Taming The Mafia Boss - Book 1

I was lying on the grass, reading with Alessia and Enrico. The sun and the scent of the garden flowers were far better than the cold walls of the library. My parents didn't approve of me being out here with my siblings. At nineteen, I was already a woman and shouldn't be wasting my time with teenagers. In fact, they said the same to Alessia, even though she was only sixteen.

In the mafia, you become a woman at eighteen, and I was expected to act like one, especially as the daughter of the Capo di tutti capi, the boss of all bosses. My father was above everyone in the Famiglia, and his family was supposed to set an example.

That's how Lorenzo ended up dead at the hands of our own father, to serve as an example.

"When does the action start?" Enrico, who was only eight, complained as I narrated the story from the book.

"You know it's a romance; there's hardly any action here," I murmured, looking at him and ruffling his brown hair.

Hurried footsteps crossed the gravel path before we could hear Mom's grumbling as her heels sank into the grass.

"With or without action, you'll have to drop the story," Alessia said beside me, and I forced myself to take a closer look at our mother.

If she were just complaining about us lying on the grass, she would've sent one of the soldiers to drag us inside. But with her serious expression, tightly pressed lips, and hurried pace, it wasn't good news.

"What happened, Mom?" I asked before she even reached us.

Her brown eyes, identical to mine, locked onto me, scanning me from head to toe as if she hadn't seen me in a long time.

"We need to talk. Come on," she said, extending her hand-not to help me up, just an automatic gesture of hers. "He's waiting in the office."

I turned, sitting up and holding the hem of my dress before standing, making sure it didn't reveal anything it shouldn't. After all, the house was surrounded by soldiers, and even though they were loyal to my father, they still had eyes.

"She didn't do anything wrong," Enrico said immediately, running to cling to my legs.

"It's not about that. Calm down," Mom said, brushing her hand over his rosy cheek before grabbing my hand. "It's just a talk."

Even with her words, my stomach knotted. It was never just a talk, not with Giovanni Mancini. My father didn't waste time with talks. When I reached the door of his office, I paused outside for a moment. My mother sighed beside me before placing her hand on the doorknob and pulling me along with her.

"Sit down, Angela," he said bluntly. Seated behind his mahogany desk in a wide black leather armchair, surrounded by shelves of books and artwork he didn't care about but were expensive enough to command admiration.

He looked up from his open laptop and fixed his blue eyes on me-the ones only Enrico had inherited. His gray hair and the lines on his fifty-year-old face should've made him seem fragile and old, but it was the opposite. My father looked as hard as a rock and threatening.

I sank into one of the chairs in front of him and clasped my hands in my lap. My mother sat beside me, her eyes fixed on her husband.

"The Bratva is getting stronger. They've allied with the Greeks and are trying to claim our territories. They're growing bolder every day. We're lucky to have so much prestige and to be at a truce with the Camorra and the 'Ndrangheta, but we can't ignore the threat the Russians pose anymore."

I nodded silently, still confused about why he had called me here for this, since, according to him, women had no business knowing about mafia affairs.

"It's time, daughter. It's time to fulfill your duty to the Famiglia," my mother said beside me, catching me off guard, because that could only mean one thing: marriage.

"We need to put our rivalries aside and join forces if we want to fight the Russians," I listened intently, knowing my fate was about to be sealed. "With that in mind, Morreti and I decided that a marriage would be the best way to forge this bond. Filippo, his eldest son and future Capo, and you, as my daughter, must fulfill your roles."

Morreti was the boss of the 'Ndrangheta, and I knew exactly who his son was-a smug man, three years older than me, far from ready to take his father's place but who loved to give orders and act like a Capo when no one else was around.

I only knew this because my cousin Vincenzo loved to share gossip, especially anything involving some twisted kind of love or something funny. He thought it would make me like our way of life more, this world full of monsters we lived in.

"I met with Morreti on Saturday, and his son was there. They're eager for this union-Filippo, especially, to meet you officially."

