Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

CHAPTER ONE

VINCENZO

Life as one of the two mafia bosses of the Romano Crime Family in Hackensack, New Jersey, was never boring. Our family, along with three other mafia families, was locked in an ongoing war. The Romanos were fighting their own separate battle.

My brother Vincent and I were dealing with the Santon mafia family, who were cunningly encroaching on our territory. As the eldest, I became the mafia boss of our family first. When Vincent turned twenty-five, he stepped up as the second boss of the Romano Crime Family.

One of the most important things a mafia boss should do was get married and have children. Heirs were all my father talked about lately. He said we had to keep the bloodline going like our ancestors did.

Our great-great-great-grandfather, Alfio Romano, left Sicily, Italy, and came to America in eighteen ninety-four at the age of twenty. Upon arriving in New York, he and his wife put their skills to use. My great-great-great-grandmother Anna was a talented seamstress, while Alfio often received praise for his Bolognese sauce at gatherings in their humble apartment.

Anna specialized in sewing dresses and men’s hats.

Federico, his younger brother, convinced him to start a side business. Their neighborhood became their first territory. They offered protection to shop owners for a fee. This marked the beginning of the Romano mafia Crime Family.

Years later, Grandfather Pierino negotiated with Salvatore Magarelli to expand their territory into New Jersey. Pierino’s four siblings Rinaldo, Big Vino, Aida, Kajetan remained in New York to manage the main territories, while Grandfather relocated to Hackensack, New Jersey, and became part of the five families: the Magarellis, Espositos, Pituccos, Romanos, and the Bertozzis.

My father and his three siblings Jacopo, Abriana, and Neri were born to Pierino and Concettina, and me and my brother were born to Vincent and Isabetta. My father wanted to name me Vincenzo. Dad allowed it. When my brother was born, mom named him Vincent Jr.

My brother Vincent and I were good friends with the current bosses: Dillon, Magarelli, Luca and Marco Esposito, Nick, and Nico Pitucco. We were also close to Dominic Magarelli, Dillon’s brother who was running for governor, and their cousin Tony Magarelli, the hitman. The Magarelli family’s roles were significant. The Bertozzis had become the outcasts among the five families.

Filippo Bertozzi's son, Tony, was the mafia boss. The Bertozzis had strayed from the fundamental values of the five families, which led to their downfall over the years.

When Dillon and Tony returned from the dead in two thousand seventeen, the Magarellis eliminated the Bertozzis, sparing only the women and children, as one of our core principles was not to harm them. If a woman needed to be dealt with, a female hit woman would handle it.

Now, we operated as the four families. Due to the ongoing war among the four families, I hadn’t yet informed Dillon, the primary mafia boss, that the Romanos were at war with the Santons. I planned to tell him when the time was right.

Currently, I was in New York to search for two of Santon’s family’s hitmen, Roscoe and Evren. The Santon mafia crime family had a strong presence on Long Island, Staten Island, and parts of lower Manhattan.

Michelangelo Santon was the mafia boss of the Santon mafia crime family. With his younger brother Luigi serving as his right-hand man and head of security. Their baby sister, Serenella, was not only beautiful and capable of seducing men with her looks, she could fight and had no problem leading an army. The Santons had a firm grip on their New York territories and were now aiming to expand into New Jersey, particularly targeting Hackensack.

In recent years, I had extended our family’s reach to Texas, where my cousins Dexter ‘Dex Deeds’ and Ramiro Romano operated. They were hitmen for our family and also managed territories in Austin and Houston.

Additionally, my cousins had a security side business. They currently worked as security for a billionaire named Kaleb Adkins, a pharmaceutical genius from Boston. As long as their work for him didn’t conflict with their responsibilities to the Romanos, it was all fine by us.

The city buzzed with its usual energy, but my mind was elsewhere on Claire Manning.

I decided to check on Claire. Last year in December, I met her older sister Hope, who was dating my cousin Noah Canyon of Canyon Brewery. From that moment on, I had no interest in settling down with any woman besides Claire. However, given the volatile nature of my business, it wasn’t safe for her to move from New York to New Jersey with me just yet. You may be wondering how I planned to convince her to move when she didn’t even know who I was? Well, let’s just say I had a way with words and could be quite persuasive when needed.

I vividly remembered standing outside a charming little diner with my bodyguard Xavier by my side, ready to carry out any orders. After tapping my earbud, Renato answered his phone on the first ring.

“Hello boss,” he said.

“Renato, I have a job for you and Amadeo. The job is in New York.”

“Ok.”

“You need to watch Claire Manning. She’s a fashion designer.” I provided them with all the details they needed about Claire and where they could find her warehouse. Renato asked how long they would need to watch her and I replied that I hadn’t decided yet. For now, they could stay in my condo closest to her warehouse and gather information about her - her favorite foods, colors, everything.

“No problem, boss,” Renato replied confidently.

