Dirty Game Audiobook: A Mafia Romance

They saved me. Now they own me.
Infamous Vegas mobsters. Dangerous and deviant.
They want me—mind, body, and soul…
Mafia bosses Luca and Leo Borroni say I’d be dead without them. That they spared my life. And that I’m now in their debt. Theirs to command.
The price of my survival? Participation in their game.
Their salacious, depraved… and sexy game.
Yes, all games have victors… and those who are crushed. And the outcome of this one is no secret.
We know who’ll win.
It won’t be me.
Because in the ruthless underworld that these men control, the Borronis always win.
They aren’t respected on the streets of Sin City because they’re benevolent sweethearts, and I’m no match for their wicked ways and sinister charm.
I may have survived their bloody shoot-out, but I’m not sure I’ll survive what’s next.

LUCA

Why had l let my brother drag me to Loaded Dice again? Yeah, we had business to attend to, but I fucking hated the place.
It was a shitty strip club in a shitty part of Las Vegas with a suck-up jerk of an owner and the most second- and third-rate strippers you’d ever seen.
Seriously. This was where old strippers went to die. 
Yeah, that’s a dick thing to say, but hell if it wasn’t true. Dudes hung out here because the drinks were cheap and the free buffet was always stocked. And I supposed, after a few bourbons, the girls started looking a little better.
Shit, you could come here, spend five dollars on a beer, stuff your belly with fried food, and be on your way. For some guys, a homely naked girl was better than no naked girl at all. 
And the place was nearly always packed.
But now, at nine a.m.-ish, when people in Las Vegas were either finally going to bed for the night or just getting up, there was a lull, which I’m sure was welcome by the folks that kept Loaded Dice running around the clock.
Such was life in Sin City. And it had been my life, well—all my life.
Leo and I had some shit to take care of there, so I was sucking up the second-rated-ness of the place for as long as I had to. Nothing trumped business.
Not the time of day or night.
Not shitty strippers.
Not bad food or cheap beer.
Nope, none of that.
I glanced at Leo—my twin brother, closest friend, and worst enemy—as he watched the lone dancer up on stage. The sarcastic half-smile on his face gave nothing away. He didn’t wear that expression because he was watching a bored-as-shit gyrating woman who’d rather be at home with her kids. No, he’d be wearing the same smirk if he’d just met Angelina Jolie and she knelt down to suck his dick.
He called it his poker face. I called it his resting bitch face. 
I turned to him. “Yo. That one gonna be your little missus? I can see it now, all of you around the Thanksgiving table…”
He kept his eyes on the dancer. “Fuck off.”
At least he was in a good mood.
I was the older of the two of us by five minutes. And like most elder children, I was the one who had my shit together.
Well, as together as anyone affiliated with ‘organized crime’ can be
Leo, on the other hand, was the typical impetuous younger sibling, prone to bad tempers, vengeance, and fucking anything with two legs and a pussy.
Actually, the two legs thing was optional.
But between us, we made a pretty good team.
Not that we had any choice.
On our fourteenth birthdays, our Pop had sat us down.
“Boys, you are old enough now to become part of the family business.”
I remembered this clear as day.
Leo and I looked at each other excitedly. Even though we lived in an affluent section of Las Vegas, we loved that our dad’s businesses were in the rough parts of town, dealing with and making money off the poor bastards who were down on their luck, couldn’t seem to get a break, or were just too fucked up to make a smart goddamn good decision. 
Dad owned pawnshops and liquor stores. Pretty much every teenage boy’s idea of nirvana. All the booze we wanted and tons of cool shit to fuck with in his shops.
And he was going to give us jobs there! We’d be the envy of everybody in our private school.
Actually, we already were. The Borroni twins, as we were known. Massively popular for some reason that was beyond me, we were also the smartest kids in school and known for the kick-ass parties our parents would let us throw in our basement rec room.
Lots of making out and finger fucking in the closets and dark corners, and so much alcohol that by the time I was sixteen, I decided I never wanted another drink in my life. 
Hadn’t had a drink since.
But Pop didn’t so much as give us jobs as indoctrinate us into a life we’d suspected was his, which we’d never been entirely sure how to define before then.
And this life—also known as the business—was something we were preordained to join him in. It didn’t matter if we’d hoped to do something else with our lives. We were joining the family and were warned that if we didn’t, it would mean grave things for our loved ones. Not only livelihoods would be in danger, but also lives.
There was no looking back.
Heavy shit for a fourteen-year-old, but hey, it had been like that for generations. And it would be like that for us, too.
Over time, we learned that Pop’s liquor stores and pawnshops were fronts for laundering the huge amounts of cash that passed through the casinos and other businesses he and his ‘brothers’ had their fingers in. It was complex, it was dangerous, and it was exciting as hell.
And it wasn’t without its downsides.
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