Villainous: A Dark Mafia Captive Romance (A Villain Collection Book 2) Read online

  Copyright Page:

  Copyright © 2021 by J.M. Stoneback No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons , living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editor: oneloveediting.com

  Proofreader: Rumi Khan

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  Formatter: Champagne Book Design

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Mafia Families

  Trigger Warning

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Titles by J.M.

  For me, I want to thank me for believing in myself.

  The song that inspired Villainous is “Cry” by Ashnikko.

  MAFIA FAMILIES

  There are five Italian Mafia families in New York City. This series focuses on the Vitali family.

  Don: Cayden “Devious” Vitali

  Consigliere: Enzo Rossi; his successor, Alonzo Rossi

  Underbosses: Lex Bartoli, Aiden “Villainous” Vitali, Sergio Esposito (work the New York territory)

  Saverio “Berserk” DeVille (works the Los Angeles territory)

  Nero “Atrocious” Parisi (works the Las Vegas territory)

  Captain aka Capo: Piero Ranallo, Manos Verga (work under Villainous)

  Soldiers: Damien Raffa, Max Monti, Nicolo Ferrucci

  Associates: Demonte Zunino (hitman), Matteo Rizzo (kingpin)

  Recruit: Wyatt Puttu

  TRIGGER WARNING

  This book is a DARK romance. If you have sexual assault and violence triggers, then this book isn’t for you. I know what my characters’’ limits are, but only you know your boundaries.

  This not your typical dark mafia romance novel. This book doesn’t focus on the business aspect, but the dark and killing parts of the mafia. Villainous isn’t your typical antihero, he’s a killer and he’s proud of it. If you’re looking for a heart and roses type of guy, then Villainous isn’t for you.

  I had a blast writing Villainous and I hope you enjoy his story.

  Before the war

  Villainous

  Rage with a mix of longing and ache ramps up in my chest as my gaze stays glued to the woman I’ve been tracking for the last decade, the woman who stomped on my heart and left it in pieces.

  Men toss dollar bills onto the velvet stage as they gawk at her like she’s a piece of meat. Maya’s tiny body glides down on the silver pole, and her luscious tits bounce as she twirls around as if she’s a ballerina while her dyed black hair sways. I miss yanking her hair as she blows me and her warm body next to mine as I make love to this woman. She’s mine. She will always be mine. No matter what happened between us.

  But I can’t let her distract me from my mission. My twin brother, Devious, sent me to kidnap and torture her until she tells me where her brother, Cashel, is so we can kill him. We’re at war with the Irish mob.

  I’m glad the goddamn awful techno beat halts. Don’t get me wrong, I love strip clubs, but it irks my nerves when the music is shitty. The place isn’t as lavish as the strip club I run, and it appears they are violating a lot of health inspections. Spots of mold grow on the red ceiling, and the scent of mildew permeates the air.

  She plucks the money from the velvet carpet, crams it in her G-string, then marches to the back of the club. Several minutes later, she waltzes to her boyfriend, Chuck, who’s perched on a dark leather couch. Her plump lips touch his as she wiggles her perky ass on his lap.

  I squeeze the crystal glass tight until my knuckles turn white. Normally, I know how to turn off my emotions and not let shit get to me, but witnessing her loving another man makes me want to slit both of their throats. Maya will always be mine, and no one touches what’s mine. There hasn’t been a day I have gone without thinking about her. There’s always been this magnetic pull between us ever since high school, and I’ve never experienced it with any other woman. How would our lives be if she hadn’t left me without a word? We arranged our marriage to unify the bloodline between the Italian and the Irish mob, but she became a ghost. One minute, we were lovey-dovey, planning our wedding day, and the next, she disappeared from my life and I’m going on a killing spree, hoping to avoid the gigantic hole in my heart. It’s how I deal with my issues, killing anyone I can get my hands on. Scratch that—any adult. Not children. I will never harm a child.

  What are they speaking about? According to our new hit man, Demonte, she’s been dating him for a year. Chuck has no famiglia, and there isn’t much history on him. It doesn’t matter—he’ll be lying in a pool of his own blood soon. According to Demonte, she’s been working as a stripper since she was nineteen years old and has been moving from place to place all over the US, keeping a low profile. She gave herself a fake name—Terry.

  My pulse jumps in my neck, and my heart beats loud in my ears. I dangle my cigarette between my lips and puff on it, blowing smoke from the corner of my mouth as I’m perched on the leather stool, and then I stroke my goatee.

  I wonder if black is still her favorite color. Does she still go to the nearest café and read books on a rainy day? Does she still dream about being a ballerina? Or when she’s nervous, does she bite her nails, and does she still snort when she laughs? Those are the simple things that I miss about her. Those little essentials turn me on about her. I used to love seeing her eyes light up like Christmas lights when she spoke about her dreams.

  The stripper in the skimpy outfit bats her eyes at me and flops on my lap, slinging her arms around my shoulders.

