Owned by the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family Book 3) Read online

  Owned by the Mob

  The Bianchi Crime Family

  C.M. Steele

  Copyrighted © 2021

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: CoverGirl Designs

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Niccolò: I like my life the way it is, working hard on the numbers for the organizations on both legal and illegal sides. I let nothing impede my work, and that will never change. I couldn't have been more wrong. One look at Ivy, and I'd lost all focus on my numbers. Ivy will be my only distraction.

  Ivy: He shows up day after day looking insanely gorgeous and smart with his sharply tailored suits, his laptop, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He stares at me almost the entire time he sits in my café, but he doesn't introduce himself to me. The more time goes by, the more I want him to leave, but I've learned that not only does he now own the café—he owns me too.

  Chapter One

  Niccolò

  “Nico, I require a word with you.”

  My brother stands in the doorway to my office, his tie loosened, ready to go home to see his wife and son. Besides our illicit activities, I run the accounting side for our investment firm. Surprisingly, there are more crooks in the legitimate world than outside it.

  “Have a seat, Dom. What can I do for you?” He sits on the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and his fingers steepled against his lips.

  It must be urgent for him to rush in like this. I can’t recall seeing him this upset in a while. “I have a client that hasn’t been repaying the funds in full payments. He claims the business isn’t doing well, and before I break his knees, I need to find out if he’s lying to me, or if the business is struggling in this economy. He put the business up as collateral, so I want to know if it’s easier to dispose of it or monopolize on it.”

  “What kind of business? Do you need me to go over their books?”

  “It’s a café that offers a bit of food along with a variety of coffee and teas. And as for the books, I want you to hold off so we don’t draw attention to his daughter. He came to me after they were turned down for a loan. He claimed his daughter had health issues, and this was killing their income. I bought the story and loaned the money on the basis of repayment of $10K a month for the next year and a half. He hasn’t given us more than $10K in three months. I’m telling you—maybe it’s being a father that’s made me weak, but I can’t let this fucker change my reputation.”

  I nod. Being head of a crime family has its dangers when enemies sense weakness.

  “Understood. When do you want me to scope it out?” I’m already running my schedule through my head, making adjustments to meet his request.

  He slaps his hand on my desk and says, “As soon as possible. They open at six, so I’d say hit it up as soon as you can. That way, you can determine their potential revenue.”

  “Okay. I’ll go there first thing in the morning. I love coffee and numbers. The evaluation time is going to be roughly a week. And if they’re having a special, I’ll have to factor that in as well; still, I should have a good estimate.”

  “Well, do the best you can. I have a feeling I’m being played, and you know I can’t stand for that.” He slides over a sheet of paper with their location and name. Ivy’s Café. I wonder if that’s the daughter’s name and what illness she has.

  “Understood. I’ve got this.” He leaves my office looking more relaxed than when he came in. I duck my head and get back to the spreadsheets in front of me, working throughout the evening to make up for the upcoming week’s change in schedule.

  I turn off the light in my office around nine which is about three hours later than normal, and I can’t wait to head to my condo. I call my favorite restaurant, order a small meal, and pick it up on my way home. Most days I don’t cook for myself, so they know me well and were surprised to see me so late.

  “Wow, did you work long tonight?” Giorgio, the owner says as I swipe my card.

  “Yes, a very long one.” I nod and wipe my glasses with my handkerchief. It’s only then I realize it’s not the glasses, I’m actually tired.

  “Here. Then you must go and get some rest.” He hands me the sack with my container of angel hair pasta in a homemade marinara.

  “I will. It’s good to see you.”

  “Yes, and one day you bring a girl, no?” His thick, bushy Italian brows raise up.

  “Not any time soon,” I say with a chuckle. “I’m not my brother. No woman could get me to marry.”

  “Ah…yes. Every single man’s final words.” He claps my back and walks me out. I laugh at his words because he doesn’t know that I don’t even know how to speak to a woman or even give them any of my time to even try.

  I barely get through half my dinner when I decide I’m better off going to bed. It still takes me another hour to clean up and shower. By the time I hit my pillow, I’m exhausted, and sleep comes easily.

  ****

  Dressed in my favorite three-piece blue suit, I arrive at the café with my black leather satchel containing my laptop and the work I need to do today besides watching the damn café. I have no interest in this other than the fact someone’s swindling my brother.

  Being a father and husband has softened my brother toward people with kids, but once he learns the truth of this, it may harden him again. I can’t wait to end this asshole who thinks he can fuck over my brother and the family. Being quiet and a loner doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention or care.

