Her Mafia Boss

by Bianca Cole

  Her Mafia Boss

  Bianca Cole

  Her Mafia Boss Copyright © 2019 Bianca Cole

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Book cover design by Hot and Steamy Romance Premades

  Contents

  Blurb

  Part I

  1. Ellie

  2. Leo

  3. Ellie

  4. Leo

  5. Ellie

  6. Leo

  7. Ellie

  8. Leo

  9. Ellie

  10. Leo

  11. Ellie

  12. Leo

  13. Ellie

  14. Leo

  Part II

  15. Leo

  16. Ellie

  17. Leo

  18. Ellie

  19. Leo

  20. Ellie

  21. Leo

  22. Epilogue

  Also by Bianca Cole

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Her Mafia Boss

  I made a mistake, and now he wants to punish me.

  Everyone knows better than to steal from a Romano, but I was desperate. I was so close to getting away with it as well. I had one foot out the door, and I was hauled back into the club by security.

  When Leo Romano steps in to the office, I know I’m a dead woman. There’s no escape, they tied me to this chair and I can’t get myself out. The look in his eyes sends shivers down my spine and it doesn’t help that Leo is drop-dead gorgeous.

  Expecting the worst, I can barely watch as he walks toward me. Until he has me over his knee, I shouldn’t like it, but I do. Before long, I’m begging the crime underboss to punish me any chance I get.

  He tells me I’m his now to punish for as long as he likes, that’s the deal—I hope this punishment goes on forever.

  Part I

  1

  Ellie

  Desperation is a weakness. I should know, since I’m on the cusp of doing the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, all because I’m desperate.

  “What can I get you, sweetheart?” the guy behind the bar asks, letting his eyes fall to my exposed cleavage. He has to be old enough to be my father.

  I bat my eyelashes at him, keeping in character, although I want to punch this chauvinistic pig in the face. “I’ll have a Pina colada, please.” I twirl a strand of my hair around my finger. I always seem to attract the attention of assholes, and I’m fed up with it.

  It plays to my strengths, though—seduction and deception—two things I’ve always excelled at. Even if I often seduce the wrong fucking men.

  The bartender smirks, giving my cleavage another long stare. Before finally walking off to make up my drink. My heart is pounding in my ears, drowning out the God-awful music thumping away in the background, as I scan the club. There’s a lot of security, particularly leading into the back rooms where I need to go. It will be a miracle if I can pull this off. I have to pull it off though—my life depends on it.

  “Here you go, darling.” The bartender sets my Pina colada on the bar. “That’s five bucks.”

  I nod, digging into my purse to pull out my second to last five-dollar bill. Not that it will hurt, considering I intend to leave this place with thousands more than I came in with.

  The only way to get in the back is to create a diversion, but it would have to be something loud and distracting—enough to force the security guys to leave their posts.

  I scan the club, searching for something. My attention lands on a drunk man, swaying on a stool a few feet away from me. I swallow hard, before stepping toward his stool and pushing it out from underneath him. I feel bad for the guy, but this is life or death.

  By the time he falls to the floor, screeching and thrashing, I’m heading toward the back wall. I smile to myself as the two security guards move toward the commotion, leaving their stations. When I walked in here tonight, I didn’t expect things to go so smoothly. After checking no one is watching, I grab the door and slip inside, walking along the corridor.

  It’s almost too quiet as I step into the main office, shutting the door behind me. My heart is beating at one hundred miles an hour, as my eyes clock onto the ridiculous amount of cash. Why the fuck did they leave all of this here unguarded?

  Maybe the Romano family are getting too cocky for their own good. The cash is in bags, but it’s not like I can waltz out of here carrying one. My eyes scan the room, searching for CCTV or any other form of security. I see no signs of it, which makes this even more ludicrous.

  The Romano Mafia can't believe their name is enough to dissuade people from stealing from them. My handbag is empty and ready to stuff as much cash in as possible. I need at least eighty thousand dollars to get myself out of the shit I’m in.

  I work quickly, grabbing stack after stack of ten thousand dollar wedges. I fit sixteen of them inside my handbag, but it's all I can fit. Then, I work on putting some under my clothes, placing two inside the pouch of my cash stashing thong and one nestled in each bra cup. It may be uncomfortable, but it will be worth it.

  Two hundred grand is more than I intended to steal when I first walked in here, but what the heck? I need as much as possible to ensure I get away from Bruce without a hitch. The last thing I want is to go back to that life. All I needed was eighty thousand, but this will set me up elsewhere and give me the fresh start I need.

  I sling my handbag over my shoulder and walk toward the office door. There’s no sound outside in the corridor, but the last thing I want right now is to get caught red-handed. With a long, deep breath, I open the door and peer out into the corridor. It’s empty.

