His to Own (Mafia Kingpins Book 1)

Sitting at the large, round table, I face the heads of the other four mafia families of New York City—The Bianchi’s, The DeLuca’s, The Caparelli’s and The Milano’s. We’re the ones in charge, the select few who run everything. Because of the agreement made between our great grandfathers years ago, we haven’t shed each other’s blood. But, right now, the temptation to do so is nearly my undoing. Starting with that rat bastard Rocco Bianche.

Trying to ignore the elevated tension and side eyes I’m getting, I finally blow. “Just fucking speak up!” I yell and slam my fist against the table.

“You shouldn’t have forced Alessia DeLucca to marry you,” Rocco Bianche snaps. “She was mine and you fucking stole her from me.”

I finally turn my full attention to Rocco and squeeze my hands into tight fists, willing my skyrocketing blood pressure to go down. “First, her name is now Alessia Rossi and don’t you forget it. Second, she’s mine and I don’t give a shit whether you like it or not.”

“She wasn’t yours! Alessia was promised to me!”

“Maybe yesterday, but promises were broken and now she’s mine.”

“Take it easy,” the head of the Caparelli family orders. He’s older, but I wouldn’t say wiser. With a head of shocking white hair and a tendency to order his enemies killed execution-style and without so much as a conversation first, I glance over at him. We are normally on the same page, but right now I wait with baited breath to see if that’s true or not. “Give it up, Rocco. Miceli laid claim before you and, knowing him, the girl probably already has a babe in her belly.”

I toss a smug smile over to Rocco who glares back at me. But, since Aldo DeLuca is sitting beside me, I don’t rub that fact in or be vulgar about it. Instead, I simply say, “It’s a possibility.”

“Move on, Bianche,” the head of the Milano family says, agreeing with us as well. “Why would you want Rossi’s leftovers, anyway?” The fifty-some year old, balding man slants an apologetic look toward Aldo. “Sorry, but she’s Miceli’s now.”

“Enough talk about my daughter,” Aldo finally says. “What’s done is done. Is it how I planned? No. Do I have to be happy about it? No. But there’s nothing left to be done about it. Nothing except apologize to you Rocco and accept Miceli as my new son-in-law.”

“I don’t want apologies,” Rocco gripes. “I wanted that virgin’s blood.”

“Too fucking bad,” I growl, my nails digging into my palms.

“Enough!” Aldo roars. For a moment, no one says anything. Then Aldo pulls in a deep, steadying breath. “However, in order to make up for what happened, Rocco, I’d like to offer my older daughter Gia’s hand in marriage.”

My attention snaps over to Aldo. Even though I don’t agree with his decision to use Gia as a sacrificial lamb, I keep my mouth shut. For now, anyway. But, I already know my Alessia isn’t going to be happy about the situation. Especially since we can all agree on the fact that Rocco is a lying sack of shit who most likely killed his last significant other. What the hell is Aldo thinking? I wonder. And why is he so desperate to remain in the Bianche family’s good graces?

“I’ll consider the offer,” Rocco says, not looking happy at all. “Even though Gia was never my first choice.”

“You should consider yourself lucky to have my oldest daughter,” Aldo says, eyes narrowing and voice steely. But, Rocco clams up fast and doesn’t say another word. The idiot knows he’s pissed DeLuca off and I’m glad. Hopefully, I can get into his good graces at some point.

“What you did was a shit, sneaky thing, Rossi,” Milano states, looking at me, and I send him an unconcerned glance, raising my middle finger.

“I took what I wanted and I have zero regrets.” I look from each family head to the next, refusing to apologize or back down. “And if anyone would like to continue challenging me about my wedding and new wife, things are going to get really ugly really goddamn fast.”

None of us is allowed to have a weapon in the meeting room, but I have my fists balled and right now I’m damn close to swinging them into someone’s face and doing serious damage. The tenuous peace we somehow manage to maintain all these years seems to be fraying a little more every day. Truthfully, I can’t imagine it’s going to last much longer.

“There are other things to discuss during this meeting,” Caparelli says, looking around the table. “Rossi, I wish you and your new wife a happy future.”

“Thank you.” The others mumble their good wishes. Well, everyone except Bianche, but I’m hardly surprised. “I think we need to discuss what happened the other night.”

“And what are you referring to?” Milano asks.

“Alessia and I were almost gunned down outside of Penn Station.” I tell everyone the story of what happened and shocked gasps fill the room. I study each man closely and either they’re all completely unaware of what happened or someone is putting on an Academy Award winning performance.

Aldo DeLucca looks sick to his stomach, knowing he almost lost his youngest daughter, and the others appear genuinely upset. Surprisingly, Rocco, too. Everyone starts talking at once, trying to glean more information about what happened. I tell them everything I know—which isn’t much—and ask for their support in tracking down this new enemy.

“If someone is targeting Rossi, he may as well be targeting all of us,” Caparelli states. Our fathers are close and I’m glad he’s always been the first to have my back.

“And if one of us is taken out, who will be next?” Milano adds. “We all know our enemies are everywhere and chomping at the bit to destroy us and to usurp our control over this city.”

“We need to work together and protect each other,” DeLucca says. “It’s in all of our best interests.”

Even though these men have the power to push my buttons, I couldn’t agree more. “Together, we’re stronger,” I state, looking over at Bianche whose face is blank.

“Yes,” Rocco says, nodding his head. “And maintaining our Italian stronghold is key.”

Finally, I think we’re all on the same page again. At least, for today. But, what I don’t say is if a single hair on my new wife’s head is touched, I will wipe out the perpetrator’s entire bloodline. Without a second thought and with zero remorse.

