His to Own (Mafia Kingpins Book 1)

As the day passes and evening approaches, my obsession with making Alessia DeLucca mine grows from a small fire to a raging inferno. I’ve always enjoyed a good challenge and never backed down or shied away from anything that was difficult. So, that’s how I’m viewing this situation—as the ultimate challenge.

Do I deserve her? Maybe yes, maybe no. That’s not the point. Hell, I am no angel and I’ve certainly done my share of bad things. But I had to in order to stay in control and on top. The moment you show weakness in this world I live in, an enemy will come out of the woodwork to stab you in the back then slit your throat. It’s brutal and ruthless and, in order to survive and thrive, you need to be willing to do whatever it takes.

This isn’t about whether I’m deserving, though. What it boils down to is I need a wife eventually, and I want Alessia now. I’m drawn to her innocence and feel a potent chemistry. And what I want, I always get. However, her parents aren’t exactly cooperating. The fact that Aldo immediately shut me down really sticks in my craw. He should accommodate my wishes, not annoy me. Plus, I have that pain in the ass Rocco Bianche to deal with. Prick.

Drumming my fingers on the large, dark wood desk in my corner office at the winery’s headquarters, I sigh. I’m used to getting my way. Sometimes it takes a little persuasion or even greasing some wheels, on occasion. But, I don’t have the time or patience for that right now. Rocco is sniffing around my woman, trying to steal her away from me.

And that isn’t acceptable.

Jerking up out of my leather chair, I stalk over to the enormous window, cross my arms and look out over the Manhattan skyline. I run so much in this city, but it doesn’t belong solely to me. And that irks me. Out of the Five Families, the Rossi’s deserve it all. Supreme control. We help maintain the peace, work incredibly hard and keep everyone else in line. And it’s not an easy job.

But, if I had the total respect and control I should, that I’ve fucking earned, then Aldo DeLucca would be jumping up and down with joy and gratitude, welcoming me as his new son-in-law. But, no. The old bastard is challenging me. Denying me.

Dropping my arms, I clench my fists. Aldo is going to learn the hard way that I don’t take no for an answer. I’m going to come up with a plan to make Alessia mine, get her away from that asshole Rocco, and marry her.

I figure I have two options. One, I could eliminate Rocco so they can’t get married or two, I could seduce Alessia and make her mine. Taking her innocence and possibly knocking her up would seal the deal real fast. Aldo would be begging me to take her off his hands then. Debating between the two, I think the more logical solution would be to seduce Alessia. I’d rather not have Rocco’s blood on my hands because it would break the truce and most likely cause an all-out war between the Five Families. Besides, I felt Alessia’s attraction and the intense chemistry between us. Luring her into my bed shouldn’t be that difficult. And it’ll be a helluva lot more enjoyable than hunting Rocco down and killing him.

Mind set, a plan begins to form. But, I have no patience. With thoughts of Alessia’s long, dark hair and stunning blue-green eyes in my head, I decide to leave work early—something I rarely, if ever do. If I leave the office before seven, it’s a miracle. And even then I’ll get home and keep working on my laptop or have a meeting that I need to attend.

A billionaire mafia man’s work is never done. And it’s important I keep my eyes on everyone surrounding me at all times because no one can be trusted. They’d usurp my throne in an instant. Today, however, at six o’clock, I stand up, grab my briefcase full of endless papers and reports and sling it over my shoulder. Instead of calling down to my driver to pull out in front and wait for me, I give him the rest of the night off. My personal SUV waits down in the garage below and I plan to drive myself tonight. Because, well, what I’m about to do is highly embarrassing and I don’t need any witnesses.

The elevator takes me straight down to the subterranean garage and I walk over to my Range Rover, pressing the key fob to unlock the doors. I like to keep several different cars so no one will know which one I’m in or what one I’ll use. Sometimes it seems a little silly, but better to be safe than sorry. I’m not a man who likes to show his cards. A little mystery will keep ‘em guessing. It will also keep me safe.

The engine roars to life, I pull on my seat belt and put the car in drive. With evening traffic, I anticipate it will take me a while to get from the Financial District all the way up to Central Park where the DeLucca’s live. Which is perfect because then the sun will have set and I can sneak around under the cover of darkness.

Sneak around. I shake my head. I’m not sure what the hell is going on up in my brain, but I’m desperate for a glimpse of Alessia. It’s like this weird obsession has come over me and I need to see her. Since I can’t exactly walk up to the door and talk to her like a normal person, I’m resorting to the next best thing—stalking.

Technically, I wouldn’t classify myself as a stalker quite yet. It’s still too early for that messy label. But the desire to see her is overwhelming. So much so that I’m about to sit in an hour or so of traffic that is crawling along at a maddening pace. I’m not sure how my driver stands this shit. But I take comfort in the fact that I pay him exceedingly well.

By the time I reach the DeLucca’s brownstone, my stomach is growling because I didn’t have time to eat lunch earlier. I pass by the home and it’s lit up like a Christmas tree. Pulling aside, I wait, parked illegally, to see if someone is going to vacate a parking spot any time soon so I can snag it. Parking in this city is a bitch, but I find that people are coming and going all the time. If I’m patient, a spot eventually opens and then I’ll snap it up quickly.

Exactly three minutes later, a sedan pulls away from the curb almost directly across from the DeLucca’s house. I hit my gas pedal and zip over. In one smooth move, I parallel park the large car, turn it off and focus my attention on the house. The curtains are all open on the first floor and I lean forward, my nose practically pressed to my tinted window, as I search for a glimpse of Alessia.

Pathetic? Maybe. But ask me if I give a shit.