He had already met with them, a meeting that decided my future, and only now was he telling me. Of course, everything must have already been arranged. After all, no one expected the bride in question to argue. All mafia women were supposed to agree and smile-that's what we were raised for.

My father's piercing gaze hit me, signaling he expected a reaction. If I could truly express myself, I'd be screaming, laughing, or calling him insane, but I could only do what I was trained to do, like a little dog.

"When will the wedding be?" was the only thing I could say, the only thing that mattered to me at that moment.

My own father was throwing me straight into the arms of my future husband. The word "husband" might mean something different out there, but here in the mafia, it meant only one thing: possession.

"You'll marry Filippo at the end of the month. We'll give you this time to prepare. Everything will be arranged. You'll be a good mafia wife, and when you meet him at the engagement party, you'll behave like an obedient young woman."

"Engagement party?" That was news. Why the need for a party if the wedding was in a month?

"Of course. It's a great way to build ties between our families and give Filippo a chance to see what he'll gain from the deal. We don't want to disappoint him."

I wanted to vomit at that, bile rising in my throat because I knew the "gain" he referred to was me. Me, who had never been kissed, who had never spent much time alone with a man, was now to be paraded before my future owner.

"When?" I cleared my throat, but the knot remained. "When is the engagement party?"

"This Saturday!"

Two days. Two days until my engagement to a man I'd never met. I nodded sadly, unable to do anything more.

I loved reading romances, and whenever the characters got married, I'd imagine what my own wedding would be like. But I could never dream of it-it wasn't mine to dream about. I was born knowing that one day I'd have to marry for the Famiglia. And now, that time had come.

I stood before Giovanni Mancini, the Capo of the Cosa Nostra, hyper-aware of his every move. After all, I knew he was capable of many things.

The last time our people met was two years ago when we sealed our truce to focus on our common enemies. Back then, my father was still the Capo of the Camorra. Now, that title was mine, and the matter at hand was even more urgent.

"The Russians are forming alliances, marrying, and uniting their organizations. We can't just keep attacking them only for them to send more men the next week," I said calmly and directly, my fingers interlaced on the table, projecting a composure I didn't truly feel. After all, we were still enemies, even under a truce.

"I agree with you. I've heard they're making ties with the cartels and planning to join forces with the Japanese. We can't let that happen, or it'll be an even bloodier war," Mancini replied.

At least he was sensible. I knew Giovanni was ruthless, unafraid of wars or new challenges. He would do anything to put the Famiglia first, so I hoped today's matter would be resolved quickly and easily.

"That's why now is the time to extend this truce, uniting the Camorra and the Cosa Nostra, expanding our territory and firepower!" I declared, catching him off guard. His gray eyebrows shot up, showing he hadn't expected this. "A marriage. We'll unite our people with a sacred union that will bear children, the fruits that will seal the future of our empire."

"Marriage? And who would marry?" he asked, seeming genuinely intrigued. "You're the Capo and at a great age for marriage, but your brother would also be a fine match for this deal."

Nero shifted slightly behind me, likely uncomfortable with the idea of marriage since he had a genuine aversion to relationships. I shared the sentiment-any thought of being tied to one woman made me want to claw my eyes out-but these times called for drastic, even uncomfortable measures.

"I'll be the one to marry, Mancini. I'm proposing to marry your daughter!"

He narrowed his eyes, studying me while I kept my expression neutral, as if this were an everyday matter. But the truth was, I had planned everything, weighing all the pros and cons.

I couldn't deny that seeing photos of Angela Mancini helped me make that decision. The woman was a vision-delicate, beautiful, with eyes that seduced despite the innocence she exuded. I was eager to meet her, to be close to her, because everything I'd uncovered about her wasn't enough to truly know who Angela was. It was just crumbs about the Capo's daughter.

"And you expect me to hand my daughter over to you, so you can take over our entire organization as well?" he accused, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frank slide his hand inside his jacket, where I knew my second-in-command carried weapons and knives.

