here, Smoke’s still open, and overall, we’re happy. Except for tonight.

The silence gets to be too much until everyone grabs their shot. We toast to my angel, and my lovely employees, all of whom believe in me deeply and sincerely, throw it back like a champ.

My angel is real. Well, sort of real. I think I’m actually just lucky, but ever since my grandpa left this bar to me when I turned eighteen, things have always worked out. It hasn’t been easy—I’ve had bills, shitty boyfriends, aggressive customers, all sorts of stupid tax problems, broken-down cars, even got robbed a couple of times—but no matter how dark my life turned, I always managed to get out of it intact.