Reckless Sinner (Made for the Mafia #3) Read Online Erika Wilde

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Made for the Mafia Series by Erika Wilde

Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)

Growing up, I had sworn never to join the family mafia business.

Still, I knew too much and I had to, at the very least, be an associate for the Russo family. In the end, I was sent to law school. In an underworld of criminals, I was a necessary commodity—especially when my brothers had recently spilled so much blood and were currently under investigation.
I found myself watching out for everyone. Only, I never saw Delaney coming. She was the beautiful daughter of one of the partners at the firm where I worked. She was strictly off limits during a time when I couldn’t afford to be distracted.
She was also driven, determined, and refused to accept no for an answer. I never should have touched her, but once I had my first taste, I couldn’t let her go. Delaney stole my heart and I didn’t even know I had one.
But things were about to get ugly. Her father was running for Attorney General, his goal to take down organized crime and end the mafia reign once and for all. And, my father and brothers were in his crosshairs.
There was no way Delaney and I would get a happy ending. No way we’d come out unscathed, especially when my father gives me a very specific job to do that could only end one way. . . with Delaney hating me.




* * *

Whenever people asked me why I became I lawyer, I would reply, I’ve always had such a fondness for the law.

This was partially true. Mom used to say that whatever law-abiding gene was in me clearly came from her side—and had skipped a couple generations— because I definitely hadn’t gotten it from Dad.

While my two other brothers were spending their childhoods either concocting schemes to get away with (Vincent) or finding every way to annoy and defy authority figures (Marco), I liked to just sit in a quiet corner and read. I enjoyed homework. The nuns who ran the Catholic school we attended—prestigious and, of course, tradition in my family—repeatedly mentioned on my report cards what a “refreshing surprise” I was after dealing with Vincent who smiled to their faces but they knew was getting up to shit they couldn’t pin on him, and then Marco who thought riling up the entire class with dick jokes was a great way to start a Monday.

Unlike my siblings, I liked order. I liked studying. I liked finding nuances in rules. They made me feel safe. You always knew where you were with rules. You could turn them to your advantage and use them, either to trap others or advance your own interests. I’d never seen the appeal that my brothers did in breaking every rule under the sun when simply by working with the rules I could get pretty damn far in life.

But I hadn’t ever wanted to be a lawyer.

Don’t get me wrong, I was good at it. I liked it well enough. But I hadn’t chosen the career. Dad had. It had been a pretty explicit ultimatum. No, not even an ultimatum—that suggested a choice. I’d had none. It was just you’re going to law school. You’re becoming an associate for the family.

The truth was, the reason that I liked being a lawyer wasn’t because I enjoyed following, enforcing, or manipulating the rules. It was because I liked arguing. And I liked winning.

Just ask anyone who had to grow up in a house that held both my father and me. Anytime someone asked me how I got so damn good at my job, I always said, “I grew up arguing with my father.”

Most people knew who my father was, but they were always shocked that I never tried to hide my lineage, or deny it. I figured, why bother? Why pretend like nobody knew that my father was Antonio Russo, mob boss extraordinaire?

Instead, I used it to my advantage, like I did all rules and laws and facts. I grew up arguing with a mob boss. If I could beat him, surely I could win your case for you. There was no lawyer better or tougher or sharper than I was. I was a goddamn shark in the courtroom.

I hadn’t argued with my father in years. Mostly because I hadn’t seen him.

I knew I would have to see him, soon, for Vincent’s wedding. A wedding I disapproved of, by the way, but nobody in my family ever listened to me. Rumor had it that Vincent had murdered a guy, or several, for the sake of one Marla Preston and frankly I didn’t think our family needed any more encouragement in the hot-headed and violent department.

That wasn’t even counting the fact that Marco was apparently seeing a stripper. Again. Not a surprise except for the fact that she’d stuck around longer than a couple of weeks. Undoubtedly, Dad was going to get into it with Marco and honestly I wasn’t sure if I was annoyed that the wedding would be spoiled by such a scene, or grateful that he’d argue with someone that wasn’t me.