Twisted Wedding – Costa Crime Family Read Online B.B. Hamel

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

Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)

I think my boss is stalking me.
Right up until the moment he proposes.

Adler Costa owns the Sunrise hotel and casino. He’s filthy rich, connected to some shady organizations, and I’m pretty sure he’s obsessed with me.

Which isn’t so Adler’s gorgeous, like a man straight out of my filthiest late-night fantasies.

But when my addict brother gets caught stealing from the Costa family, I’m given a

Marry Adler and pledge my life to him, or they’ll throw my brother into the ocean with a concrete block tied to his ankle.

I’m not about to let my little brother get killed for one stupid mistake.

So I walk down the aisle and say the vows.

Which is when I learn there’s one more

Adler doesn’t only want a bride.

He needs a baby.

Welcome to the first book in the Costa Crime Family series!

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

Chapter 1


I think my boss is stalking me.

He’s not even my direct supervisor—that’d be Big Dan, floor manager of the illustrious Sunrise Hotel and Casino in the lovely Atlantic City. No, this guy’s the big boss, the owner of the entire place, the guy that makes everyone tremble with fear the moment he walks into the room.

And I’m pretty sure he’s following me around.

I know that sounds weird. I’m a nobody, a nothing, the lowest of the low. I deal blackjack and craps and keep to myself for the most part. But somehow, each and every shift, Adler Costa manages to bump into me, whether on purpose or by accident I genuinely can’t tell.

He’s one of the most powerful men in Atlantic City, and just about the most eligible bachelor in the world.

Tonight, his gorgeous scowl is searing into me from across the pit floor.

Which isn’t anything new. Adler Costa always looks like someone’s stabbing spikes into his feet.

Somehow it works on him—the guy’s only in his mid-thirties, with the salt-and-pepper hair of a gracefully aging movie star, the physique of a professional soccer player, and the face of a billboard model. Seriously—the man is an impressive specimen, and half the waitresses in the place are madly in love with him. The other half are in committed relationships but would still cheat if given the opportunity, and I suspect their husbands and boyfriends wouldn’t even mind.

Except he’s terrifying, and he’s everywhere.

No matter how good-looking Adler Costa is, that man scares me deep to my core.

It’s the stories people tell about him. His illicit connections to Midwest mobsters, the way his rivals and enemies all seem to disappear into the ocean, his cold-as-ice exterior. If half the rumors are true, Adler might be a straight-up serial killer.

I try to ignore him, which isn’t easy. I concentrate on the game I’m dealing. My legs and back ache from working a long shift, and even though the casino makes generous exceptions for me—such as extra padding on my chairs, longer breaks, and nonstandard orthopedic shoes—dealing cards and craps is still pretty grueling for me, all thanks to a car accident seven years ago.

“Having a good night?” I look over as Roxie Rain, my closest friend and fellow dealer, leans down to whisper in my ear. She’s a perky brunette with big, pretty eyes, and the top button of her shirt undone. The girl knows how to get tips. “I think Mr. Costa’s watching you again.”

I glance toward the security room and sure enough, Adler’s still there. And he looks particularly unhappy.

“What’s his deal?” I ask, standing up to switch with her.

“Who knows with that man.” She winks at me as I collect my meager tips and thank the guests.

“Good luck,” I say, squeezing her arm as I walk off toward the cashier’s office to close out and cash my tips. Working as a dealer isn’t a bad gig—the base pay is lousy, but if my clients are winning and feeling generous, I can make some serious cash in tips. Which is kind of fun for me: it’s like I’m gambling along with them, always secretly rooting for them to win while sticking to the rules of the game and making sure they don’t get an edge.

There’s always that tension between a dealer wanting better tips, but also making sure that nobody’s cheating.

I shuffle slowly across the floor. Ever since the accident, I’ve been unable to walk right, and it took superhuman amounts of effort and lots of rehab to even reach this painful level. It’s the first thing most people notice about me, the way I almost drag my legs along like my feet are dipped in concrete blocks.

But I’m lucky as hell and I know it. The doctors said if a dozen tiny things had gone differently, my spinal injury would’ve left me paralyzed. Instead, I’ll be disabled for the rest of my life, but at least I can still get around without assistance, which is more than a lot of people in my situation can say.

All thanks to my angel. The man that saved me that night. I don’t know his name and can’t remember his face, but I still think about his voice. A quiet whisper in my ear, reassuring me that everything will be okay, that he’ll take care of me.

Sometimes I dream about that voice, but no matter how hard I’ve tried to find him again, the man still remains a mystery.

“Excuse me.”

I flinch halfway to the cashier’s window and turn around. Kent Weller’s standing there, hands clasped in front of him, looking serious. “What’s up?” I ask, flashing him my best smile, but something feels wrong.

Kent’s on the security team and we’ve always been friendly, but he’s not smiling tonight. “Mr. Costa sent me to get you.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Mr. Costa? Wants me?”