Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  Widening my eyes. I gulp at the sight in front of me. It’s my blonde Irish girl. I don’t know her name, never bothered to learn it, but I’ve been inside of her body more times than I can count. She smiles at someone next to her as she walks toward me.

  My breath hitches when she reaches me. She extends her hand, her index finger touching my chest.

  “I heard you were the groom,” she purrs. “You didn’t tell me, Massimo,” she chides.

  “I didn’t know last time I saw you,” I admit.

  Her lips curve up into a grin. “I’m here to give you a good time, Massimo. I know how much you like to play. There’s a room for us, unless you want to play here with all of your friends?”

  “Suck me,” I demand.

  She licks her lips, then presses her chest against mine. I feel her mouth touch the underside of my jaw before she sinks down to her knees. Her eyes focus on mine as she unbuckles then unzips my pants.

  Without a word of protest, she reaches into my boxers and frees my cock. Her hand gently strokes me to life before she opens her mouth and immediately consumes me. Dropping my head back, I tangle my fingers in her hair as she starts to expertly suck my dick.

  “You fuck,” Gavino says on a chuckle as he approaches my side.

  Smirking, I turn my head to look over at him. The girl continues to take my dick, working me the way she knows I like.

  “What?” I ask on a grin.

  Gavino shakes his head. “Luciana loves her by the way. They’ve grown close as the wedding approaches. Are you ready to settle down with her? I have a feeling if you piss her off, that will piss off my Ciana, and I try never to be on the other end of my wife’s anger,” he says.

  I hum, my fingers gripping the woman’s hair. “I’m ready,” I say with a nod. “I’ve wanted her since she was seventeen. Wrong or right, doesn’t matter, Pippa has always been on my mind,” I admit.

  Gavino’s eyes flick down to the blonde on my dick. “Have your fun, Massimo. You deserve it and you deserve the happiness that I think this little one will give you.”

  “Boss?” I call out before he walks away.

  He stops and looks over at me. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  He dips his chin, then he turns from me. I watch as he makes his way over to a card table and joins a hand. Closing my eyes, I imagine Pippa on her knees. Thrusting my hips forward, I fuck her mouth until I come down her throat with a grunt.

  She stands, wiping the sides of her mouth as I tuck my dick back in my pants. She lifts her hand, her fingers curling around the side of my neck.

  “Go and wait in the room for me, I’ll be by soon to fuck you, be ready.”

  “Yes, Massimo,” she breathes.

  I don’t watch as she slips away, my eyes take in the room. There are three women on the small stage, they’re completely naked while the men watch. Two of them are pleasuring one another, the third is pleasuring herself.

  Gavino, Benicio, Luca, and Arlo are all gambling. I watch them for a moment, knowing that the reason their backs are to the women are because they’re completely devoted to theirs at home.

  I want to be like them. I hope that I can be, that Pippa will allow me to be completely devoted to her. I wish that she’ll want all the things that I do in a relationship, in and out of the bedroom. That she’ll want to carry my children, make my house a home and be everything that I’ve always imagined she could be.

  “You going to that blonde tonight?” Dante asks.

  Jerking my chin, I grin. “Yeah. She knows what I like. Honest to fuck, I can’t be too worked up for the wedding anyway.”

  He snorts. “Don’t want to hurt your new wife, right?”

  “Don’t want to blow my load within seconds is more like it,” I grunt.

  “Have a shot with me first?”

  Nodding my head, I turn around and sink down on the barstool. The bartender slides us each a full shot glass of liquid. I lift my drink to his at the same time he touches his to mine. Together we swallow and both hiss as the liquid burns our throats.

  “How’d you know you wanted Pippa?” Dante asks.

  “Who is she?” I ask.

  He shrugs a shoulder. “She’s Italian, but she’s not famiglia.”

  “You sure?”

  Most Italians near us have some kind of ties. Dante shakes his head. “East Village, mother owns a bridal shop,” he mutters.

