Having already escaped one scandal, however, she can hardly afford to be swept up in another.īesides, even if he were hers, everyone knows you don’t fall in love with a Made Man.

Elena may be the Sweet Abelli on the outside, but she’s beginning to learn she has a taste for the darkness, for rough hands, cigarettes, and whiskey-colored eyes. Making her feel hotter than any future brother-in-law should. She doesn’t like the man or anything he stands for, though that doesn’t stop her heart from pattering like rain against glass when he’s near, nor the shiver that ghosts down her spine at the sound of his voice.Īnd he’s always near. After his and Elena’s first encounter ends with an accidental glare on her part, she realizes he’s just as rude as he is handsome. His reputation stretches far and wide and is darker than his black suits and ties. A Made Man, a boss, a cheat-even measured against mafia standards. In the murky waters of New York’s underworld, Elena’s sister is arranged to marry Nicolas Russo. They say first impressions are everything. Now, all she can see in the mirror’s reflection is blood staining her hands like crimson paint. She’s the favored daughter, the perfect mafia principessa. Nicknamed Sweet Abelli for her docile nature, Elena smiles on cue and has a charming response for everything. She’s chaos embodied, not his type, and married, but none of that can stop his eyes from following her wherever she goes.Īll along, she doesn’t even know that she’s his-his frustration, his fascination.'She’s a romantic at heart, living in the most unromantic of worlds. Nowhere in Christian’s plans had he ever prepared for Gianna.

She hates him-his stone-cold demeanor, his arrogance and too-perceptive eye-but over the years, even as their games consist of insulting each other’s looks and intelligence, she begins to live to play with him. One winter night and their lives intertwine. With a proclivity for order and the number three, he’s never been tempted to veer off course. Christian Allister has always followed the life plan he’d envisioned in his youth, beneath the harsh lights of a frigid, damp cell. In the New York underworld, others know him as a hustler, a killer, his nature as cold as the heart of ice in his chest. Most see a paragon of morality a special agent upholding the law. Little do most know it’s just a sparkly disguise, there to hide one panic attack at a time. She laughs too loudly, eats without decorum, and mixes up most sayings in the book. Her dresses are too tight, her heels too tall.

The Sweetest Oblivion by Danielle Lori