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(Download PDF) Devious Kingpin Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance Kingpins of The Syndicate Book 2 Eva Winners Full Chapter PDF
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Devious Kingpin
KINGPINS OF THE SYNDICATE SERIES COLLECTION
EVA WINNERS
Contents
Prologue
1. Dante
2. Juliette
3. Dante
4. Juliette
5. Dante
6. Juliette
7. Dante
8. Juliette
9. Dante
10. Juliette
11. Juliette
12. Dante
13. Juliette
14. Dante
15. Juliette
16. Dante
17. Juliette
18. Juliette
19. Dante
20. Juliette
21. Dante
22. Juliette
23. Dante
24. Juliette
25. Dante
26. Juliette
27. Dante
28. Juliette
29. Juliette
30. Dante
31. Juliette
32. Dante
33. Juliette
34. Dante
35. Juliette
36. Dante
37. Juliette
38. Juliette
39. Dante
40. Juliette
41. Dante
42. Dante
43. Juliette
44. Dante
45. Juliette
46. Dante
47. Juliette
48. Dante
49. Juliette
50. Dante
51. Juliette
52. Juliette
53. Dante
54. Juliette
55. Dante
56. Juliette
57. Juliette
58. Juliette
59. Dante
Epilogue
What’s Next?
About the Author
Kingpins of The Syndicate Series Collection
While the book “Corrupted Pleasure” is not officially part of the series, it does have
events that lead to the first book in the series.
Furthermore, please note that this book has some dark elements to it and disturbing
scenes. Please proceed with caution. It is not for the faint of heart.
Don’t forget to sign up to Eva Winners’ Newsletter (www.evawinners.com) for news about
future releases.
Copyright © 2023 by Winners Publishing LLC and Eva Winners
Cover Image Designer: Eve Graphic Design LLC
Model: JJ
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information
storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.
Find Eva Here
https://spoti.fi/3KpLxL7
Triggers
This e-book contains disturbing scenes and adult language. It may be offensive to some
readers and touches on darker themes.
Dante DiLustro.
Persistent. Stubborn. Deadly.
The devil.
Juliette Brennan.
Tenacious. Beautiful. Formidable.
The minx.
She never expected his persistence, nor the way her body warmed each time the devil
came around, which only made her fight the attraction that much harder.
She had vengeance to deliver and now there was blood on her hands. She had her
secrets and she intended to keep them. Let the world think she was crazy, out of control.
It made her real sins easy to hide.
One visit to Las Vegas sent it all spiraling. There was a reason Dante was considered the
Devious Kingpin.
But one thing was certain. This Juliette didn’t need a Romeo and she certainly wasn’t a
damsel in distress.
Prologue
JULIETTE
“T was the night before Christmas,” I rhymed as I swung my bag, back and forth,
“when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
The words of the poem kept repeating in my head, over and over again.
Christmas was my favorite time of the year. Usually it was about the only time that
we resembled a family. I had two bags of gifts, Killian trailing alongside me while
handling something on the phone. He was in his first year of college, and suddenly he
was very important. At least he thought so.
I rolled my eyes; he was more annoying than anything. At the tender age of thirteen,
I thought myself to be the most important girl in the world. After all, I’d be going to high
school soon.
“Wait here, Jules,” he ordered, stopping in front of Tiffany’s.
“Are you buying a gift from Tiffany’s for Wynter and me?” I squealed excitedly.
“Stay here,” he ordered. In typical brotherly fashion, he ignored me and entered the
store. Curious and a bit nosy, I pressed my face against the cold glass, but couldn’t see
anything apart from Killian’s broad shoulders.
The cold wind swept through, sending a chill through my bones. Winters in New York
were frigid. I couldn’t wait until Killian, Dad, and I flew back to California.
Warm weather. Palm trees. That was heaven.
Glancing around, I took cover in the alley where I hoped the wind wouldn’t whip
against my legs as badly. I felt the chill even through my jeans and heavy coat. It was
just impossible to warm up, so I started jumping up and down, my ponytail whipping back
and forth.
