Текст книги "Dirty Little Secrets"

Автор книги: Erin Ashley Tanner

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Danger ignites a passion neither of them can refuse.

Ava Hill learned early in life that to survive, she has to be twice as smart, twice as ruthless as those who seek to undermine her. And as the widow of a mob boss with a daughter to raise, nothing is more important than protecting what’s hers.

Her determination to shield her child from the ugliness of her past takes a hit when a man claiming to be her late husband’s son barges through her front door.

Dominic Sambarino demands half of her daughter’s inheritance. Ava wastes no time showing him she’ll come out swinging with everything she has. But no amount of fight in the world can prepare her for the instant, smoldering chemistry between the two of them.

A friend’s invitation for a weekend getaway is a welcome chance to regroup, or so Ava thinks. But she soon finds herself caught in a circle of her dead husband’s secrets and lies that threaten to cost her everything. And her only safe haven is the one place she vowed she’d never go—Dominic’s arms.

Warning: Strong language, graphic sex scenes between a woman whose well-ordered life is turned upside down by the only man with arms strong enough to catch her when she falls.

Dirty Little Secrets

Erin Ashley Tanner

Dedication

To the good Lord above for blessing me with this gift and allowing my dream of being a published author to come true. To my agent Nikki, who took a chance and believed in me. To Samhain and my editor Latoya for loving this book as much as I do. And to all the fellow writers I have met on my journey who have supported me and encouraged me along the way.

Chapter One

“The last time I checked, my name was on the door.”

Ava raised one well-manicured eyebrow at the short, red-haired man standing in front of her desk. He pushed his black, horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose. The file folder he clutched in his hands shook.

“Yes… Yes, Ms. Hill. I know.”

“Then what makes you think that just because you make a suggestion, I’m going to go along with it? Is it because I’m a woman?”

She stood up behind her desk and leaned forward, placing both of her hands on the glass. Ava could feel the old familiar knot of tension forming in her shoulders. Ava, you’re not supposed to get riled up. Your therapist told you to tone it down a notch.

“No, ma’am. Absolutely not. I was just—”

“Pissing me off. That’s what you were doing.”

“No, Ms. Hill. I didn’t mean—”

“Bernard, just get out. And take the file with you.”

“Yes, Ms. Hill.”

Bernard nodded his head and backed away quickly. When the man turned around he nearly tripped over himself. Ava stood watching him until he closed her office door behind him.

“I swear to God…”

Ava took a deep breath. Her therapist had told her that deep breaths would do wonders to calm her nerves. She took three intense breaths. They didn’t help. She was still pissed off. All the therapy in the world can’t prevent me from getting pissed off with people constantly trying to undermine me.

Ava pushed the plush blue leather chair away from her desk. She turned around and gazed out of the wall-to-wall glass windows behind her. In the dying light of the sun, her reflection gazed back at her. Chin-length honey-blonde bob. Large hazel eyes. Honey-colored skin. Dark red lips that matched an expertly tailored red two-piece skirt suit. She was well aware that she was a beautiful woman. But for a black woman, beauty was never enough. You had to be twice as beautiful. Twice as smart and twice as ruthless.

The Miami skyline always reminded her that she hadn’t gotten where she was without more hard work, more heartache and definitely more pain than the average person. The daughter of a compulsive gambler and an alcoholic mother, her life had been a true hell. Her only escape was the books she so desperately loved. At barely seventeen her life had changed. Her father’s gambling debts finally caught up with him and a debtor came calling.

“Ava, get the damn door and bring me a beer when you’re done.”

Ava sighed as she exited her bedroom and made her way through the living room. Her father, Roger, was sitting in front of the TV watching a basketball game. She was sure he’d wagered money on it. Roger betted on everything. As the insistent knocking on the door got louder and louder, Ava increased her steps. Sliding the chain from across the door, she unlocked the bottom lock and turned the knob. Before she had the door completely open, it flew back, nearly knocking her in the face.