"Are you accusing me of trying to double-cross you, Mancini?" I asked, deepening my tone and letting him draw his own conclusions about what would happen here if he didn't choose his words carefully. After all, we were on my territory.

"Don't misunderstand me, but that's what it looks like. Angela is my firstborn, but one day everything should pass to my son, not my daughter's husband. You're influential, with a lot of power, and could sway everyone in your favor."

"I didn't call you here for that. If you don't trust your men, that's your problem, not mine. What I'm proposing is an alliance, a union to win this war and expand our territory."

Giovanni stared at me in silence, pushing my patience to the limit. I knew he didn't care about the girl. Angela was of no use to him beyond a good marriage, and I highly doubted he'd marry her to someone outside our dark world.

And that only led me to think he was scheming something else, plotting a plan in that dirty little mind of his.

"I'll discuss it with the council," he said finally, standing and extending his hand toward me. "I'll give you an answer by tomorrow."

I shook his hand and nodded in response before he left the nightclub's office. The door closed, my men returned to their posts, and I finally let out a breath, slumping carelessly into the chair.

"Do you really think he'll talk to the council?" Frank asked while my brother poured us each a shot of whiskey.

"He will, but it's definitely for another reason. I'm almost certain Giovanni will make this same proposal to another organization just out of spite," I muttered, grabbing the glass and staring at the amber liquid, so similar to Angela's eyes.

Her name evoked an angel, matching her appearance, while I was seen as a demon-the most feared and bloodthirsty man in the Camorra.

"I'll alert our informant," Frank said, leaving to ensure the new information reached us.

"You could make this proposal to other organizations too," my brother said, slumping into the chair Giovanni had just vacated. "Why not propose it to the Japanese before they ally with the Russians? Or go straight to the Bratva-a blonde wife wouldn't be so bad."

I smirked at him, taking a sip of the whiskey. Yes, I could do that, but it wasn't what I wanted. I had no interest in alliances with the Russians beyond hatred, not at the moment. Though Nero's idea wasn't bad, my focus was elsewhere.

And it didn't take two days for our suspicions to be confirmed. Our informant provided Mancini's location, confirming he had gone to meet with the 'Ndrangheta bosses.

"He'll pay dearly for this. He'll wish he had accepted my deal," I growled, watching the bastards part ways after sealing their agreement.

"You know he hates us, ever since our father killed his during the war," Nero said.

"It was war, Nero. What did you expect? People die on both sides. He shouldn't be so prideful as to be this foolish," I said through gritted teeth. "We're going to take her. We'll steal Angela Mancini from right under their noses, on her wedding day."

"Have you lost your mind, Marco?" my brother pressed. "Make the same proposal to the Bratva, marry a Russian, and make them suffer!"

"Maybe you should listen to your consigliere," Frank said from the front seat as we watched them leave. "Let them think they've won, and we'll come back even stronger."

No! I couldn't let them hand her over to that worm. The little angel would be mine. Soon, she would be Angela Falcone, carrying my name and showing everyone she belonged to me.

"If you're so sensible, marry a Russian yourself. I'd be more than proud to make that deal in your name, Nero," I said, my final word. "Prepare for the attack. We have one month to plan everything, and I don't want any mistakes."

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the dress my father had insisted on choosing for me. In all my twenty years, I had never worn anything like it. I was almost certain that my childhood clothes were more modest than this dress.

"Angela looks like a prostitute," Alessia muttered, still leaning against the wall.

My mother sighed, looking at me with disapproval, but she had contributed to this circus, overdoing my makeup in a sensual and provocative way. My eyes were painted with dark shadow, and my lips were marked with bold lipstick, drawing more attention than I ever had.

"Your sister is a Mancini; she'd never be mistaken for a prostitute," my mother said, giving me one last look.

I highly doubted that, dressed like this, I wouldn't be mistaken for a prostitute. After all, my father had made me wear this tight, low-cut dress to show Filippo what he'd gain from the marriage.

I was disgusted by it all, disgusted with myself for letting myself be handed over like this, so compliant, without fighting or resisting, just letting myself be displayed like one of the women who stripped at the nightclub I knew my father and his men frequented.