  “You want a dance?”

  Her tone is too cheeky for my liking.

  If it was any other day, I’d take her to a hotel and fuck her, then send her on her way with a stack of cash. That’s why I love strippers and prostitutes—they treat everything as a business transaction with no strings attached. I don’t have to get to know them or worry about them trying to pursue a relationship. Just get my dick wet and go.

  My eyes snag onto the tiny holes on her arm. For a person who is strung out on drugs, she looks as healthy as an ox. “No.”

  She peels herself from my lap. “Maybe next time.”

  Maya and Chuck stride to the exit.

  “Let’s follow them,” I sneer to both of my bodyguards, Vito and Dante, who are dressed in dark suits.

  Once we’re outside in the parking lot, the crisp air bites at my cheek
s. I puff on my cigarette, then stomp the butt on the dark asphalt.

  Chuck brushes his thin lips across her forehead before she plops onto the passenger seat, and then he settles into his super-white Toyota Sienna.

  A family car for a family man. He looks like the type, and he’s probably a fucking gentleman and treats her with respect. Boring Chuck is also probably the type that rubs her back when she has cramps. He brings her medication or watches a chick flick movie with her. He also doesn’t know that she isn’t the type to like any of those things. She doesn’t want any of that, and she would like to be left alone. Give her ice cream, but she isn’t into those types of movies; she loves horror films and sci-fi. He also seems like the type that works at a boring desk job and fucks her vanilla. Maya was once into having rough sex. The choking, the biting, that was how I used to fuck her, and if I didn’t rough her up, then she wouldn’t ever come.

  She’s painting this picture that she’s a Goody Two-shoes, like she wasn’t just shaking her ass in front of men. I should put a bullet through every man in the damn building for gawking at my woman. Time has changed so much since I last saw her. She’s no longer the girl I fell in love with in high school.

  Chicago weather is brutal in the fall. Snow falls freely from the sky, sticking to anything it can find. Skyscrapers light up the pitch-black sky. Horns blare in the distance, and the city bus whooshes by us, adding a gush of wind.

  I secure my dark trench coat tighter around my hard body as my driver, Henson, opens the rear door of my black Mercedes SUV with the tinted windows, and I veer in next to Vito. Dante perches in the passenger seat.

  We tail them for a few blocks, and the traffic is just as bad as New York’s, thick and compact. I would live here, but our territory doesn’t run in this area because the Chicago Outfit runs this turf.

  We have an alliance with them. Devious helps them with protection from the Albanian mafia in exchange for laundering money.

  Henson cruises into an underground garage and parks a few spaces from Maya and her boring desk-job boyfriend.

  They get out of the car, and he traces his fingers over my woman’s hips, then trails down to her ass cheeks, squeezing tight.

  My rage is back full force. I need to compose myself because if I don’t, then I’ll put a bullet through his head, and there are too many witnesses and cameras. My fingers are itching to kill him, and I want to fuck Maya on his corpse to prove to her who she belongs to. The thought makes my dick hard against the metal zipper, so I adjust myself.

  They head up to the elevator, and I wait until the metal door closes before getting out of the vehicle. Both of my bodyguards trail beside me as I march to the elevator. I know exactly where she lives. Once the elevator stops, we step out and stroll slowly to the apartment with the number forty-five on the steel door.

  “Pick the lock,” I murmur to Vito.

  He does what I say, and the heavy door cracks open. Maya’s giggles filter from the living room. Fuck, I miss the way she used to giggle. The sound is appealing, a siren calling to me, hypnotic and captivating. Once we’re inside, I glance around. This place is…so her. A pile of black clothes is on the floor, and a hint of lavender flirts with my nostrils. Pictures of her and a young boy with auburn-reddish hair and icicle-blue eyes hang on the dark walls. As I clamp my eyes shut, I inhale deeply, then peel them open. It’s like stepping into a time machine, and memories of us dating barge through my mind. We peek around the corner, and she has her toned legs draped over his lap.

  Up close, she’s as pretty as an angel. Her skin is pale but smooth, and her eyes are the color of chocolate. But they’re dull, and her smile is as fake as a blow-up doll. She doesn’t seem as happy as she was with me. But looks can be deceiving. People hide their true character so no one will judge them.

  “I can’t wait until our trip to Holland, sweetheart. I can’t wait for you to meet my family,” Chuck promises against her forehead.

  Though I try to remain calm, blood rushes to my ears, and my hands shake while I swallow thickly. Lifting my head up high, I dust off my expensive, dark suit jacket. “Maya, what the fuck are you doing?”

  Her face pales as if she saw a ghost, and she stands up immediately, her whole body rigid. She stands behind her soon-to-be-dead boyfriend and uses him as a shield. Maya used to be fierce; now, she hides behind this dumbass.

  I don’t like the new Maya, and I want the old one back.

