Mobbed Up Love

by M. K. Moore

  Mobbed Up Love

  A Vitali Crime Family Novella

  M.K. Moore

  Flirty Filth Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by M.K. Moore

  All rights reserved.

  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.

  Cover created by KL Fast @ KL’s Book Designs

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other books by MK Moore

  Blurb

  Autumn Deluca is a good girl who works three jobs to help her mother raise her siblings. Her third job is not what she wants to be doing, but it pays enough to quit the first two.

  Alberto Diaz is the best man for his brother’s Thanksgiving weekend wedding. He never thought going to his family’s club would change is life forever.

  One look at the out of place Autumn has him promising to marry her before all the leaves fall.

  This is what happens with a good girl goes bad with the best bad boy around. This is all the Instalove you can handle as well as a little bit of mafia goodness. As always, this story is safe and has a sexy happily ever after.

  *Previously apart of the Bossy Bastard Anthology*

  Chapter One

  Autumn Deluca

  This is so not how I imagined I would be spending the night before Thanksgiving. Having drunk fucks trying to touch my tits is not my idea of something to be thankful for. I should be getting ready for turkey and pumpkin pie, but alas I'm stuck in this Arabian Nights themed strip club. My “uniform” consists of a violet cropped, billowy, long-sleeved, sheer top and extremely short but billowy shorts. Think Princess Jasmine, if she suddenly became a corner-dwelling, street walking, lady of the night.

  It's just too much.

  My big boobs hang out and with the looseness of the shorts, you can see my whole new world.

  I just turned eighteen last month and on that day, I got a third job. I am now the not-so-proud hostess at The Harem. It’s not a terrible strip club, thankfully. The Harem boasts strippers of all shapes and sizes. It’s clean and there is a strict no touching policy, plus they have amazing security. This is not what I want to be doing with my life, but I have no choice. I help my mom take care of my siblings.

  Living in Brooklyn isn't cheap, and my mom needs all the help she can get right now. Between her two jobs and my three, we barely make ends meet. I have three little brothers, and all are still in diapers. My mom had me when she was a freshman in high school. My father was out of the picture before I was born, then he died in Afghanistan in 2003, so for the longest time, it was just me and my mom, Betty. At thirty-three, she still is looking for her happily ever after.

  Five years ago, she met and married Sal. The world’s biggest douche. He got my mom pregnant three times in rapid succession. He’s abusive to my mom and irresponsible. Six months ago, he up and left with all of her savings as well as mine. I had just finished high school, so I put college on hold, not that I ever thought I could afford it, and added a second job. My first job is part-time at the Cuban grocery store on Flatbush Avenue. I do everything from stock shelves to helping with accounting. The Garcia's need all the help they can get too. They are getting older and never had children of their own. I've worked there since I was fourteen and I am pretty sure I always will.

  My second job is also part-time at a car dealership as a receptionist. I only work Saturdays and the pay isn't great, but I meet lots of interesting people. This third job lets me make bank and work at night while my mom is at home with the kids. It just isn’t exactly moral. I vowed to never strip, so working as a hostess until I can bartend seemed like the way to go, at the time. Every day I'm here, I hate it more than the last.

  Because this place is in Manhattan, we are surprisingly high tech. The iPad at my station by the door tells me there are two bachelor parties coming in tonight, but they are staggered. One at seven and the other at ten. Since I work from three in the afternoon until three in the morning, when we close, this is going to be a long freaking night.

  By eight, I'm already exhausted and so beyond tired of dealing with the first bachelor party. They are driving me nuts. They are loud and obnoxious and very clearly violating the rules. The club owner, Clyde, isn't doing shit about it because they are very much connected to the mob. The groom is Joey Santucci's little brother, Richey. Joey Santucci is the head of the Santucci crime family, and everyone knows you don't mess with them. They have everyone in their pockets, including high ranking officials of the police department and the freaking mayor. Well, the old mayor. No one has seen him in months, so there was a special election for the current mayor.

  Despite knowing that, I’m ready to kill the groom. He has asked me three times in the last hour to do a private dance for him. I've told him I don't do that. Clyde has asked me to do it as a favor to him. I'm starting to think that if I don't do it, I won't have a job tomorrow. Or worse.

  I am seriously considering puking on the guy instead of dancing for him when the second bachelor party comes in. These guys and the one girl with them look very normal. I smile brightly at them. As they file in, these guys must be VIPs because of the gratis symbol next to the party name. I can't help staring at one man in particular. He's so friggin’ hot I find myself praying, actually praying, that he isn't the groom.

  Though, I am sure God isn’t listening. I haven’t been to church since the Sunday after my confirmation in tenth grade. This man’s olive toned skin, jet black hair, and expressive green eyes catch my attention immediately. It’s so not normal to have a hot flash at eighteen, but here I am, sweating like a whore in church.

  “Can I get the groom up front?” I ask once I walk them back to their table. My knees almost give out in sheer relief when it's not my mystery man coming forward, but I catch myself.