“Where’s Roger Hill?” a tall, Italian man asked, stepping inside the doorway.

“Daddy!”

The man quickly covered her mouth and grabbed her by the arm. Ava felt sweat forming on her forehead as three more men entered the apartment. The last of the men was impeccably dressed and she recognized him instantly. Joseph Martelli. Loan shark and crime boss. What was he doing here?

“Damn it, Ava! What’s taking you so damn long?” Roger shouted.

The Italian men all looked at one another. Then one by one they entered the living room.

“Hold her, Rocco,” Joseph Martelli said.

“You got it, boss.”

He nodded and followed the other two men into the living room. Ava was nearly dragged by the man called Rocco. As she entered the living room, she felt the hairs on her neck rise. Her father had his back to them. He had no idea he was in any danger.

“That’s no way to talk to your daughter, Roger.”

Her father turned around in his seat. His eyes stretched and he rose slowly from his seat.

“Mr. Martelli, what a surprise.”

“I’m sure it is, Roger. Haven’t seen you hanging around in about, what three weeks?”

“I’ve been busy, sir.”

Joseph Martelli smiled. He clasped his hands together.

“Oh. Good. Then I suppose it means you have my money.”

Roger wiped his hands on his jeans. Ava could see her father’s Adam’s apple bob.

“I’m sorry. I don’t, sir.”

“I see.”

Ava’s eyes flicked to Joseph Martelli. He stood erect with his hands clasped in front of him. There was no hint of a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Roger. I give you a chance to do the right thing and you disappoint me. Now your daughter’s going to have to see what happens when a man doesn’t keep his word.”

“Mr. Martelli, please—”

“Vinny, Fred, let’s teach this piece of shit that no one crosses me.”

“It’ll be our pleasure, boss,” the shorter of the other two Italian men said.

“No. Please,” Roger begged.

His eyes fastened on the door and he made a move to run. He never made it. Fred and Vinny met him with fists blazing. Roger Hill fell to the ground beneath their onslaught. The sound of fists connecting with flesh made Ava sick to her stomach. She could only watch, frozen in place as they beat her father to a bloody pulp in the living room. Ava couldn’t scream. She was too afraid. Rocco held her tight by the arm.

Her mother, Cynthia, was passed out drunk in her parent’s bedroom. When one of the men stood up and pulled out a gun, Ava broke free from Rocco and threw herself across her father’s battered body.

“Please don’t kill him. Please.”

“He owes me a lot of money. A lot of money. That kind of disrespect can’t go unpunished.”

From her place on the floor, Ava looked up into the obsidian eyes of Joseph Martelli. If she weren’t so afraid she might’ve found him handsome. Slicked-back midnight-black hair. Olive skin. Dark suit. The man screamed money, power and menace.

“You’ve already punished him,” Ava’s voice squeaked.

“But I still don’t have my money.”

“Please, there must be something I can do. Please. He’s my father.”

The room was silent as the two men who had accompanied Joseph watched him to see what he would say. Ava tried to swallow down the nervousness in her throat. She was talking back to Joseph Martelli. She’d lived in Miami long enough to have heard whispers of his name. He was not a man to mess with. Why? Why of all the people in Miami to get mixed up with, did Daddy choose him? Joseph’s black eyes bored into her. She knew she had to look a mess. Her eyes were red from crying, her micro-braided hair standing wildly on her head.

“Hmm. She’s got more balls than her old man,” Joseph said to Fred, the short Italian who stood over her.

“That she does, boss.”

Ava stared up at the men, waiting. Beneath her, she could feel her father’s shallow breaths. A mewling whimper escaped from his throat.

“So girlie, what did you have in mind?” Joseph asked, finally addressing her again.

“I don’t know. I just want to help my father.”

“Girl, your piece of shit father owes me a hundred grand.”

“A hundred grand?”

“Yes. Now what do you possibly have to offer that could be worth one hundred grand?”