  We stare at each other for several minutes, drinking each other in. She studies my face as if she’s trying to figure out what changed between us. The air is sucked from the room, and the temperature becomes scalding hot. My heart pounds so hard that I can hear it through my ears, and my palms dampen, but I keep them by my sides.

  What the hell are you doing to me, Maya Devoy? Why do you still have this hold on me? Why do I still crave you after all these years?

  “What the fuck? How did you find me?” Her voice is so mature and lighter than I remember, and hearing it makes my anxiety spike.

  Chuck glares at me. “Terry, sweetheart. Who is this, and who is Maya?”

  Pain stabs my chest. This pisses me off. When I envisioned seeing her, she would at least be delighted to see me. I always assumed that she left because something happened to her mother. Maybe she couldn’t take me being a bastard child of a mobster, or it got back to her what my mother was doing to me while we were together. I’ve been living in a fantasy world. She never loved me the way I loved her.

  I yank out my Glock from my holster, aiming it at his forehead, and he places his hands in the air.

  Normally, I’d think of a way to kill him creatively. Killing is an art and a skill, a talent that must not be wasted.

  Fear pebbles in his eyes. It’s the type of fear I crave right before I take someone’s life. Their mind conjures up thoughts to get them out of this situation. Survival mode kicks in, and it’s beautiful, like a sunset over the ocean. I check out this bastard. He’s wearing a cheap-ass suit, and he’s lanky and thin. He couldn’t bust a grape. I could take him out in two seconds.

  “Her fiancé,” I answer. I don’t know what made me call her that or why I’m holding on to a little hope that she might still be in love with me. Pausing for several seconds, I glare at Maya. “Who gave you permission to fuck another man? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

  She’s the reason I couldn’t move on and be with someone else. I can’t even connect with any other woman.

  She shakes her head, and her gaze lands on Chuck. “He’s not my fiancé.” She rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seen you in ten years. I don’t belong to you.”

  The way she’s looking at Chuck with unconditional love and yearning makes me want to go apeshit on her.

  “I beg to fucking differ,” I snap.

  “Is your name even Terry?” Chuck demands.

  Her cheeks turn rosy red, and she hangs her head low. “No, it’s Maya Devoy.”

  His eyes study my tattoos and expensive suit. “How did you get caught up with this thug?”

  “It’s a long story, and I can’t tell you, but after all this, I hope we can be together. We can move away from here like you wanted and be a happy family,” she suggests.

  I can’t stand watching her continue to break my heart bit by bit and clarify that she doesn’t want me anymore. It doesn’t matter because she’s leaving with me whether she likes it or not.

  Chuck tries to reach for something under the cream cushion of the couch.

  “You move an inch and I’ll ruin your face,” I taunt.

  “Do what he says,” Maya warns, clinging to him for dear life.

  I tuck my Glock back into my holster, march up to her, and yank down her leather pants.

  She screams, and tears slither down her cheeks as she bangs her tiny fist on my hard chest. Picking her up, I slam her face forward onto the couch, pinning her to the cushion. I snap her G-string, and a pop sound bounces off the beige walls.

  I smirk. “I’m going to have fun sho
oting my cum into you again.”

  “Get off me, Aiden!” she shrieks.

  I lean down and whisper, “It’s Villainous to you. You have to earn the right to call me by my real name again.”

  Chuck balls up his fist. “Get the fuck off of her!”

  Vito clutches the back of his neck, forcing him to his knees, brushing the barrel of the gun on the side of his temple.

  I squeeze her ass cheeks. It’s as soft as marshmallow, just as I remember. Thinking about her small hole squeezing the life out of my dick makes me hornier than a dog. “Where the fuck is the tattoo?”

  She flinches, her eyes wide, and she shakes her head.

  I remove my handkerchief from my breast pocket and clean her right cheek, removing the makeup, exposing the tattoo of my name surrounded by roses and thorns. It’s a bit faded, but I can see my name as clear as day.

  “There it is. You see, Chuck? This little dove belongs to me.”

  Shame clogs her face, and her eyes lift to Chuck.

  “It’s not what you think. I hid the tattoo because I didn’t want you to think I was still in love with him. I don’t love him anymore. He’s ancient history.”

  She actually gives a fuck about his feelings and disregards mine as if I don’t matter. Where was her explanation when she abandoned me? But boring desk-job boy can get a reason. Oh, hell no. My eyes are clouded with red.

  I snag my Glock and pull the trigger multiple times. Bullets spray through Chuck’s face. Rich blood and gray brain matter paint the cream couch and Maya. The metallic smell blossoms in the air.

  Lust courses through my veins. The sight of blood makes my dick hard. I want to yank the rest of Maya’s clothes off and fuck her on the couch, but there is no time for it. I have to get her back to my manor as soon as possible.

  Screaming at the top of her lungs, she pounds on my hard chest and smacks me across my face. “Why did you kill him? I love him! You stupid asshole!”