  “The only decent thing about going shopping with my bride, huh?” I ask on a chuckle.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “It was educational. I don’t mind being around the women. They forget I’m there and get to talking. I learn a lot about their kind,” he murmurs.

  “So, do you need help with this girl?”

  “Want her. Haven’t asked her out. Wondering if I should even go there?”

  I flick my fingers toward the bartender and he slides over another shot for me. Taking it, I swallow with another hiss, though I’m starting to become numb to the burning at this point.

  “Pippa looked at me with her big blue scared eyes and I knew instantly that I wanted to keep her. I didn’t do anything about it at the time, probably wouldn’t have had she not fallen into my lap the way she did. So, my advice?”

  He jerks his chin but otherwise doesn’t speak as he waits for me to continue.

  “Go for it now. I’ve been waiting for three years and I’ve missed three years of having her where I want her, where I need her. Take your opportunity and seize the day.”

  PIPPA

  Looking at the reflection of my back in the mirror, I gasp at just how well it fits me. My dress is backless. The peach fabric only reaches the crack of my ass. The skirt is full and made of a soft tulle fabric.

  This is the dress of my dreams, but that’s about the only thing that has been a dream come true with this whole process.

  Turning around, I lift my eyes to look at the entire front of my body and dress in the mirror. The bodice is completely beaded and hugs me from chest to waist before the skirt floats out into a full tulle puffy princess dress.

  I decided to forego white, choosing a nude color. The bodice while being completely beaded, is also absolutely sheer. The silver beading is the only part of the bodice that covers my breasts. The only part of the top that makes it anywhere near appropriate for the church, is the fact that it has capped sleeves.

  “It’s indecent,” my aunt hisses from behind me.

  I thought I was alone, my hair and makeup girls having left. I don’t have bridesmaids, don’t have attendants. Though I could have asked the women that I’ve become close with, I could have asked my sister, but I decided that I needed to do this on my own.

  “I know,” I confess, turning around to face Irene. “But then again, this entire marriage is that, so it’s fitting.”

  “Have you done this just to spite me?” she hisses.

  Arching a brow, I curl my lip and shake my head once. “Why would I do that? You told me to figure it out, that I was no longer allowed in your home, so I’ve figured it out.”

  “A Made Man?”

  “Either that or be a whore like Bellarosa. Fortunately for me, I was given a choice where my sister wasn’t,” I snap.

  Irene jerks her head back. “This will end in destruction. You’ll be nothing to him but a piece of property,” she states.

  Laughing softly, I shake my head. “As opposed to? I’ve been nothing but a paycheck to you for years. What’s the difference?”

  “I hope you get everything you deserve,” she hisses angrily.

  Taking a step forward, I keep my tone flat as I speak. “I hope that you do, too.”

  The door opens before she can say anything else. It’s the wedding planner. “Pippa, it’s time,” she calls out cheerily.

  Irene turns on her heels and I take in the sight of her angrily stomping away. I can’t help but smile as I watch her go, knowing that she’s, for whatever reason, truly pissed off that I’m marrying someone today.

&n
bsp; I think that she wanted me to fail, wanted me to go crawling back to her, to beg her for help. I wouldn’t do it even if I were homeless. I would rather sell my body than ask that woman for a fucking thing.

  Smiling, I shake off the visit from Irene and turn to the planner. “Can you help me with my veil?” I ask.

  She nods and instructs me to face the mirror again. Bending my knees slightly, I close my eyes as she slips the comb in my hair. My veil is cathedral length in matching nude tulle, with little silver bits of matching embroidery along the edges.

  “There you go, absolutely stunning,” she whispers.

  Opening my eyes, I take in my complete look. My shoes are a pale blue, but you can’t see them. My bracelet is a borrowed diamond tennis bracelet from Nicola. My something old is a penny in the bottom of my shoe. It was Arlo’s mother’s, she insisted that I wear it. My something new is my dress.

  “Are you ready?” the planner asks.

  Turning to her, I lift my lips in a small smile. “I am,” I lie.

  Gripping my bouquet of all white with a splash of pale pink roses, I attempt to calm my racing heart.

