Taming The Mafia Boss - Book 1

Sitting in that car surrounded by those men only reminded me of my encounter with Filippo on the night we were officially introduced as fiancés. Even though, for a fleeting moment, I almost forgot all the evil they were capable of, just by hearing them talk about how a supposed woman wasn't completely submissive.

But it was clear that was just a distraction, a way to make me fall easily into the Camorra's clutches. Their badmouthing of my father and Filippo was proof of that-they wanted me to switch sides, but that wasn't going to happen! That's why, when the car door opened, I ran.

Not that I believed my father or his allies were good people. I knew exactly who Giovanni Mancini was-he sold me without a second thought.

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

But I had to remind myself that I was now in front of Marco Falcone, known as the Demon of the Camorra, and not just as a courtesy from his men. Marco had earned his reputation, and my father had told me stories.

Right after the engagement was settled, my father called me to talk and showed me the atrocities they were committing against women seeking refuge from the war between the mafias. He told me that was one of the main reasons for my marriage to Filippo-uniting forces would weaken the Camorra.

"Ready to stop acting crazy and talk like a normal person?"

"Talk or be tortured?" I answered Marco's question with another.

His arms were wrapped around my waist, and he was beneath me. When I tripped, I braced for the impact with the ground, but instead, strong hands grabbed me, preventing me from falling onto the floor and instead landing on his solid body.

This was inappropriate in so many ways I couldn't even begin to explain. Our closeness was wrong, yet I didn't move to push him away or stand up.

"I don't know where you got the idea that I torture women, but I'd be more than happy to show you my skills," he said, sliding a finger across my cheek, brushing a strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear, making me swallow hard.

"Your torture skills?" My voice came out as a whisper while his fingers lingered in my hair.

"Yes, if you want to learn, I can teach you all the tricks of torturing someone, from the simplest to the harshest," he said. My eyes drifted from his dark gaze to his full lips. "You could be the She-Devil of the Camorra by my side."

Marco

I had no idea what those words of mine implied, but I was serious. I wanted Angela by my side, becoming the terror of our enemies, especially her father. We'd set the world on fire together if she wanted.

But she pushed herself up, pressing her hands against my chest and standing, stepping away from me instantly. From my position, I could see her long legs-they looked so soft, and I wondered if they were as soft as they seemed.

"Stop being indecent!" she shouted. As soon as she noticed my gaze, she tried to pull the dress back into place, doing her best to cover herself with the torn and crumpled gown.

She had no idea what it meant to be indecent, but I'd love to guide her in discovering the world of debauchery, teaching her every promiscuous and indecent thing.

"I don't think it's wrong to look at my future wife," I said, standing and brushing off the gravel stuck to my body, noting the damage done to my clothes-not that they were in great shape after being stained with the blood of all the guards.

"I'm not going to be your wife! Get that and any idea of us being together out of your head. It's never going to happen!"

"Angel, Angel," I shook my head, stepping closer and touching her face, brushing some dirt off her cheek, but she was quick to slap my hand away.

"Keep your hands off me and stop calling me Angel. My name is Angela Mancini! To you, it's Miss Mancini!" Her firm voice and attitude drew a smile from me. She was the perfect woman for me and didn't even realize it.

I pulled off my suit jacket, tossing it to the ground, then moved to the buttons of my bloodstained shirt, feeling her eyes watching my every move.

"Soon, I'll be calling you the Queen of the Camorra, and you'll love it. You don't understand now, Angel, but you will soon," I said, unbuttoning the last button and looking up at her, only to see she was staring at my bare chest. "Liking what you see?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Angela turned her face away, embarrassed at being caught checking me out.

"It'll all be yours as soon as you say 'yes' in front of the priest, don't worry," I said, irritating her further. "Now, let's go home. I want to clear things up before you keep getting stupid ideas about running from me."

I started walking toward the mansion, not caring if she was following. Angela must have realized by now that she had nowhere to go inside those gates.

And even outside them, if I already wanted to marry her before meeting her, now I wanted her by my side even more. There was something about this small woman that fascinated me-whether it was her strength, her beauty, or her courage, maybe it was the whole damn package.

The fact was, I wouldn't let her escape me. I'd have her one way or another, and if I played my cards right, I was sure I'd soon command not only the Camorra but have the Cosa Nostra at my feet, and her father would pay for toying with me!

I heard her hesitant steps behind me as we reached the house. Her heels clacked unevenly against the wooden floor, and I turned just in time to see her limping behind me. But Angela kept her expression hard, showing no sign of pain.

"Brother, where's Frank?" my sister asked as she approached, but as soon as she saw the other woman in a tattered wedding dress, she froze. "What happened to you, dear?"