  The question is, how am I going to get back passed the guards if they are at their stations again? I shake my head, hoping they are still trying to deal with the drunk guy. My flat shoes squeak against the tiled floor as I walk along the desolate corridor back toward the club. The music is pumping on the other side of the door, as I perk my ear to listen for the guards.

  I can’t hear anything, so I take the plunge, pushing it open. My shoulders sag in relief that they’re still not at their posts. With quick, agile steps, I head away from the door without drawing attention to myself. It’s been a few months since I’ve been in the game, but I haven’t lost it.

  I scan the club, trying to work out what the best action is. The path to the exit is clear, or I can have another drink and try to blend in, remain inconspicuous. In a moment of haste, I head for the exit. The thought of sitting at the bar with all this cash makes me sick to the stomach.

  I head across the dance floor, hoping to high-hell I’ve pulled this off. I’m so close to fixing all the problems in my life and starting somewhere else with a fresh slate. I squeal as two hands snake onto my waist, pulling me to a stop.

  “What the fuck?” I say, spinning around to see a young guy smiling down at me.

  “Come on, honey, let’s dance,” he says, breath stinking of alcohol.

  I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m on my way out.”

  His gri
p slips to my hips, and he holds onto me hard, digging his nails in. “I said have a dance with me. It was a demand.”

  I writhe against him, but he’s strong. Out of sheer panic, I bring my shoe up to his crotch, kicking him where it hurts. I’m no stranger to dealing with men who can’t take no for an answer, unfortunately. He yelps, falling to the floor and holding his crotch. Everyone around us stops dancing, staring over at us.

  Great.

  This isn’t what I need right now. The plan was to get out of this place without drawing attention to myself. Instead, this jerk has drawn everyone’s attention to me.

  “Are you okay?” a man asks.

  I spin around, and the blood drains from my face. It’s one of the security guards. I give him a nod. “Yeah, he tried to force me to dance,” I say, nodding my head toward him.

  My heart is in my mouth right now as the security guy eyes me. “I’m afraid we have a no violence policy, so I will have to escort you out.”

  Holy shit.

  Is this guy going to escort me out of this place with two-hundred thousand dollars of their cash? I give him a nod. “Of course, I’m so sorry.”

  He takes hold of my wrist gently and tugs me toward the exit. My heart is thumping harder and faster than the pulsing beat of music filling the club. This is crazy and if I pull it off, I’ll go down in freaking history.

  A muffled plea comes through his radio and my heart stops beating. “Don’t let her leave.” I make that much out.

  Please tell me he’s not talking about me. The guy lets go of my hand to grab his radio. “Sorry, what was that?”

  I make a dash for the exit, knowing this is my last chance to get out of here.

  “Fuck,” the security guy shouts, rushing after me.

  I dodge a couple of club-goers, sprinting as fast as I can. I’d always been a quick runner at high-school. It has helped me out in a few binds during my thieving career—if you can call it a career. My heart races hard as I step through the exit, setting my foot on the pavement outside.

  I’m out.

  I keep on moving fast until a set of heavy hands land on my shoulders. Whoever has got hold of me, hoists me backward and shoves me up against the wall of the club. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, and I gaze up at six foot-eight of pure muscle with a shaved head glaring down me.

  A guy you definitely don’t want to fuck with. The bouncer of the club, and he has caught me. I know from one look at him there’s no way I’m getting out of his grip.

  The security guard, who had let go of me inside, rushes toward us and grabs my arm. “Thanks Enzo, I’ve got her from here.”

  The giant nods his head and moves back into his position by the side of the entrance.

  “Where do you think you are going?” he asks, eyes narrowed. “No one steals from the Romano Mafia and gets away with it.”

  I swallow thickly, as he hoists me back inside the club. There’s no use fighting. I’ve been caught red-handed, and there’s no going back once you fuck with the mob. They’ll kill you before you can so much as blink.

  At twenty-three years old, I never believed my life would end this early. Desperation can force you to do crazy things.

  2

  Leo

  The crates are stacked high, swaying as the gentle waves cresting beneath us rock the boat. There has to be at least one-hundred heavy crates of guns and drugs to unload tonight, and we need to do it quick.

  Our contact at the Philly PD has assured me he can keep the docks unguarded for half an hour. It’s not a lot of time, and it doesn’t help that the boat arrived five minutes late.

  “Where should I put them, sir?” Joe asks, straining under the weight of one of the crates by himself. He’s a stacked guy and stronger than most, as the other guys are sharing the burden between two.

