Massimo: The Anastasi Family Syndicate Book One : Social Rejects Syndicate
Page 1
Book One
Massimo © 2021 by LC Taylor. All Rights Reserved.
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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Sweet 15 Designs
Edited by Quinn Ryder
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
LC Taylor
Visit my website at www.authorlctaylor.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: Feb 2021
LC Taylor publishings
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Books By LC
Chapter 1 | Massimo
Chapter 2 | Madison
Chapter 3 | Massimo
Chapter 4 | Madison
Chapter 5 | Massimo
Chapter 6 | Massimo
Chapter 7 | Madison
Chapter 8 | Massimo
Chapter 9 | Madison
Chapter 10 | Massimo
Chapter 11 | Madison
Chapter 12 | Massimo
Chapter 13 | Madison
Chapter 14 | Massimo
Chapter 15 | Madison
Chapter 16 | Massimo
Chapter 17 | Madison
Chapter 18 | Massimo
Chapter 19 | Madison
Chapter 20 | Massimo
Chapter 21 | Madison
Chapter 22 | Massimo
Chapter 23 | Madison
Chapter 24 | Massimo
Chapter 25 | Madison
Chapter 26 | Massimo
Chapter 27 | Madison
Chapter 28 | Massimo
Chapter 29 | Madison
Chapter 30 | Massimo
Chapter 31 | Madison
Chapter 32 | Massimo
Chapter 33 | Madison
Chapter 34 | Massimo
Chapter 35 | Madison
Chapter 36 | Massimo
Chapter 37 | Massimo
Chapter 38 | Madison
Chapter 39 | Massimo
Chapter 40 | Madison
Chapter 41 | Massimo
Chapter 42 | Madison
Chapter 43 | Massimo
Chapter 44 | Massimo
Chapter 45 | Madison
Epilogue | Vincenzo
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Further Reading: Vincenzo: The Anastasi Family Syndicate Book Two
Also By LC Taylor
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Books By LC
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Wretched: Book Two
Willing: Book Three
Whispers: Book Four
Worthy: Book Five
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Charlotte
Military Romance
The Glass Heart
Bound
The Signal Series
Signal 41: Saving Carson
Signal 99: Freeing Felicity
Signal 63: Reviving London
Signal 69: Holding Jenna
Signal 33: Finding Zoey
Stand-Alone Books
Phoenix Night
Cracked
Small Town Romance
Words from the Heart
His Imperfect Mistake
The Elemental Queen Series
Emerald Queen
Ruby Queen
Sapphire Queen
Onyx Queen
Amethyst Queen
Diamond Queen
Social Rejects Syndicate
Massimo: Anastasi Family Syndicate Book One
Matias: Silva Brothers Trilogy Book One
“I never lie to any man because I don’t fear anyone. The only time you lie is when you are afraid” ~ John Gotti
Chapter 1
Massimo
There are moments in life that define you.
Moments that make you.
Moments that shape you into the person you will inevitably become until your death.
This was not that moment.
No... this was my job—a job I’d been born into.
“Did you hear what I asked you?”
I gripped the man’s portly neck, my hand itching to snap his spine like a twig. Sweat trickled down his head, seeping into the rolls of skin beneath my fingers, digging into his flesh. I yanked his head back, forcing him to look into my eyes. The piece of shit tried to steal from me. He thought no one would notice the missing money, but a grand just doesn’t up and walk away without getting noticed.
“Yeessss...” his voice wobbled as he replied.
“Where is the money?”
“I don’t have it anymore, I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I laughed. “A mistake is shorting the till twenty bucks... but a G? That’s no fucking mistake.” Releasing his head, I dusted my palms on my pants. Not only was I stuck dealing with his sorry ass, I was doing it in my favorite suit. “Donny.” I turned to the muscle of my operation. “Get rid of this rat.”
“No... please...”
I watched as Donny slipped shiny brass over his knuckles and rolled his sleeves. Usually, I would teach those who stole from me a lesson, but the thought of ruining the clothes I was in pissed me off.
The door slammed shut, drowning his screams behind the massive metal barrier. As the son of Giacomo Anastasi, Don of one of the longest-running crime families here in Vegas, I couldn’t let anyone see me as weak.
The Mafia was in my blood. My grandparents were still in Sicily, running things across the ocean for our family. My parents moved here at my grandfather’s request. He wanted to control the streets of Vegas through my father. It was a long road, but the Anastasi’s had become the name everyone feared. Even the cops were in our pocket. There wasn’t anything that we didn’t know about. And if we didn’t know, someone learned quickly why that wasn’t in their best interest.
There were six of us: me, Vincenzo, Catarina, Antonio, and the twins—Carmela and Celestina. Our family owned several businesses along the Vegas strip, allowing for a steady cash flow into our pockets.
