Dark BWWM Mafia Romance Books | Forbidden Discipline | Buffalo Mafia Mob Family #4
The Buffalo, New York Italian mob family opens with a wild start. Readers who enjoy Forced To Surrogate — The Amalfi Coast Brotherhood #1 — will recognize some of my favorite and familiar tropes for a dark bwwm mafia romance.
The Series Thus Far…
{This is taken from the other blog posts to catch up new readers without them having to click around the whole website. Skip to the second section if you are familiar with the series.}
The first book in this series, Forbidden Surrogate, introduces us to the Taviani family with all the pain and excitement of a tequila shot. Bring out the Tito’s! We meet Luigi, our first alpha hero, his scheming sister Angela, and Delphine, the black female lead who is going through a mid-life crisis and more lost than she ever thought she would be. Despite having a stable career, Delphine is a victim of the modern dating market and trifling “best friends”. Her story with Luigi sets us up perfectly for the second book in the series. If you haven’t read that story yet, I highly recommend that you check it out, because it’s incredibly hot and starts off with the same tropes as this book — Forbidden Pregnancy, which is Michael and Myra’s story. Michael is Luigi’s first cousin, a more mature man in his early forties. You will find little Easter Eggs throughout the first book to give you clues about Michael’s character.
Michael has sandy brown hair, a broad muscular back… and hasn’t been in love since he fell for his younger sister’s tutor twelve years ago. Michael Corsini, the eldest son of the underboss has always had the job of protecting his younger sister, Cosima. When that all goes horribly wrong and Cosima tricks him into a night of passion with a highly-educated black teacher named Myra, he has to question everything he’s taught and rearrange his loyalties while fighting to keep her safe.
The third book, Forbidden Property, tells us Renzo and Geralynn’s story. Renzo absolutely hates his sister’s best friend — a young black woman with aspirations of attending law school. Nicki Taviani wants her best friend close and she’s willing to go to untold lengths to keep her there. That October release was a perfect morally grey dark romance for the end of October and featured a plus-sized black woman who was studying to become a lawyer before falling into bed with a criminal.
Section Two: What You Will Find In This Book
Forbidden Discipline is about Peter, Michael’s younger brother. Some readers didn’t see this one coming, but I always knew that I wanted Peter to have a story that was “grown and sexy”. Aricia can stand on her own two feet and the circumstances that bring her together with Peter Corsini will have you on the edge of your seat.
Here are the tropes you can expect:
Older woman/more mature relationship
Spanking and pregnancy
Revenge against cheaters
He’s going to burn the world for her
You won’t have to wait too long for Book #4. The book will be out on December 11th, so this early chapter release is a very early teaser, but the wait will be over soon, I promise.
WARNING - This chapter may be subject to some changes before the final edition. I just want to share an early release chapter for avid readers searching for a preview before hitting the preorder button. Also, this book contains LOTS of potentially triggering content. This is a dark romance intended for grown folks only.
If you would prefer ZERO spoilers before ordering the book…
Book Four, Forbidden Discipline — Aricia & Peter’s Story
Prologue
Peter
Several Months In The Past…
Gino and I have been working out together more lately. He’s a couple dozen pounds lighter than I am, but he’ll put on muscle quickly judging by the discipline I’ve seen so far. Our new partnership in the family developed naturally because even if he’s far younger than me, we’re both single and neither of us have kids.
My cousin Gino and I look different enough that nobody compares us when we’re out together. I also don’t have the weight that comes with being the underboss’s brother tagging along with me when I’m trying to get a simple workout in. Everything about us looks physically different, so you can barely tell that we’re cousins.
He has black hair, blue eyes. My hair is like Michael’s, maybe a touch lighter – somewhere between brown and blond. My eyes are distinctly green and rare enough that people stop me to comment on them. Gino still has a softer body than I do, but that won’t last long with the discipline I’ve seen from the kid so far.
