BWWM Dark Mafia Romance | Forced To Surrogate | The Amalfi Coast Brotherhood #1
A steamy and dark interracial mafia romance.
Hello, hello and WELCOME. This dark mafia romance for interracial romance fans will tease and tantalize you into immediately demanding the release of my first mafia romance of the year, Forced To Surrogate. If you enjoy spicy stories with lots of hot sex and a black female lead, strap in for this wild ride.
Like all my other dark romance stories, the content requires some forewarning. As a dark romance, many dark, troubling, triggering and potentially unsavory subjects may be discussed including all manners of explicit mentions of violence. Characters may use potentially offensive language to keep the characters and situations as raw, dark and authentic as possible.
In the wise words of Mariah Carey: Proceed with caution.
Romance Novel Excerpts | Forced To Surrogate | Chapter #1
JODI ROSE
I’m the last single woman in my family. Three months in Italy, and I haven’t had so much as a kiss, but my younger cousin Raven gets married to her college boyfriend and he looks like a dream. I drop a congratulatory comment on her photo, but my heart sinks.
You ugly, Jodi. Get used to it and stop chasing all these men out of your league. Settle with Kyle. He’s the best you can do. Maybe mama was right. I’m not the marrying kind anyway. I spent all my dating years focused on school and look at where that got me…
“Edo!”
The bartender gives me a sympathetic look. Ugh. Edo is so hot. Too bad all the hot guys are gay, especially in Italy, apparently.
“What happened?”
“Look at this.”
I show him my phone and Edo cracks a smile. “Beautiful! Is she your sister?”
“No, my cousin. She’s getting married and here I am… single… again.”
And I’m running away from my problems with a one way ticket to Italy. When my family finds out I’m not coming back, they’re going to lose their minds. Everyone already thinks I’m crazy for leaving Kyle…
“Fuck your ex, Jodi. Seriously, fuck him.”
I have major regrets about getting drunk my first night here and spilling all the drama of my ex-boyfriend to a bartender, but at least it made us fast friends. Although I’m not sure if Edo just likes the fact that Americans tip, unlike our Italian friends.
“I’m never going to get with another guy again. This is it. I’m dying alone.”
Edo grins and shakes his head. Since he learned I was American, he’s done everything in my power to take me under his wing since I got here. I just hate getting too far out of my comfort zone so I’ve ditched all his invitations to visit the local clubs in favor of spending my nights drinking cocktails alone and checking social media. I’m in Italy. I should be having an adventure.
“You will not die alone,” Edo says. “At least not without trying… my latest cocktail creation.”
Edo does a dramatic dance before revealing some clear beverage that looks like some horrible mix of vodka, vermouth and orange juice. Good. I want to get completely fucked up.
“That looks… clear.”
“You’ll love it, I promise.”
“Will drinking really make the pain go away?” I muse, twirling the glass around so the little orange peel swirls inside it. Kyle. Why do you always miss the ones who fuck you up the most?
“Yes. It will. Absolutely.” Edo replies with a wink.
“Cheers.” I swirl the drink around even more, despite Edo’s repeated claims that I ruin his creations by doing that. I pour it down my throat and taste a pleasant citrus flavor before a powerful vodka burn. It takes everything in my power to get the rest of the drink down my throat.
“What the hell did you put in that?”
Edo winks. “My shift ends in ten. I’ll take you out tonight to Jalousie. No getting out of it this time to watch Empire in your apartment.”
How the fuck does this skinny ass white boy know me so well already? I shake my head, prepared to reject his offer to take me to the club, but Edo won’t let it go. He wriggles his brows suggestively. He loves regaling me with stories about all the shenanigans that go down at the Amalfi Coast nightclubs. I’m not really a nightclub girl. Small bars like this one fit me better, but didn’t I come to Italy to have fun? Meet someone? I should put in some effort.
The only men who give me any attention are the creeps on the beach who say all types of nasty shit to me in Italian that I’m glad I don’t understand.
Maybe I’ll meet better men at the club, especially a club with a fancy ass French name like this one. Jalousie. Wait… Edo’s mentioned Jalousie to me before in the past.
“Ain’t that the club with the mafia shootout you told me about?”
I don’t believe half the shit that comes out of Edo’s mouth, but he loves regaling me with stories about the real Italian mafia, which he claims is apparently far worse than any mafia in Long Island or Staten Island. How could anyone who lives in one of the most beautiful parts of the world hurt and kill other people? I think he likes telling tall tales to impress tourists.
I get people in Staten Island killing each other, but the Amalfi Coast? Hell fucking no. The sea is perfectly blue, the air smells fresh constantly and it’s plain peaceful out here. Italians have a rich culture, amazing food, better wine and the guys here are hot. Not every guy, but when you walk down the streets here, you definitely encounter more than a few hotties.
“Yes,” Edo says. “But, you’re here for 9 more months, right? Have a fling. Don’t tell him your real name… and disappear. You can find a hot and incredibly rich man to spoil you during your trip.”
“Wait… is this a gay club or my type of club.”