“And one more thing,” I added. “If she has any hook ups or new men trying to get close to her, make their lives a living hell. She’s mine now, and no one touches what belongs to me.” “Understood, boss,” Renato acknowledged before I ended the call.

As I returned from my reverie, I stepped into the bustling warehouse turned design studio. People darted past me, pushing racks of clothes as they rushed to their designated tasks.

I was teetering on a tightrope choosing to pursue Claire while being at war with the Santons. Vincent and I had a large army of men under our reign. I’d use our men to keep this war under control while I perused my woman. Arguably, this was the wrong time to pursue her. But I had to have her now. In time, I’d bring my brother and the rest of my family up to speed on Claire.

“I need all my models! Quickly,” a woman snapped; her tone sharp with authority as she clapped her hands.

As I took in my surroundings, I moved closer to observe the scene. The male models ran by and formed a line in front of the woman.

My eyes locked on a petite powerhouse standing about five-six, her mocha-toned face flushed with determination. Her almond-shaped eyes sparked with irritation, and her plump, pink-colored lips pressed into a firm line. Even annoyed, she was beautiful.

“Why are you guys wearing shirts?” she demanded, gesturing dramatically. “Off. Now.”

The male models scrambled to obey, pulling off their shirts as her fiery brown gaze swept over the group—until it landed on me.

“You too,” she barked, pointing at me.

Shit.

Without thinking, I began unbuttoning my powder-blue suit jacket. Why the hell was I doing this?

She stepped closer, her head tilted in challenge. “Need help?”

“No,” I said curtly, my fingers moving quickly to unfasten my shirt buttons.

For a moment, her tough exterior faltered. She bit the corner of her lip, and her eyes lingered on my hands.

“This is a Claire Ainsley audition,” she announced to the group, snapping back to business. “I only hire the best to model my garments.”

I wasn’t sure if her sister, Hope, knew that Claire no longer went by their family name, Manning. She had adopted a new last name, likely believing it would give her an edge in the competitive world of fashion.

I didn’t like the other guys undressing for her. Her gaze however was still on me.

Once I’d shrugged out of my jacket and shirt, I stood alongside the other guys.

At six-four, I towered over the others, who ranged from five-nine to six-one. And with my muscular tattooed chest and abs, they looked like tiny Ken dolls in comparison.

She scrutinized their physiques before turning back to me.

Her gaze swept over my chest. “How often do you tan?”

“I don’t. I’m Italian—this is natural,” I replied, my voice low and steady.

The others murmured amongst themselves about my skin tone, but I didn’t care. Her attention was locked on me.

“Nice,” she muttered under her breath, her lips twitching into a faint, almost sinister smile.

“Oh, how could I forget?” she teased. “This is for an underwear shoot. Pants off.”

Two other women stood next to her, patiently waiting as the men removed their pants.

“Why aren’t you undressing?” she asked, stepping closer again.

“You’ve got enough guys for this shoot,” I replied coolly.

“I know it’s chilly in here. If you’re worried about filling out your underwear...”

A hearty laugh escaped my lips. “That’s the least of my concerns.”

“Then strip, like the rest of them,” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

It was already difficult enough to control myself around her; now she wanted me to show off my semi-erect state. “As I said, you have plenty of models already.”

“You’re here to audition. Don’t disappoint me...?”

“Vino,” I stated firmly. Still holding onto my tailored suit jacket and shirt, with a deliberate slowness, I unbuckled my belt and slid my tailored slacks down over my thighs, letting them pool around my expensive leather shoes.

Claire’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and the two women flanking her exchanged hushed gasps.

“The brand that I have in mind would look amazing on you,” Claire commented.

Without missing a beat, I pulled my shirt back on and shrugged into my jacket.

Finally, I slowly pulled my pants up over my muscular legs as Claire watched intently. “Is it appropriate for you to stare at me like that?”

“Oh please, men have been ogling female models for centuries. You guys can stand here while I assess.”

I huffed a laugh. “I’ll let you get back to work. This isn’t my scene.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing me. “You’re older than the others—what, twenty-eight?”

“Over thirty,” I corrected.

She arched a brow. “And yet you’re here, auditioning. Interesting.”

“Forget the audition,” I said as I finished buttoning my shirt. “Let me take you to lunch.”

Her warm brown eyes cooled slightly. “I don’t do lunch dates.”

“What’s your favorite food?” I pressed, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her.

“It depends on my mood. Today? An avocado salad from Anthony’s Bistro, up the street, sounds good.”

“Done. I’ll send it over.”

She tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “If you’re not going to agree to a private shoot, don’t bother.”

I exhaled slowly, then pointed at her. “Private.”

Her lips curved into a victorious smile. “It will be.”

As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but curse myself. What was I doing, agreeing to this? I was a mafia boss. Photos of me couldn’t be splashed across billboards. I’d have to make sure she understood that.

Still, I was already planning how to make that avocado salad delivery the most memorable lunch she’d ever had.