"Your brother happened," Angela didn't hesitate to say, raising an eyebrow and looking at me with pure defiance. "But I guess I should thank the demon for not setting my wedding on fire."

She was bold, and the fear she'd shown earlier in the car was clearly gone. I wondered how long this tough act would last.

"Sorry for the joke, but you really look like you've been through hell. Why don't we find something less... less *this* for you to wear?" Melissa was quick to offer help, as always, but I had other plans for Angela right now.

"Later. For now, she's coming with me. We have some things to clear up, and I want to do it as soon as possible," I ordered, resuming my stride, knowing Mel wouldn't contradict me, at least not in front of strangers.

I heard the heels following me without complaint. We walked down the long hallway decorated by my mother with expensive artwork I didn't care about-just another testament to our wealth, like the many houses, cars, staff, and other possessions we owned.

I stopped at the door to my office, unlocked it, and held it open for her to pass through first. With a sidelong glance, she entered, limping and clutching the hem of her dress but with her head held high, showing she wouldn't be easily intimidated.

Little did she know, I already had a full show prepared to convince her of the monster her father was and that she'd be better off by my side.

"I bet your father told you some lies about me. I'm not here to pretend I'm a saint. I earned my reputation as the Demon of the Camorra because I truly deserved it. I killed for the first time at eleven, and since then, that list has only grown." Angela brought her hands to her mouth, telling me they'd kept that part from her. At least I was being honest. "Torturing my enemies became an art, and though I have people to do it for me, I prefer to handle those matters personally."

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, leaning on one foot, reminding me she was in pain.

"Because I want to be honest, unlike your parents or anyone else in your life ever was." I stepped closer, and Angela took a step back, still trying to escape me even while limping. "I don't want to lie to you and say I'm a good Samaritan." I grabbed her waist, ending the distance between us, and her hands flew to my bare chest, trying to keep me from getting closer.

I stared at her hands touching me, knowing she could feel my warm skin, while her breathing became uneven again, making her breasts rise and fall in the tight dress.

"Are you... are you going to... abuse me now?" Her stammered question made me hate her father even more for putting those damn ideas in her head.

I was certain this was part of Giovanni's plan to keep me away from his daughter, because he knew that after betraying me and giving her to another, I wouldn't let it slide.

"I could take you right here and now. I could put you on this desk, rip off your dress, and slide my hands over your soft skin until I found your pulsing pussy, desperate to be licked and then truly fucked." I slid my hands along her sides, and Angela squirmed at my touch. "I could cover your flesh with my mouth and lick you until you were screaming and begging for more beneath me. Then I'd enter your tight pussy, claiming your virginity and driving you wild with pleasure."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, shocked, and gasped when I placed my hand at the small of her back and pulled her against my chest, closing the space between our bodies.

"But I'd only do that if you said it's exactly what you want. I wouldn't do anything against your will." Her irises had darkened, and I was sure she could feel my erection. "So, Miss Mancini, is that what you want?" It took a second before Angela swallowed hard and shook her head in refusal. "Good. Then let's talk about all the women your father said I raped and tortured."

I sat her in a chair before walking around the desk and pulling a folder from the right drawer, containing the names and new lives of all the women. I handed it to her.

"What is this?"

"These are the women and the lives they chose." Angela quickly opened the folder, flipping through the pages, looking at the photos to confirm. "I didn't have to torture any of them for information. Some fled from their husbands, others from their own parents and the horrible futures awaiting them. Two of them came from one of the brothels your father owns. They all came to the Camorra in exchange for protection, using the only thing they had for a second chance: information."

"You're saying you gave these women shelter, money, and sent some to other countries as they wanted, just for information? You really expect me to believe that lie?"

"It's not a lie, little angel. Those who chose to leave were taken to the places they wanted, with new identities and some money to start over." I sat back in my chair, resting my hands on the desk. "Some chose to stay and joined the Camorra. You can meet them and ask them directly."

"And why me? What's so special about me that you'd kidnap me? I didn't ask for a second chance like those women, and you must know my father wouldn't accept a union between the two mafias, even with you taking me."

"I know that. Your father doesn't care about your well-being, or he wouldn't have handed you over to that piece of shit." I growled, unable to hide my anger at the thought of Filippo's hands on her. "But I knew I had to save my little angel from that idiot's clutches. You weren't made for him."

"And you think I was made for you?" she challenged, still not understanding.

"I'll prove it to you, darling! I'll show you that you were sent to this world to be the wife of the Demon of the Camorra."

I would do it. I would win her over and break down the barriers where the real Angela had been trapped all these years. I would turn her into her father's worst nightmare!