Trick or threat, p.1
Trick or Threat, page 1
Trick or Threat
31 DAYS OF TRICK OR TREAT: BIKER & MOBSTER
D WILLIAMS
Trick or Threat, 31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster
EBooks are not transferable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2025 D Williams
Edited by D Williams, and MorningStar Beta Babes
Cover by CT Cover Creations
Contents
Synopsis
Author Note…
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
The End
Chapter One - Pirate’s Plunder
Bloody Roses
Eternally Bound
Red’s Revenge
Switching
Also by D Williams
Follow me on Social Media
Synopsis
I’m the daughter of New York City’s most wanted, Costa Nova’s personal assassin. As a precaution after my birth, I was handed over to his boss to raise as his child in the public eye.
It was supposed to protect me, and it has for twenty years—until the night I’ve had enough and beg my best friend to help me sneak out for the annual Sigma Phi Halloween party.
We never made it through the night.
Now I’m the prisoner of a biker gang president, who wore an eye patch that I swore was part of his costume. When everyone around starts calling him Pirate, I catch on very quickly that I don’t have a clue what I’ve gotten myself into.
All I wanted for the night was a sweet treat, but I ended up being given two options instead. Trick my family, or he’d threaten a war that could cost me everything.
TRIGGER WARNING:
Triggers: Dub-Con, Somno, Stalking, Drugging, Kidnapping, Abusive Family, Mention of Cancer, Guns, Death/Murder
Author Note…
This is a prequel to existing characters in the
Saints Outlaw’s MC world.
Our heroine is a Mafia Princess trying to live her life as normally as possible.
Our Antihero is the President of the
SOMC NYC Chapter is out for revenge, not caring who gets hurt in the process.
Until he sees her.
This story will leave you on a cliffhanger.
Sorry, NOT sorry.
Happy Reading!
:)
PS….
The link to the next book is available at the end…
I’m not that mean.
**Some scenes overlap to make
for a seamless reading experience.**
Prologue
Italy, Twelve years ago…
Everyone is searching and worried about me. I’ve only been home from the hospital after my treatment, and I’m still weak and frail. But I’m also tired of being confined. So I let my curiosity get the best of me.
Again.
I run through the garden trying to get away from him.
Marco, my father’s primary enforcer. The other whisper stories, when they think I can’t hear them, but they’re always drunk and louder than they should be.
The Assiasan.
“GENESIS!” I whimper as I round a corner and throw myself into a thick bush and curl up into a ball.
Footsteps stop, and I strain my vision to see past the dense foliage. I bite my lip to keep from making a sound. I can just see the edge of his boots and hear the sounds of the others searching for me.
I’ve been told not to eavesdrop, but this time what I heard was bad. The worst information I could ever possibly know.
The truth.
I’m not Alfonso Torelli’s daughter. I’m his. They have all been lying to me, and when the drunk playing cards said I was starting to look like a woman and he’d have to try me out, Marco stood up and pulled a gun on him.
“Say that again about my daughter.”
I can still see the way the man’s mocking smile froze on his face when the bullet tore through his head before lodging into the wall behind him.
“So it’s true then. Does she know?” Gino had asked, staring right into my eyes with what I thought was pity.
“NO. And she never will.” Marco put his gun away and sat back down at the card game like there wasn’t a fresh, dead body lying on the floor directly across from him.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” At Gino’s words, Marco turned to the door as I fled.
“What has happened?” I hear Papa’s voice before I smell his favorite cigar.
“She knows,” Marco growls out in response.
“Ah, Chikita?” He calls out to me.
Little one.
I’m not sure he’s ever called me anything different. I trust this man more than anyone, and he’s been lying to me all my life. I may only be ten, but I have a right to know why.
I crawl from my hiding spot and glare at Papa.
“I want to know why!” I scream at their backs.
Neither of them heard me move, and they jumped in surprise.
“Your dress,” Papa clicks his tongue in disapproval while Marco’s jaw ticks.
“Don’t speak to our father that way.” He hisses, and a single tear I’ve been fighting slips down my cheek.
“HE’S NOT MY FATHER!” I scream out my frustration.
He backhands me so hard I hit the ground.
“ENOUGH. Touch her again, and I’ll cut off your hand. When you gave her to me, it was for her protection, including from you. Leave and do not return until summoned.” Papa dismisses Marco, and the fury on his face lives in my nightmares for years.
How could that monster be my father?
“Remember whose blood saved you,” Marco calls out, leaving no doubt which of the men really sired me.