Edo chuckles. “The guys are hot. I didn’t say they were gay. You haven’t earned your way into going to a gay club with me yet.”
“Wow, Edo. I thought we had something going here.”
Edo shrugs. “My private life is my private life. That’s how it is in Italy. Your private life on the other hand… is my playground. I’ll introduce you to people. I know people who frequent Jalousie.”
“Hot guys?”
“Eh…”
“Hot straight guys?” I correct myself before he answers. I don’t want Edo tricking me into going out for nothing.
“Not exactly… I have a friend in town who goes all the time — Cassia Pagonis.”
He says the name like I’m supposed to know who the fuck that is.
“Who the fuck is that?”
Edo chuckles. “A very fun girl with very hot brothers.”
I perk up a little bit until Edo tells me they’re all married. Great.
“Great. They’re married…”
Before Edo can reassure me (again) more customers wander into the bar and Edo scurries to the other end of the bar to take orders. I gaze into my phone again, looking at pictures from Raven’s wedding. My cousin looks gorgeous, but I can’t help a twisted pang of envy. I know it’s wrong but… will that ever happen for me?
My homegirls from college keep sending me articles about the sorry state of marriage for black women. Alyssa says that we need to divest completely from marriage and just have fun. My idea of fun isn’t keeping a collection of all “my dicks” in a private folder on my phone. I want the real fucking thing! Even if the world loves reminding me that ‘the real thing’ only happens for white women or black women with the lightest dusting of melanin… I want to believe in love.
I scroll past Raven’s pictures and my feed is all babies, new puppies, new jobs, new houses, new apartments, new husbands… new everything. Before Italy, I was just doing the same old shit. I wanted to shake things up. I don’t know why my life hasn’t transformed entirely. I’m in the prettiest place on earth — the Amalfi Coast.
Edo’s shift ends and he calls my name from the other end of the bar, beckoning me over to the cash register.
“Any tip for me today?”
“I saw you slip that five euro note out of my wallet. I think we’re good.”
Edo shrugs. “Sorry, this job doesn’t pay well.”
“I get it. I’ll pay for our drinks tonight. Happy?”
“Incredibly.”
I shouldn’t be offering to pay for anyone’s drinks, honestly, but I tell myself that I’ll worry about all the damn money I’m spending once I get back to America. I have nine months of freedom and then I can worry about these damn bills and loans and everything else.
Edo drags me off my stool and we step outside into the cobblestone street. I’ll never get over how beautifully blue everything is here. The streets smell like the ocean, pastries, wine and cigarettes of course. People sell jewelry and fruits on the streets and the Italian accents are… gorgeous. My Italian’s still crap despite Edo’s best efforts to teach me a few phrases.
At least I don’t have to hear all the street harassment thrown my way, which is plentiful. Edo replies defensively to a grey-haired man who calls something lewd in my direction and grabs me tighter. “Fuck these guys,” he says. “You aren’t that fat.”
I swear, I’ll never get used to how fucking blunt they are. But I appreciate Edo doing his best to defend me. We can hear the music from Jalousie echoing down the street before we get close.
“Isn’t it early for the club?”
“Why are you so fucking American?” Edo asks, linking arms with me. “Relax.”
“EDOARDO!” A shrill voice with a strange accent calls from across the street. I know Italian accents by now, at least how people from the Coast sound when speaking English, and this girl sounds different.”
“That’s Cass,” Edo says to me. “Chin up. She’ll love you.”
Edo waves to the girl across the street and she struts over to us, sticking her hand out to stop the cars making their way down the cobblestone streets. They don’t even honk as she passes. The first thing I notice about her is how striking she is. She’s tall, with curly dark brown hair pinned up out of her face and flowing down her back. She’s wearing crazy high heels, like all the European girls do, a short leather skirt and a tight black leather crop top. With her dark red lipstick, she looks like a film noir femme fatale… and she stares like one.
“Edo… is this your American friend?”
She turns to me and smiles. Shit, her accent might be strong, but her English is perfect. Cass’s hair falls over her shoulders, her curls carrying a soft eucalyptus scent.
“Jodi Rose,” I say, happy to finally have some female company around here, not like there’s anything wrong with Edo. “Nice to meet you.”
Cassia takes my hand, three silver Cartier bracelets sliding down her wrist. Wow. Her bracelets aren’t the only expensive item of clothing she has.
“Cass Pagonis. I’m sure Edo has told you all sorts of horrible stories about me.”
“I did not!”
Edo definitely did. But Cass doesn’t seem like a crazy party girl. She rolls her eyes and brushes him off.
“I’m here on the Coast working for my cousin’s family,” Cass says. “I’m from Thessaloniki. My idiot brothers want me back next week, unfortunately. But I could use a night out before I go.”
Edo claps his hands. “Yay! Party time. Too bad Jalousie only caters to the most chauvinistic mafia pigs you can imagine.”
“Watch it,” Cass cautions, an impish smile on her face. “Those chauvinistic mafia pigs are my cousins and brothers.”
Edo shrugs. “Fine. Fine. But I need dick too. Gay rights.”