The only difference between them and me was that I was being forced to do this, would receive nothing in return, and could only do it for my husband-a man I didn't even choose.

The red dress hugged my hips and waist, ending high on my thighs, leaving my legs exposed. The top had a deep neckline that revealed much of my breasts, forcing me to go without a bra, with only the dress's built-in cups supporting them.

My hair was let down in waves, cascading to the floor. I wished I could wear something more modest.

"You look like a woman," Enrico murmured, staring at me with confusion, and that alone could make me smile in this situation.

"I am a woman, Rico. What did you think I was?"

"No, you were my friend. Now you look like a boring grown-up woman."

I laughed, smoothing the fabric again, wishing it would somehow stretch to cover my thighs, at least down to my knees, but that wasn't going to happen. Tonight was my exhibition, and if my father wanted, I'd be wearing a damn bikini.

"Trust me, boring is the last thing the men downstairs will think of our little sister," Alessia said, finally stepping closer and appearing beside me in the mirror's reflection.

"This isn't for the other men. None of them would dare look at her with ulterior motives!" my mother interjected. "This is for Filippo. Your sister is just showing that she's a woman-beautiful, sensual, and confident, proving she's perfect to be the wife of a future capo."

I was sure Filippo would like it. My cousin had texted me about my future husband's promiscuous life-a bastard who went out with more women than was respectable. The man was no good, but what could I do? Even my father acted like that, keeping a long line of mistresses despite being married for so many years and having so many children.

"Here," my mother said, handing me a pair of high-heeled sandals. Without arguing, I slipped my feet into them, with Alessia helping me tie them around my ankles.

Mom forced a fake smile and looked at me as if she approved of what stood before her, when we both knew that wasn't true.

"Mom..." I said hesitantly, but she stepped back, heading to the door and opening it.

"Let's go. It's time. We can't keep them waiting any longer," she said. I moved out of the room, followed by my siblings as she led the way. "I'll enter through the side with your siblings. You need to appear alone. Your father will formally introduce you to Filippo, and then you'll have a few minutes alone with him."

"What?" I asked, stunned, because they hadn't told me that part.

How wonderful-dressing me up like a slut and throwing me into a room alone with a man who was supposed to approve me as his new acquisition. I couldn't even imagine what he might do to me.

"Calm down. You won't be alone for long. We'll be waiting for you in the dining room," she said, placing her hands over mine in solidarity with my trembling. "He'll probably kiss you. Don't pull away, daughter. He's your fiancé from the moment your father introduces you."

"Mom, I've never kissed anyone in my life!"

"He'll like that. He'll be happier to be your first! Just please him, let him do everything, and when you feel ready, respond." I opened my mouth in shock, unable to believe this conversation was actually happening. "Remember what's at stake tonight. Don't challenge him and risk ruining the deal. Things could get very ugly."

For a moment, I wanted to grab her hand and beg her to stay with me, to not leave me alone with that man, but instead, I sighed and lifted my face, pretending to be tough.

"Good luck!" Alessia shouted as Mom dragged her down the hallway toward the living room.

I stood there in front of the door, my heart nearly leaping out of my throat, thinking of a thousand and one ways this night could go wrong, how this marriage might not happen, and especially how many different ways Filippo could kiss me and be crude.

Men's laughter echoed from behind the door-my father and my future husband, in a room full of the most powerful and dangerous men in the country, and I was supposed to walk in. A lamb alone among wolves.

Without thinking further, I grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door. Even before stepping inside, I could feel the eyes on me. Without looking at anyone in particular, I walked a few steps, my movements faltering, until my father appeared in front of me.

The conversation had died down; the laughter stopped. Everyone just stared at me. He took my hand without a word and led me further into the room. As we passed the crowd, I saw my mother talking in a corner with other mafia wives.

When my father's steps slowed, I turned my eyes forward and came face-to-face with Filippo. His piercing gaze left me frozen. He scanned every curve of my body in a lascivious way, as if undressing me, then set down his whiskey glass before approaching.

