The Devil’s Plaything: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

  The Devil’s Plaything

  A Dark Mafia Romance

  Dani René

  Edited by

  Rebecca Barney

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Playlist

  Prologue

  1. Victor

  2. Sofía

  3. Victor

  4. Sofía

  5. Victor

  6. Sofía

  7. Victor

  8. Sofía

  9. Victor

  10. Sofía

  11. Victor

  12. Sofía

  13. Victor

  14. Victor

  15. Sofía

  16. Victor

  17. Sofía

  18. Victor

  19. Sofía

  20. Victor

  21. Sofía

  22. Victor

  23. Sofía

  24. Victor

  25. Sofía

  26. Victor

  27. Sofía

  28. Victor

  29. Sofía

  30. Sofía

  31. Victor

  32. Victor

  33. Victor

  34. Sofía

  35. Victor

  36. Victor

  37. Sofía

  38. Sofía

  Epilogue

  Did you enjoy The Devil’s Plaything?

  Prologue - Lance

  Need something naughtier?

  Prologue - Nate

  Need something even darker and twisted?

  Prologue - Drake

  Also by Dani René

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Dani René

  Published by Dani René

  Cover Design by Raven Designs

  Edited by Rebecca Barney

  Proofed by Michelle Myers

  Cover Model - Assad Shalhoub

  Cover Photography by Eric Battershell

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Acknowledgments

  I can’t believe I’m finally hitting publish on this story. It’s been in my WIP folder for over a year, and as I slowly delved into Victor and Sofía’s journey, I fell more and more in love with them. It’s a first in this genre for me, and I enjoyed every moment! I hope you do too!

  Thank you to a few special ladies, Michelle Myers for her love of this story, and claiming Victor for herself. LOL! To Sheena Taylor for reading the super early rough version and helping to tweak it to perfection. To Renata Bastos for her expertise in the translations, and last, but not least, to Rebecca Barney for polishing up this story for me.

  The Street Team, you ladies work your ass off to get my name out there, thank you. From the bottom of my little black heart, THANK YOU!

  My Deviants!! This group is like my own personal form of therapy. Thank you!! There is never a dull moment, and that’s what makes me thankful for your love and support. It’s not easy working with the intense stress and deadlines, but you always seem to brighten my day!

  To my fellow authors who are there with advice, support, and just a general pick me up. Thank you. It means more to me than you know. Thank you for sharing my work with your readers, and giving me a friendship that is second to none.

  To the bloggers, you ladies read, read, read, support, post, review, and you do it with a smile. Thank you!! We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, so keep what you’re doing, we appreciate you! #AllBlogsMatter!

  Lastly, to the readers, thank YOU! It’s because of you I’m able to put out book after book. Giving you what you ask for, and hopefully making you excited about the next book. Thank you for your reviews, keeping them SPOILER FREE ;) But most of all, thank you for buying our books. For your support, love, and encouragement.

  Mad love, D x

  As my first dip into the mafia romance genre, I hope I’ve done it justice. I loved writing Victor and Sofía’s journey.

  I want to thank my babe, Renata Bastos, for helping me with the translations in this book. You’ve been an angel with your advice. <3 Check her out on Instagram (@readersmanic)

  A special thank you to the lady who fell in love with Victor from the moment she met him, Michelle Myers, owner of Digital Dirty Girl Book Blog. He is and will always be yours! Thank you for loving him! <3

  Last, but certainly not least, Rebecca Barney, from The Fairest of All Book Reviews for editing and BETA reading for me. I would be lost without your expertise. <3

  Mad love, Dani xo

  Playlist

  Devil, Devil - MILCK

  Delincuente - Maluma

  Solos - Maluma, El Micha

  Remedy - Thirty Seconds to Mars

  Love is Madness - Thirty Seconds to Mars, Halsey

  Intentalo - Maluma

  Bailando - Enrique Iglesias

  Love to See You Cry - Enrique Iglesias

  Give it up to Me - Shakira, Lil Wayne

  Papi - Jennifer Lopez

  Bad guy - Billie Eilish

  Señorita - Shawn Mendes, Camila

  Find the playlist here

  Blurb

  A brand new dark mafia romance from USA Today Bestselling Author, Dani René.

  Victor Cordero is the devil.

  Cruel. Sadistic. Heartless.

  Sofía Montero is an angel.