“Hurry up. Hurry up,” I muttered impatiently, my teeth chattering.
A kicked can echoed through the alley, startling me. Another kick and I mustered up
the courage to turn around, only to come face-to-face with a man. A stranger. His
features were obscured by a hoodie but his hands weren’t. Glinting in the light of the
streetlamp, I could see he was holding a knife.
“What are you doing, little girl?” he drawled in a thick New York accent.
“N-nothing,” I stuttered, my eyes darting over his shoulder to the storefront where I
should have been waiting for Killian.
He took a step forward, and I instinctively took one back. Except now, it put me even
deeper into the dark alley. I knew I’d made a mistake. My little heart pounded against my
chest, threatening to crack it open.
Another step toward me. Another mirrored step backward.
My heart continued to drum under my rib cage, but still I tried to be brave. Smart.
That was what Dad always said. Be smart. So I attempted to scare him off. “M-my
brother’s with me.”
He chuckled. “Then I’ll slice his throat too.”
My eyes widened, then darted around in horror. I opened my mouth, readying to
scream when another voice interrupted.
“Take another step toward her, and I’ll shoot you.”
My eyes snapped in the direction of the voice. A tall boy stood there, about Killian’s
age. Tall. Strong. He flicked a gaze my way before returning his attention to the man
with the knife.
“Last warning,” he said. “Get lost or I will end you.”
“I know you,” the old man hissed.
“No, you don’t know me,” the boy-slash-man with eyes as dark as midnight claimed.
“If you did, you’d be running for your life.”
The man must have decided to live and that I wasn’t worth it, because he scurried
away. No, he bolted. I watched him disappear while I held my breath, and it wasn’t until
he was out of my sight that I was able to release it.
“You okay?” the boy asked softly.
I swallowed, extending my hand with the bags. “H-here, you can take it all,” I offered.
I felt disoriented, worried that maybe this boy saved me from the other thug, only to rob
me himself. It wasn’t worth dying over. It would seem shopping right before Christmas
was a bad idea, after all.
He smiled, pushing the bags gently back. “You keep the bags.”
My eyes darted between him and the bags. “You… you don’t want them?”
He chuckled. “What am I going to do with Victoria’s Secret bags?” he mused as the
smell of rain and damp forest mixed with the crispy winter air and filled my senses.
My cheeks heated when I realized what I was holding in my hands.
“It’s for my aunt.” Wynter and I wanted her to find someone, and this could be the
first step. At least, that was what Cosmopolitan magazine had told us. “I’m buying for my
dad next, but I have money,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “I don’t have anything else to
give you.” I drowned in his dark gaze. I had never seen such dark eyes. They were like
obsidian pools of night.
“What makes you think I want something?” he asked curiously.
“Don’t all muggers want something?” I retorted.
He smiled, his eyes shining with amusement. They reminded me of the dark nights
and beautiful nightmares.
“All right, then,” he agreed, amusement sparking his gaze. “How about…” He
appeared to think as I held my breath. What could he possibly want? “Your hair
scrunchie.”
I reached up to touch my ponytail. “My scrunchie?” I repeated, confused.
He grinned this time. “Yes. That way when I find you again and you’re older, you’ll
remember that you owe me.”
“And if I don’t recognize you?” I wondered.
He smirked confidently. “Don’t worry, I’ll recognize you.”
This time, I smiled too. “So you’ll be like my shadow prince, stalker, or something?”
He nodded. “Or something,” he confirmed.
I pulled my hair band out, my mahogany strands cascading down my shoulders. He
extended his hand and I dropped my hot-pink scrunchie into it, the bright color looking
silly in his large palm.
“Thank you,” I murmured, offering him a big smile. “For saving me. One day, maybe
I’ll be the one to save you.”
I wanted to return the favor and Dad taught me never to leave a debt unpaid. As he
walked away, sadness lingered in my chest when I realized I had no way of knowing
whether I’d ever see him again. I could only hold out hope.
