Mad Mafia Love: BWWM Romance Novel

By Jamila Jasper

Eve never thought she'd fall for a guy in the mafia. 

But Nico is persistent and refuses to take no for an answer.

He wants to make Eve his... No matter the cost.

She can't allow herself to fall in love with a guy like that. 

But she does.

And her life changes forever.

This BWWM novel is an extra-steamy read so hot it might melt your device.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publisher s23991
• Release date: Aug 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9788822806031

Jamila Jasper

Jamila Jasper is a 32-year-old romance author who just moved to a small corner of New England. She's always been in love with black romantic comedies and writing interracial romance fan fiction. This love of writing has morphed into a passion for publishing BWWM novels. Jamila concocts, sweet full-length romance novels with guaranteed happily ever after endings, each one with a creative, strong female lead and an attractive, caring white man. Sign up for her e-mail list here to receive FREE stories, exclusive offers and an update of Jamila's publication schedule:  Bit.ly/jamilajasper  Hit this link to get text message updates from me: https://slkt.io/gxzM

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Nico

April 2016

Boston

America smelled like coffee, cigarettes and car exhaust. The country differed from Italy in all the worst ways. The highways rushed along, the cars were all shiny and tacky, unlike sleek Italian made vehicles. But there was no going back to Italy now. The sweet smell of the aging architecture and the damp smells of Venice would no longer remain a part of Nico’s daily fare.

If Nico so much as set foot in the old village, his father would know. He was in America for better or for worse. Nico didn’t want his father keeping tabs on him anymore. He knew he’d attracted a lot of attention with his recent stunt and Giuseppe would be angry. He didn’t take too kindly to betrayal. And from his perspective, Nico had betrayed him.

At least there were some positives in this country. Here, he would have some hope of becoming anonymous. Americans hit you with their rawness and their honesty too. Nico knew that finding loyal men in America would be far easier than it would have been in Italy. He couldn’t hope to stand up to his father in the country where his father had spent most of his life forging alliances and stoking fears.

Nico’s hands dipped into his pocket and he felt around for the tiny velvet satchel that held his freedom. That would keep his father from killing him. Nico was on his way to the safety deposit box — thirty miles out of the city in a random, quiet Massachusetts town — to deposit the satchel. He’d die before he told his father where he was hiding the tiny bag.

Nico thought about what had happened back in Italy, just days before he was supposed to touch down in the so-called land of the free with his twin brother. Nico had changed his flight at the last minute and managed to get a head start on Luca. The two were finally supposed to come to America and join Giuseppe, carrying out his dirty work in the land of consequences. Sensing Nico’s reluctance to leave what he had in Italy behind, his father had commanded the unthinkable. Nico was left without a choice.

And too many people were left without justice.

Nico’s twin brother could no longer harm him anymore. He’d carried out the unthinkable on the behalf of his father, and Nico had ensured that his twin brother would never hurt anyone again. Nico didn’t give a damn about his father’s wrath anymore. He’d spent his lifetime cowered n fear, always terrified to betray the family. But what did family mean after what his father had ordered and after what his twin brother had done?

Giuseppe had pushed too far and he’d made an enemy out of his son — the softer of the twin brothers. But he’d messed with the wrong one. Luca might have been more violent and more sadistic than his brother, but he lacked Nico’s precision and sense of justice. He underestimated the fact that Nico would retaliate.

Now, they were all paying for it. It had been a few days since Nico had thought of his twin brother.

(Tall Luca. Handsome Luca. Luca who pulled the legs off of living flies. Luca who laughed as he drove the knife into her belly.)

Luca had always made people uneasy, Nico made men want to fight for him. He was strong, suave and he had inherited all of Giuseppe’s good traits. (It seemed Luca had inherited all of Giuseppe’s worst traits.) Nico wasn’t going to let his father get away with what he’d done. And as it turned out, Giuseppe had made more than a few enemies since he first set foot in Boston in 1970. Nico was just biding his time.

He walked into the bank and greeted the sweet teller who had helped him the last time. Beth Curtis was a sweet New England blonde who was utterly charmed by the tall, handsome man with the heavy Italian accent. She thought Nico didn’t notice, but he did, and he used his charm to distract her from what he was doing here. The less she knew the better. The less she knew, the less danger her life would be in. As far as she knew, Nico was just another foreign businessman. And his name wasn’t Nico.

