Umberto: Mafia Romance (Andolini Crime Family Book 3)

by Coco Miller

  UMBERTO

  A Mafia Romance

  Coco Miller

  COCO MILLER ROMANCE

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  Copyright © 2019 Coco Miller

  All rights reserved.

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  License Note

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

  Contents

  Books By Coco

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue

  Also By Coco Miller

  Books By Coco

  Big City Billionaires

  Faking For Mr. Pope

  Virgin Escort For Mr. Vaughn

  Pretending for Mr. Parker

  Red Bratva Billionaires

  MAXIM

  SERGEI

  VIKTOR

  The Overwatch Division

  WYATT

  ASA

  CESAR

  Andolini Crime Family

  CARMINE

  GIOVANNI

  UMBERTO

  Introduction

  Caution: The gangster in this love story always gets what he wants, even if he has to take it.

  I’m Victoria Holt. Former heir to an empire, current broke college student, and prisoner of Umberto Bova—one of New York’s biggest mafia dons. I’m not who he thinks I am, and I’m going to fight to keep it that way. Even if he is one of the hottest and best lovers, I’ve ever had. Even if I am his captive.

  I’m Umberto Lorenzo Bova. As a mafia kingpin, I’ve made enemies by the dozen and committed unspeakable acts, but I always seem to get what I want. Tonight, the thing I want the most is a beautiful girl I found escaping the cold weather inside a New York coffee shop. She doesn’t know that she stopped me from killing a man. She doesn’t realize that there’s nothing that can stop me from making her mine. I always get what I want. Even if that means kidnapping her.

  Chapter One

  Victoria

  Being a poor college student stinks. Being a poor college student without a boyfriend sucks even more. It’s especially hard when your roommate (aka hoebag) brings home a new guy to have sex with every night, and you are stuck out in the hallway to study. Like I’m a nerdy stray cat, she can just toss out of the house at her leisure.

  To top off this train wreck, I’m Victoria Holt, former heiress to Holt luxury hotels. I’m trying to lay low during my years at college because I want people to know me for who I am and not for who my family is. Holt Hotels is a well-known brand with more than five thousand hotels worldwide. We were once famous. Now we are infamous.

  I didn’t grow up wanting for much, but I did grow up having to work for my family. In the early days, before things really blew up big for my mom and dad’s company, I used to help dress beds and clean up rooms. As a teen, I worked counters checking in guests and even as a lifeguard for the pools in the summertime.

  I’m not a stranger to working like an average Joe, but after my family was offered a hefty sum of money to be bought out as the owners of the properties, things changed drastically at home for us. For one, my parents, who had a rocky marriage, to begin with, thanks to all the stress and time spent on building the hotels up as a brand, got a divorce not too long after.

  This was also part of the reason why they decided to sell and split the money. But after that, things only got worse. My father made several really bad investments and lost a huge chunk of his wealth. Then he became a heavy drinker and spent the rest of his fortune on high-stakes gambling.

  To make ends meet he’s now a janitor in a local high school even though they constantly write about him in the tabloids and the paparazzi still tirelessly follows him around. They are trying to get a glimpse into the ‘fallen’ former owner of the world’s most exclusive hotel brand’s lifestyle as a blue-collar worker. In other words, the press loves to document my father’s downfall.

  He even did a stint on a reality TV show with one of those pseudo doctors who look like they actually give a damn as they talk to celebs about their sobriety and life choices. That money went fast too, and he never finished the program. After the cameras quit rolling, that so-called doctor didn’t give a damn about my father, and we never heard from him again.

  My mother made slightly better choices but still never lived up to the name she was once proud of. She spent most of her money investing in a beauty care line created overseas. Sadly for her, it failed miserably thanks to all the negative press surrounding my father, even though they now have two different last names. No one trusted her. She couldn’t get her products placed in stores and this was before Instagram ads, so there weren’t enough customers buying.

  The fact that both of my parents more or less wasted their fortunes meant there was nothing left when it came time to pay for my college. I am not some rich kid celebrity who has had everything handed to them and tried to look normal by flinging myself into some university to get a degree in liberal arts or history or some other dumb shit like that. No offense, but if the shoe fits, wear it. I’m actually serious about becoming a doctor.

  I want to build a name for myself that is strong enough, so if anyone were to ever speak badly of me or my name, they’d know it was all a lie based on my reputation, not my family. I want to help people and be a good woman. I want to stand on my own two feet. But currently, I am locked out of my damn room and sitting in the loud ass hallway of the dorms as I try to cram for a test I have early in the morning.

