Deception (The Chicago Mob Series)

Chapter One: Introductions

   DIANA

   When you're undercover, lies become your life. You learn to master the art of deception, and you learn to master it well. It doesn't matter if you have to sell your own damn soul to tell those lies; if necessary, you give them up in a heartbeat.

   Maybe that was always my mistake.

   "Wear the red dress tonight," he said. "The Givenchy."

   I watched as Julian DeMarco put the black tie around his neck in front of the mirror, dressing for the formal event we were to attend. I didn't know what it was about him that had me specifically intrigued this time—his usual mysterious demeanor had been replaced by a more eager one this evening. Calm, but eager.

   He always did like to tell me what to wear. "Did you hear me?" he asked.

   "Yes," I replied softly from the bed. My hair and make-up was already done, with the exception of the color of my lipstick. The short silk robe I had wrapped loosely around me was all I had to cover my body. "Are you sure it's appropriate, though? It's a wedding, Julian. That dress is more for an upscale party or a gala. I don't want to seem like I'm trying to steal the show from the bride."

   "I want the woman I'm with tonight to turn heads," he replied, not even looking away from the mirror. "Let everyone stare in awe of the beauty on my arm. They've all been wondering what the hell you look like, anyway."

   It was a big night for me. I was finally going to attend an actual event the rest of the Chicago Outfit would be at. I knew just about every single face of the upper three fourths of the crime syndicate's hierarchy from studying them before going fully undercover, but tonight I was actually meeting them in person for the very first time.

  "Yes, I'm sure all the females there are waiting for me to show my face," I murmured sarcastically. I heard him chuckle at that.

   "You don't need to worry about them. Most of them are married."

   Yes, but had that stopped him before?

   "Single or not, I'm sure they'll all be disappointed when they realize I'm not just a myth," I replied. I caught his smirk as I walked past him on my way to the closet, receiving a hard smack to my ass a second later.

   Julian DeMarco never let any woman close to him. The earth's tectonic plates shifted when the Mafioso told me I was moving into his penthouse to live with him over a month before. It had only been five and a half months since he first noticed me at his brother's nightclub. Now I was sleeping in his bed every night.

   DeMarco never waited or asked for anything. He always took charge and made the moves and decisions himself. I should know. After my first night sleeping with him—which was the very same night we met—he was waiting for me inside my apartment the next day when I arrived home from work. There he was, Julian DeMarco in all his glory, in an expensive-ass suit, looking just as handsome as he looked the night before, standing in my small kitchen, eating my bag of potato chips like he lived in the God damned place.

   But that's a story for another time.

   "Are you sure it's okay that I'm going?" I asked again as I entered the walk-in closet, going for the red Givenchy dress with the deep V neckline and the high slit.

   "It's a wedding," he replied. "Dozens of people who know nothing real about us will be attending."

   "Yes... but I'll be there with you."

   The Chicago Outfit did not accept outsiders very often. In fact, they were very strict on not getting involved with someone who wasn't already connected to the family somehow. But catching the attention of the ruthless mob's handsome underboss was a sly advantage I had, and being able to actually keep his attention meant that I knew how to do my job well.