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 5
Alexander Vittorio POV
It's getting hard to tell how much time has passed since Riccardo Ponti visited us.
I was caught off guard that Ponti was the one who ambushed us instead of Emannauel.
Riccardo Ponti is the eldest son of Ignacio Ponti, who's been loyal to the mafia all his life. It's no secret the Ponti family isn't happy about the ties between the mafia and bratva, but I didn't think they'd go this far.
The Italian is looking for shit to rain down on his head. Once Viktor, the head of the bratva, and Andre, the head of the Demonyo mafia, hear of this, all hell will break loose.
The Demonyo Mafia is tied to the Bratva through marriage, and from what I've heard, it's a happy marriage. There's also the fact that Viktor and Andre are close friends.
With Ponti taking us, he's declaring war on the mafia and bratva.
I'd laugh my ass off if it weren't for the shitty position I find myself in.
And then there's the girl. She's been quiet since I agreed to keep her secret. I'm impressed she came up with the lie that we're dating. It won't keep her alive for long, but she bought herself a day or two.
My eyes drift to where she's pressed her body into the corner. Panic and fear still tighten her features. My gaze stops on her trembling hands.
She has pretty hands.
Every time I look at her, I'm struck by her beauty. Beautiful is the last thing you want to be when you're kidnapped. There's a good chance they might rape her before killing her.
I feel sorry for her, but there's not much I can do.
"Did you see my brother?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
I keep staring at her until she finally turns her head and meets my eyes. She looks broken, and they haven't even started with the torture.
Then again, she's not from my world.
Suddenly I wish I could tell her she'll be okay, but I can't bring myself to lie to her.
"What's your brother's name?" she asks her voice soft as if all her energy has been drained from her.
"Marc Vincent."
"And your last name is Vittorio?" When I nod, she explains, "They gave me your full name." She seems to think about something before she says, "We should get our story straight in case they ask about our relationship." When I don't say anything, she continues, "My last name is de Luna. I'm from Italy." Her face threatens to crumble before she says, "My Papa Rocky Ace died a year ago." She loses the battle, and a sob bursts from her. "There's no one who will notice I'm missing."
I'm hit by an intense wave of pity for the girl who seems to have the worst luck in the world.
"I have people already searching for us," I say to make her feel a little better.
Whether they'll get here in time is a whole different story.
Silence falls between us for a long while before Anya whispers, "Please tell me this is just a nightmare, and I'll wake up soon."
My gaze swings to her, and I shake my head. "I might be a criminal, but I never lie."
A hollow-sounding sigh escapes her. Minutes later, she looks at me. "Why are you a criminal?"
I shrug, and figuring I have nothing better to do, I decided to answer her question. "I was born into the Mafia Family. It wasn't a choice."
"If you had a choice, would you do something else?"
I shrug again but don't answer because I never thought about it. Why waste your time thinking about something that can never be?
After a while, she asks, "Don't you want to know anything about me?"
My eyes lock with hers, then I murmur, "You're an eighteen-year-old, Italian who lost your parents and is alone in this world. You've grown up in a protected household and have no idea how to handle the shitty situation we find ourselves in. You're a positive person because, against all odds, you still have hope to get out of this alive." I pause for a moment before I add, "And you're either a kind person or a weak one for agreeing to change clothes with a girl you don't know." My eyes flick to the door. "I know everything worth knowing about you."
I can feel Anya's eyes burning on me. "You don't have to be a jerk."
She might be beautiful, and under different circumstances, I would've taken my chance with her, but this is not the time or place to get to know someone. Growing attached to her will make me vulnerable.
Hours pass when nothing happens. It's impossible to tell what the time is because there are no windows in the room.
I'm thirsty, and my stomach keeps rumbling.
Anya keeps squirming in the corner, giving me the impression she needs to go to the restroom.
My bladder is full, but I can hold out for another few hours.
I'm more worried about Marc Vincent than anything else. He's the eldest of Vittorio's sons, so they will torture him before they get to me.
They're probably torturing him at this very moment.
I keep my face expressionless like I've been taught to do.
Papa used to beat the shit out of us until we learned to show no emotion. Now I understand why he did it.
My father isn't a good man, and honestly, he's not much of a father. I've been raised by one of the bosses of the Demonyo Mafia, and the only love I get is from Mama, Marc Vincent, Maryo, and Tanya.
Their love is enough for me.
Honestly, it's more than most people in my position ever get.
Climbing to my feet, I walk to the door and bang on it while shouting, "Some of us need the toilet."
I bang my fist against the door again, and when I hear footsteps, I move to the other side of the room.
Anya quickly gets up and comes to stand next to me, her side pressing against mine. When the door opens, Ponti's henchman steps inside.
I tip my head in Anya's direction. "She needs the toilet." When the man hesitates, I say, "Unless you want us stinking up the place. It's up to you."
With his gun drawn, he gestures for us to come, which I take as a good sign that they intend to keep us alive for a while.
The henchman's shorter than me. I'm pretty confident I could take him, but then I see the other armed soldiers as we walk down the hallway.
I memorize the layout of the building as we pass four shut doors before we reach a restroom with three stalls and sinks. There's a tiny window that's been welded shut.
Marc Vincent could be in any of those rooms.
The henchman presses the barrel of his gun to the side of my head and nods toward the stalls. "You have one minute, prinsesa."
Anya rushes into a stall, and a couple of seconds later, it sounds like a waterfall is unleashed.
When she doesn't come quick enough out of the stall, the henchman snaps, "Time's up, prinsesa."
Seconds later, the door opens, and Anya comes out, her cheeks burning red.
"Drink water," the henchman instructs.
I watch as she relieves her thirst, and only once the barrel of the gun is directed at her head do I get a nod to use the toilet.
I couldn't give two shits about a girl being in the restroom while I take a leak and go about my business.
I rinse my hands and drink my fill before I push Anya to the side to stand between her and the gun. The poor girl is shaking like a fucking leaf.
My calm demeanor has the henchman glaring at me, and I'm shoved toward the doorway.
We're not taken back to our room but instead shoved into another room where Ponti is sitting on a chair, and Marc Vincent is on his knees in the middle of the concrete floor.
My brother's been beaten, and near him lies one of his molars. Unlike us, he's restrained with handcuffs.
Fuck.
There's a camera standing on a tripod probably to send our father recordings of our torture.
If Ponti thinks this will make the mafia and bratva cut ties, he's stupid as fuck.
Forcefully, I tear my eyes away from Marc Vincent, and with a blank expression, I look at Ponti.
Let the fun begin.
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.