Good afternoon Mister Ricardo, Beth started.

Good afternoon madam, Nico said, taking Beth’s hand and kissing it.

She blushed. And then she looked down bashfully.

I suppose you’d like to head to the box today?

Yes, I’d finally like to make a deposit.

And your drive down here was alright?

My drive?

Beth was flirting, Nico could tell. But that didn’t rid him of his paranoia. Giuseppe could have ears in all kinds of places. If this woman had any idea that he was from Boston proper, Nico would have cause to turn around and walk out of that bank, finding another city to make his deposit.

There was an accident over on Main Street this morning, Beth continued.

Nico relaxed his posture a bit.

Ah. Yes. It was no trouble for me getting down here.

Didn’t catch any of the gory details?

I’m afraid not.

​

Alrighty. Well, let me get your key Mr. Ricardo.

She wandered to the back. To Beth, Nico Riccardi was Nicholas Ricardo, Americanized and utterly mundane, in no way connected to one of the biggest mafia families in Boston. She had bought his story, believing without a doubt that he was an investment banker who had retired early in a small town. His forged documents raised no red flags and Nico was in the clear to make this final deposit and ensure his safety. Thank you Bill for the good quality documents.

While Giuseppe had friends here, Nico had even more. And he had plenty of men on his side who were tired of the tyranny. Like Nico, they wanted to be free.

Beth returned from behind the counter holding the key to safety deposit box #3991. Nico followed her down the hallway to the box. He could tell Beth was trying to walk the walk and put on a show for him. She’d come too close to asking him out a number of times. Beth wasn’t his type. She was Irish for one thing. Her hair was a strawberry blonde color that looked almost faded. Her skin was so pale it was almost see through and Beth was too skinny in all the wrong places.

Nico was a traditional Italian man. He loved his women with bronzed or dark skin. He craved a partner who had a little meat on her bones. Someone like her. The woman who wasn’t Beth. The woman who he’d left behind in Italy. The woman who he would never see again thanks to his father.

Beth tiptoed upwards and unlocked the box. An old Bible (printed in 1890), a solid gold rosary and now, the tiny velvet bag, lay in the safety deposit box.

That’s it?​

Yes, that’s it.

Going to tell me what’s in the bag?

She was flirting again. Nico was still uninterested. But he observed her with amusement. She wrapped her wiry strawberry blonde hair around her finger and smiled at him with her overly perfect teeth. He could smell the fact that she smoked cigarettes on her breath. He usually didn’t mind (nearly every woman in Italy smoked) but today, he found evidence of the habit off-putting.

No thank you ma’am, Nico responded to her with a smile.

He could see Beth’s disappointment. She wanted in on the joke and she didn’t take too kindly to Nico’s rejection. He’d have to leave her with some hope. That would keep her well-behaved and quiet. Some hope that this handsome Italian man could really be interested in a girl like her would keep Beth Curtis right where he wanted her.

I hope when I come into town again, I’ll be able to see your beautiful face once again.

Beth smiled, failing to be casual about receiving a compliment like that.

Wow… Well Mr. Ricardo, I hope to see you again soon.

She locked the safety deposit box and led Nico to the front of the bank. She looked at him expectantly, hoping that he’d ask her on a date or do something more forward.

Goodbye Beth, Nico replied, taking Beth’s hand and planting a kiss on her hand.

Her face turned scarlet and Nico flashed her a wink. That would have to be enough for now. He walked out of the bank and got in his car, turning it towards Boston. He’d have to ditch this car as soon as he got back into the city. His buddy Paul was going to buy this one off of him and he’d turn up with a nice, respectable black sedan sure to fly under the radar. And it would be Italian made too. Thank goodness, Nico was tired of this clunky death trap.

Nico knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge his father for long. Giuseppe had many enemies, that was true, but he also had plenty of friends. Or whatever you called people who owed you favors. At least his father didn’t have his attack dog Luca by his side any longer. If

The drive back to Boston was long and boring. Nico tried the country music station, the news but eventually settled on classical music. Classical music always reminded him of Italy. But it also reminded him of her. Nico grit his teeth and tried to fight back tears. What his father had done was unacceptable. He’d taken away the one thing that Nico loved most on the planet. The one woman he had truly loved was gone.

