Marcello: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Mob Daddies Book 1)

by Alexa Hart

  Arriving at his giant estate, I felt familiar waves of anticipation drowning out every other emotion. Marcello wasted no time escorting me inside, gingerly removing my coat and placing it on a golden, antique wall hanger. He paused, studying me fervently.

  “I’m sure Marta is already putting Gia to bed,” he spoke mindlessly, walking towards me slowly. “Come.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the staircase.

  I hesitated, trying to grasp at the foggy reasons why I had stayed away from this man. Surely, they still mattered. Surely it couldn’t be this easy to just –

  “Abby, I love you,” he brought me to him, gently forcing my face up. “I love you, and I know you love me. I know you do.”

  I could hear the fear in his voice as he began to realize that I could still, even now, back out. His jaw flexed, waiting for my response. I put a finger to the dull mark on his forehead and traced its length.

  I suddenly realized that perhaps I had abandoned him at a moment where he very much needed me. Marcello had broken my heart, but I had returned the same. All this time I had spent avoiding him – refusing to even answer a phone call, and he had been trapped in the same hell that I myself was enduring.

  And it had changed nothing. It had stopped nothing. I loved him now as much as I ever had before. I wanted him – needed him – craved him just as fiercely. It hadn’t waned in the least. My love for him was coursing through my body so strongly that I was trembling uncontrollably.

  And the baby – we had made a baby. We were going to have a baby. He was happy that I was pregnant.

  “I do love you. I love you so much,” I admitted, tearing up slightly. I pressed my lips to his, kissing him furiously, as though my body were angry and greedy for the weeks of this passion that had been wasted. That was all the answer he needed. Marcello swept me up in his arms like a feather and carried me up the stairs.

  That grandiose, larger-than-life bed was awaiting us with all the magical promise of everything that had already taken place in it, and everything that was about to. And this time, fittingly, we were lovingly undressing each other.

  Marcello emitted a hungry little growl when I was down to my bra and panties. “You and black lace. My God.” He lifted me onto the bed, and I could tell he was balancing his fire with the fact that I was pregnant and, in his mind, “extra fragile”.

  “Marcello?” I whispered sweetly, pulling him on top of me and slightly digging my nails into his magnificently muscled biceps. “You can’t hurt the baby with sex. I’m not gonna break.”

  His eyes flashed feverishly, and he slowly pinned my arms above my head. His mouth met my breasts with a nearly violent mania, and I writhed with pleasure while he reclaimed them – biting and sucking with a carnal, ravenous appetite. The pregnancy had made them so extra-sensitive that I let out a happy moan when his teeth gently found my nipple. By the time he was done with the first I knew I was going to come, and come soon. While he annihilated the other, I felt my body falling into that ecstatic contraction that grew into a near-convulsion of pleasure as the come exploded from my body, making me scream in orgasmic satisfaction.

  Before I had even finished completely, he was entering me with his powerful shaft, and piercing me with strong, solid thrusts that brought delicious roars from his throat with every lunge. I felt him pulsating inside of me and growing into a colossal, throbbing beast. He was so deep – so deep – and I felt myself beginning to climax – again – with painfully desperate heat.

  The euphoric cries of rapture as we peaked together echoed off the walls with blissful elation. Marcello collapsed on me, kissing my neck, my face, my hands, my breasts; and murmuring over and over “I love you - I love you.”.

  I felt peace. I felt like I was finally exactly where I belonged. The pure, untouchable happiness that came with that feeling put me in a trance. Marcello rolled onto his back, also seemingly dazed. We lay like that until he reached for something and presented my ruby necklace, which had apparently been fixed.

  He smiled devilishly. “You know at some point, you’ll probably be in trouble for refusing to wear this.” My insides quivered hungrily. “But for now, I suppose I’ll give you a pass.” He said this as he fastened it around my neck, and then lay his head by mine, putting a hand on my bare stomach gently. “How many weeks?” He asked suddenly.