  Beautiful. Sweet. Intoxicating.

  My father stole from him, but papá was stupid.

  He got caught, and now I’m in trouble.

  She’s my payment. My plaything.

  Too innocent for my games, but it doesn’t stop me.

  The man I’ve hated all my life has come for me.

  His threats are meant to break me, but I’m stronger than I look.

  She spits her hate at me, but she revels in our game.

  Her strength makes me want to see her break.

  I’m merely a plaything for the devil himself.

  Owned by the most dangerous man in Colombia.

  I promised to release her once she’s paid her dues.

  But you should never make a deal with the devil.

  I will make him feel.

  And when that day comes, he’ll break for me.

  Never back down. Never show weakness. And never allow anyone to break you.

  Mad love, Dani xo

  Prologue

  Victor

  Colombia.

  My home.

  My kingdom.

  I was born to a father who would ensure his organization—running drugs—was known for the utmost quality, and that
any shipment promised, would arrive on time. He could take a baseball bat to the face of the men who worked for him if they were caught stealing, and nobody would recognize them again. Importing drugs was what he did best, and nobody got away with theft. He knew every kilo and every ounce that was brought into the country, and he knew when it left.

  He didn’t feel guilt, shame, or any of those human emotions that make us weak. My father wasn’t weak, and neither am I. He showed me the way, leading by example.

  This is my life.

  Before, the pressure wasn’t on me. I could fly under the radar in my father’s organization. Now, I’m the man who rules it all, after having taken over from papá, Luis Cordero, who died a proud man, knowing that his life’s work would live on through me. On his death bed, he told me he was ready to go because he knew I was ready. Now, everyone fears me. When I walk onto the street or into a building, hushed whispers follow me. I wouldn’t have it any other way because when people are afraid of you, that fear will bring about some form of respect.

  I learned that from my father. He gave me everything I own, and some things I took for myself. The one thing you need to know is I’m not apologetic in any way.

  I don’t ask, I don’t beg, I take.

  It doesn’t matter what or who it is, if it catches my eye, I will own it.

  The tug against my jacket—where I slipped my wallet into only twenty minutes ago when I was at the restaurant—and the mumbled words, “rico maldito bastardo,” ring in my ears as if it’s a foghorn blaring in the dark night. I feel for it, realizing my wallet is no longer in my pocket, but the man who’s attempted to steal from me doesn’t make it far. One of my men grabs him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him back to where I’m standing at the market stall.

  Ignoring the woman who’s serving me the crisp, green apples, I turn to find the thief. He’s nothing more than a vagrant who’s running around on the streets. If he had come to me and asked for a job, I may have considered it, but he’s tried to steal from me, and he’s mouthed off.

  Granted, he may be right, I am a rich fucking bastard, but I’m the only one who can say that about myself. Anyone else spews venom, or even if someone takes from me, disrespects me in some way, I’ll make sure they pay with a pound of flesh or a gallon of blood. Either way, they’ll learn from their mistake. And this is why I’m in the town center with my men flanking me.

  “Perdóneme?” I smile as I watch two of my men force him to the ground. Silence falls around us, and I revel in the way I’ve captured the gazes of the people around the market square. I love to put on a show; most times, it’s in the privacy of my home, but right now, I think they all need to see what I do to assholes like this.

  Once he kneels, his mouth is forced open by, one of my youngest men, Alejandro. I lean in, my gaze locked on his dark one. Reaching for a handful of red sand, I grasp the granules and drop the whole lot in his mouth. The spluttering is enough for me to ensure everyone’s heard him, but it’s not enough.

  If he’d kept to merely insulting me, I may have considered mercy, but stealing is another thing altogether. I straighten and gesture for my men to grab his wrists and force the left one to the ground, making it easier to access.

  “Please, don’t do this,” the voice of the man kneeling at my feet whispers as he peeks up at me. The plea for mercy evident in his gaze. His voice is raspy from the sand I shoved into his mouth only moments ago. I watch him choke and cough, and I smile.

  My black shoes are no longer shiny; instead, they’re covered in the dust that he’s disturbed. The toe of my shoe presses harder on the thin, fragile wrist of his left arm. Alejandro passes me the heavy leather wallet, which is thick with notes, and I slip it back into the pocket the thief swiped it from.