After the meeting goes too long, I can’t wait to get back home. I drive way too fast, park my car and hurry up to the apartment. The truth is, I missed my little wife. Ever since the moment I left her to attend the meeting, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. It’s like she’s ingrained herself into my brain and she’s always there, right at the edge of my thoughts.

When I step off the elevator, I immediately smell all sorts of deliciousness and the first thing I hear is Alessia’s tinkle of sweet laughter. Thinking she may have invited her friend Cara over, I start toward the kitchen then abruptly stop short when I hear more, deeper laughter. I stiffen when I recognize Leo’s happy rumble.

A strange wave of jealousy hits me and I walk over to the kitchen, stand in the archway and stare at the scene before me. Leo and Alessia are sitting at the island, a heaping plate of cookies between them, talking and dipping them in glasses of milk. I’m not sure whether to be angry or happy that they’re getting along so well. But there’s no denying the fact that I’m annoyed. It should be me sitting there with her. That beautiful, sunshiny smile should be directed at me, not him. Forcing back a growl, I continue to watch their interaction a couple moments more. But then Leo senses my presence and turns. But, he doesn’t look guilty or anything. Instead, he motions for me to come join them, a big smile on his face.

“Hey, Miceli. Holy hell, you’ve gotta try these cookies.”

He’s not trying to steal your wife, I tell myself and walk over to join them. He’s your best friend. I don’t know why I instantly turn irrational when it comes to Alessia, but I do. To the point where it’s starting to concern me. She unsettles me, makes me do and think crazy thoughts I wouldn’t normally.

“Hi,” she says shyly as I move up beside her. “I made lasagna for dinner.”

“It smells really good,” I say.

“The table is already set. I invited Leo to join us, but he says he can’t.”

“Nope, got things to do,” Leo announces, standing up and sending me a discreet wink. “Have fun tonight.” He slaps me on the back and heads toward the door.

“Oh, don’t forget your cookies!” Alessia calls out.

I reach for the tupperware and toss the container to Leo. “Thanks,” he says, catching it. “I would’ve been so pissed if I’d forgotten these. Best fucking cookies I’ve ever had.”

My friend walks out and I turn to Alessia. “Looks like you charmed Leo,” I say, studying her reaction.

“Not me,” she states with a smile. “It was the chocolate chip cookies.”

My mouth edges up. “So, you made dinner?”

She nods. “I figured it would be the wifely thing to do. There’s homemade lasagna from my secret family recipe, fresh tossed salad with a vinaigrette, garlic bread and cookies for dessert.”

“Wow, you’ve been busy.” I don’t ask, but I wonder if she missed me as much as I missed her.

“C’mon, everything is waiting in the dining room.”

We head into the small, formal dining area and I see the table is already set and I reach for the bottle of wine, opening it. After pouring us each a glass, I lift mine and clink it against hers. “Thank you for this. It was very thoughtful, and it all looks and smells delicious.”

“Well, let’s hope you like it after you eat it,” she jokes.

“If it’s half as good as it smells then rest assured I will.”

After my plate is full, I take a big bite of lasagna and moan. “Damn, Alessia. This is so good.”

Alessia shifts in her seat and smiles. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I don’t like it, I love it.”

My compliment makes her cheeks turn a petal-pink. “How did your meeting go?” she asks.

I hesitate, not wanting to get into it or tell her yet about her father offering Gia’s hand to Rocco for marriage. “It could’ve gone better,” I say vaguely. “But, let’s talk about you. How was your afternoon?”

“Good! I spent most of it cooking and talking to Leo. It took a minute to crack him, but once he gets talking, he certainly has a lot to say.”

“Does he?” I arch a brow, suddenly wanting to wring Leo’s neck.

“He loves you like a brother, you know, and would do anything for you.”

Shit. Okay, so I would never actually hurt Leo and guilt pierces through me. “He is like a brother.”

“He said you two go pretty far back,” she says, and I nod, biting into a piece of the lightest, crustiest bread I’ve ever tasted. So good. “I’m glad he has your back.”

“And I have his.” But, that doesn’t mean I share. So, as much as I love Leo, he better treat Alessia like a long-lost sister. “But, if he ever crosses the line…does anything inappropriate…”

“What exactly are you inferring?”

That tart tone is back in her voice and I narrow my eyes, dropping my fork on the plate with a resounding clatter. “Do you need to ask? Because if you don’t know then I’d be happy to explain.”

Pushing my chair back, I stand up and round the table. Crazy, possessive jealousy washes over me and I can’t help it, much less control it. I’m growing obsessive over my wife and I reach down, tipping Alessia’s chin up so she’s looking up at me.

“Make no mistake about it. You are my wife and I won’t tolerate unfaithfulness.”

“Nor will I from you,” she responds, blue-green eyes snapping fire.

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. And, if any man, Leo included, ever touches you or talks to you or even looks at you with lust or desire, you will tell me so I can take care of it.”

Alessia pulls her chin away from my hand and laughs. Fucking laughs.

“And what will you do?” she asks, not taking my threat seriously.

“I’ll kill him,” I state without blinking.

She instantly sobers and realizes I’m not joking. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack.”

Alessia studies me closely then lays a hand on the lapel of my suit jacket. “I don’t want you to kill anyone else for me,” she whispers. “And I promise to be a faithful wife as long as you’re a faithful husband.”

Her words stoke a fire in my belly, and I lean down and capture her lips in a hard, demanding kiss. The need to punish her for having such a perfectly lovely afternoon without me—with Leo—has me scooping her up out of her chair, shoving the dishes and plates aside, and setting her ass on the edge of the table.

“Miceli,” she gasps when I start tugging her leggings down.

“I need you. Now.”

“But—”

The word is smothered against her lips as I kiss the ever-loving shit out of and rip her panties off.

Time for dessert.