CHAPTER 1
Dante
EIGHT YEARS LATER
T he moment I watched him enter the first floor of the casino, the air shifted. When I
spotted him and his blond brother, I gaped with wide eyes. Holy mother of God.
There should never be two specimens who looked like that on the same planet,
never mind the same room.
They strode through the room like they owned it and everyone in it. The one with
dark hair and eyes, the colors of the darkest night, aside from the resemblance to the
DiLustros, told me we didn’t want him or his blond brother anywhere near the table
Wynter was currently sitting at. They moved as one, like two panthers going in for their
prey.
Acting on instinct, I rushed toward the two men who gave the impression they’d no
doubt killed their fair share of men. I couldn’t let them get close to Wynter. It’d be all our
heads on the block if they got to her.
So, with a confidence I didn’t possess and armed in the dress that revealed more skin
than I liked, I rushed in their general direction. The midnight-blue dress hugged my
curves just right, and belonged to someone with a much flatter ass. As I got closer to the
dark and blond devils, I fought the urge to tug on the hemline.
I kept my eyes on a fictional dot, keeping their movements in my peripheral vision.
The moment his dark gaze brushed over my skin, a shiver ran up my spine and my heel
caught a crack in the marble, launching me into the air.
I, honest to God, almost face-planted when a pair of strong hands wrapped around
me. Instead of the marble floor, my face hit a hard chest. The scent of forest and rain hit
my nostrils and for a second my eyes fluttered shut. It reminded me of something, but
the memory eluded my grasp.
Then as if burned, I shifted away, almost falling—again—on my ass, before his hand
shot out, steadying me by my elbow.
Gosh, this was going gracefully.
“You alright?” he drawled, that obsidian gaze on me. My cheeks burned. It felt like a
searing fever boiling me from the inside. Jesus, I hated blushing. Detested it. I took a
deep breath, then slowly exhaled. His lips curled into an arrogant smile, probably used to
women swooning over him.
I narrowed my gaze at him in distaste. It was at that very moment, I decided. I didn’t
like him. I didn’t like the dark presence that came with him. I didn’t like how he watched
me as if I were a speck of dirt on his shoe.
“Obviously, I’m fine,” I answered, mustering a sweet, seductive smile. I trailed my
hand over his chest and felt his heat burning through the material. The man had to be a
furnace. “But you won’t be, if you don’t get that smug smile off your face.”
A stifled chuckle came from his blond brother. I shot him a glare, but he quickly raised
his hands, ready to retreat. I couldn’t let that happen, though, so I blurted out the first
thing that came to my mind.
“I’ll have sex with both of you. Why don’t the three of us take this party… elsewhere?”
What the hell did I just say? That was the last thing I’d ever want to do. Just the idea of
having sex with either of them had bile rising in my throat. It was a wonder that I kept
my own eyes from rolling in my head.
The air stilled then, immediately charged with so much sexual tension, it vibrated
through me. It felt like electric shocks running through my veins, buzzing every cell within
my body and somehow turning me on.
I know, masochistic. I never thought getting electrocuted would be a turn-on, but here
I was.
I waited for a response, any comment, but both men remained staring at me. One
pair darker than night and the other lighter than the skies. These two were like night and
day. Literally.
“What’s the matter?” I purred with a self-confidence I didn’t feel, my finger trailing his
tie. I must be a glutton for punishment. “Cat got your tongue?”
If only I knew how badly those damn words would haunt me.
My eyes darted between the two men. They were both extremely handsome. If I ever
felt the need to have a threesome, as unlikely as that would be, physically they seemed
the most suitable to have one with.
“You’re trouble,” the blond one said, his voice slightly annoyed. The fact he labeled
me exactly what I detested made him lose some of his appeal. I was misunderstood. Yes,
sometimes I tended to get in trouble, but usually it was due to circumstances.
Like now.
Instead of opting to remain quiet, I decided to open my mouth further.
“You mean to tell me you’ve never had a threesome?” I drawled mockingly, desperate
to keep the conversation going and Wynter out of harm’s way.