  I don’t foresee ever finding a woman that would take my focus away from work. Women try, of course. Being the second son and having a brother who shunned women until Aria, they came flocking to me, but I might be even more stubborn than him. Aria proved that my brother has a soft spot for women. I’m not that kind of man.

  Nothing takes my attention from work, and I’ve been that way since I was a boy. Still, I enjoy getting out of the office to work. Occasionally, I’ll go to a bookstore and work there while picking up the latest crime thriller to save for when I get home.

  I open the door to the café, and the line is so damn long that I nearly slam into
another man’s back, pissing me off. Moving around him and the crowd, I walk to an available table and take a seat with my back to the wall, as per habit for men in our world. I watch the line move quickly until my attention is pulled from the masses to a woman coming from the back room.

  Her eyes are the first thing to capture my interest. They’re a blue that’s like a beautiful sky or a clear ocean. From my position, I drink her in, forgetting all reason and my purpose for being here which I can’t allow myself to do.

  A small menu sits in the center of the table, so I examine it to help avoid my gaze going back on the woman. It’s a food menu with the options and prices. Not too expensive, and the menu isn’t large enough to create a heavy food expense. I’ll have to see the actual supply invoices for more information on that factor.

  My eyes rise above the menu and then slide over to her figure, taking in her svelte shape with just enough curves to fit under my hands as I maul her. Lust beyond my comprehension floods my loins, leaving me brainless as she makes her way to my table. Her long black hair is in a cute braid tossed over her shoulder.

  She approaches, hips swaying as she reaches my table, a foot away from me and easily within my grasp. The urge to grab her by her braid and pull her onto my lap becomes painfully tempting. Refusing to let my brain act like a caveman, I take a deep breath, but then I breathe in her sweet sugary vanilla scent and I’m not sure I’m human anymore.

  “Hello, I’m Ivy. Can I get you something to drink, eat?” Her voice is soft and friendly with that hint of Chicago flavor, and my brain malfunctions.

  I stare at her plump, glossy pink lips, wondering if they taste like sugar. “Coffee with sugar.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” She smiles, turning on her heel and walking away from me. It’s then that it hits me—I just ordered sugar in my coffee because I’d been thinking about those lips. My focus goes to her incredible backside and the way her tight pants hug her ass as she heads back behind the counter.

  A loud noise distracts me, nearly causing me to pull out my gun, but it was just a dropped coffee cup a couple of tables away. I relax, or at least make an effort to because I don’t know if I’ll ever be relaxed again. Every nerve ending vibrates like I’m on a caffeine high.

  She brings my coffee directly to my table with that killer smile, and I hand her a twenty… I think. I don’t even remember my own damn name at the present moment. She walks away from me, and it should be a crime to steal her presence from my sight.

  Heart racing, hands shaking, I nearly drop my cup also. Does she have that effect on everyone else too? I scan the room for the nearest male and I watch him, but I’m caught by surprise because my beauty comes back with my change.

  “Keep it,” I insist.

  “I can’t. This is a hundred.” Oops. When I refuse to put my hand out, she sets the money on the table anyway, ignoring my request. That’s the first time in my life that someone defied me. I might not be the Don or even the underboss, but I still carry that level of respect with my position. Instead of being pissed, I’m aroused. Giorgio’s words come to mind, and I laugh internally because they’re spot on.

  “I’m Ivy, should you need anything else.” It takes a minute to put two and two together because all blood has dropped south, filling my other brain.

  Ivy…

  Ivy?

  As in Ivy’s Café? Shit. This complicates things. I can’t deal with her and the fucking witchcraft she’s brewing with those insanely hypnotizing eyes.

  I focus on my task at hand. Judging by the space and the way the line has just ebbed, I’d say they served a minimum of two hundred cups of coffee in a thirty-minute slot. It doesn’t factor in other purchases, but their morning rush is a busy one.

  I work until my coffee’s nearly cold. Once I take a drink, I remember that I asked for the wrong thing. It’s not appealing to me. Still, I sip on it and work because my Ivy made it for me.

  Every ten minutes, I find my eyes seeking out the complication and her sinfully black hair. It drives me nuts the way she’s pulled me from my task at hand to watch her, which has never happened in my entire life.

  I spend another hour working on the project and my other daily tasks. Once I’ve had enough of this torture and have controlled my raging hard-on, I pack up my things, place the change on the counter, and rush out the door before she can refuse my money.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I mutter as I slide into my Mercedes. I don’t know if I’m trying to stave off the need to go back in there, or to pump myself up for another day of a sensual tease almost unbearable.