He’s just about to turn twenty-eight and unlike his brother, Gino has a good head on his shoulders. He found it hard to hit his macros in Italy because of all the bread, wine, and cheese, but after six months of training together, the kid finally looks like something. He’ll get stronger over time and in the time we’ve worked together already, I’ve come to trust him. The kid is very different from his creep brother… I like that Luigi makes Renzo his problem and his problem only.
Belladonna’s, a bar downtown that used to be lowkey, isn’t the same without my cousin Nicki working behind the bar part time. She’s pretty easy to manipulate for free drinks. I don’t like paying for the shit they have on tap, but it still gets me drunk. Tonight, I’ll have to fork up some cash. I won a pretty hefty sum betting on the last Syracuse Salt Potatoes minor league baseball game, so I might as well burn it all up on booze since it’s all ill-gotten gains in the first place.
I need to relax tonight. All the shit going down with the family has me on edge and the type of work I do for them doesn’t exactly make it easy for me to chill the fuck out. The bullshit that went down in Pittsburgh is only a small sliver of the tectonic shifts happening in our family power structure.
The best part of being a kid right in the middle is you learn that staying away from extremes is a much safer place to be than people give credit. I would much rather survive in this family than die in a quest for useless power. Scanning the bar, I witness no threats for the time being, but I still can’t relax. Most likely because my cousin is making an ass of himself instead of ordering us pints.
Gino leans over the bar with his eyes widened like goddamn Pepé Le Pew staring at the black chick just trying to do her job. I shift bar stools and tune into their conversation, expecting flirting but only hearing young people arguing over politics with a fury that should be converted into more useful and pleasurable sexual energy instead of rage.
I’m about to chime in and ask for my own beer when Gino makes another misstep, causing the dark-skinned beauty to raise her eyebrows and launch into another lecture. Telling her that a certain politician was “just trying his best” appears not to have been the best move. Young men are so… foolish. Most of us squander the opportunities we have with our youth. I know that I did. Luckily, I don’t crave any power within our family, so I graciously lick my wounds and accept that money is a fairly decent consolation prize.
There’s a break in the conversation, and I hope that Gino breaks the younger generation’s curse of involuntary celibacy. It would be easier for men if they learned something so simple it’s surprising that it works – Shut the fuck up if you’re trying to get laid.
Especially talking about politics. It’s easy to stay quiet, especially since whichever dickhead sits in the White House doesn’t affect my bank account. The mayor of Buffalo? That’s an election I give a shit about. I guess that makes me a fucking idiot, but at least I’m not getting yelled at over a flat napkin-flavored IPA from a local brewery.
Gino breaks free from the conversation, red in the face and armed with three tequila shots that I just saw him pull out a fifty dollar bill for. Unbelievable. He slides into the stool next to me, shaken up like he just watched me run over a deer or something. It’s hard not to laugh at the kid.
“Why are they so scary?” Gino mutters.
“Who? Bartenders?”
Gino glares at me, completely missing the fact that I’m pulling his leg.
“Black women. I don’t get it, man. I don’t think I could be in the position to tame one,” Gino says, possibly thinking of the situation his brother got into with Delphine. I would say Delphine must have come to him pretty tame or she would have scratched his eyes out.
I chuckle and correct Gino’s misguided opinions. “They’re not animals, Gino. They’re women. They’re the same as other women.”
Gino can’t contain his doubt.
“Have you ever had a white girl hustle you out of fifty dollars for a simple comment on politics?” Gino says with very real offense and confusion at the situation. I won’t pretend I have some special understanding of women either. They just happen to all be equally confusing.
I change the subject from the missing money. “Where’s your brother?”
He somehow knows I mean his twin brother and not Luigi. They pretty much came as a pair most of their lives. Pretty sure they resent it but… It makes it easy for me to keep track of Renzo without having to talk to him. I keep hearing stories about a situation with Nicki that sounds a lot like what Michael had to put up with when dad put him in charge of CC.
Gino shrugs and then dramatically tongues out the last drop of tequila from the shot. The bartender shakes her head and pours us new shots without us needing to ask.
My cousin finally kills the slow suspense. “He’s up at his place with Nicki. She’s gone off the rails, last I checked. Why?”