I quickly scanned the faces of the gathered men, all staring at me as if they'd never seen me before-and maybe they hadn't, not dressed like this.

"This is my Angela!" my father announced, as if everyone didn't already know, and placed a hand on my back, gently pushing me forward.

My father studied Filippo's face, looking for approval, as if expecting him to fall to his knees in admiration. But seeing the raw, filthy desire on that jerk's face made my stomach churn.

I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I had never been subjected to so much attention. The way Filippo looked at me sent shivers down my spine.

"You didn't exaggerate when you said little Angela had grown into a beautiful woman," Filippo said, licking his lips and stepping closer, taking my hand and planting a kiss on it.

I couldn't believe my father had said those things about me to him, offering me up like an expensive piece of meat he was buying.

This was about the war. He should be happy about uniting and gaining a better chance against the Bratva, but apparently, they only cared about me.

"Why don't we leave the future bride and groom alone for a few minutes?" my father announced with a smile, and my heart raced.

I looked around for any objection or comment, but everyone began leaving the room, including my father, who smiled triumphantly. Alessia and Enrico were the last to leave, pulled along by my mother, and then the door closed behind them, nearly making me jump.

"Good to finally be alone with you, little bride," Filippo said, circling me, assessing me. "I've been dreaming about this all week."

His hand slid over my backside, and I jumped, stepping away from him, shocked by his boldness, knowing everyone was in the next room. Filippo curled his lips into a sickening smile and took a step forward, closing the distance. He grabbed my waist, holding me tightly against him before lowering his face toward mine.

His lips touched mine, and the smell of alcohol invaded my nostrils, making me gag. Before I could process his body so close, his mouth, his scent, his tongue forced itself against my lips, making me even more nauseated.

"What's wrong? Open your mouth, little bride!"

"I... I've never kissed before," I mumbled, embarrassed, hoping that would make him go slower.

"That's going to be fun, but don't worry, I'll teach you everything I like in bed and train you to please me." He brought a hand to my chin, gripping it tightly before rubbing two fingers over my lips. "Open your damn mouth." He forced two fingers inside, making me part my lips, and shoved them in. "You'll be perfect for swallowing my cock."

Disgust overwhelmed me, but I remembered what my mother said-I couldn't do anything that might start another war tonight. So he leaned in again, replacing his fingers with his repulsive tongue.

I stood there, waiting for it to end, but Filippo had other ideas. His hand on my waist grabbed my backside, and I protested, trying to pull away as his fingers dug into my flesh. His other hand slid over my chest, tracing the neckline of my dress, and fear gripped me about what he might do next.

I shook myself free and pushed my hands against his chest, shoving him away until I broke free from his mouth.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, stepping back further.

Before I could get far enough, Filippo grabbed my hand and yanked me back against his chest with force.

"I'm touching what's going to be mine!" he growled, sliding his hand over my body again, seeming to enjoy my discomfort. "I want to see you try to escape me like this when we're married. You'll be mine, and I'll do whatever I want with you."

That only made me more nervous. Then he let me go, shoving me carelessly, and reached inside his suit jacket. For a ridiculous second, I thought he might pull out a gun.

But instead, he took out a small black velvet box and opened it with a bored expression while I watched his movements. He pulled out a solitaire ring with a large diamond-an engagement ring.

Filippo grabbed my hand and forced the ring onto my finger, pushing harder when it felt tight, not caring about the pressure. For a moment, I thought he might break my finger.

"Thank you," I felt obliged to say, even forcing myself to look at him, though the same couldn't be said for his eyes. They looked furious.

"Proof that you'll soon be mine. I just have to wait until the end of the month!" he said, extending his arm. I forced myself to take it and let him lead us out of there.

I should've been relieved that we'd be surrounded by other people, and he wouldn't be able to touch me inappropriately. But how long could I delay this? As the bastard himself said, I only had until the end of the month before I'd be declared his, losing any right to my own will.