  I smiled at him, sheepishly. “Eight? Or I guess nine now...” Seeing him caress so tenderly what was not even a slight bump yet on my body brought happy tears to my eyes. “You’re really okay with this?”

  The look in his eyes then was that same intense burning that I had mistaken for displeasure in the car when I first told him. “Abby, I’m not sure there’s anything that could make me happier than having you, and a baby I made with you, and Gia all under the same roof.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to live here?”

  He pulled me against him, bare breasts softly pushing into his equally bare and solidly muscled chest. “Yes. I do. You will.” He had that same confident possessiveness in his tone that somehow always made me delightedly crazy.

  “The doctor thought the conception date was Christmas Day,” I offered, smiling a bit wickedly, remembering the lustful activities that had taken place that particular evening.

  “Christmas? Hm. Well I guess we have our first name idea,” he replied, chuckling.

  Laughing now, I couldn’t help thinking that this was one of the most endearing moments between us thus far. Marcello thinking of baby names. It was adorable. “I’m not sure any child would ever forgive their parents for naming them ‘Christmas’.”

  He laughed too. “Well it is Valentine’s Day now, so... What’s your deal with holidays, Miss Greene?”

  I grinned, running a finger down his forearm, tracing the letters of his tattoo and feeling a very sudden and unwanted memory of the fear I had felt when Rossi left my apartment that night. My grin disappeared and I quietly whispered, “Blood, fire and death before betrayal...” and then turned my gaze up to Marcello’s piercing eyes.

  “It scares you?” He queried, smoothing my hair down my bare back as he loved to do.

  I nodded. Transparency, it seemed, would be the only road that we could go down together from here on out. “It does,” I said quietly.

  Marcello looked so beautiful then – a mixture of sincerity and love and fierce protectiveness beaming out of him. “It speaks of the deep, unbreakable love amongst family. You are my family now, Abby. It means I will never, ever, let anything happen to you, or the baby, or Gia,” he spoke the words slowly, firmly, and with a deep, ardor filled fire. Leaning in, he kissed my forehead and once again cradled my face in his palms. “It should never scare you. It is a promise. It is the way I love.” Kissing me then, pulling my body on top of him in one smooth motion so that we were skin to skin, and locking me in with those eyes – those charcoal pools I had fallen for the very first time we met – he spoke the words that I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting to hear for my entire life. “Abby, I will love you forever.”

  I knew it was true.

  Nothing else mattered.

  THE END

  Also by Alexa Hart

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  He’s the boss in the office AND the bedroom. Whatever he says goes.

  There are two things I wish I’d known before taking my first job as a legal associate at a top NYC firm.

  1.Despite graduating at the top of my class, I would still be expected to fetch coffee for powerful senior partners.

  2.My billionaire boss is drop dead gorgeous and should be avoided at all costs.

  The second one is the kicker.

  He’s a known workaholic, ultra-rich, total alpha male, looks good enough to eat…

  But I never want to be accused of sleeping my way to the top.

  Hell no! I’m a damn good attorney and I’m here to prove that.


  One brilliant idea later and I working side by side with boss hottie.

  And let’s just say… we make a great team.

  Boss Hottie is a standalone romance full of over-the-top alpha hotness, thrilling suspense and one very unexpected bundle of joy. Ready to be dominated by the boss?? HEA Guaranteed!

  Chapter 1

  Sophia

  Here’s the thing law school doesn’t teach you about being a female lawyer: the majority of the time, your superiors want one of two things – to steal your ideas, or to look down your top while you’re giving them the ideas they will later steal. At Carter and Jackson LLC, things are no different; I graduated top of my class at Columbia Law, and still, here I stand in the brightly lit associate lounge making coffee for a nondescript and unenthusiastic senior partner.

  “Hey Soph, afternoon blues?” The sweet voice of my favorite colleague, Maya, pulls my attention from the too-many options on the office Keurig. She is gesturing to my mug.

  “It’s for Aaron,” I sigh, stirring in cream until the liquid turns a perfect almond-brown. Maya nods knowingly, both of us sure we’ve never seen a male associate asked to get coffee for a partner. After finishing my own cup, I step aside for Maya to tinker with the machine, sipping the hot liquid for a moment of reprieve before returning to Aaron’s steady and probing supervision, which is not always focused on my work.