  “What you need to understand, heathen,” I bite out, leaning closer, so he can hear me. I feel the crowd that gathers, their eyes on me as I make a spectacle of an asshole who decided to disrespect me in the middle of the street. It wasn’t my plan, but this piece of garbage forced my hand, and now, I’ll take his. “I don’t take kindly to having someone like you disrespect me. I work hard to give you what you need. And I certainly am a good boss to you. You, on the other hand,” I smirk, shoving the metal harder into his flesh, breaking it and causing blood to seep from under my shoe, making the red sand turn a dark brown. “You don’t deserve my mercy.”

  I reach for the blade that Javier hands me, and I slowly toy with the sharp tip of metal right at the inner wrist of the man who’s still pleading with me. The deep crimson liquid seeps from the small cut. I twist the blade around and around, watching as the knife inches deeper into the wound.

  It doesn’t take long for the gash to widen, the metallic fluid to shoot from the veins that have severed. Thankfully, with the razor-sharp serrated edge, I can slice evenly into the bone, listening to it crack. Flesh spews from the open wound, his hand lies an inch from his arm and his face is contorted in pure anguish.

  He writhes in agony, and his cries are music to my ears as I rise. Pulling the handkerchief from my pocket, I wipe the blade clean and throw the small scrap of material on the asshole clutching his handless arm.

  Turning, I meet the eyes of the people who live in the city I rule and tip my head in greeting before I turn away. I don’t need to tell them what or why I did that, all they need to feel is fear.

  For me.

  Because I’m the King.

  And everyone knows my name.

  1

  Victor

  My thirty-seven years have been filled with nothing but destruction and violence. Learning from a young age that weakness is death, I’ve ensured that everyone near me, each person who I come into contact with, knows that I’m far from a pushover.

  “Sir?” The tentative voice of one of my men comes from the doorway of my office. The space is lit by the sun streaming through the windows. My father built this house, or rather, monstrosity of a castle, to ensure it steals all the natural light in the day. But under the cloak of darkness, it looks like a fucking medieval fortress.

  When I was a child, I likened it to Dracula’s castle; it looked evil, menacing, and that’s what always made me smile. It’s perched up on a hill, overlooking the ocean. There aren’t any other houses around for miles, and I always enjoyed the feeling of being a king, which in the end, I found out my father was. Most children would be afraid of living in solitude, but I wasn’t. As I got older, it was the calling card for the girls I brought back here.

  They wanted to see inside the mansion that was whispered about throughout the city, and I played on those rumors. It was a drug—addictive and dangerous—and it offered a high like nothing else ever had. When I saw the wariness in their innocent gazes, my cock hardened, and I got them to suck me off, while telling them about the horrors I’d seen within these walls. Fucking needy bitches, all of them.

  They wanted to survive me in order to tell their friends. But when they saw my dick, they fell to their knees without me asking. With every year that passed, I got worse, giving them something to talk about by spreading rumors, or by offering up stories about what I had witnessed happen in the dungeon beneath the house. I brought girls home, taking them into the darkest hallways and sending fear racing through them. The sex was always better like that.

  I’d ensure they all believed me, and soon, the city knew we would never fall. Our strength was in the name, Cordero, and my father ruled with an iron fist. When he died, I took over and became as ruthless as he was, giving them even more to gossip about.

  “What is it?” I glance at the young man.

  “There’s evidence of product being sold in your territory,” he informs me. I beckon him into the office with a crook of my finger. When he nears the desk, he sets down the folder he’s been clutching.

  Opening it, I glance at its contents — photos. As I flip through them, I note the seller’s face is hidden by a baseball cap. The peak of it covers his identity, but what he doesn’t realize is that I h
ave ways and means of finding him.

  Nobody sells in my kingdom. I’m the king here, and soon, this scum will learn this truth the hard way. He’s taking from me, so I’ll take from him. Before he has time to spend the money he’s making, I’ll fucking steal everything he holds dear.

  I’m about to throw orders at the young man, but as soon as I open my mouth, we’re joined by my right-hand man. He saunters into my office like he owns it. He’s the only person I’ll allow to enter without asking permission. My men all know that if they step foot inside my space without me requesting it, they’ll be thrown into the cells in the bowels of the mansion.

  Javier smirks when he settles in the chair that’s positioned to the right of my desk. He picks up the folder, scanning the images much the same way I had. A sneer curls his lips when he flips the images over.