Panic slithered through my veins, mocking me. I immediately locked it away. I didn’t
need any distractions right now, not with danger so close to the horizon.
The mockingjay’s whistle—from The Hunger Games—traveled through the air. It was
our signal. The dark devil’s eyes flickered above my head, and again, I acted on instinct.
Raising my palm, I pressed it against his chest—his heartbeat wild and strong—and
something flickered across his face.
Time stilled as our eyes locked. His fingers, still holding my elbow, burned on my skin.
I had to remind myself I was buying Wynter and my friends time.
“Don’t worry, I’m skilled enough in threesomes not to embarrass you,” I said, making
a further idiot of myself. “All you would have to do is follow my lead.”
I smoothed my palms against his hard, muscular chest. My hands trembled and I
hated myself for how he affected me.
The blond devil studied us with an amused expression, but something about the way
his lips twisted into a sardonic smile didn’t sit well with me.
“Can you handle double penetration?” the blond guy asked.
Jesus fucking Christ. DP. Did he really just ask me that?
I needed to clear out of here. Maybe I should punch him in the balls and take off? Did
Wynter get her chips yet? She’d better hurry up because I was running out of dumb things
to say here.
Double penetration was out of the question. I didn’t enjoy single penetration. This
was like jumping into the ocean and not knowing how to swim.
“What’s your name?” the dark devil demanded to know.
A loud whistle traveled through the casino. The next second, alarms pierced the air
and both of their attention shifted away from me.
“DP this, you dipshit,” I hissed.
In one swift move, I kneed the dark devil where it hurt the most.
In his nuts.
I took off, the scent of lavender oil filling the room. It meant Davina had dumped her
scented oil. I didn’t even bother glancing behind me, focused on getting the fuck out of
there. Those devils suggested DP. That put a whole different kind of urgency to my steps.
I might have been the one to instigate this whole conversation, but it didn’t matter. I
was not in the business of getting caught up in situations that made me vulnerable.
This Juliette wasn’t looking for her Romeo.
CHAPTER 3
Dante
I t was still dark in the early morning hours. I was meeting Alessio Russo, the gun
dealer from Montréal, in the middle of Lake Ontario. It was cold as fuck, the middle of
November already drawing snow and below-freezing temperatures. It was our
monthly gun shipment I smuggled through Canada. I regularly bought guns off Illias
Konstantin, the Russian Pakhan, and Alessio Russo, this Canadian guy. I sold them all to
a cartel as well as different organizations in the Middle East. Business was good.
I watched the rays of the sun flicker across the surface of the lake and my thoughts
drifted to the dark-haired wildling that kicked me in the balls nearly six months ago. They
still ached, but for a totally different reason.
I couldn’t even get it up anymore without thinking about her. Talk about a pitiful case.
Maybe I’d been fucked up all along. Or maybe that cursed DiLustro gene had kicked in
and spread through me like wildfire, honing in on one woman. It never boded well—not
for my crazy uncle, not for my father, and certainly not my cousin Basilio, who hunted for
his princess like his life depended on it.
I should do the same for the woman that refused to leave my mind. She’d buried
herself into my brain cells and my bone marrow, refusing to leave. Obsession was the
curse of the DiLustros.
It was the reason for my father’s blindness to what my mother had put my brother
and me through growing up. He’d been too wrapped up in his work and the woman he
lost—a woman my mother never let us forget.
A breeze swept through and a shudder rolled down my spine. It had nothing to do
with the cold.
You’re just like him. Lying, cheating sinner.
I could almost hear my mother’s voice howling along with the wind that traveled
through the upper deck of my yacht.
Crack.
The vivid memory of her whip slicing through the air almost brought me to my knees.
It was so fucking hard to escape those ghosts. That dark room. Her sick way of torturing
us… especially my little brother.
Alessio’s yacht pulled up next to mine and I pushed the memories aside, I focused on
the task at hand. Gun smuggling. Our crew piled into my yacht and we made our way
over, the spray from the lake hitting my jacket and clearing my head.