Cass swats his shoulder.
“Edo, why don’t you let me take her for the night. There’s no one at Jalousie for you, and you can go meet up with Klaus or… that other one.”
Edo suddenly straightens his back and reminds both of us that just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he’s given up on old world chivalry.
“I can’t send Jodi off with a stranger,” he says.
I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know if Edo would do much damage against… any man who weighed more than his slight 108 lb frame.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Seriously.”
“I’m armed anyway,” Cass says. I think she’s joking, but neither of them laugh. Is she serious? She doesn’t look armed, and she looks more like a model than someone who knows how to use a weapon.
I could use some one on one time with someone who isn’t trying to scam me for extra tips anyway. Edo shrugs. “If you insist.”
“I insist,” I tell him. “You’ve done enough taking care of me. Plus, I’ll get to know my new friend… Cass.”
“Exactly,” Cass says. “Jodi… I think we can become very good friends. We can swap stories about Edo.”
“There are no stories about Edo,” he chimes in. “Because Edo is an incredible friend and a better bartender.”
“Shoo shoo,” Cass says. “I can handle things from here.”
Edo doesn’t quite walk off, but he checks his phone and begins texting furiously to plan his next move.
“It’s the last time they have DJ Fat Camel playing here. We’ll dance, drink and later, I’ll take you home, yes?”
“That sounds good to me.”
“Well you have my number if Cass abandons you on the top of a Ferris wheel,” Edo says as he swipes four times quickly across his screen and then shoves his phone into his pocket.
Cass rolls her eyes. “I have never done anything of the sort. Get out of here you big drama queen.”
“Ciao!”
Cass and I say “Ciao!”
Edo walks down the cobblestone streets and lights a cigarette before disappearing around the corner. Cass breathes a sigh of relief and turns to me.
“I just think you’re perfect,” she says.
Weird comment to make but I mumble a gracious thank you, assuming something got lost in translation.
“Do you have friends with you?” Cass asks, taking out a hand mirror and fixing her bright red lipstick.
“No. I’m here solo tripping. Had a quarter life crisis and… here I am.”
“Do you like Italy?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Not as pretty as Greece,” Cass says. “But I agree. Shall we go in?”
“We should head to the back of the line.”
Cass grins. “My cousin owns the place. Come on, we go in through the back.”
Before I can protest, she takes my hand and we walk around a back alley that smells like trash, vomit and again — cigarettes. Cass drags me over to a door and surveys me once before touching the handle.
“Very proper outfit. Excellent. Let’s go. Ready to dance?”
I nod, even if I’m nervous. Sure, I’m trying to have an adventure tonight, but I just met this chick. How do I know she isn’t crazy? Well, she has Edo’s backing, so at least she’ll be a good time. Edo definitely knows how to have fun if his clubbing stories are even 55% true.
Cass punches in a six digit code and the back door to the club opens. I can smell the club before I hear the music and Cass drags me in through the back before I can second guess myself. What am I really doing? I don’t know this chick at all and I agreed to go clubbing with her? Is Edo’s word really enough?
Once we’re in the back door, a man appears. He’s tall, with dark brown slicked back hair, tattoos all over his arms and grey eyes.
“Cass? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Shut the fuck up, Enzo,” Cass snaps, her expression changing suddenly into a disapproving scowl. “I have business here.”
The man smirks. He’s around Cass’ height but he looks… greasy.
“Is that her?”
“Mind your fucking business.”
Cass pushes him hard so we can get past him. The grey-eyed man’s eyes land on me and he runs his hand over his jawline before snickering.
“He’s going to kill you.”
“Shut up,” Cass snarls. Enzo laughs and raises his hands in defeat.
“Enjoy your night,” he says to me in a sing-song voice. For the first time, I feel real hesitation. But Cass grabs my hand and drags me inside of the club.
Here goes nothing. Cass drags me all the way to the bar, chatting excitedly and peppering me with questions about America. I struggle to understand her accent at first, but then I get into the rhythm of her voice and it’s easier for us to communicate.
“I’ll get you a drink. Wait here. If anyone comes to talk to you, tell them you are with Cass Pagonis. That will shut them up.”
Before I can protest or offer to come with her, Cass disappears. Shit. I guess I have to wait here. I already have five texts from Edo about the hotties he met at the club a few doors over. Damn, he moves quick. I’ve been here for weeks already and I still haven’t met a heterosexual male who hasn’t been an incredibly old and excessively horny man offering for me to be his ‘African prostitute’ — offers I have obviously declined.
Cass returns quickly, before I have any time to worry with two shots, each one with some blue flavoring at the bottom.
“Okay, Jodi. This is to a long and beautiful friendship between us, starting with one crazy night, yeah?”
I nod. “Hell yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
I blurt out the last part nervously, but Cass has a way of soothing me. She just smiles and nods. “Don’t be scared! I’m a good Greek girl. Now come on… we’ll take the shots together.”
She counts us down.
“1… 2… 3…”
I take the shot — and it’s the last thing I remember about that night.
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