The longer I watch the neighborhood comings and goings surrounding the brownstone, I definitely begin feeling like a first-class stalker. And, the longer I sit here and the more people that pass by make me wonder if I’ve lost my everloving mind. I have never done anything like this before but, even after telling myself to leave, I don’t move. I fucking can’t. Because I still haven’t seen my sweet girl yet.

After what feels like forever, movement on the first floor catches my eye. From my position, it’s hard to see exact details and I’m beginning to wonder if I should get some binoculars.

Oh, hell. No, I tell myself, you aren’t doing that.

There’s something kind of exciting about waiting for a glimpse of Alessia. Like an addict about to get his next fix. However, like all highs, this one eventually wears off. Over an hour and a half later, I haven’t seen her—not even a glimpse—and I’m starting to get annoyed. What did I expect, though? A clear view straight into her bedroom? Getting lucky enough to see her stand in front of the window and look out? A glimpse of her undressing? Seeing that soft, creamy, naked skin of hers?

My dicks thickens, pressing against my zipper. With a groan, I adjust myself and my stomach growls again. A quick glance at my watch and I see it’s getting late. I need food and it’s probably best if I just go home. I’m not exactly good at this stalker thing and I’m not even sure what else I can do.

You could kidnap her, a little voice whispers.

The tempting thought fills my head and I’m actually considering it when I see a car pull up at the end of the block. There’s a rideshare light glowing through the back window, but I don’t think too much of it. Deciding it’s time to leave before I do something incredibly stupid, I turn my car on, fasten my seatbelt and see a small figure sprint up and emerge from between the DeLucca’s house and their neighbor’s place.

Squinting through the darkness, I notice that the figure is slight and I immediately conclude it’s a woman. Her head is covered in a hood and it’s pulled low to hide her features. But the moment she steps beneath the street lamp, the light lands on her and I can just make out Alessia’s delicate bone structure.

Attention glued to her every move, I watch as she jogs down to the corner and slips into the Uber. She’s also carrying a small duffel bag and my heart lodges in my throat. Where is she going? I wonder.

Deciding to follow the Uber, I pull away from the curb and keep my distance, but still remain close enough so I don’t lose them. All sorts of questions plague me and I’m beyond curious. Where is she running off to?

Then a very disturbing thought hits me. What if she’s going to visit a lover or her boyfriend? My gut clenches with anger and jealousy. Maybe she isn’t as innocent as I’d originally thought. Biting down hard, I follow them and realize we’re heading back downtown again. The blocks zip by and traffic is much lighter now because it’s getting late. After what feels like forever, the Uber pulls up in front of the entrance to Penn Station.

Huh. Of course, there’s nowhere for me to park, so I do the only thing I can. Act like a crazy man, throw my car in park, turn my hazard lights on and jump out. “Alessia!” I yell and she spins around, eyes wide in shock.

Hurrying around my SUV, I step onto the sidewalk, heading straight toward her.

“Miceli?” She blinks in surprise. “What’re you doing here?”

That’s a damn good question. I can’t exactly tell her I was sitting outside of her house and then followed her here.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, deciding to keep it vague.

“Okaaay,” she says, drawing the word out, her sea-blue eyes large and so damn pretty.

“Where are you going?” I arch a brow, studying her closely, and instantly see the guilt wash over her slightly flushed face.

“That’s not really your business,” she states, turning cool.

I disagree, but don’t bother saying so. Instead, I step closer. “Will you come with me? So we can talk?”

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” she insists, and for the first time it occurs to me that this situation—that Alessia—might be more difficult to manipulate than I’d originally anticipated.

“You’re wrong. Because Rocco Bianche isn’t the right man for you. You can’t marry him. I won’t let it happen.” I don’t care if I come off as arrogant or bossy. She needs to come with me and listen to what I have to say. I glance over at my car, double-parked in the busy street. Preferably, she comes with me before I get a ticket from a passing cop.

“You’re right. I’m not marrying Rocco.”

My stomach jumps at her revelation. “No, you’re not. You’re going to marry⁠—”

The word “me” gets cut off when I notice a quick movement from the corner of my eye. But it’s not normal movement like a passerby. My gut tells me it’s a threat and I react accordingly.

The car with blacked out windows slows to a stop and a man jumps out. His lower face is covered in a bandana and he locks eyes on us. When he begins to approach, I spot the gun in his hand right away and dread washes over me. Spinning, moving on instinct, I lean down and reach for the pistol tucked in the ankle holster I always wear. At the same time, the man picks up his pace, lifting his weapon.

Fuck. Without thinking, I dive forward, crashing into Alessia and we roll across the pavement. Yanking her behind a vendor cart that sells pretzels, I shove her down behind me, using my much-larger body to cover her. “Stay down!” I hiss, lifting my weapon.

Shooting a gun on a busy sidewalk full of pedestrians isn’t something I’m eager to do, so I wait. Apparently, I’m the only one who thinks this is a bad idea because the asshole stalking towards us fires off one…two…three shots.

Panic sets in and people scream and run for cover. Luckily, the shots only hit the cart. Still though, it’s too damn close for comfort and I need to get Alessia out of here. Needing to stop this asshole, I fire off two quick, carefully-aimed shots. One hits him in the leg and the other slams into his chest, bringing him down.

Without a word, I stand up and close the distance between us with a few, long-legged strides. He’d gotten far too close and we barely averted disaster. All I can think about is this bastard just tried to cut me down, but I’m used to this kind of shit. It comes along with the territory. Alessia, on the other hand, didn’t ask for any of this and the idea of her getting hurt, caught in the middle of a gunfight, fills me with a red-hot rage.

Stopping beside the groaning man, I kick his side hard enough to crack ribs. Then I raise my gun and put another well-placed bullet in him. This time, in the center of his forehead.

When an enemy comes after people I care about, I don’t hesitate to eliminate them. And with zero fucking mercy.