A plank was dropped to allow me to step onto his yacht. “DiLustro,” Alessio greeted
me curtly.
I handed him the suitcase full of money. He took it and passed it on to his right-hand
man. Ricardo.
“Next time, I’d rather we do an electronic transfer,” I retorted dryly. “Make yourself an
offshore account, old man.”
I couldn’t understand these old fuckers always insisting on cash. They had to keep up
with the times. Wire transfers. Bitcoin. Anything was better than moving with so much
cash. Yes, I owned a casino and could pull it from there on a moment’s notice, but it was
a risky move traveling with so much cash.
He tilted his chin toward the steps that led below deck. It would seem his man
wouldn’t be carrying the cargo himself tonight.
“There won’t be a next time,” Alessio stated coldly. “Have your guys get the guns off
my ship.”
I nodded once to my men behind me and they got to work loading the merchandise
onto my own boat, walking back and forth across the plank. It made it easier to cross
from his boat to mine and vice versa.
“What do you mean there won’t be a next time?” I questioned.
He and Ricardo shared a look, then he answered, “It means I’m getting out. Or do you
need further clarification?”
Smart-ass fucker. “Goddamn it,” I spat out. “You tell me only now that you’re fucking
bailing?”
The shipment he just delivered would fulfill only one month’s worth of orders.
“Didn’t know.” The tone of his voice stated he didn’t care either. “Shouldn’t make
commitments before having a product in hand.”
What. A. Fucking. Ass. There was always a fucking wiseass to deal with.
I could shoot him, but that probably wouldn’t go over well. Receiving word the guns
were secure, I made my way back to my yacht, flipping him the bird as we took off into
the night.
I could see the outline of his head tip back as he laughed, the grim fucker actually
managing to look happy. For the first time in maybe ever.
CHAPTER 4
Juliette
Ce qui avait porté à placer la cavalerie sur les ailes, chez les
anciens et chez les modernes, c'était le besoin de couvrir les flancs
de l'infanterie qui ne savait pas manœuvrer comme aujourd'hui, et
faire front de tous les côtés en se formant en carré.
Organisation et
armement de L'infanterie était jusqu'à la fin du dix-septième
l'infanterie. siècle une vraie phalange macédonienne, une
sorte de carré long, présentant à l'ennemi sa face
allongée, laquelle était composée de piquiers, entremêlés de
quelques mousquetaires. Ces derniers placés ordinairement sur le
front, et couverts par la longueur des piques, faisaient feu, puis
quand on approchait de l'ennemi couraient le long du bataillon, et
venaient se ranger sur ses ailes, laissant aux piquiers le soin
d'exécuter la charge ou de la repousser à l'arme blanche. Il est facile
de comprendre que si les feux avaient eu alors l'importance qu'ils
ont de notre temps, un tel bataillon eût été bientôt détruit. Les
boulets entrant dans une masse où seize, quelquefois vingt-quatre
hommes étaient rangés les uns derrière les autres, y auraient causé
d'affreux ravages. Ce même bataillon, n'ayant des piques que sur
son front, était dans l'impossibilité de défendre ses flancs contre une
attaque de la cavalerie.