  “Are you ready for the meeting?” I ask her, both trying to make conversation, and trying to steady my own nerves. The terrified look in her eyes as she glances up at me answers my question.

  As lawyers, we tend not to scare easy; this is new territory for the both of us. We are two of the five associates who have performed well enough in our class to earn a seat observing the senior meeting. Once a month the company’s namesake, Michael Carter, sits down with the senior partners to discuss the upcoming high-profile cases, and assign them. Mr. Carter was one of two name partners, until he bought out his counterpart a few years ago. Not only does he own the controlling share of the company, but he is, in his own right, filthy rich. A combination of a good pedigree, and a lack of interest in almost anything but working. Though I’ve never had a conversation with the man, his reputation proceeds him for being both abhorrent, and drop dead gorgeous.

  I nod at Maya’s silent answer, resigning myself to a morning of nervous preparation, and make my way towards Aaron’s office to drop of the coffee.

  “Thanks darling,” Aaron smirks at me as I hand him the now lukewarm drink. I flash him a warm smile, and a nod.

  “Do you need anything else? I was going to go prepare for the meeting.” I keep my voice even and firm as I speak the words I know he finds incredulous. Dropping his ballpoint pen to the desk, the mid-forties man sits back in his chair to look me up and down; slowly, and deliberately. My fingers gently scramble at the edge of my black pencil skirt, and it is all that I can do not to run from his violating gaze. Pursing his lips, the senior partner finally speaks.

  “Prepare what?” I swallow the bile in my throat, using the condescending question as a chance to remind him why I got this job in the first place.

  “I’ve memorized all of the upcoming cases in question, but I’d like to brush up on some of the relevant case-law.”

  “You’ve memorized them? All of them?” Aaron raises a graying brow at me, and I nod firmly.

  “Bleaker v. The State of New York.”

  “Fifth Amendment Just-Compensation Clause. Bleaker is looking to purchase a piece of land to demolish the housing there and subsequently develop it into a mall. The residents wouldn’t vacate, so he petitioned the state to invoke their right to evict them with compensation. The state refused, and now Bleaker is fighting on appeal.”

  I can’t help but smirk a bit at the shocked look on Aaron’s face. I’ve never worked on the Bleaker case, but I like to stay well informed on every case every senior partner is working on, just in case.

  “Ok,” he resigns, almost with an air of approval in his husky voice. “Go, prepare.”

  I thank him sincerely, and rush off to the firm library to do just that. By the time 3 o’clock rolls around, I am an expert on every case. I glance at my rose-gold watch. 3:04. The meeting begins promptly at 3:15, so I have a few minutes to primp. Gathering my papers, I stop in the women’s restroom on the way.

  I try not to wear too-much makeup at work. Usually I’m so tired at the end of the day that I resent having to scrub it off. Today is different; I woke up bright and early to sip my coffee while painting my face, just slightly, to give the illusion that I’m not a sleep deprived workaholic. A touch of black mascara surrounding my almond shaped coffee-brown eyes, a bit of blush and bronzer to frame my already-prominent cheekbones, and a dab of lipstick. The rosebud color does a lot for me, I’ll admit. I don’t often to refer to myself as pretty, or beautiful in any sense, because I’d like to think that my looks aren’t my greatest asset. Although Aaron’s ever-present stare disagrees. Splashing a bit of water onto my long fingers, I smooth down the stray bits of my straight hair. It’s light coffee color matching perfectly with my eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, I step out of the women’s-restroom-haven, and make my way towards the conference room.

  A few people are already present when I arrive, but Mr. Carter is nowhere in sight. I take a seat at the far end of the room, against the wall next to Maya. Our conference room, like most other rooms in the building, holds a glass wall on one side, and a floor-to-ceiling window on the other, granting us a breathtaking view of the New York City skyline. The floors are soft corporate style carpeting, which dulls the sound of my stilettos, but lends a small degree of hominess to the room. I have just taken out my notebook when the room goes silent around me. Glancing up, I see why.