  “I’m Destiny, I'll be your hostess for the evening and Ginger will be your waitress. Diamond is first up with an exciting performance for you. Thanks for joining us and please don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything else,” I say directing that solely to the not-the-groom hottie. His eyebrow shoots up and he smirks at me.

  As I move away from the table, a hand grabs my wrist. A huge, callused hand that causes me to shiver.

  “Can I help you, sir?” I ask, my eyes popping up to meet his. The man who commands my body without me even knowing his name.

  “What's your real name, Lolita?” His voice washes over me and I close my eyes. My pussy clenches and soaks my panties. Just at the sound of his gruff, masculine voice.

  “Autumn,” I say after I boldly lean closer to him and whisper in his ear. In doing so, I get to inhale a big whiff of his cologne. He smells like cedar and a spice I can’t identify. All man though.

  “Pretty name for a beautiful girl,” he says finally releasing my wrist. For the first time ever, I want a man's hands on me. Not just any man, this man. I can feel my blush rising just being near him.

  I move away from their table as Ginger comes over and starts her spiel. I try to focus on my job, but every time I look over at him, he's staring at me and not at the dancers. Interesting.

  Those girls are gorgeous, so I am not sure why he is staring at me, but I feel naked every single time his eyes slowly roam over my body. Now that I am looking ov
er there, the groom isn't watching the show either. He's looking down at his phone and smiling. With a smile like that, I'd bet anything that he's talking to his fiancée. In the month that I've been working here, I can already tell who is gonna make it awhile. Richey Santucci not so much. Anthony Diaz, very much so.

  Less than a half hour later, after taking the cover charges from a group of already drunk college guys, Clyde comes over to the hostess stand, looking me over.

  “Have you gotten the stick out of your ass yet, princess? Richey is demanding that you dance for him. I've stalled him for as long as I can. You should know by now that you don't refuse that kind of man. Get your skinny ass in that private room now.”

  I am about to do it, though I definitely don’t want to, when he puts his hands on my bicep, squeezing them. I wince in pain. This sets off a chain reaction that shocks me to my core.

  My mystery man comes barreling up from nowhere and rips me from Clyde's hands.

  “Keep your hands to yourself, asshole,” he says through clenched teeth. In his arms, I feel safe. Safety isn't something I've ever felt in abundance, so I bask in it like any abnormal girl would.

  “Who the fuck are you? Why don't you mind your own business?”

  “I'm Alberto Diaz, Junior, and this girl is my business.”

  Alberto Diaz. Why does that sound so freaking familiar and so freaking hot?

  “I apologize, Mr. Diaz. She didn't tell me she was yours.”

  “She shouldn't have to. You shouldn't touch what's not yours,”

  “Of course, you're right, sir. Again, I apologize.”

  “She doesn't work here anymore, got it?”

  “Of course. Of course,” he says practically bowing and backing away. Huh? I have never seen Clyde act like such a pussy.

  “Wait, what?” I ask. “I need this job.”

  “Not anymore, Lolita.”

  “You don't understand,” I say loosening myself from his grip and turning to face him.

  “I own this club, Lo. You don't work here anymore.”

  “You own this club?” I sputter. What have I done to piss him off enough to fire me?

  “It's a family business,” he says shrugging.

  “Be that as it may, I really do need this job,” I reply, trying to reason with him.

  “I'll take care of you,” he says, stroking his index finger down my cheek, which I lean into. I wonder just exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.

  “If it was just me, I might take you up on your offer, but I have three babies depending on me.” I watch his features darken and finger drop from my face.

  “You have children? You belong to someone already?” He spits out, angrily. I pull back from him, but not in fear. I am surprised how wet his anger makes me. God, even his temper turns me on, and I don’t know what that says about me.

  “Calm down big boy. I help take care of my siblings.” He makes me so flustered. How much of his hot and cold can I really take? I decide, irrationally, that I can take all of it.

  Realization dawns on his face and his smile takes my breath away.

  Shit. He's staring at me like he wants to gobble me up.

  Funny thing is, I want to let him. Despite working here, I am as innocent as can be.

  Well, I guess I used to work here if Alberto means what he said. Judging by the look on his face, he meant exactly that.

  “Let's get out of here,” he says. When I lick my lips, he groans.

  “Where are your things, Autumn?” The New York in his accent is thick, just like mine.

  “In the back, in my locker,” I whisper. I can't find my voice with this man. I'm not shy, not by a long shot, but he has me feeling like I don't know my own name.

  “Get them. Meet me back here in five minutes,” he says in a tone that brooks no refusal. Not that I would, but still.

  “Yes, Sir,” I say with a mock salute. I don't know why I did that. He's turning me into a huge awkward mess.

  “Five minutes, Lolita, don't talk to anyone on your way back,” he says.

  “Okay.” The tense way he says it has me nodding immediately, instead of saying something sassy again.