Ava could feel tears forming in her eyes. Her parents owned nothing that could even begin to put a dent in that debt. No family heirlooms. Nothing. Even the knife collection her father had once been so proud of was gone. It was pawned for money to support his gambling habit. They had nothing. She had nothing. No. Wait. Could she? No. She was out of her mind. The man would laugh in her face.

“Me.”

That one whispered word caused a glint in Joseph’s eye.

“You a virgin?”

“Yes.”

Joseph looked at the smirking men around him, before his black eyes fastened on her.

“Then perhaps we can make some kind of arrangement.”

Ava swallowed and turned away from the window, desperate to put the memory behind her. Joseph was gone just a little over six months. So were both her parents for much longer. She was supposed to be free, but some days, nothing could keep her free from the memories. Life had a way of reminding you that no matter how far you thought you’d come, recollections never truly died. Sitting back down at her large glass desk she leaned against the back of her chair. She was tired. So tired.

It didn’t seem to matter that she was a beautiful, independently wealthy, successful media consultant. It didn’t matter that she’d busted her butt to graduate with a bachelor’s in public relations and a master’s in marketing. It seemed to matter even less that every client she’d ever taken on had gone on to increase their profits by at least fifteen percent.

No, none of that mattered because at the end of the day there were still some who thought that she wasn’t as competent as her male counterparts and could be manipulated. That was not the case. She’d put up with Bernard McKlowsky and his bumbling manner for the last time. Ava pushed the intercom button.

“Karen.”

“Yes, Ms. Hill?”

“Call Bernard. Tell him he’s fired and that my accountant will be mailing him his last check.”

“Yes, Miss Hill.”

Ava sat back in her chair with a smile on her face. Bye bye, Bernard. Go scam money from someone else. You’re not wasting mine. Bernard had been recommended to her by Gina Marron, a fellow businesswoman and the closest thing she had to a friend. According to Gina, Bernard McKlowsky was the person to go to about investment advice, despite his somewhat nervous manner. Ava would be having a talk with Gina. Since attaining Bernard’s services a month ago, the man had come to her with suggestions for investments that were in doomed markets. He must’ve thought she was some kind of fool.

When it came to her money, Ava researched everything. She hadn’t gotten where she was without being cautious. And despite Bernard’s recommendations she was sticking with her gut and not investing in Jefferson Department Stores. She wasn’t sorry that she’d just tossed Bernard out on his ass. No one tried to play her and got away with it. On days like this, sometimes she wished she had Joseph’s connections to fall back on.

No you don’t. You’re just upset. There will always be someone trying to tear you down.

As much as Ava hated it, her inner voice was right. Some hurdles you could never fully get over, but she was determined to do her damnedest. Nothing and no one, especially a bungling investment consultant, was going to get in the way of her plans. She glanced down at the silver -and diamond-studded Cartier watch on her wrist. It was almost five. Time for her last meeting of the day. She pressed the intercom again.

“Karen. It’s almost time for my meeting. Has Mr. Toriyama called in yet?”

“Yes. He’s waiting for you now, ma’am,” Karen replied.

“Good. Put him through.”

Ava swiped the screen of the iPad lying on her desk. It was time to do business.

Chapter Two

Ava’s red Christian Louboutin heels clicked against the pavement as she walked across the parking garage. Everything about being in a garage made her nervous. It was one of the few things in life that did. With eyes peeled and ears open, she walked towards her parking space. Her right hand was inside her purse, clutching the Taser she always carried with her. Better safe than stupid. As Ava saw her 2015 white Mercedes Benz S-Class coupe coming into view, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She held the Taser tighter with her right hand and fished out her keys with her left hand.