  She guides me toward the closed double doors. She walks over to one and I smile as she and her assistant tug the doors open. My breath hitches when I see the decorations and the number of people standing facing me.

  Inhaling a deep breath, my eyes find the man standing at the end of the aisle. I can’t tell who it is, if I even know him or not. He’s too far away and the veil makes it hard to see clearly. Taking a step forward, I slowly make my way toward him.

  My gaze is transfixed on him. This strange man that I am about to vow to love and devote my life to until my dying breath. Stopping right in front of him, that’s when I finally recognize him.

  My breath hitches.

  My heart stops.

  My entire world spins.

  My lips curve up at the same time his do.

  This man is going to be mine or at least, I am going to be his.

  I may be promising myself to the Devil himself, I’m unsure. But there is a chance that I haven’t completely ruined my life—a sliver of a chance.

  This stranger, a man that I don’t know, not even his first name, he’s been in and out of my thoughts for the past two years and here he is, holding out his hand for me to take.

  Chapter Eight

  MASSIMO

  There isn’t a word in the English dictionary to describe Pippa Mazzilli. She’s beyond stunning, taking my breath away every step she takes closer to me. My gaze flicks down to look at her entire dress.

  The top of her dress is almost indecent, but I like that she is willing to do something so daring. It speaks to the woman that she is inside. She isn’t shy and timid, there is a boldness to her and I can’t wait to see just how daring she’s willing to be.

  She stops in front of me. Holding out my hand to her, I wait as she lifts hers before slipping her shaky fingers in mine. Grasping her hand in mine, I give her what I hope is a reassuring squeeze. She shifts, moving closer toward me.

  Licking my lips, I smirk as I listen to the priest. I tune out most of the ceremony, speaking only when necessary. That is, until it’s time for me to kiss my bride. After slipping the two-carat wedding ring onto her finger, it’s time for me to lift her veil and kiss her.

  Her blue eyes are wide, her lips parted and full as she tips her head back to look up into my eyes. I didn’t realize just how much smaller she was than me.

  Bellarosa is a tiny woman, but Pippa is miniature. The top of her head only reaches to the bottom of my ribcage. Her body is so slim, so small, that I wonder if she’ll break beneath my grip.

  Lifting my hands, I slide one around her small waist, the other, I curl my fingers around the side of her neck as I dip my chin. Slanting my head to the side, I touch my mouth to hers. She gasps, her lips parting and I can’t stop myself.

  My tongue slips out and tastes her lips before I break the kiss and straighten. Turning around, I face the audience. Taking her hand, I wrap her fingers around the crook of my elbow while the priest announces us as husband and wife.

  Together, we walk down the aisle of the church. I don’t miss the way her aunt watches me, her eyes narrowed and a sour expression on her face. I don’t give a fuck about her either.

  Pippa is mine now, and if the cunt doesn’t watch it, she’ll end up exactly where her brother and sister-in-law did, fucking vanished without a goddamn trace.

  Without stopping, we walk toward the waiting limousine. The reception isn’t far, it’s located at the restaurant that the famiglia owns. Gavino allowed us to shut it down for the night. Though I’m sure it’s going to take a hit, my bill covers the loss of business without a doubt.

  I help Pippa into the limo, then follow behind her, shoving the massive amount of fabric from her dress in before I sit down next to her. She doesn’t say a word as the driver closes the door behind us, then doesn’t speak until he’s in the front seat.

  The car begins to move and I watch as her gaze moves from the driver’s partition to me, then back to the driver again.

  “The partition is up,” I inform her. “You may speak freely.”

  I watch as she frowns, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. She doesn’t speak right away and I want to demand that she tell me what she’s thinking, but I decide to wait it out. She looks down at her lap, then I watch as she straightens her fingers, her ring shining in the sunlight that’s streaming through the window.

  “Massimo,” she whispers. “That’s your name? The one you go by?”

  My lips twitch and I nod once. “Gavino and my friends sometimes call me Mass. But yes, in general, I go by Massimo.”