  It takes me three minutes to grab my purse and ratty coat that does nothing to keep me warm. As I am walking from the back, I am stopped by Richey Santucci. Again. Ugh. Even his hands are greasy, I notice as his hand snakes out and grabs my wrist and pulls me onto his lap. Yuck. I squirm, trying to get the fuck off of him. His hands on me feel nothing like when Alberto did the same exact thing to me.

  Don't ask me how, but I know shit’s about to hit the fan when Alberto is suddenly standing over me. The look in his eye is murderous.

  Is it bad that I am so turned on by that glint in his eye?

  Chapter Two

  Alberto Diaz

  Before I walked into my family’s classless establishment, I was dreading it. Strippers aren’t my thing, nor are they my brothers. Our cousins set up his bachelor party even though I am the best man. My brother, Tony, is marrying the love of his life, Angelina, on Saturday. I'm an extremely busy man and I don't have the time to plan something for him any more than I have the time to even be here on a Wednesday. I figure I can take care of some business on my phone while my cousins enjoy the show. Besides my work for The Family, I am the corporate controller for a coffee company. If the company were smaller, I’d be the CFO, but there are just too many divisions both here and in Columbia, so my job title changed after several acquisitions.

  As soon as I walked in the door, I felt something in me shift. I could actually feel my heart beating for the first time. I tried to discreetly watch her as she worked, but every interaction she had with another man had me seeing red. I had ordered a beer when we got here thinking I may as well try to enjoy myself, but that sat untouched until I jumped up causing it to overturn all over my cousin, Theresa. I will pay for that later, I’m sure. I stormed over and rescued my girl. Now I'm about to do so again.

  “What the fuck, Santucci? Get your hands off my girl.”

  “Diaz? I'm surprised your daddy let you out. No dead bodies to deal with tonight?” I watch Autumn's eyes widen. Fucking Santucci. He's not wrong. I am a cleaner for the Diaz crime family, among other things but I need to shut this shit down until I can explain it all to Autumn, but she surprises me.

  “You might want to take your greasy hands off me before it's yours we have to deal with,” she says wrenching her hand away from him and tucking it into mine. The way she says “we” lets me know two things. One, my profession isn't a deal breaker and two, she's ride or die.

  “Did you just threaten me,” he says with clenched teeth. She also insulted him, but I don't mention that. I am about to jump in when she responds.

  “No, just stating a fact. Albie doesn't like it when someone touches what's his,” she says removing herself from his lap and comes to my side putting a calming hand on my forearm. Her response floors me. She certainly is accepting the inevitable much better than I hoped for.

  He doesn't like being told this. I can see it in his eyes.

  “Watch your back, Diaz. Destiny, you could have had it all.”

  “I already do. Why don't you give your fiancée this kind of attention? God knows what she sees in you. You should probably hold on to that.”

  Damn. She is a little bit vicious. I fucking love it. We turn our backs to Richey, which probably isn't smart and head back to our table.

  “Pick up a stripper did you, Al?” Theresa asks.

  “Don't be a bitch, T. We need to go. I may have started some shit with that piece of shit of Richey Santucci.” No other words are needed as everyone gathers their coats. It's then that I see Autumn's coat is full of holes and rips. It's also about two sizes too small and wouldn't keep anything warm. Her bare legs are going to freeze. Her ridiculous uniform has to go. I take mine off of the back of the booth and hold it out to her.

  “I couldn't. What about you?” she asks, trying to push my coat back at me.

 
“I have another in the car,” I say smoothly.

  “Okay,” she says, letting me help her into it. We walk out of the club. The limo pulls up in front of us. “I can't ride in that,” she says, looking distressed.

  “Alright, Lolita, we'll grab a cab,” I say, trying to figure out why she is against the limo ride. Most women would jump at the chance, I assume. I wouldn't have any idea. The first and last woman I was with was prom night ten years ago. She was looking for a ring, and for a way to trap me. I never let it get that far. I've been too busy to think about women until now. All I can think about is fucking my baby into Autumn. Breeding her until she is stuck by my side for eternity. Fuck, I feel like a caveman.

  “Thank you,” she says looking down at the broken concrete of the sidewalk.

  “I'll see you guys tomorrow, tell Mama we'll be there at eleven.” I watch as they get in the limo and it takes off. Not four minutes after they've left does my phone ring. I chuckle answering it. I know that if I don't, she’ll call me a million times.

  “Hey Mama,” I say.

  “You met a woman?”

  “Yes. Her name is Autumn. I need you to set two more spaces at the adult table. There will be three more babies there as well. We may need an additional nanny.” Autumn's eyes get so wide, they look like they will bust out of their sockets.

  “You're bringing a girl home, Alberto. After all these years. I can't wait to meet her. Who's coming with her?”

  “Her mama and three siblings.”

  “Theresa said she's a stripper.”

  “No, Mama.”

  “It wouldn't matter, I was just checking. I want to see you happy. Is she Italian?”