XANDER VITTORIO LOVE STORY
He's a Mafia Boss's son. He's handsome and courageous. She's a Billionaire's daughter. She's finely educated, beautiful, and innocent.
They fall in love in close proximity inside the Bratva cage as prisoners. They were tortured physically and emotionally.
But, love prevails between them in another place and at another time.
Love is unconditional...Love is everything....
Chapters
Share
Chapter 1
Alexander Vittorio POV
(Twenty years old...)
The aroma hangs heavy in the air, the delicious bread smells luring me to the kitchen where I find Mama and Tanya admiring the pineapple honey cake they just baked.
It's my favorite smell in the world – Mama baking in the kitchen. It's home.
The moment Mama spots me, she gives me a stern scowl. "Don't you dare try to steal a slice young man, it's for after dinner."
It's Marc Vincent's birthday today. My brother is three years older than me. We haven't seen much of him over the past years as he's been training in Palawan Island to take his place in the Filipino Mafia called Demonyo Gang. With my father being a boss, it's only natural that we follow in his footsteps.
I take a seat at the table, eyeing the cake like it's my last meal.
"Do you want coffee?" Tanya asks me.
"Please." I smile at the girl who's like a little sister to me.
My parents adopted Maryo and Tanya Peters, and even though things were rocky at first, Maryo is now my best friend.
I watch as Tanya makes the coffee the way I like it, creamy and sweet, and smile again when she places the beverage in front of me.
"Thanks, T." After I savor my first sip of caffeine for the day, I ask, "Did you bake only one cake?"
It's normal for Mama to be up at the crack of dawn when it's one of our birthdays. And she always bakes enough for a small village not only baking but cooking more recipes for the occasion.
Mama shakes her head while trying to hide the smile tugging at her mouth. She cuts a huge slice out of the freshly baked cake. "You'll live on pastries and desserts if I give you half a chance." Still, she plates the slice and pushes it closer to me. "Only one slice."
I lean closer and take a deep breath, my mouth watering from the aroma. "I can't promise anything," I chuckle. "This is why you bake extra." I give Mama a thankful smile. "You love me too much to let me suffer until dinner time."
"Hmm." Her eyes are fixed on me as I take the first bite.
When the taste of cream, pineapple and cinnamon explode over my tongue, I let out a satisfied groan. My eyes close as I savor the goodness of my mother's baking. "Perfect."
Excitedly, Tanya claps her hands. "Really? You like it?"
My eyebrows fly up, and I swallow before asking, "Did you bake this one all by yourself?"
She nods, pride dancing in her exciting eyes.
"Well, little sister," I nod my approval, "it's exactly how I like it."
Tanya lets out a little shriek before falling onto the chair next to me. "Tell me how it tastes. Is there enough cream? Did I make the dulce de leche right? Not too much cinnamon?"
I lift a hand and softly pat her back. "Everything is perfect."
"What's perfect?" Maryo asks as he comes into the kitchen.
"The pineapple honey cake I made," Tanya answers, pride lighting up her face. "Sit. You have to taste it."
"It's too early," Maryo protests. He grabs a seat, then looks at me. Shaking his head, he mutters, "How can you eat cake first thing in the morning?"
I pop a huge bite into my mouth and groan again. "So good," I mutter around the cake.
Tanya places a cup of coffee in front of Maryo, along with a much smaller slice of cake. "Just taste it," she begs.
Tanya might've accepted Marc Vincent and me as her brothers, but there's no one she loves more than Maryo. Before my parents adopted them, they were stuck in an orphanage and only had each other, so it's understandable that they're inseparable.
Mama starts to prepare breakfast, and soon the aroma of fried eggs, melting cheese, and sliced sausages fills the air. Marc Vincent and Papa enter the kitchen, and Tanya gets busy preparing tea for them.
"Happy Birthday, Marc," Mama says before hugging MarcVincent.
We all take a moment to wish Marc Vincent a happy birthday, and as Mama and Tanya set all the dishes on the table, Papa mutters, "The boys are coming with me. We'll be gone all night."
"But it's Marc Vincent's birthday!" Mama exclaims. "We always have dinner together. It's tradition."
Papa shakes his head, giving Mama an impatient look. "Work can't wait."
Mama looks visibly unhappy, but she doesn't force the subject. "You better eat," she says, glancing around the table. "Come, come, more food coming." Getting up, Mama starts to make more fried eggs, a clear sign she's pissed off with my father. Cooking always calms her down.
"Tanya, you look after your mama while we're gone," Papa instructs.
"Yes, Papa," she replies.
Tanya was the first to call him Papa, where it took Maryo a couple of years. He still alternates between Mr. Andre Vittorio and Papa. It was easier for both to switch from Mrs. Alica Vittorio to Mama, though. Papa was a heritage of Italian-Russian ancestry and Mama was a pure Filipina.
Just to please Mama, we all eat twice as much. It feels like I'm going to burst by the time I stand up from the table. I press a kiss to Mama's cheek before giving her a tight hug, then move to Tanya to hug her quickly.
"Be careful," Mama says to Papa. "And look after our babies."
"Babies, my ass," Papa grumbles. "They're fully grown men."
Mama gives him a look of warning. "They'll always be my babies, Andre."
It takes another ten minutes before we're able to leave the house, and only once we've all piled into the armored SUV does Papa say, "We're taking the Russian's daughter tonight."
What?
My eyes widen, and shock trickles through my body. Maryo and I just started with our street training. We've been assigned to a junior boss and follow him around like lost fucking puppies. So far, I've only beaten a couple of fuckers who owe the Demonyo Gang's money. I've only killed once.
Kidnapping? That's a whole different level especially if the girl has half a fucking army guarding her.
