Maximo: A Second Chance Mafia Romance (Mob Daddies Book 3)

by Alexa Hart

  Maximo

  A Second Chance Mafia Romance Mob Daddies Book 3

  Alexa Hart

  Max. My brother’s best friend… He’s pure, delicious, panty-melting, sex on a stick… But I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.

  I’m back in my hometown and my past just crept up and slapped me in the face.

  I walked away from this life years ago.

  The mob. The danger. The uncertainty.

  Max stayed.

  Now I’m coming face to face with my ex and he’s even more tempting than before.

  And when he touches me… I melt.

  I swore I never would, but here I am letting him make me scream his name.

  It will never work.

  He’ll never leave the business and I’m never coming back.

  But nobody can bring me to my peak the way Max does. Nobody.

  How the hell can I walk away again?

  Is there still a chance we could start the family we used to dream of?

  Copyright © 2020 Alexa Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, foreign and subsidiary rights, contact the author or her representative via alexa@alexahartbooks.com

  Passion Pique Publishing

  United States

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are

  sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or

  locales are completely coincidental.

  Digital Edition

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Marcello Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  READ THE REST OF THE MOB DADDIES HERE

  Also by Alexa Hart

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to all the hopeless romantics. To the beautiful lovers out there who just want love, plain and simple. Love… wrapped in a delicious, hard as nails, muscle-clad package that will make you forget your own name… plain and simple.

  -ALEXA HART

  Chapter 1

  Natalia

  Nothing ever changed here. The entire block of row houses stood solid and resilient, as they had since I was a small child. Once painted in bright, happy palettes, they were now simply faded ghosts of their former selves. I had purposely requested to be dropped at the corner, so that I could fully take in the old neighborhood scene. Everything was covered with the regular east coast January snow drifts, and in spite of the city sounds in the background, my street seemed lifeless and abandoned.

  I immediately regretted the walk.

  But I could see it there – the Angelone family residence – six houses down and an even paler shade of green than I remembered. It had been a few years since I had been home. Perhaps it was decaying faster than I had expected. Perhaps I had overestimated the pleasantness of nostalgia. The actual reality of what I was seeing had a much more depressing tone.

  Regardless, I belonged to it just as much as it belonged to my family.

  I braced against the frigid breeze and hiked along the shoveled sidewalk, dragging my suitcase behind me. Counting the houses as I passed, I noticed a few window shades and curtains being slightly drawn aside. Curious and distrusting eyes searched me over for signs of recognition – any sign that I actually belonged on this sidewalk. There never really had been anything even close to privacy here. What happened in one house was known in all, eventually. What happened on the street was neighborhood business by right.

  “Did your cabby throw you out for being a west coast traitor?” I heard my brother’s voice call out playfully, mercifully breaking up my melancholy thoughts.

  “Dario.” I looked up the street to where he stood, on the concrete steps of our enclosed front porch, grinning like an idiot. Those grins were always contagious, and I found myself returning it instantly. He ran out to meet me – no coat, no worries – typical Dario. Bright brown eyes full of mischief, he grabbed me and hugged me hard.

  “It’s good to see ya, Nat. We’ve missed you,” he said this while still tightly embracing me. I felt myself tearing up a little, not accustomed to many genuine acts of affection in my daily life anymore.

  “You too,” I responded, giving one last good squeeze and gently pulling away. Dario looked exactly the same as he always had, but something was different. Of course, he had been an adult for a while now – he was twenty-six this last August. But now he looked like a man, and perhaps a slightly exhausted man at that.

  He realized I was observing him, measuring him up. “Okay sis, let’s stop the psychoanalysis before it starts. Pop’s waitin’ for ya.” I could see something flash through his eyes when he mentioned our father, and I tried to steel myself for what I was about to see.

  Our dad was very sick. A year earlier he’d been walking with me on the California beaches, not a care in the world and as close to blissful as I could ever remember my father being. Three months later he’d been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer, and now he was basically on his death bed. In true Pop Angelone fashion, he’d decided after one round of chemo that he’d be damned if that was how he’d spend his last days on this planet. Hospice care came in twice a day to administer pain meds, and make sure he was generally as comfortable as possible. Thankful as I was for that, it didn’t change what was happening.

  My father was dying.

  Dario had called a week ago, saying the words with his voice but not really sounding like he believed them himself. “He’s dying, Natalia. You need to get out here. Soon.”

