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....
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Chapter 4
Anya de Luna's POV
Terrified, I stare at Xander.
He looks a hell of a lot calmer than I feel.
In a matter of hours, I've gone from swapping clothes with Olga to being grabbed off the street to a car accident to being kidnapped.
It's surreal.
God.
Panic flares hot through my chest, and a hysterical breakdown threatens to overwhelm me.
If I weren't scared out of my mind, I'd actually appreciate how attractive Xander is. He has longish, dark brown hair, and strands fall over his forehead, making him look like one of the bad boys Papa Rocky Ace always warned me about. His eyes are brown with golden flecks giving me the impression he's a jokester. He's not dressed in a suit like Olga's other guards but is wearing black cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and boots.
There are tattoos on the back of his hands running all the way up his forearms, where I can see his veins snaking beneath his skin.
I have an overwhelming need to get to know him because he's locked in this tiny room with me. Without him, I'd be alone, and that's not something I can deal with right now. Honestly, I'm trying not to think about the fact that I'm in deep crap.
With anxiety tightening my voice, I ask, "How old are you?"
A frown forms on his forehead before he gives me a skeptical look. "Seriously? Do you understand how much trouble we're in?"
Turning my head away from him, I look at my knees and wrap my arms tighter around my shins. "I just want to know who I'm stuck with."
I want something to distract me from this horrible situation because thinking about the trouble I find myself in will make me lose my mind.
I should've gone back to the hotel. I never should've entered the club and agreed to swap clothes with Olga. If my parents were alive, none of this would've happened.
Xander lets out a sigh and leans back against the wall. "I'm twenty."
My eyes dart to his face again. The bruises near his left eye and jaw are turning purple, but it doesn't make him look any less attractive. "I'm eighteen," I whisper.
I'm only eighteen, and I've lost my parents. Now I've been kidnapped, and I'm stuck in a dingy room with a guy I don't know.
My breathing speeds up, and there's no stopping the wave of panic tearing through my insides.
A guy who kidnapped me.
Oh, God.
I duck my head, pinch my eyes shut, and bite my bottom lip as overwhelming anxiety and fear send shockwaves through my body.
What have I gotten myself into?
My breaths are coming so fast a strangling sound escapes me.
"Won't help to panic," Xander mutters as if being kidnapped is just another everyday thing for him. "It will piss them off, which means they'll kill you first."
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
I lift my head, gulping breaths of air. My eyes lock on Xander, and I gasp, "I'm just a tourist here. I'm an Italian citizen."
He shrugs. "None of that matters to them." His features tighten momentarily, but I can't place the emotion on his face. "Just do as they say." He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. "My father should already be looking for us."
I stare at him, confused that he's so calm.
"Why aren't you scared?" Maybe he knows something he's not telling me.
His gaze flicks to the door. "Fearing the inevitable is pointless."
My voice trembles when I ask, "What is inevitable?"
I don't want to know.
Not really.
Alexander brings his attention back to me. "You're already panicking. The last thing I need is you having a breakdown."
His reply makes my fear double in size.
Suddenly the question I've been trying to hold back pops from my mouth. "You kidnapped me? Because you thought I was Olga?"
If I hadn't swapped clothes with her, I wouldn't be in this mess.
Xander's jaw clenches, and then he nods. "Why?" An impatient look crosses his face. "Like I said, you're in the middle of a war."
Resentment toward the man beside me fills my chest, and I turn my eyes to my legs.
We hear footsteps outside the door, then a rattling of keys. When the door swings open, my mouth grows bone dry, and my eyes widen.
Two very scary-looking men come into the small room. They don't look Filipinos, though, and neither is old enough to be Olga's father.
Xander lets out a chuckle. "Riccardo Ponti." I hear him move, and shooting a glance at Xander, I watch as he climbs to his feet. There's a hate-filled expression on his face that makes him look just as terrifying as our captors. "Does Lukas know what you're up to?"
The man, who I assume is Riccardo Ponti takes a step closer to Xander. "Until the mafia and bratva cut ties, we don't report to Lukas."
Xander lets out another chuckle that sounds more like a warning. "Viktor and Lukas will kill you for this."
Riccardo gestures toward me, and the other man comes to grab my arm.
I'm yanked to my feet and exclaim, "No. Wait." Panic and terror swirl in my stomach, making me feel queasy.
I give Xander a pleading look, hoping he can stop whatever's about to happen, but he doesn't even look in my direction.
I struggle against the hold on my arm while crying for them to wait as they drag me out of the room.
I'm taken down a narrow hallway, where I notice four armed guards before I'm shoved into another room.
Riccardo takes a seat on a chair, and crossing his legs, his eyes slowly sweep over me. He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and wearing a suit, he looks like an ordinary businessman.
The other man still has a biting hold on my arm, and all I can do is tremble, my fear too intense to try and think straight.
"Who are you?" Riccardo asks.
"I'm a tourist, an Italian." I have the futile hope that my nationality will keep them from hurting me or worse. My mind slams up a wall, refusing to think of death.
A frown forms on the man's forehead. "How are you affiliated with the Demonyo Mafia?"
My tongue darts out to wet my lips. "I'm not. I don't even know what the Mafia is."
He tilts his head, his dark eyes staring at me until I fear that I'll wet myself. "What's your name?"
"Anya...Anya de Luna."
"Never heard of you." He glances at the man holding my arm and orders with a bored tone, "She's worthless. Get rid of her."
An eerie sensation ghosts over my skin, and a feeling I've never felt before rattles me to my core. I'm not ready to die. Honestly, I'm terrified of dying.
Maybe if I explain the situation that I just swapped clothes with Olga, he'll let me go. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but something tells me not to divulge the information. Instead, I beg, "Please. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone."
The man gripping my arm says, "She was in the back seat with Xander. They looked cozy before we rammed into their vehicle. We could use her to break him."
I almost divulge that I don't know Xander but bite my bottom lip to keep from talking.
Riccardo again just stares at me, then asks, "What's your relationship with Alexander Vittorio?"
Lie!
"Ahhh..." I wet my lips again, my anxiety level through the roof. "I like him...love him! We...we're dating."
They will ask Xander, and if he tells them the truth, I'm good as dead.
At least I'm buying myself a couple of minutes.
"Take her back to the room."
I'm manhandled, and when I'm shoved back into the small room, my eyes lock on Xander.
Instead of asking Xander to verify what I said, the door is locked again, and we're left alone.
"Oh, God," I whimper, goosebumps spreading over my body. I sink to my knees, and wrapping my arms around my middle, a horrible sob escapes me.
"What did they do?" Xander asks, his tone too calm for my frazzled mind to handle.
"T-they wanted t-t-to know who I am," I sputter. I give Xander a pleading look. "I-I told them we're dating. They were going to k-kill me. I panicked and lied. Please don't tell them the truth."
When I'm done rambling, Xander just stares at me.
"Please," I beg again. "I didn't know what else to do."
When I start to cry, ugly sobs bursting from me, he says, "Calm down. I'm not telling them shit, so your secret is safe with me."
Intense hope washes through me, and I feel dizzy from relief.
"T-thank you," I whisper, uncontrollable sobs shuddering through me.
"It's the least I can do for kidnapping you," he mutters. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes.
All I can do is stare at the guy who's way too calm in the nightmare we find ourselves in.
XXX
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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.