As the oldest, my father felt I should oversee the operations of the family’s nightclub, Discoteca. The name literally translated to night club in English. When my dad originally opened the bar, it was a place to unwind, have a few drinks, and listen to some good music. Since taking it over, I’ve added a few things to the club—perks that benefit the patrons and my family.
The lower level bar and dance floors are still the main attraction, but I renovated, adding two additional floors. The rear of the building was converted to offer secluded rooms with private bar service. It’s mainly used by high profile customers who are given a personal waitress for the entire evening.
The basement was still used for meetings we needed to keep out of the public’s eye—a space for the family to conduct business that pertained to less than legal doings.
Adding to the club opened more doors for us, giving us access and information to high-ranking officials—blackmail of sorts. The best addition, however, was Fantasia on the second floor. Patrons can’t access that area
without a membership. Anyone wanting to partake in the services offered in Fantasia must pay a hefty club membership and sign the required non-disclosure form. This keeps what is seen upstairs sealed behind club walls. No one can use information gained during their time in the club for their personal benefit.
Well... except for us.
The addition of Fantasia wasn’t just to make more money. No. It was so my father would have even more leverage against those in power.
Vegas is a playground for people who love everything taboo. It’s a town where people can let loose and let go without worrying about their uptight neighbors. Fantasia offers a way for people to release their inner inhibitions and live out all their dark fantasies. Discoteca looked like an average nightclub on the surface, but with the right money, men and women could live out their favorite kinks on the second floor.
Though I played a few times at Fantasia, it wasn’t my thing or anybody else’s in my family. Except Vincenzo. He said it allowed him to release his stress from being a top-rated chef.
Ensuring the basement door was secured, I headed out into the club. It was a typical Friday night with people crowded inside and dressed to impress. Everyone was out looking for something, and often, they found it here.
“Hey, Boss,” Carlisle, my head bartender, called out as he tossed his hand up in a half-wave.
“Carlisle, How’s the crowd tonight?”
“Pretty decent. There’s a private party in the back that’s gotten a bit rowdy, but Benito handled them.”
“Who’s working the room?”
“Brian, and Holly is filling in for Kitty since she quit, but she isn’t happy about it.”
I tapped the bar top. “Any luck on finding someone to replace her?”
“Nope. No one worth a shit has applied. I’ll keep looking. There has to be someone who can handle what we have to offer.”
“I’ll handle the interviews. Email me some resumes and I’ll look at them tomorrow. I’ll be upstairs, let me know if there are any more issues tonight.”
“You got it.”
I watched as Carlisle walked to the opposite end of the counter and served a couple of guys. There was an office tucked behind the bar where I could operate the daily business, but the staff knew I preferred the solitude of my apartment on the third floor. The rush of Vegas had worn off for me some time ago. If I sought companionship, I had no trouble finding someone to take to a private room or to Fantasia for the night.
Pressing my thumb to the keypad on the wall, I leaned against the metal frame, waiting for the elevator doors to open. Members of Fantasia used a separate elevator. This one was mine. It led to my private quarters on the third floor. There was only one other way into my apartment. That was through the stairwell we kept locked with a keypad like the ones by the elevator.
Climbing into the metal box, I rested against the cold steel wall as it ascended. I couldn’t help but smile when the doors opened, revealing my custom apartment.
The living space was painted in reds and greys, with sleek black furniture, giving a sensual and almost regal vibe. The main living area was like a loft.
A long couch was situated against the back wall and a vast platform bed against another. On the opposite side of that was my kitchen. Everything was fitted with chrome appliances, offsetting the dark interior design. A long countertop separated the workspace from the living space of the apartment.
The bathroom was the only separate room in the loft. It was, by far, my favorite spot in the apartment. A massive walk-in enclosure with multiple shower heads filled one side of the stall. An old-fashioned claw tub sat at the rear of the room, opposite the vanity and toilet. A large walk-in closet was off to the side. There was a door that led to the back stairwell of the club, but it was used only for emergencies. The main elevator was the only way inside and only I had control of its operation, making my apartment one of the most secure places in the building.
Stripping my jacket off, I tossed it onto the bar and grabbed a glass of whiskey and carried it to the leather couch. I settled into the cushions, crossing my leg over my knee to rest my aching back.
My phone vibrated inside my pocket, causing me to shift and pull it out of my pants.
“Speak,” I grunted into the phone.
“It’s done,” Donny mumbled across the line.
“Good. Clean up taken care of?”
“Yes, all’s good. We got nuttin to worry about.”
“Send his family a message. I want everyone to know what happens when you fuck with the Anastasi family. I’ll let my father know it was handled. Call me if you have any problems, go have a drink, you earned it.”