  Before heading out on the road, I shoot my brother a text that I will need a few more days to be sure. I should say a week or two, but that’s just fucking stupid to torture myself. I’m not a fucking masochist. As I reach a red light, I shake off this excitable energy and then drive toward the office where I know I can’t be distracted.

  Ivy has messed up my head more than she understands, so much so that I hear beeping behind me when I linger at the next green light. What a fucking fool. I manage to make it to my office without missing another light or without another thought about the dangerous girl, and get back on track. Since I won’t have the data for my brother back until tomorrow, I won’t even bother giving him a call. Instead, I hunker down and sink into the ever-growing stack of billing and reimbursement.

  Thankfully, I finish the day with little to no interruptions, keeping me on task, and all thoughts of Ivy have faded. It’s been twelve hours since I saw her and she’s a distant memory, or so I believe.

  The second I enter my lavish penthouse condo, a strange ache builds in my chest. Something no longer feels right. I pull out my gun, sensing a shift in the air, but after a full sweep of the place, I know it’s not that anyone’s here; it’s that no one, in particular a dark-haired beauty, is here.

  Chapter Two

  Ivy

  I’m at the coffee shop as always, from five in the morning to six at night, seven days a week. It’s my job, my hobby, my business. Okay, I only own half, although I wish I hadn’t been talked into taking out a massive loan to keep this place afloat. I’m a hundred thousand dollars in debt, but my credit’s only hanging by a thread and so is my sanity.

  This isn’t how I expected my life to turn out. Even worse, I think my dad has been lying to me, but I’m too busy, too tired, and too out of my element to find out the truth. A business degree would have been helpful instead of a basic high school diploma, but that wasn’t in the cards for me.

  The place is busy with to-go orders, although the tables are getting full as well. We offer both services so that we drive our tips and the ratings online. I’ve come out with a tray of muffins when I see him.

  He’s back.

  Yesterday, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen came in, and I nearly tripped over myself to get a better look. Six feet tall with light-colored eyes, dark-rimmed glasses, and a three-piece suit, owning it like it was made for his build. I moaned quietly several times as I watched him steal glances in my direction.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, taking my attention away, and I head to the back and into my office to handle it. There are only two calls I get these days: someone selling me fake shit, or someone I owe money to.

  On the last ring, I answer with a dreaded, “Hello.”

  “This is Shelly at Wells Fargo. May I speak with Mr.—?” God, they all sound the same.

  I cut her off because I already know the spiel she’s going to give me. “He’s not here. I’ll let him know you called.”

  “When will he be available?” I roll my eyes because I don’t need this at the moment. I want to see the mystery guy before he disappears. Yesterday he stayed, but he could be just snagging a coffee and running.

  “I don’t know. Excuse me, but I’m extremely busy.” I end the call and toss my phone onto my desk. Hurrying out to the floor, I see him sitting at his table and typing away. As if hearing me come out of the back, his head lifts. His eyes focus o
n me, trained like he’s studying me, but then my employee goes over there and takes his order. I could scream, but I maintain my composure. Straightening my apron, I take the next several customers in the line, and yet, I feel his gaze on me.

  When I finally lift my head, I see two of my regulars: Aria and an older woman. They’ve been coming in twice a week for the past couple of months.

  “A large mocha, hot?” I ask her, remembering her order. It helps with the customers and builds a good relationship even if I don’t actually know her. From her card, her name is Aria Bianchi, which matches her beauty.

  Some people are just born with everything. I’m not so unfortunate, other than the parents I’d been born with. I have looks that could kill according to every boy I’d met in school, but that’s the reason I stayed away from them. They all wanted the same thing—a quick lay.

  “Sure. I’m so predictable.” She smiles and giggles, so I smile back. She’s a friendly woman, but we clearly come from two different worlds.

  I look at the other elegant woman and ask, “A small chai latte?”

  “Yes, please, dear.” I handle them and then they take a seat at a table, waiting for their drinks, and that’s when they spot my guy. A gasp comes from both of them and then they stand, grabbing their waiting drinks before walking over to him.

  The women take a seat in front of him with smiles on their faces. It pisses me off that he returns their smiles. Socializing for only a few minutes, they all stand and take turns hugging. Then, the women leave after he gives them each a kiss on the cheek. A wave of hatred for both of them works my nerves because they haven’t done anything to me, and the bastard and I don’t even know each other.

  Once they’re gone, he returns to staring. “Girl, Mr. Hottie Professor is back.”

  “Is he a professor?” I ask, feeling an irrational urge to punch her for getting him to speak to her.

  She shrugs, keeping her eyes on him. “I don’t know, but he’s got that sexy-yet-smart-guy vibe, so I’m betting something nerdy.”