Ava felt her heart start to gallop. The footsteps behind her got closer. Stop this shit Ava. You’ve got a Taser. You’re in one of the nicer garages. You’re fine. She nodded to herself. Yes. Her inner voice was right. Besides she was almost to her car. And strangely the footsteps had stopped. As she pressed the remote to unlock her Benz, Ava looked around. She was alone. One would almost think she might’ve imagined the footsteps. No. I know what I heard. Quickly she slid behind the wheel of her car and locked the door.

“I hate garages.”

It was amazing. She could hold her own in a business deal. She could verbally cut a man down to size. Put her in a garage and she was like a small child afraid of the dark. But she had every right to be. There weren’t many who could’ve gone through what she had and set foot inside any of the hulking structures again. Ava put her key in the ignition and started the car. The Mercedes came to life with a smooth purr.

Ava ran her hands over the smooth peanut-butter-colored leather of her steering wheel, put the car in gear and roared out of the parking garage. As she hit the road, she almost wished she could enjoy the night breeze. But with her living in Miami, Florida, that was the last thing she was going to do.

An open window was an invitation for a car jacking. And despite the fact that she carried a concealed weapon in her glove box, if she didn’t need to have a confrontation with someone, it was best to avoid it.

As Ava drove down the busy street, she glanced in her rearview mirror.

“Damn it.”

A police officer pulled into traffic behind her. She waited for the sound of sirens. In her previous life as Mrs. Joseph Martelli, cops had been a frequent presence, following her and Joseph everywhere they went. As the wife of a mob boss, their presence had been expected. As a private citizen, she wanted to be left alone. Annoyed with the cop tailing her, she turned down a side street. She’d get home another way. Ava was relieved when the car didn’t follow.

Twenty minutes later she turned into the long, serpentine driveway leading to her palatial estate. Every time Ava arrived home, she felt a sense of pride. This was hers. Not Joseph’s. Hers. After her husband’s death she’d sold the home they lived in and purchased this seven-bedroom, six-and-a-half-bath palace. It also had two small guesthouses attached. She wasn’t like some of these celebrities. She’d purchased the house outright. It was hers forever. She pressed the remote to open her garage and waited a moment before driving in.

Letting the garage down behind her, she parked the car and killed the ignition. Home at last. She unlocked the door leading into the house and disarmed the alarm for a moment. Once she was inside with the door safely locked, she armed the security system again.

Sighing, she allowed herself to finally relax in the protected sanctuary of her home. In for the night. Walking down the hallway that lead to the living room, Ava noticed the stillness of the house. She’d worked late again. Of course her daughter and her evening nanny had turned in for the night.

The ringing of the doorbell startled Ava. She looked down at her watch. It was almost ten. Who could that be? Gritting her teeth, she disarmed the alarm system and looked through the small peephole of the door. A dark-haired man was standing outside. She had no idea who he was.

Picking up the police baton she always kept near the door, Ava undid the locks and opened it.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. You can. I’m Joseph’s son.”

Chapter Three

Ava stared at the man standing in front of her. Forest-green eyes. Midnight-black hair. Olive skin. She noticed the hint of shadow around his square jaw. Even though he appeared to be in his twenties, there was a hardness in his eyes that belied his youthfulness.

“Excuse me?”

“Joseph Martelli was my father.”

“I’m not aware of my late husband having any other children.”

“Apparently there was a lot you weren’t aware of.”

Ava moved to slam the door, but she never got the chance. Pressing a broad shoulder into the doorway, the man forced the door open and stepped inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ava’s grip on the baton tightened. She took a swing, but he caught the baton and held it. Ava tried to free it from his grasp, but she couldn’t.

“Is this how you treat every guest that comes to your home?” he asked with a smirk.

“Just the uninvited ones. Now get out before I’m forced to resort to something worse than this baton.”

“I hope you wield that better than you do this.”

He let go of the baton and took a step back. Ava watched him warily. Well he hasn’t tried to attack me. Does he really mean me no harm?

“Since you’ve invited yourself into my home, please tell me what this is all about.”

“I already told you. My father. Your late husband.”