Ce fils, élevé par des protestants français et bientôt des mains des
protestants passant à celles des philosophes, plein de génie et
d'impertinence, tenant le passé du monde pour une extravagance
tyrannique, regardant les religions comme un préjugé ridicule, ne
reconnaissant d'autre autorité que celle de l'esprit, avait pris en
dégoût le pédantisme militaire régnant à la cour de Berlin, et par ce
motif devint odieux à son père, lequel dans un accès de colère battit
à coups de canne celui qui devait être le grand Frédéric. Le grand
Frédéric, battu et détenu dans une forteresse pour ne pas assez
aimer le militaire, est certainement un de ces spectacles singuliers
tels que l'histoire en offre quelquefois! Mais ce
Avénement du
grand Frédéric. père étrange mourut en 1740, et aussitôt son fils
se jeta sur les armes d'Achille qu'il n'avait pas
d'abord reconnues pour les siennes. L'empereur Charles VI venait
de mourir, laissant pour unique héritière une fille, Marie-Thérèse,
que personne ne croyait capable de défendre son héritage. Chacun
en convoitait une partie. La Bavière désirait la couronne impériale, la
France aspirait à conquérir tout ce que l'Autriche possédait à la
gauche du Rhin, l'Espagne avait elle-même des vues sur l'Italie, et le
jeune Frédéric songeait à rendre ses États dignes par leur
dimension du titre de royaume. Cependant, tandis que tout le monde
dévorait des yeux une partie de l'héritage de Marie-Thérèse,
personne n'osait y porter la main. Frédéric fit
À peine monté
sur le trône, il comme les gens qui mettent le feu à une maison
se jette sur la qu'ils veulent dépouiller: il se jeta sur la Silésie, fut
Silésie. bientôt imité par toute l'Europe, et alluma ainsi
l'incendie dont il devait si bien profiter. Ayant reçu
de son père un trésor bien fourni et une armée toujours tenue sur le
pied de guerre, il entra en Silésie en octobre 1740 (six mois après
être monté sur le trône), avait conquis cette province tout entière en
décembre, l'Autriche n'ayant presque pas d'armée à lui opposer, et
prouvait ainsi la supériorité d'un petit prince qui est prêt sur un grand
qui ne l'est pas.
Pourtant il n'y eut qu'un cri en Europe, c'est que le jeune roi de
Prusse était un étourdi, et qu'en janvier suivant il expierait sa
témérité. Les Autrichiens en effet, ayant réuni leurs forces,
débouchèrent de Bohême en Silésie, et Frédéric avait si peu
d'expérience qu'il laissa les Autrichiens s'établir sur ses derrières, et
le couper de la Prusse. Il se retourna, marcha à
Bataille de
Molwitz. eux avec l'audace qui inspirait toutes ses actions,
et livra bataille, bien qu'il n'eût jamais fait
manœuvrer un bataillon, ayant le dos tourné vers l'Autriche, tandis
que les Autrichiens l'avaient vers la Prusse. S'il eût été battu, il
n'aurait pas revu Berlin; et, chose singulière, dans cette première
bataille il n'eut pas d'autre tactique que celle du temps passé. Sa
belle infanterie, commandée par le brave maréchal
Comment elle
fut gagnée. Schwerin, était au centre, sa cavalerie sur les
ailes, son artillerie sur le front, comme à Rocroy,
aux Dunes, à Lutzen. La cavalerie autrichienne qui était disposée
aussi sur les ailes, et fort supérieure en force et en qualité, s'ébranla
au galop, et emporta la cavalerie prussienne ( procella equestris),
avec le jeune Frédéric, qui n'avait jamais assisté à pareille scène.
Mais, tandis que les deux cavaleries, l'une poursuivant l'autre,
couraient sur les derrières, la solide infanterie prussienne était
restée ferme en ligne. Si les choses s'étaient passées comme du
temps de Condé ou d'Alexandre, la cavalerie autrichienne, revenant
sur l'infanterie prussienne, l'eût prise sur les deux flancs et bientôt
détruite. Il n'en fut point ainsi: le vieux maréchal Schwerin, demeuré
inébranlable, se porta en avant, enleva le ruisseau et le moulin de
Molwitz, et, quand la cavalerie autrichienne revint victorieuse, elle
trouva son infanterie battue et la bataille perdue. Frédéric triompha
ainsi par la valeur de son infanterie, qui avait vaincu pendant qu'il
était entraîné sur les derrières. Mais, il l'a dit lui-même, la leçon était
bonne, et bientôt il devint général. L'Europe cria au miracle,
proclama Frédéric un homme de guerre, et plus du tout un étourdi,
mais ce qui importait davantage, l'infanterie prussienne venait
d'acquérir un ascendant qu'elle conserva jusqu'en 1792, lorsqu'elle
rencontra l'infanterie de la Révolution française.