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Maria (Made Men #7)
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Maria is the mafia princess of Kansas City, destined to be the prize to the most loyal Caruso soldier.
Two men face death without fear, wanting to achieve the unattainable.
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Feeling the early morning sunlight warm her skin, a smile touched the curve of her lips as she envisioned the man she had fallen asleep next to and whose face hadn’t left her, even in her dreams.
Maria gently opened her eyes, ready to look upon him once more. However, she was only met with an empty bed. Reaching her tanned hand out, she touched the spot he had lain in when her eyes had closed hours ago. It wasn’t even warm, making her wonder if it had all been a dream after all. The only proof she had that he had been there were her memories and the indention of the bed beside her.
He left me … without saying goodbye?
She sleepily searched for her phone before finding it and hitting the name of the man who had brought butterflies to her impervious stomach at thoughts of the night before. Maria put her phone to her ear, hearing the white noise before the tone of the ringing assailed her eardrum.
The butterflies that had been floating in her belly seemed to stop fluttering, beginning to sink.
She sat up on the side of the bed. Something didn’t feel right as those butterflies slowly sunk to the pit of her stomach, which had seemingly become softer overnight.
Maria clutched her phone tighter while she held it feverishly to her ear.
At the answering of the phone, the pit of her stomach cleared and her irrational fears vanished. She waited for his voice to grace her ears. However, it wasn’t a single male voice she heard yelling. It was two. One belonged to Kayne Evans and the other to Dominic Luciano; both voices clearly distinguishable—
As she abruptly stood up from bed, the phone wasn’t the only thing she clutched; it was her black heart she held, trying to keep it from hitting the ground, unlike the phone on the other end of the call. She heard it smash the ground.
She shakily held the phone to her ear, hearing the final sounds of death that departed from her ear and from this earth. In her other hand, she held her chest so tightly that her manicured nails dug into her smooth flesh.
When raindrops began hitting the window, where light had been shining through only moments ago, it were as if the gates to heaven had opened, welcoming home the heaven-bound soul who’d just been taken.
Going into shock, her mouth open, but no words dared to pass her lips while she stared out at the ominously pouring rain.
After several eternal-like moments, she finally heard movement on the other end of the line. It was the quiet whisper of breath she heard, telling her someone was there, alive … listening.
“Hello …?” She found her voice that was now as unsteady as the knees that held her up and the clouds in the sky.
The breath on the other end of the line echoed louder and louder until the rain and every other sound dropped away, silence magnified like the ringing that had stormed her eardrum when she had first placed the call.
Her heart pounded to the rhythm of the roaring heavens above as she gravely waited to hear the voice of the man who had lived, knowing that the next voice she wouldn’t hear would be the one that she would never, ever hear again. The wretched part was that both men had crept into her dark heart over these past few months, and it hadn’t been until last night when she’d been able to choose which one she desperately wanted to hear next.
Maria opened her mouth to speak the name of the man she was beginning to fall in love with, but before she could form the name, a solemn voice stopped her, making her fall to her knees, along with her shattered heart.
Any butterflies left in her stomach turned to ash, and the dusty remnants floated down to the abyss.
Death had decided her destiny.
A Last Name that came with a Black Credit Card and a Crown
Putting one slender foot in front of the other, the tiny points of her stilettos clicked on the white tile floors of the school hallway that she once walked across every day for four years. Normal people might have a visceral reaction of going back to high school, but Maria “fucking” Caruso was far from “normal.”
Maria was a twenty-two-year-old, tall, golden-haired, tanned angel who didn’t look like she fell from heaven but from the Victoria Secret catwalk. No, she looked like every man’s wet dream of an angel; a young woman who mastered a look of innocence from her years of modeling in front of a camera but conversely also screamed three letters, S-E-X, at the same time. It was a talent in itself to look like you were the purest and most beautiful thing since the Virgin Mary, while simultaneously sucking a dick. And that was the difference between an angel from a male’s eyes and an angel from the heavens above. Maria Caruso was about as far from a real angel as you could fucking get, and her innocence was about as fake as Tonya Harding’s tears.