And once I knew, he never let me forget. No matter how much I wished I could. That was the day my childhood died, and I was forced to grow up. The day I died inside and not from the cancer that had been killing me.
It was the day I stopped pretending I was a real princess and realized what I really was all along.
A pawn.
Chapter
One
Friday Night
Next week at this time, I’ll be on some magnificent island on a honeymoon with a man I do not love and forced to bed. This is not the night before my wedding I dreamed about.
I sit on the shower floor, letting the water rain down on me so that I can’t feel the tears.
I know my family duties. I understand the responsibilities I have to help the alliances formed through these types of arranged marriages, but what I don’t understand is why me?
I’m not even really Alfonso Torelli’s heir.
He doesn’t have one, which makes my situation even worse. I’m the one person he chose to give his name to. Which means I’m the golden goose and everyone wants my fucking eggs.
Literally.
I’m expected to pump out babies the second I open my legs, and of course, it has to be for the right man or else I’m used goods. Any child I have branded a bastard, and I become a useless woman like any other non-mafia one.
I sigh and stand. I’ve been in this shower for so long that I look like a raisin, and the water is starting to get so cold that it hurts.
I wrap myself in a robe and sit to blow out my hair. Not that it matters. Tomorrow morning, an army of hairdressers and stylists will arrive to remake me into the perfect mafia bride.
My phone rings, and I smile as I see a photo of my cousin Valentine light up the screen. She’s my best friend and closer than any sister I could have had.
“Where are you?” I hiss as I put her on speaker.
“Bitch, I had to stop for supplies. I’m coming up now. Come open your door.” I can hear the echo as she approaches my bedroom door.
Her hands must be full cause no doors in Alfonso Torelli’s house lock from the inside. You have no privacy or secrets here unless he wants you to.
I rush over and open the door and gasp.
“What is all this?” I grab as many bags as I can.
“Your bachelorette party!” She bows on a noise maker she has pinched between her lips like a cigarette.
“I thought that was for happy brides.” I close the door once she’s inside.
She lets everything fall to the floor with a dramatic shake of her arms, then lets out a sigh before promptly falling backwards onto my couch.
“Fine. It’s your death to virginity party.” I cringe.
“Ew, no. Bachelorette party, it i
“Cancel the cherry vagina cup cakes.” I shake my head at her and glance at all the bags.
“Val, who are all these party favors for? It’s just us.” I pull out a blow-up doll with a cock ring, throw game.
“What the fuck?” I laugh at all her choices.
“I figured if you have to suffer through the marriage, the least these bastards can do is suffer through the party. I’m decorating the entire mansion.” She lets out an evil laugh and kicks her legs in the air.
“Oh god. Is this going to be a repeat of my thirtieth birthday?” The memory floods my mind, and I smile.
I had been fresh out of chemo and officially in remission. No one was stopping her from throwing me my first birthday party. Alfie let her turn our staircase into a slide, just like in the movie The Princess Diaries. We mattress surfed until we broke the grandfather clock and got so hopped up on sugar we didn’t sleep for two days.
“WORSE! Because now we have booze!” She dives for a bag near my feet and pulls out two huge bottles of champagne.
“Relax, you’re bridesmaids will be here soon, so it’ll feel like a real party.” I frown.
“I have bridesmaids?” I hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with the wedding planning.
Other than picking the dress and agreeing to attend the fucking thing, I was completely oblivious.
“Yes, apparently your soon-to-be husband has a sister and cousins who volunteered. As your maid of dishonor, I took the liberty of inviting them tonight. We can get them drunk and see who the real bitches are.” I shake my head, but can’t help but laugh at how truly diabolical Val can be.
“Have you seen him?” I cringe at the thought.
“Yup, he’s handsome. But he’s a fucking asshole. You’re gonna hate me. You’ll make cute babies, though.” I slap her arm.
We’ve joked about it for years, but now that it’s here, it doesn’t seem all that funny.
“Get dressed. You’re outfit is in the garment bag.” She grabs some bags and starts yelling for maids to help her on her way out.
I hang the bag in my walk-in closet and unzip it.
“Woozer,” I whistle at the tight form-fitting dress.
It’s stunning, but I have never ever dreamed of wearing something like this. It’s so not me, and I love it so fucking much. I pull it off the hanger and frown.
“How the fuck do you wear underwear with this?” I jump out of my skin when Val answers from behind me.
“You don’t. That’s the point. When you wear a dress like that, you’re making a statement.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Oh? And what statement is that? Throw me on the floor and fuck me?” She beams at me.
“Exactly! You learn quickly. Now drop the robe. I’ll help with your zipper.” I take a deep breath and do as she says.
