Twilight Mask – Enemies to Marriage Mafia Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
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The new enemies to lovers mafia romance novel with lots of steam and plenty of masks from bestselling author B. B. Hamel.

I just slept with a man in a mask, and I might marry him.

I first meet the masked man at an art gallery opening where he nearly drops me off a roof.

Now I can’t stop obsessing over his thrill-seeking games, and I fall hard for the way he makes me feel alive.

Except the man behind the mask is Marco Vitale, former Capo of my family’s greatest enemy. He’s back from the dead to get revenge for his fallen Don.

Marco’s gorgeous and brilliant, and we spend our nights hiding who we are and playing twisted games of sin and pleasure together.

Until we can’t stay in the shadows any longer, and all our truths and all our lies come out into the light.

My father ruined his life, and now he wants to ruin mine.

We’ll have to decide between family, revenge, lust, and honor.

And I’m not sure I’ll survive when my masked man takes what he wants.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Laura

Iadjust my heavy ceramic mask and keep reminding myself that nobody here can see my face. That’s keeping me calm, but just barely. The horns make the whole thing sag, and I really regret adding them, especially after my sister, Elena, told me they were a bad idea. But once I had she-demon-goat-devil in my head, it was really hard to turn back, and now here I am sporting foot-long ram’s horns that curl inward and are covered in intricately carved patterns.

At least I feel like a badass.

The room’s surprisingly packed. I figured some people would show up—Club Cage is renowned in Chicago as the most exclusive and exciting social club for the rich and powerful—but not this many. My brother Angelo reserved the entire second floor, which wasn’t a big deal since he owns the place, and now it’s jammed with beautiful women with peacock feathers sprouting from their faces and men with lion’s manes and simple black Zorro-style silk with the eyes cut out.

My sculptures dominate the space. Anxiety runs down my spine every time someone pauses to stare. Hands creep up from the floor, some of them grasping, some relaxed, some missing fingers and others splattered in blood. Tongues lounge around them like distorted, massive worms. Modern tongues and hyper-realistic tongues and geometric tongues and more. I try not to listen to what the guests are saying, but I catch snippets of conversation anyway.

“…not sure I totally get it, but I gotta admit, they’re gorgeous…”

“Freaky as hell. Totally freaky.”

“I’d love to ride that finger. Oh my god, or that tongue? Like getting mouth-fucked by a giant.”

“…talent, pure, raw talent, even if the sculptor must be a little disturbed.”

“I’m buying this one. Where’s my husband, he’s got my checkbook. Darling? Darling!”

And on and on, to the point that I make myself drink a glass of champagne, even though I haven’t had alcohol in public since I was a teenager.

I lurk at the edges of the room. Nobody bothers me because nobody knows I’m the artist. I made sure Angelo didn’t tell anyone, which is the only reason I agreed to show up, that and the masks.

I’m slightly agoraphobic. Not full-on terrified of stepping out my door, but social situations make my spine turn to liquid fear, and this was the only way I could imagine ever showing up to my own art debut. I honestly didn’t think Angelo was going to make it happen, but my brother pulled out all the stops, and from what I can tell this is actually pretty successful.

“How you holding up?”

I look over and a man wearing a simple black mask with a long bird-like nose stares back.

“Counting down the seconds until it’s over.”

Angelo laughs and posts up beside me, arms crossed over his chest. “Come on, it’s not that bad. You’re enjoying yourself.”

“I’m miserable. This is what hell must be like.”

“They like it, you know.” He nods at the crowd. “Some people are freaked out by the tongues, but that’s good, right? You want them a little uncomfortable.”

I shrug and don’t answer. I’m not really sure what I want out of my art—only that I’ve been obsessively making tongues, fingers, hands, mouths, noses, and ears for over ten years now, and I don’t know how to stop. I’ve never really cared about how an audience would react.

A woman wearing a sleek navy-blue dress comes over and hangs onto Angelo’s arm. Claudia’s mask is lacy and delicate, a lot like her. Angelo bends down, lifts up his bird beak, and gives her a light kiss.

“We just sold another one,” Claudia says, beaming. She works closely with Angelo at Cage and is practically a second owner at this point. They aren’t married, and everyone keeps asking when they’re going to tie the knot, but neither seems in a rush to get it done.

“Incredible. Hear that, Laura? You’re going to be rich after this.”

“I already was.” I tilt my head and take a deep breath. “How many of them are gone?”

“Almost all of them.” Claudia sounds bright and cheery like that’s a good thing. “I think there’s a finger and a tongue left. But maybe it’s two fingers? I can go check if you⁠—”

I shake my head and start walking away. “That’s okay. I’m getting some air.”

“Are you okay?” Angelo takes a few steps and looks like he wants to follow me. I stop and face him, staring hard.

“I’m fine, and if you don’t turn around and go back to your wife or girlfriend or whatever she is, I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

Angelo barks a rough laugh. “Yeah, you sound like you’re totally fine.”

I wave him off and stalk away, feeling guilty, but I can just throw that emotion on the freaking fire. I’m a mess and I’m barely holding it together, and all I want to do is get some air right now.



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