“Sure thing, Massimo. I’ll see you later.”
I tossed the phone over to the table and downed the amber liquid in one gulp. The whiskey burned as it went down, heating my insides with fire.
Grabbing the mini keyboard on the table, I clicked a few buttons, bringing the large television screen to life. I fitted the TV for dual purposes. Not only could I watch my shows, but with the click of my fingers, it gave me access to the entire club. My eyes scanned various views. No one knew I could see everything—including all the rooms on the second floor.
My apartment was my sanctuary. I had it insulated and soundproofed, ensuring my privacy was to the fullest. It wasn’t like I ever had a woman in my place. No, only Donny and few members of my staff had ever been inside here, and that was to deliver food or items if I requested them to do so.
Seeing everything was on the up-and-up in the club, I shut off the TV and stood. I needed to wash the day’s dirty deeds from my body. Stripping out of my clothes, I stalked across the floor toward the bathroom. My body craved a hot shower and sleep.
Being the oldest son to the most powerful Don in the Mafia meant my life was not my own. No matter what I wanted, the Mafia would always be my life.
My brothers all helped run the family business in some capacity—Vincenzo with his restaurant and Antonio with his construction company. My sisters didn’t partake in the underbelly of the syndicate, but they supported us when we needed help.
Catarina was the oldest of the girls. She had wanted something different for her life and went to nursing school. While my father was resistant, her skills have proven useful to us. I couldn’t count how many times she had to stitch one of us up after a brawl or an unfortunate encounter.
The twins, Carmela and Celestina, are in Italy with my grandparents. They were finishing up design school in Milan and would return to Vegas in a few months.
After washing my sins away, I crawled into bed. As tired as I was, my mind was restless.
But not from the day’s events.
No.
At twenty-eight, I wondered if I’d ever find someone who could accept the life I lived. It was a hard way of life, and I feared I’d never find a love like my parents and grandparents have.
My Nonna once told me that when I find the one meant to complete me; I’ll know in an instant. It’ll be like a bolt of lightning shocking my system into oblivion. The weight of being an Anastasi won’t matter to her because she will be my rock.
Immovable and indestructible to this way of life.
Closing my eyes, I prayed my Nonna was right. The time was drawing closer for me to take over as head of the family. When that happened, I wanted . . . no . . . needed someone by my side.
If I was to be king, I needed my queen.
Chapter 2
Madison
Staring at the letter in my hand, I refused to let the tears fall. Another past due notice about my rent, reminding me that my life was an utter failure. I moved to Vegas to attend college, only to learn the scholarship I’d been given didn’t cover room and board. Living in the shithole, for which I’d received the notice for, was the only affordable option. At least, it was until I lost my job.
The restaurant I was a waitress at burned down three weeks ago, leaving me jobless and now almost homeless. It was hard finding a place that wo
uld work with my school hours—a job I was willing to work, that is. Being a card dealer or stripper were not things I was willing to do. And waitress jobs in Vegas with enough hours to sustain my living expenses were hard to find.
Sighing, I flopped down on my raggedy couch. It was one of two pieces of furniture I had in my single room apartment. The kitchenette looked like something out of the 1950s with puke green appliances and shit brown Formica counters.
The bathroom was even worse, with a mildew-stained stand in shower and a single vanity with a light fixture that could make even the dead look deader. Kicking my shoes off, I pulled my computer into my lap. It was the most valuable thing I owned and literally held my life inside.
A foster kid since the age of nine, I’d learned early on material things weren’t important—food and water were all that mattered. I’d become hardened to life at an early age. My mother died when I was a child after a home invasion took her life. I watched her murder from a bedroom closet where she’d hidden me. She left to call for help, but they caught her, shooting her in the head. My dad wasn’t home when it happened, thank god, because I would have been orphaned. Little did I know, only a year later it would happen anyway.
He worked every day to make ends meet and put food on the table. My dad was my whole world—until he wasn’t. He began drinking to cope with the stress of raising a daughter on his own and losing his wife so violently. With counseling, I’d managed to be a normal kid. Well, as much as I could be after witnessing her death.
I’ll never forget the moment my life changed again. I was sitting on the sofa watching Sponge Bob when the police came to take me away. My dad had gotten shitfaced at the bar after work.
Thinking he was invincible, he made a decision that altered not only my life, but the life of another family. His car crossed the double yellow line into oncoming traffic. The officer told me it was quick for both drivers, as if that was supposed to make a ten-year-old girl feel better.
Two days later, I was carted off to a group home for girls. Neither one of my parents had any extended family left alive, Foster Care was the only option. At ten, adoption was likely never to happen—especially a child who’d potentially have emotional problems. Children over the age of seven rarely got adopted—everyone wanted a baby, and at ten, I was far from being considered an infant.