Nicki crashing out doesn’t surprise me. All the women in our family are crazy. I internally debate the situation we find ourselves in all the time. Did our fathers make them this way, or did the Italian men in our family become this way as a reaction to the scheming, conniving women who share our blood…
“Your father wants me on a job and I thought your brother might be a good option to take with me to Pittsburgh.”
It’s not the complete truth. Renzo might be better at cold-blooded murder and purely logical calculations, but I might enjoy pushing Gino to a more complicated task than whatever Michael has him working on these days. Gino seems surprised that there’s more work for us to do across state lines.
“I thought Pittsburgh was quiet,” he says, considering it thoughtfully, and not entirely disinterested. He studied finance and politics in Italy just like his brother, and while he might not make any outward grabs at power, Gino certainly understands the balance.
“It was quiet,” I respond. “Then my father died.”
It should make me more emotional to acknowledge that, but to this day, acknowledging my father’s death only provokes a total-body numbness. I sought no further information than what my brother told me, and I ignored any rumors to keep my knowledge minimal.
What I know is this – My brother Michael had a hand in our father’s death. I don’t know how much he did, but I understand why he did it. Gianna Rae is a delightful little girl. I love my niece. I would have never gone as far as Michael did, but considering Cosima drugged him… I don’t think he had much of a choice. Dad expected to be killed at some point in his life. He would have appreciated his son being his executioner. If the rumors are true.
Our father lived with such a violent edge that he couldn’t have expected to live into old age. It’s better to have your son put you down than a stranger. I see mercy in Michael’s choice.
“What does your father have to do with Pittsburgh?” Gino asks. “Yes, he’s dead. But… the families are completely separate and they wouldn’t try anything over here.”
He doesn’t know that for a fact now, does he? It might be a fair assumption if human beings were purely logical. They aren’t. While it might seem logical to us for a broken family with divisions and a missing patriarch to focus on healing their wounds, they might still seek war.
“People don’t always operate logically.”
Gino nods, considering my words quietly. I can’t tell what he thinks of my words, and in that sense, he’s eerily similar to Renzo. And so different from Luigi in a way that scares me. Gino is not to be underestimated, but not constantly in command the way his older brother is so naturally. He’ll grow up to be a lot wiser than his twin brother over time, perhaps.
But he’s still young and doesn’t see how all of the politics now will affect our lives and our old age. You choose the wrong allegiances or the wrong spouse and life will really fuck you.
I press forward, “The Pittsburgh Corsinis are family too, Gino. They trace their lineage back to the same violent enforcement of Italian ghetto rule that we did.”
Luckily, we don’t live in the ghettos anymore.
Gino shakes his head like I’ve misunderstood him, “What I mean is… peace wasn’t contingent on your father’s life. As far as I know. There’s more keeping the balance of power in check.”
Our eyes flicker to meet each other and for a split second, I wonder if we all underestimate Gino more than I even realized. But there’s nothing behind his cool eyes. He’s like if Renzo smoked weed instead of popped Zyns. Utterly unreadable without the anxious energy that accompanies men more prone to angry violence.
“You’re right. Peace wasn’t contingent on my father’s life,” I say to my cousin, desperate for a damn beer instead of a shot. “But Pittsburgh is an unstable place. Mallory Corsini returned after her father died, Dario left to work for Uncle Pino for a while, and that left a gap.”
“Someone made a bid for power?” Gino asks, taking a casual tequila shot without wincing. Italy made him much better at handling his liquor.
It’s a good guess.
“Exactly.”
“Whose side of the family?” he asks, taking another tequila shot before I answer.
“Marco Corsini, eldest son from Carmine’s first marriage. An informer for our family gave us solid information that he flew into Pittsburgh from Italy two weeks ago and he’s been raising hell in Pennsylvania ever since.”
“I don’t know Marco,” Gino says. “I might have met him at the big Doukas wedding.”
“Which one?”
“The old one.”
I nod, although I don’t remember which wedding that might have been. I didn’t bother flying over to Italy for all those weddings of distant cousins. I prefer working while the family plays so I can keep building my personal wealth portfolio. Unlike Mikey, I don’t want to be in the mob forever.