  This is one time in my life that I wish I could actually pull clout and use my name. Too bad, my name doesn’t have as much power behind it as it once did. Where it used to demand respect and meant people listened to my every word; now it is synonymous with what not to do for the rich and famous.

  I’ll be honest with you. My roommate is such a bitch, and there’s nothing I can do about it unless I want to sit in there and listen to her fuck a new guy every night. Which I absolutely do not want to do. Obviously.

  On top of all of this, I am starving to death. I think the last time I ate was two years ago. I’m not even kidding. I’m trying this new diet I heard about called intermittent fasting, and it means I have to fast for like twelve hours or something between meals.

  I honestly feel like my stomach is eating my other organs. I am that damn hungry. My friend from biology class swears by it though, and she definitely has the body to prove it must work, but shit, I am a hungry little mess. I’m so hungry I would eat stalks of celery, but even that is not allowed during the fasting period. I think 97% of all foods are not allowed on this diet, truthfully. It sure as hell feels that way at least.

  Thankfully coffee is allowed. I scoop up all of my books and my bag and sling them inside the door, and then head off to the place that funds me this great slab of carpet in the hallway, AKA my job, at the local li
ttle coffee shop near my school. That’s right; I make coffee to earn my way through life.

  I make money honestly and thankfully working there means throwing on a baseball hat and being able to hide who I am. The owner is super trendy AKA weird and makes us all wear name tags with fake names she creates for us. I’m actually thankful for it, honestly.

  My name at work is Destiny. I had to laugh a little the day she pinned the badge on my lime green apron. But in truth, No Tea No Shade— I love that name—makes me feel like I have something to live up to.

  It’s freezing outside already. I’ve always loved New York but damn the cold weather in the Fall and Winter makes me dream of white sand beaches and iced fruity drinks to sip on under the heat of the summertime sun. I have on a sweater dress and leggings with flats, and baby, that does little keep out the bone-chilling air whipping around me. I didn’t think to grab more than this or my coat before I was basically tossed out of my dorm, though. It will have to do.

  I have to walk past my former stomping grounds just make it to the coffee shop. The hotel I grew up in is decorated beautifully in festive bronze and red colors as I pass by, recalling the memories of my childhood. I look back at it, remembering all the good and bad times I spent there as I stroll by it. It was the first hotel we ever owned and ran ourselves.

  My father used his inheritance from my grandfather, who was a farmer in his day, to buy it. He’s long gone now, but he had left my dad a hefty sum that he had saved up his entire life. It’s a pity to know that it has all been for nothing. It’s something that I can’t quite forgive my father for just yet.

  It feels like he has just let so many of us down. I pray for him every Sunday in church. I also pray that one day it will actually work, and God will hear me and save him from himself. But until then, I’m on my own to deal with things.

  The front door of the coffee shop is decorated in fake snow and a big fat snowman on the glass of the door. The owner who will only answer to her chosen name ‘Starbright’ says we can only put snowmen on the door because it’s wrong to objectify people and by ‘people’ she means Santa Clause—a made-up character.

  The woman is just way too damn extra, but she’s also sweet and pays me to work for her, so who am I to judge. At least her brand of crazy is protecting people, even if they are made up of fictional beings from children’s stories. It’s still better than the alternative.

  I thank God once I’m inside the warm space of the coffee shop and hurry to the counter to grab a hot cup of coffee. My favorite girl to work with is here. She’s this little redheaded Irish girl who is barely five feet tall but takes shit from nobody. She is a little badass, and we get along like sisters.

  Her birth name is Racheal, but in the shop, during working hours, she is ’Glimmer’. I know, it sounds ridiculous, but the girl owns it. I can’t hate on her at all. She even started wearing liquid eyeshadow with glittering flakes and matching lip gloss just to make a statement about it. I about died. Starbright thought it was a real moment, telling her she is finally becoming ‘her true self '. Ha. Whatever the hell that means, beats me.

  Glimmer sees me and brightens up.

  “Hey Victoria girl,” she says with a big smile. She has on electric blue gloss and shimmering eyeshadow today and against her fiery red head of hair looks like the damn Fourth of July.

  I don’t say anything though. She can look any damn way she pleases. The way she kind of pulls it off, makes me a little envious of her too. I’m more of a natural pallet type of chick. I like my bronzers and highlighters. If you can call a bright yellow highlighter natural on my skin, that is. A fierce red lip moment is about as brave as I get with my look, and that is usually reserved for special occasions, not every day latte-making wear.

  “Hey, Racheal. How’s it going today?”

  “I’m gonna take a stab and say my day is going better than yours. Roomy kick you out for the D again?”

  “Girl, I’m about ready to go old school and literally drag a bitch out of that room.”