  “Massimo Ferrucci,” she exhales.

  “Pippa Ferrucci,” I say.

  Her gaze flicks up to meet mine and she just watches me for a moment, her eyes searching mine and she has a million questions floating around in her head. I wait for her to ask them though. I’ll answer what I can for her, what I am willing to. She won’t get every single answer to every question that she has I’m sure.

  “You’re Made?” she asks.

  “That bothers you,” I say.

  It’s not a question. I know that it does. She nods, then she lifts her hand and I feel her soft fingertips touch my lips. I hold my breath as her fingers trace my mouth, her eyes searching mine.

  “I don’t know if I’m supposed to want this. I never wanted to marry a man in the famiglia. I never wanted to marry a man like my father,” she says. “But here I am.”

  Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around her wrist. Squeezing her firmly, I hold her hand right where it is, freezing it in place. I want to feel her touch against my skin, it’s fucking outstanding.

  “Here you are, dolcezza,” I agree.

  We stay exactly in that same position, watching one another. She’s sizing me up, trying to figure me out. She won’t. But I have her figured out. Aside from being hesitant, she feels as though she had no choice but to marry me. She’s also scared. I don’t blame her, I would be if I were her too.

  I’m selfish. I’m demanding—I’ll be both, her time and her body.

  I own her now. A possession that I never thought I would have. She’s landed in my lap and I’m never going to let her go. I’ll never lose her, I won’t fucking allow it. I’ll protect her until my dying breath. Pippa is who I never thought I could have and who I always dreamed of.

  The limo stops, but I don’t make a single move to get out of the car. The driver doesn’t open my door either. He knows to wait for my signal, to wait for me to open my door myself. I instructed him before the ceremony.

  “Are you disappointed?” I ask.

  I watch as her brows furrow. She thinks about my question, then she inhales a deep breath as she leans in closer to me, shifting her hand away from my mouth, I wait as she moves so that her lips are almost touching my own.

  “I don’t know, yet,” she whispers. “I suppose I’ll have to wait to see wh
en you hurt me, and how badly it feels. Because I know that Made Men hurt their wives. I just don’t know to the extent that you will deliver your painful blows.”

  Shaking my head once, I lean forward, gently nipping her bottom lip with my teeth. Reaching for the handle of the car door, I tug it open. The driver stands to the side, holding the door open for us.

  Slipping out of the limo, I don’t answer her. I’m not going to make her blind promises. I will hurt her, there is no doubt. There is no way for me to say that I won’t. There is also no way for me to know the extent of the pain that I will eventually cause her.

  For now, we’ll eat, we’ll dance and we will celebrate our union with friends and family, along with famiglia. Later, I’ll take her virginity, finally owning her body for myself, something that I have dreamed of since the moment I first laid eyes on her.

  PIPPA

  Massimo walks away from me after we’ve eaten, danced our first dance, and cut our cake. I watch as he makes his way over to Gavino and his small circle of men. Pressing my lips together, I’m unable to take my eyes off of him.

  I supposed I didn’t realize it three years ago when I was taken to see my sister. Massimo isn’t just a Made Man. He is one of the men at Gavino’s side. One of his top men.

  “You’re beautiful,” a voice says from my side.

  Turning my head, I smile at my sister. Rosana is stunning in a pale pink tea-length dress. Her black hair is straight down her back, her makeup subtle and perfect for her age. She’s even wearing small heeled strappy sandals. She looks like the little lady that she is on the cusp of womanhood.

  “Thank you,” I breathe as I reach for her and wrap my arms around her body.

  She returns my hug, her arms tightening around me. “I feel like I’m losing another of my sisters,” she whispers.

  My arms flex. “Never,” I swear. “Never.”

  “Rosana,” Irene snaps.

  Her body flinches. I want to keep her right here with me. She lifts her head, her eyes looking up at me, watery and on the verge of losing it right here. Shaking my head, I release her, knowing that my aunt will be a bitch if I try to keep her with me.