  His reputation is right, Mr. Carter is more than just good looking, he’s beautiful. There is a dusting of black shadow along his sculpted jaw and his matching black hair is swept up from his forehead, not high enough to be a frat boy, but not low enough to be going to supercuts. A couple tantalizing strands hang loose from the style, brushing across his skin. That’s not what makes my breathing hitch, though, because a few inches beneath the perfectly sculpted hair, is the bluest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. They survey the room, clearly taking note of who was smart enough to arrive before he did. I swear I catch his gaze pause on me for just a moment, but it is gone before I have a chance to be sure.

  “Well, let’s begin.” Unbuttoning the black jacket of his designer suit, Mr. Carter leisurely takes his seat at the head of the table, listening intently as one of the partners outlines the 6 cases we will be discussing today. Five involve corporate law – our firm’s specialty. One is a real estate case. In the entire history of Carter & Jackson, we’ve only taken on four cases that aren’t corporate. My whole body hums with curiosity as we make our way down the list to the case in question.

  The partners rattle on about each one, obviously trying to impress Mr. Carter. They argue about Anti-Trust laws, and the best way to handle corporate mergers, until being silenced by his final say on the matter. His velvet voice is strong, and intimidating. I almost jump from my seat with each new sentence he speaks. Currently, Aaron is arguing with one of the other men about some mundane tax code.

  “You’re both wrong. Because the absorbing company is based overseas, that code doesn’t even apply. What am I paying you for?” The small outburst causes me to jump slightly in my seat, and his blue orbs catch me. I feel my cheeks go red under his curious gaze, causing his lips to upturn into a satisfied smirk. Great, I’m glad my severe discomfort amuses him.

  We finally move to the last case, and I can feel his eyes catch me every few seconds. There’s a few moments of discord about the merits of taking a real estate case pro bono, before Mr. Carter makes it clear it’s not up for debate. They drum over the best approach for at least 20 minutes, each person bringing up a new idea only for him to shoot them down in some demeaning and condescending way. I turn the case over and over in my he
ad, wanting so badly to speak, but knowing it isn’t my place. Finally, after what feels like forever, Mr. Carter pipes up.

  “Is this the best we have? No one has any better ideas?”

  “I do.” My lips let the words tumble out without consulting my brain, and everyone in the room freezes, turning to shoot me daggers through their eyes. I squirm under the attention, but Mr. Carter motions for me to go on, almost amusedly.

  “We’re approaching this case as a single civil suit,” I begin, boldly using the word ‘we’, “instead, we should track down each of the other tenants, past and present, who have had similar problems with the company. We assist them in filing their cases alongside Mrs. Thompson, and we overwhelm their defense fund. It’s tantamount to a class action case; the legal fees alone will bankrupt the company. They’ll have no choice but to settle.”

  I hear a few sighs from the partners, annoyed that I had the audacity to speak up, even more annoyed that my input is viable. Mr. Carter scrutinizes me with his clear-blue gaze, making me sweat under the weight of the evaluation. For a moment, I can almost see a ghost of a smile grace his lips before his voice rings out in a final declaration.

  “No.”

  My cheeks burn as Mr. Carter bluntly reminds me that, as an associate, my job is to observe and nothing else. Shortly after the meeting draws to an uncomfortable end, the room filled with palpable tension, and most eyes on me. I fight the urge to voice my discontent, standing curtly to leave with Maya close on my heels.

  “Just shrug it off, he’s an ass to everyone.” Maya comforts me as we reach our cubicles, safely out of earshot. Her kind words only serve to fuel my frustration; a lump in my throat threatens to bloom into tears without an outlet for my anger. I pass her a small smile, sitting quietly to finish my work for the day.

  When I finally shrug my coat on to leave, I walk past Mr. Carter’s office with my chin high. Forcing my expression to remain unbothered, I feel his probing gaze on me through the glass separation. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a backwards, unsure glance as I leave for the night.