My eyes flick to Maryo, and we stare at each other for a moment.
"Xander, you'll grab the girl while Marc Vincent has your back. Maryo and I, along with my soldiers, will take care of her guards."
Christ.
I nod because there's no arguing allowed. You do as you're told in the Demonyo Gang. I have to kidnap the girl. I'd much rather help take care of the guards.
Letting out a slow breath, I turn my attention to the rice field-covered scenery passing us by as we speed toward the heart of Metro Manila.
Against my better judgment, I ask, "What happens to the girl after we take her?"
Papa's eyes remain on the road as he mutters, "She'll be our hostage until Emmanuel either withdraws out of our territory or agrees to an alliance."
Fuck. That can take years.
Pushing my luck, I ask another question, "Will she be kept in one of the safe houses?"
"No."
It's on the tip of my tongue to ask yet another question, but I know it will anger my father.
"She'll stay with us," he mutters.
What the fuck? Mama is going to lose her shit.
Papa once came home with a little boy they kidnapped, and Mama didn't speak to Papa for a whole two months.
"It won't be for long," Papa adds.
The little boy only stayed two days. Hopefully, things will run as smoothly this time around. Or things are going to be tense at home for a long while.
"You'll make me proud," Papa demands. "Do as you're told and get the job done."
"Yes, Papa," we all answer in unison.
XXX
You may also like
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
8.3
In the fifth year of Irene Shaw's marriage to Ethan Hart, he was involved in a car accident and lost his memory.
No matter how she tried to prove that they had once loved each other, Ethan still insisted on a divorce.
His reasoning was hard to refute. "If I really loved you as much as you claim, how could I forget you?"
The childhood sweetheart who had once cut him off without hesitation had now become his sole emotional anchor.
He looked at Irene coldly. "Since you know this is a mistake, why not end it cleanly?"
The hands that had once refused to let her go now recoiled from even her lightest touch.
Disheartened and exhausted, Irene signed her name and pushed him completely out of her life.
Not long after, Ethan stopped her in the rain, his eyes red from crying.
"Irene, don't leave me. You said I'd never lose you."
As the car window slid shut, the arm around her waist tightened instinctively, and someone spoke before she could. "Drive on. Irene said she doesn't know him."
She lowered her gaze, feeling a serene detachment, "I really don't know him."
8.5
My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention.
He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don.
"The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly.
An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion.
He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement.
For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple.
"Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her."
As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman.
Then, the steel door detonated.
Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive.
9.6
[R-18 | MATURE CONTENT]
Sasha thought saving a stranger would be the most dangerous thing she'd ever done.
She found him half-dead on the shore of her quiet island-bleeding, unconscious, and with no memory of who he was. Out of kindness, she brought him home, cared for his wounds, and gave him a place in her life.
Days turned into months.
The mysterious man with dark eyes and quiet strength slowly became her everything. In the small warmth of her seaside home, they built something that felt real-something that felt like love.
Until the morning he disappeared without a trace.
No goodbye. No explanation.
Years later, Sasha learns the truth.
The man she saved isn't a helpless stranger.
He is one of the most feared mafia bosses in Russia... and his amnesia was never real.
Now she's trapped in his world-far from the sea she calls home-and the man she once loved offers her a dangerous deal. One that ties her fate to his once again.
Was every touch just part of his plan?
Or is the ruthless mafia king hiding the same man who once held her like she was his entire world?
Sasha only knows one thing for certain.
Saving him was never the mistake.
Falling in love with him might have been.
After all... she accidentally adopted a mafia boss.
7.5
I spent five years laundering my family's wealth and buying military-grade weapons to crown my husband, Alistair, the Don of the Chicago Mafia.
But the night before his coronation, he drove an Italian stiletto into my stomach.
He sneered that a Don needed a true Mafia Queen, and that was always meant to be his "fragile" friend, Kylie.
As I bled out on the Persian rug, he revealed the sickening truth.
The night I was found in a rival Irish boss's bed two years ago wasn't a setup by our enemies. Alistair had ordered his own mother and sister to drug and frame me.
He just needed me terrified enough to sign over my merchant trust fund to prove my loyalty.
My entire marriage, my sacrifices, and my stolen wealth were just stepping stones for him and his mistress.
I had bled for him and won him the city, only to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb so he could hand my empire to another woman.
Before the flames I started consumed us both, I swore I'd drag his entire family to hell.
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating smoke was gone, replaced by the scent of lavender and the bitter taste of chloral hydrate.
I was back on the exact night of the frame-up two years ago.
Outside the door, my sister-in-law was whispering, waiting for the Irish boss to arrive so they could ruin me.
This time, I was going to make sure she was the one in that bed.
8.4
For seven years, I have been the submissive commoner wife of Julian, the New York Mafia boss.
When he finally realized what he had ruined and stabbed himself with a dagger, begging for my forgiveness, I simply turned and walked away.
I endured his endless betrayals and cruelty for only one reason: he paid for my grandmother's life-sustaining treatment.
But while he was busy buying diamonds for his new mistress, the pressure of his emotional abuse caused me to lose our child.
His mistress broke into my grandmother's hospital room and threw explicit photos of her and Julian in my grandmother's face. My grandmother died from shock.
Julian knew nothing about this.
“Go home, Sienna. You’re pregnant. Stop making a scene, or I’ll cut off your grandmother’s medical bills tomorrow.”
When I found him, he arrogantly thought I was just throwing a tantrum.
He didn't know our child was gone.
He didn't know that my grandmother had passed away.
In front of all his men, I poured a glass of whiskey over his head, left the signed divorce papers on his table, and then boarded a one-way flight to Germany.
I will leave him forever.