Five minutes later, after a lot of pulling, tugging, twisting, and bitching about sucking it in, I’m in the damn dress that came with matching high heels. My hair has dried into perfect ringlet curls, and all I need is a little makeup to complete the look.
“Smokey eye, nude lip,” Val says as she escapes to check that her instructions are being followed to the letter.
I start applying the shadows, and I’m buffing them out when she returns.
“Wooo raccoon eyes, hold on.” She takes the brush from me and tilts my face.
“THERE!” She turns me to the mirror with a flourish.
“Damn, you were always so much better at that than I was.” She winks at me in the mirror.
“Practice makes perfect. Now come on. The strippers will be here any minute.” I gasp at her.
“WHAT STRIPPERS!”
Chapter
Two
Saturday
“I hate you.” I’m hungover and trying not to throw up on my hairdresser.
“You loved me last night,” Val says way too cheerfully.
“That was so yesterday. Today I hate you.” I state simply because my brain hurts and I can’t think of anything else.
“Will you love me again if I get you coffee?” I nod, and the hairdresser curses.
“Sorry,” I whisper as Val disappears laughing.
“Heard the party last night was epic. Glad you got to have fun before all this.” Jorge has been doing my hair for years.
He’s a terrible gossip, and I take the opportunity to press him for info.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Tell me everything you’ve heard.” He glances around and then leans in.
“Your future husband is a hottie. Good enough in bed to get anyone he wants, but he isn’t faithful, babe. Has a temper and has been rumored to have ‘gotten rid of’ a few problems.” He tilts his head in a way that says ‘read between the lines,’ and I nod.
“The moms or the babies?” Cause paying the problem away is one thing, but killing them was gonna be a massive problem for me.
“Both,” he says softly, going back to my hair.
“Anything else vital?” He bites his lip and points to one of the makeup artists.
“Actively?” I ask and he nods.
So he won’t be faithful and will kill a woman who refuses to abort his child, which also means he doesn’t use protection and might bring shit home to me cause I’m expected to have his kids.
FUCK.
Val comes back with my coffee, but I’m very sober after that conversation.
After my hair is done, they move on to my makeup and nails. The nail tech must not be in the know because she’s gushing over the makeup artist’s new boyfriend.
“You two make such a cute couple. When are you gonna make it official? I love weddings, aren’t you excited for today?” She jumps from the woman fucking my fiance back to me so quickly, I wonder if she really even wants the answers or if she just needs to speak as a nervous tic.
“Neverous more than excited. Arranged marriage and all. I haven’t even met him yet. I hear he’s handsome, but has a temper, though.” I answer and then turn to the makeup artist.
“Oh, me? No, no, it’s way too early for any of that.” She waves us off and goes back to mixing my foundation color.
“The dress is here!” Val calls out as more people enter my room.
It’s a beautiful gown. One of a kind, handmade in Italy for me. I hate that I won’t be getting married in it today. I’ve known it for hours. The more I hear about the man I’m to marry, the more certain I am that I need to get away from him.
I haven’t laid eyes on him yet. He’s a complete stranger, but I will not marry anyone like him. I’d be too afraid to live with them, let alone sleep beside them. And the thought of letting someone like that into my body makes me feel physically ill.
We wait for the makeup artist and nail tech to leave before I step into my gown. It features a million tiny pearl buttons lining my spin and gorgeous Italian lace covering my breasts over a sheer nude bodice.
I’m in the custom corset and panties my fiancé gifted to me to wear under it. Once the dress is in place, Jorge makes last-minute fixes to my hair while Val touches up my lips, and then we’re ready to head to the church.
The limo ride was short, and my stomach was already twisting in knots.
“I need the restroom,” I grumble, trying to keep my breakfast down.
My guards flank me as I walk through the Church to the small hallway to the private bathrooms the priest and nuns use. They’re the closest to the entrance we used and the bridal suite.
“I’m a good guy.” I stop them at the entrance and walk down the hallway alone.
I’m just about to turn into the bathroom when I hear a rustling noise behind the priest’s office door.
“Father?” I call, but when a moan is my answer, I gasp.
OH MY GOD.
Is the priest in there having an afternoon fuck with a nun? How scandalous! I giggle to myself and turn back to the bathroom, but stop dead when I hear a female moan.
“Harder, Nico.”
No.
No fucking way! In the church?
I open the door slowly, and there he is in all his glory. Pants around his thighs. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his bowtie hanging from his shoulders.
He’s got my makeup artist on her knees in front of the priest’s desk and is holding himself up with one of his palms spread on an open bible.