  Following my brother through our childhood home, I noticed the disarray that had fallen upon it. My mother had always kept everything in the most orderly and cleanliest of states. When she had died, my father had continued the regimen out of respect for her. We were so little then – just nine and ten – but had realized the upkeep of the house somehow made our father feel better, and we had always helped him without any protest.

  It looked to have been a long while since Pop was up to housekeeping duties. A feeling of foreboding washed over me, and I knew this would be worse than I could have even imagined.

  Dario had set him up in what used to be the first-floor guest room. The stairs had become too much for him, and he said he’d rather be down “where all the action was” anyway.

  “My Natalia!” That deep voice hit my ears before I could even process what I was seeing. “My Natalia! My love! Come! Hug me!” He was smiling so widely that it seemed his mouth might overtake the rest of his shrunken face. He had lost weight – so much weight – and now the skin seemed to stretch across his bones and his kind, dark brown eyes stood out disturbingly large on the withering body.

  He’s dying. He really is dying.

  I smiled, swallowing the rush of emotion that wanted to escape from my throat
, and went to him. Embracing him and feeling his once strong arms struggle to tighten around me, I felt the sudden fear that if I let go, he would float away like a feather. Gone forever. I pushed that sensation away with all of the mental training my six years of college and psychology degree had given me, and felt reality settle like a lump in the pit of my stomach.

  I could deal with reality later.

  “Pop! Takin’ it easy these days, huh? Room service and everything, I see,” I laughed, waving an arm at the trays and tv set mixed between the bottles of pills and IV bags. We joked in this family. It was what we did. It was how we dealt. And I knew it would be more important than ever, for Pop’s sake, to continue this tradition even now.

  “Eh, you know. I thought it was time Dario got off his lazy ass and did somethin’ ‘round here,” he returned, visibly pleased with my choice to stick to the Angelone book of humor.

  “Ha! Pop knows better than anybody that the business doesn’t allow for any rest. I’m not even sure when the last time was that I got a solid eight hours of sleep at night,” Dario spoke with good nature, but I could hear the sadness that edged every single word. He would break down at some point. Not even Dario Angelone could keep hold of that bright, forced façade forever.

  The mention of “the business” made my skin crawl slightly. I didn’t want to think about all of that. Right now, I just wanted to talk to my father and –

  Pop had fallen asleep.

  “Just like that?” I whispered, looking at Dario in alarm.

  “It’s the meds. Well. The meds. The cancer. He naps like a cat these days,” Dario explained, motioning me to follow him from the room.

  I gave my father one last lingering stare, still in disbelief that the shell of a person in that bed was my father, and followed Dario into the living room. It was certainly not the tidy setting it always had been, but it was home, and it was comforting. I dropped onto the cozily broken-in couch and let out a long sigh.

  Dario had disappeared into the kitchen and now came to me with a steaming cup of coffee. “Black, right?” He asked, grinning and handing it over. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was more of a cream and sugar person these days.

  “Thanks. I know the jet lag is gonna kick in at some point pretty hard,” I said mindlessly, focusing on a scuff that had graced the coffee table for as far back as I could remember. How had it even gotten there? Surely it was Dario wrestling around with...

  “Nat?” He interrupted my thoughts abruptly. “Nat, I know that you probably weren’t expecting it to be... like that. But he’s really been so happy ever since I told him you were coming,” Dario’s voice faltered, and I realized his break down might be coming sooner rather than later. “You’re staying until... You’ll be here for a while, right?” He didn’t make eye contact, and I knew exactly what he meant.

  “I’ll be here until it’s over, Dar. I’m FMLA approved and ready to ride this out with you, okay? As long as it takes.”

  Which won’t be very long at all.

  We were thinking the same thing – I knew it – and now both of us avoided meeting gazes. Dario let out a tired sound – some mix of relief and despair. “Thank you. Seriously, Nat. I need you for this. It’s... it’s too much sometimes, ya know?” He looked at me then, seeming to pull himself back together. “I was just trying to be funny before... but the business really is getting demanding lately. So many of the old-timers have died, or want to step down before they die... And now Pop is on his way out. No one really knows who’s in charge anymore. Shipments aren’t going out on time – we're gonna have the whole east coast pissed at us pretty soon if we don’t pick up the pace. It’s Max’s place, really. He’s next in line as far as anyone can tell – ”

  If I had been tense when the business talk began, I now turned into a wooden board at the mention of that name. Dario had stopped short in his rambling, realizing what he had just said, and was already apologizing.