“And I already told you, my late husband had no children besides my daughter.”

“Your husband was a crime boss. Surely you can’t be that naïve,” he said, folding his arms.

“What’s your name?” Ava asked.

“Dominic.”

“Dominic what?”

“Martelli.”

“So you’re sticking to your story?”

“It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

“If that’s the case, then why didn’t Joseph ever bother to mention you?”

“I’m sure bringing up the fact that he fathered a child with another woman wasn’t a subject he was going to discuss with his wife. But I’m his son. You can look at me and tell.”

“You look nothing like Joseph, so whatever scam you’re trying to pull is not going to work.”

Dominic shook his head, giving her a brief smile before reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket. Ava watched him as he pulled out a folded piece of paper. He held it out to her.

“What’s this?” Ava asked.

“Just look at it.”

Ava took the piece of paper from his hand. Setting the police baton down, she opened the paper up. It was a color copy of a photograph. Joseph’s face stared up at her. He was smiling. She rarely ever saw him smile. Next to him was a woman. Her dark hair and olive skin had to mean she was Italian. She was smiling too. Ava noticed the faint lines around her eyes and the laugh lines around her mouth as she smiled. Next to the woman was Dominic. There was no mistaking his face, even though he appeared a few years younger. There was frostiness in his gaze.

“This is a picture. So what?”

“It’s a picture of me with my parents. Carmella and Joseph. It was taken three years ago.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ve got proof in your hand and you still refuse to accept the truth? Don’t tell me you were actually in love with my old man.”

“My relationship with my husband is none of your business. And it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a picture to convince me that Joseph was your father.”

“Look, my mother was Joseph’s mistress long before you ever entered the picture.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re his kid.”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be receptive.”

“Would you be if some stranger showed up at your home at night claiming to be the offspring of your spouse? I don’t think so.”

“I’m a man. Such things don’t surprise me, but it seems you on the other hand are greener than I thought.”

“What do you want?” She could feel the start of a migraine coming on.

“My inheritance.”

Ava laughed. He’s insane. He has to be insane. An inheritance?

“You show up claiming to be Joseph’s son and now you want his money. You’re out of your mind,” Ava said.

She threw the picture down on the floor.

“I am Joseph’s son.”

“I don’t care if you are or not. He never acknowledged you in life or in his will. My daughter is his heir. Everything Joseph had belongs to her and that’s the way things are going to stay.”

“I’m not going away.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. I’m just making you a promise.”

“Get out and don’t come back.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Dominic said.

He walked past her and out of her house without a backwards glance. Ava shut the door behind him, locking it before she re-activated the alarm. Locked away once again, she leaned against the door. The photograph she’d dropped lay on the floor.

“Damn you, Joseph. I hope you’re in hell where you belong.”

Regardless of Dominic’s insinuations she wasn’t naïve. Ava was well aware that Joseph had never believed in fidelity. She herself had been his mistress for more years than she liked to admit before he married her. Ava also knew that after their marriage he hadn’t been faithful. It came with the life of being a crime boss. So no, she wasn’t harboring any illusions about her deceased husband. She knew exactly who Joseph Martelli had been. If he’d fathered a child with someone else he would’ve told her. Wouldn’t he?

All of a sudden, she didn’t know. It’s possible her husband had children spread everywhere. You don’t know, Ava. That young man could’ve been telling the truth. And that was what made her angry. The fact that Joseph’s mistake was showing up at her front door, trying to disrupt her life. If Joseph had wanted Dominic acknowledged as his son he’d had a chance to do so while he lived or in his will. He hadn’t done that, she wasn’t about to either.

Everything belonged to Maia. Ava didn’t know how Joseph made all his money and she didn’t care. The only good things that bastard had ever done was give her their daughter and leave his money behind. And no one was going to take that from her. Not the government and certainly not some ballsy young man showing up at her door claiming to be Joseph Martelli’s son. Tomorrow she was going to get to the bottom of this.