  “Out the back of the unit.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Make it quick, all of you,” I say, raising my voice. I cling onto the board in my hand, as the men visibly quicken their pace, rushing faster down the ramp toward our unit.

  I continue counting the crates as a loose verification that everything we ordered has arrived. At least, until everything is safely locked away in the unit we own. Then, the guys will start the count.

  Joe also quickens his pace, despite struggling under the weight. I walk around the crates again, counting them once more, just to be certain they’re all there. The last few shipments from these guys were incomplete.

  Rick made sure some of men paid them a visit down in Mexico, even if the sellers we deal with down there are hard bastards. As far as I heard, it got messy, but it went our way.

  We can’t keep our reputation without keeping everyone in check and making an example out of the people who cross us. It’s what helps us survive this world and keep our family on top. If my father taught me anything, it was that reputation and fear are power.

  The ringtone of my phone breaks through my thoughts, and I dig it out of my pocket. The name Hector flashes on the screen, making my stomach twist. He’s the manager of one of our clubs we own to launder the money from our illegal activities. He only rings me if its bad news. “Hector, what is it? I’m dealing with the shipment down at the docks.”

  There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but we’ve had an attempted theft here at Mode.” There’s a short pause. “A woman tried to make off with two hundred thousand dollars.”

  Fuck’s sake.

  I glance back at the guys unloading the shipping containers, wondering if they can handle this alone while I deal with a fucking worthless thief. Joe is the only guy here who is relatively senior in our operation.

  “Sir?” Hector pushes.

  “I’m on my way.” I cancel the call, shoving my phone back in my pocket and walking over to him. He’s the most senior member here, but I’ve never entrusted him with something like this.

  To be honest, I don’t really trust anyone. “Joe, something urgent has come up at Mode.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I need you to deal with this shipment for me as fast as possible, okay?”

  His eyes widen slightly and then he nods. “Sir, I won’t let you down.”

  I clap him on the back and give him a meaningful stare. “Make sure you don’t. I’ll try to get back later during the stock count.” I check my watch. “There’s only fifteen minutes until this boat needs to clear out of here.”

  The blood drains from his face at my tone. It’s the first time I’ve ever trusted him with anything so important, and he needs to know there will be consequences if he fucks this up.

  He nods in response, and I turn to leave, cracking my neck as I walk out of our warehouse. The summer’s breeze is cool tonight blowing off the sea, as I walk toward the parking lot at the docks.

  This is the last thing I need right now. A theft of the magnitude Hector just described is beyond anything we’ve dealt with for a while. Anyone who tries to steal from the Romano Mafia is insane. We kill anyone, man or woman, who disrespects us.

  My Merc is parked in the disabled spot, and I get in and let my head fall back against the headrest. Talk about shit fucking timing, especially in the middle of such a huge delivery of guns and drugs. When I get my hands on this bastard thief, they’ll wish they were never born.

  I consider calling Kane to help me out and oversee at the docks, but I know he’s got his hands full with his new play thing. The guy has been off ever since he met that beautiful girl, Jasmine.

  There’s no way in hell I’d ask Rick, he’s got too much shit going on. He always has. With a heavy sigh, I turn the key in the ignition and pull out of the parking lot, turning right onto the highway.

  Mode is a shit-hole of a club, but it’s perfect for our operations. It’s busy enough not to raise any flags about the amount of money we pass through there. An attempted theft needs to be dealt with harshly, to ensure no one considers it again.

  I step on the gas, speeding up the highway to make it to the center of town.


  I take ten minutes to get there, breaking every freaking speed limit along the way. The local police know not to stop my car anyway—they wouldn’t fucking risk it.

  I pull into the parking lot and into my designated space. I haven’t been down here in a few months, most of the time it runs smoothly. Hector is a good manager, one of the best we’ve had at any of our establishments.

  I get out of the car, locking it and heading for the back entrance. Hector is there, waiting for me dutifully. “Sir, thank you for coming over so quick.” He runs a hand over his shaved head. “This woman is insane, and we don’t normally deal with these kinds of matters.”

  I give him a nod, walking in step beside him. “No, don’t worry, I’ll deal with it.” My fists are clenched by my side and the blood is pumping through my veins.

  I’m not so hung up on killing people that cross our operation as my two other brothers. It’s why I’m the underboss, dealing with the more brutal day-to-day workings of our operation.

  These people know who they’re fucking with, and they know what we do to people who cross us. They’re asking for it. Father taught me to kill earlier than my brothers, maybe that’s why I’m so desensitized to it.

  My gun is nestled against my rib cage and the cold metal of my knife against my calf. A tingle runs down my spine at the thought of using it. It’s been a while since I last had to.