I continue explaining the situation to Gino, hoping that he doesn’t need much motivation to get off his ass. The situation has the possibility of becoming urgent the way family business almost always does. “He wants to take over the entire mob over there and here too. Mikey thinks they sent out scouts and I need to track them.”
“Are we getting paid for this?” Gino asks. It’s not a “no”. If Gino wanted to back out, now would be the perfect time.
“$400,000 tax free. The job might take a week or two.”
“I’ve got time. My brother has been stuck up at the house while Nicki plays God with his life.”
“What does that mean?”
“My sister’s a psycho bitch.”
“Join the club,” I mutter. Flora has been getting on my nerves lately. In his new role as underboss, Michael has forgotten what it feels like to have every detail of your life dictated by the needs of our mafia family. Flora moved in with me one week ago and she’s beginning to act like I captured her when I’m really doing her a favor.
“Seriously. Where is Renzo? I know you don’t like work that involves staying up all night.”
Gino shrugs. “I need the money. Renzo can’t come until the baby arrives.”
“Baby?” I mutter. “What baby?”
I knew everything over there was a dramatic mess, but I keep myself away from gossip like the plague. In a family like mine, you end up playing a confusing game of telephone that could end up getting you killed. But I am surprised nobody mentioned a baby. I can’t imagine Renzo being a father.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gino says, even if it definitely matters. “Do you think that bartender has an Instagram?”
I don’t think she’s interested in the kid, but I give him whatever encouragement he needs to go over and ask her, giving him a strong verbal reminder about the beer. Gino returns, crestfallen but armed with three pints.
“She has a boyfriend.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Am I the only single motherfucker in this city?”
“Keep hitting the gym and hanging out with me, and all your problems will be solved.”
“You don’t have a girl tonight,” Gino mutters, staring into his beer like he’s looking at a mug of warm piss and not delicious nectar of tranquility.
“Watch your mouth,” I grunt. “We’re here to drink and enjoy each other’s company. You don’t need pussy every day of the week to feel something. Grow up.”
I’m happy to be the role model Gino needs. He sullenly shrugs and starts drinking, forgetting all about girls when I ask him about baseball betting and our plans for the summer. See? You can get along just fine in life without women…
My night with my cousin ends after midnight when most of the bars close thanks to our authoritarian governor’s laws for the “good of the people”. Our people are all connected, so I don’t have to worry about operating underground after hours or running an illegal casino.
You can’t own casinos out here outside of Indian territory, but I have a friend out in Texas by the name of Deacon Hollingsworth who runs a few underground poker tables that net him somewhere in the ballpark of $370,000 a month.
That’s big money and we certainly have the means to defend and protect that kind of money out here in Buffalo. Following Deacon’s model, I started a similar business. There’s a front-end portion of the business that’s a basic upstate New York dive bar except for the door at the back coated in black velvet with a security guard.
We send our big spenders the passcode, security validates their identity, and then our customers enter our speakeasy casino with a full service bar with top shelf liquor, topless waitstaff and a required initial buy-in of $20,000.
I was right to take Deacon’s advice, it’s good business, even if I hate how quickly I have to turn around the staff. My current arrangement involves Danny and Paulie as bouncers with three chicks working the tables. I manage everything, but it’s a huge pain and eventually, I’ll need someone to take over the small details. Deacon warned this would happen if I grew too fast.
If I don’t handle the big stuff, our little operation could make mistakes and that could end up getting the law involved. The last thing I need is a goddamn racketeering charge or anything of that nature. Not only would that screw up my life, but Luigi would cut my balls off himself with a butter knife.
No thanks… I like staying out of trouble and out of the limelight. It’s the best way to stay rich, which is the most important thing to me as an almost middle-aged man. I’ve done well for myself and I have no interest in doing anything to screw that up.
Even Renzo is having a baby… What has this world come to? I can guarantee, I won’t screw up my life or some kid’s life by making that type of mistake. I’d rather live for my work – exciting, stimulating, lucrative work. That doesn’t fuck with my head the way a woman does.
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