  “Shit, Nat, I’m sorry. Really, Natalia, I didn’t mean to bring him up. I can’t even keep my thoughts straight right now. I really didn’t – ”

  “It’s fine, Dario. Really.” I leveled my gaze with his, attempting to force a calm, even tone. “It’s been years. Literally. Years. You’re allowed to say Max’s name.” Although when I said it, I felt like someone had taken a hot iron to my chest. I gathered what was left of my composure. “I was really hoping, eventually... I was hoping you’d maybe find something else to do. A career. Maybe get out of this city. Have a real life.”

  Dario shook his head, smiling in spite of my words. He had always been the type of person who it was nearly impossible to offend. “Natalia. This is a life. This is a real life. And you know I’m not going anywhere. This is the family way. Grandpop, Pop, me – you know I’m in this for good. I want to be. You gotta accept that at some point, Sis. It won’t change.”

  And there it was again. He was a man now. Even with his gentle manner of doing it, he was putting his foot down in a very cemented way. The business wasn’t just a part of his life anymore. He was part of the business.

  “I know,” I conceded, nodding and realizing in that instant that I really did know. Any other hopes I had for Dario needed to rest in peace. He had chosen his path. And he was okay.

  For now.

  “You want me to cook something up? Order somethin’ in?” Dario changed the topic, relieving both of us.

  I shook my head. “No thanks, Dar. Maybe later tonight? I thought I’d drive around and just see some of the neighborhood. See what’s new. You know,” I waved a flippant hand, trying to seem casual.

  “By yourself?” He asked, eyeing me carefully and trying to deduce my state of mind.

  “Yeah. Can I take your car? Is that cool?” I smiled at him, feeling like we were teenagers again, fighting over the beat-up two-door Toyota that Pop had forced us to share as a “lesson in family”. I hadn’t quite understood what he meant then, and wasn’t sure I did now either. All it had taught us as adolescents was that one of us would often be walking, and both of us would often be frustrated. But it had kept us together a bit more than we may have preferred, and that had kept us a lot closer than we may have turned out.

  I did understand it now.

  “No prob, Nat,” Dario agreed, cheerfully slinging a ring full of miscellaneous keys across the room and straight into my lap. “Filled her up this morning, so you’re good on that. Kinda touchy with the get up and go, so take it easy, Flash.”

  We both laughed then, as I was notoriously known for my senior citizen driving habits. I had always been careful enough for both of us, and that had often been quite necessary. The amount of scrapes Dario had narrowly avoided thanks to my overly observant caution were too numerous to count.

  I felt the lump forming in my throat again and hot tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I absolutely understood my father’s lesson now.

  After that, I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. Dario pointed out his car – sleek and black and new – parked slightly down the street from our house (there were no garages here in rowhouse territory). I was in it and gone down Oak Street, turning fast onto 10th and sobbing so hard I could barely see through the windshield.

  This is some smooth leather. The thought burst absurdly through my misery, and I was laughing and crying simultaneously for a few blocks. An observer would have predicted that I was experiencing a nervous breakdown, and though I knew the clinical definition of that condition did not quite fit whatever this was (yet) – there was certainly a disturbing mixture of sadness and delirium erupting out of my body.

  I needed air. I needed comfort.

  I mindlessly drove to the neighborhood park. Unimpressive as it was, we had loved it as children. There was a dilapidated little gazebo near the center of it that proudly peered over the park’s one and only pond. I parked near it, and rushed somewhat blindly through the snow-covered grass until I was leaning on the old wood beams, staring at the frozen tiny pool near its base.


  Everything surrounding me was silent and barren. The frigid air rushed into my lungs, forcing me to breathe deeply. I began to calm down, the tears stopped, and I dreamily thought of all the times I had tossed little wildflowers into this pond for my mother, hoping somehow, she could see them from wherever she was. Pop had always said heaven, but I had never been quite sure of that. I just knew she was somewhere. I could feel her.

  Today I didn’t have any flowers and the pond was frozen. Today my father was fast on his way to joining my mother in her “somewhere” existence.

  Fresh tears were beginning to form and I stubbornly brushed them away. Just a few moments of quiet – that was all I needed. A few more deep breaths and solitude...

  “Natalia?” Called out by a deep, husky voice that carried uncertainly through the still air.

  I felt my heart stop, and my head turned slowly to follow the sound. I knew who it was before I saw him, but it did nothing to protect me from the bolt of pain that ripped through my insides when my eyes were finally actually viewing him.

  Max.

  Chapter 2

  Maximo

  If I stared at him long enough, I could start to forget.

  He’d fallen asleep on the drive back from Jersey, and I had carried him in and deposited his little body on the couch – no signs of waking any time soon.