Nico knew that was it for him. He’d never love again. In America, how could there be another woman like her? Women in America were more like Beth. They were plain. They were regular. They didn’t have the taste for adventure, the zest for life that a purebred Italian man like Nico was looking for. Nico’s hopes and dreams for the future had died along with her.

Hence this suicide mission. That’s why Nico found himself looking for problems with Giuseppe Riccardi of all the people on this godforsaken planet. His father was a dangerous man, but a man with nothing to lose is far more dangerous than Giuseppe realized. Without a care in the world except for his revenge, Nico was unstoppable.

When he got off the exit in Boston, he checked his rearview mirror. No one following. He hadn’t been able to leave his paranoia in Italy unfortunately. There was traffic down towards the city and Nico found himself itching for a drink.

He’d have to ditch this car first, then drink. Traffic oozed along at an irritating pace. Nico’s phone was ringing off the hook. Paul hated lateness. Nico hated being told what to do. Paul would just have to wait. He’d paid the guy well for his services, so he could stand to wait a few minutes.

Finally, he found himself pulling over to an old garage near Alewife station.

Nico parked his car and got out, scanning the place for Paul. His palms were sweaty. No sign of Paul meant that he could have been intercepted. How much more blood could Giuseppe get on his hands? Paul reached into his waistband, clutching the steel handle as he walked further into the garage.

Hey hey hey buddy! He heard Paul’s deep booming voice coming from the inside of the garage.

Nico’s hand darted away from the gun. Nothing to worry about. From the sound of it, Paul was his usual self.

Buddy! He said with a big, broad smile.

You alright? Paul shook his hand, a formal greeting compared to what Nico was accustomed to in Italy.

Yes. I just need to get rid of this piece of shit.

Piece of shit, huh?

Paul started walking towards Nico’s car, eyeing it up and down as he got close.

This is some piece of shit, Paul chuckled.

He didn’t understand quality cars the way Nico did. Loyal to American brands to a fault, Paul probably thought this car was just fine. At least that would make it easy to move. Nico needed to ditch every piece of evidence that could be traced back to his real identity now that he was here.

Paul reached into his pocket. Nico felt his heart jump again. Paul just pulled out a box of cigarettes.

Want one?

​

No thank you.

Paul shoved the Marlboro into his mouth and lit up. The slimy scent of tobacco slithered into Nico’s nostrils against his will. He pursed his lips and waited for Paul to give his assessment.

​

Well it’s in the condition you said it would be in.

I’m a man of my word.​

Paul chuckled and took in a long slow drag punctuated by a hacking cough.

Well, perfect. All you need is twenty-thousand cash and the car will be yours.​

No problem.

Nico opened up the trunk and pulled out a black duffel bag.

You’ve got to be shitting me.

It was cash you wanted right?

Well, I figured you’d write me a fuckin’ check.

Paul’s Boston accent appeared to be getting thicker as he was confronted with more money than he knew what to deal with.

No time for checks.

What kind of bullshit are you up to buddy?​

Bullshit that you shouldn’t worry about, Nico said, flashing Paul a smile while his icy blue eyes bore into him, warning him against asking too many more questions.

Great. The Audi’s out back.

Paul knew better than to ask too many questions too. He didn’t have any specifics about what Nico was up to, but he was also too smart to ask.

Perfect.

Paul picked up the duffel bag and Nico dropped the keys to his old ride into Paul’s leathered palm. Paul dropped the duffel on the ground in the center of the garage and continued to lead Nico to his prize. Nico grinned from ear to ear when he saw the car, exactly as he’d ordered it. A brand new 2017 Audi A4. Sleek, black, Italian and just cheap enough that it would fly under the radar.

She’s beautiful, Nico said.​

Isn’t she? Nice fuckin’ car. Drives real nice.

Well, maybe you’ll get a chance to hold onto this one.

If you head back to old Italia?

Nico smiled but didn’t reply. He didn’t think he’d be going back to Italy. He figured that he’d die here, right on American soil. It hurt to think about, but everything had hurt since she had died. There wasn’t a single moment of Nico’s life that wasn’t pure agony.

Keys?

Sure. Sure thing buddy.

Paul fumbled around in his deep pockets and pulled out the keys.

​

Well, why don’t I take her for a spin. I’ll drop by tomorrow if I have any issues.

Of course.

​

I’ll remember this favor Paul.

T’was no problem buddy.

Nico got into the driver’s seat. The smell of new leather intoxicated him instantly. He pushed the