  Racheal laughs. “You could always come and stay at my place.”

  “You have fifty cats and no windows in that cell you call an apartment. Plus, it’s way too far from campus. You know I like to sleep in a little on cold mornings. I’d never make it to class on time.”

  “True,” she giggles. “But the offer is there if you need it. Until then, how about I make you a pumpkin spice latte?”

  “Ugh, I’m still on that diet. I need something full fat, no sugar.”

  “I can hook you up.” She smiles and gets to work. “You look great, by the way.”

  “Thanks. I hate losing weight though. I mean, I love it, but the first thing to go is always my boobs and butt. And girl, I need those things.”

  “Haha, can’t relate. I’ve always been the Tin Man.” She models her super flat board-like body that is like a teenage boy rather than a woman in her 20’s.

  “It works for you though.”

  Someone behind me clears his throat. I quickly swivel my head to see what the hell is up. It’s a man with a black button-down shirt pushed up to his elbows and a grey tie looped perfectly around his thick neck. The shirt clings to his frame, accentuating every muscle on his firm body.

  “Sorry,” he says, “I just couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I wanted to say that I think both of you ladies would be any man’s dream girl.”

  Racheal laughs. “Oh, baby thanks, but this girl only likes girls.” She winks at him, and his grin grows wider. “Sadly Victoria does not, so I can’t have her. Keep hitting on her though. She needs someone. Bad!”

  “Racheal!” I warn, cutting her to bits with my stare. Realizing that we’ve just both used our real names out loud and not our barista names.

  The mystery man turns to me. “I’m only offering a compliment.” His voice dips low. “But if you want more . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence, and I raise my brow.

  “You’d be willing to give me what? The promise to be my boyfriend, and your number? Is that what you’re suggesting? Damn mister man, we haven’t even had coffee yet.”

  “Maybe we should then?”

  Chapter Two

  Victoria

  I scoff at hot guy’s offer, but honestly, I laugh at it too. I’m actually giving him snaps for going there so bravely and boldly with me.

  Who is this guy? I mean, really? He’s pretty damn good looking I’ll give him that. And he smells just as rich as his watch suggests he is. I bet he never gets kicked out into the hallway or out of anywhere. I bet he owns more than most of the people he meets in a day.

  He could probably buy me.

  What the hell am I saying? This man isn’t even my type. It must be his hypnotic gaze. He has expressive chocolate brown eyes seem to melt as we stay staring at each other in the middle of the coffee shop. That I work at.

  Damn it.

  Get it together, girl.

  I clear my throat as I try to snap back to reality, pulling myself from his powerful stare. I take a deep breath and say more confidently, “I’m not looking to hook up with anyone for any reason right now. I’m focused on school, and that is all. But thank you. I think.”

  The hottie smiles. “What are you studying?”

  Racheal slinks up to us and holds my arm. “Why don’t you two find somewhere more cozy to sit, and I’ll bring you some coffee?”

  “Listen here little miss Glimmer . . .” I start to protest, but the hot guy offers his elbow, and I stupidly take hold of him.

  I’m instantly regretting my choice once I do because daaaaamn he feels good. Just holding on to his freaking elbow has me catching feelings. Mostly in my Victoria’s Secret panties. But still. Feelings are feelings.

  My swollen bud comes to life as we walk to the table. Between listening to my roommate get her freak on every night and getting hit on for the first time since never, I think my body is overreacting to his presence.

  Mystery man pulls my chair out for me to sit before ta
king the seat right next to me, pressing his large warm male frame up against my petite shivering body. He notices and rustles around until he finds his coat on a rack near the door, stepping back over to me to wrap it around my shoulders. Then he starts to rub his hands up and down my arms, so the friction warms me up. Like a gentleman straight out of a sweet Disney fairytale or Nicholas Sparks movie.

  Racheal brings us over our steaming mugs of coffee and smiles hugely before she trots off. I look over to my mystery man, and he seems just fine sitting here, sipping coffee with a total stranger.

  I imagine a man like him is probably used to getting things his way. He reaches forward and grabs his mug, flashing his sparkling designer watch again as he brings the cup to his lips. His jawline could cut glass. He has dark hair shading his cheeks and chin with just the right amount of stubble. Maybe two or three days at best of not shaving. I really like it. My lady parts like it even more. Like I said, I’m horny as hell.

  “So…what’s your name?” I ask him.

  The man swallows, and then wipes his mug with a napkin like he’s erasing his mouth print on the lip of the mug.

  “My friends call me Enzo, but I was born Umberto Lorenzo Bova.”

  What a beautiful name.

  “Are you famous or something?”

  He looks like an actor.