Matteo: A Forced Marriage Mafia Romance, page 1
MATTEO
THE DIMAGGIO CRIME FAMILY BOOK ONE
T. PRICETON
Copyright © 2024 by T. Priceton
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, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact author@tpriceton.com.
This book is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or deceased), events, places, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Book Cover by AK Cover Designs
Developmental Editing by Memos in the Margins
Line and Copy Editing by Dee’s Notes: Editing and Proofreading Services
First Edition 2024
This one goes out to anyone who thinks their words on a piece of paper aren’t good enough for others to read. Go ahead and publish that book. You won’t regret it.
CONTENT WARNING
Please note this book contains explicit scenes of sex and violence, and is meant for a mature audience only.
The following is a list of content warnings: kidnapping, extortion, mentions death of parents, mentions sex/human trafficking, mentions drug trafficking, mentions weapons trafficking, gun violence, explicit scenes of murder, pruning shears violence, knife violence, unprotected sex, swallowing of bodily fluids, light sexual choking.
CONTENTS
Prologue
1. Luxtyn
2. Matteo
3. Luxtyn
4. Matteo
5. Matteo
6. Luxtyn
7. Matteo
8. Luxtyn
9. Matteo
10. Luxtyn
11. Matteo
12. Luxtyn
13. Luxtyn
14. Matteo
15. Luxtyn
16. Luxtyn
17. Matteo
18. Matteo
19. Luxtyn
20. Matteo
21. Luxtyn
22. Matteo
23. Luxtyn
24. Luxtyn
25. Matteo
26. Luxtyn
27. Matteo
28. Luxtyn
29. Matteo
30. Luxtyn
31. Luxtyn
32. Matteo
33. Luxtyn
34. Matteo
35. Luxtyn
36. Matteo
37. Luxtyn
38. Matteo
39. Matteo
40. Luxtyn
41. Luxtyn
42. Matteo
43. Matteo
44. Luxtyn
45. Matteo
46. Luxtyn
47. Matteo
48. Luxtyn
49. Matteo
50. Luxtyn
51. Matteo
52. Matteo
Epilogue
What Comes Next?
Acknowledgments
PROLOGUE
LUXTYN
“What do you want to watch tonight, sweetie? A rom-com or one of those reality TV shows?” my mom asks as she makes herself comfortable on the couch and scrolls through Netflix.
“I’m thinking tonight’s more of a trashy reality TV show kind of night,” I say while pouring the microwavable popcorn into a bowl for us to share.
I walk around the counter and take a seat on the couch, and my mom puts on our most recent bingeable show. “So how was work today?”
“Not too bad,” she says before clearing her throat and adding, “I just . . . well, I have to head to New York City on Friday for a client. There’s an event she has to attend, and she asked me to do her hair for it.”
My jaw drops and I gasp in excitement, but when I take in the apprehension in her voice and the rigidness in her body, my brows furrow. “That’s awesome, Mom, but why do I feel like I’m far more excited for you than you are for yourself?”
She slides her gaze over to me and gives me a tight smile. “Oh, no, it’s very exciting. I just don’t want to leave you, is all.”
“Mom, I’m going to be twenty-three soon. I think I can handle being on my own for a few days,” I say, chuckling.
That straight-lined smile of hers ticks up slightly, and she gives my forearm a light squeeze. “I know, sweetie.”
She averts her attention back to the TV, and I study her for a moment. She’s not angry about going to New York City, but she seems . . . nervous? That doesn’t make any sense, though. Is she really that worried about leaving me alone for a few days? This would be our first time apart for that long, but that’s not something I’ve even thought twice about.
“I promise I’ll be okay while you’re gone, Mom.”
“Of course, Lux. I know you’ll be just fine.”
Her smile brightens this time, but not to its full extent. There’s still something off about it, like she’s holding something back.
“Mom—” She reaches for my arm and gives it another small squeeze.
“You know me. I’m just a little overprotective.” Averting her attention back to the TV, she pops some popcorn into her mouth, silently telling me this conversation is over.
While I’m wondering what else could be the issue, I decide to ignore it but can’t keep from laughing. “I like how your job lets you travel to new places while both of mine just leave me smelling like beer and food by the end of my shifts.”
“You know, you don’t need to work both of those jobs if you don’t want to. We’re doing just fine, you and I. Overworking yourself isn’t a necessity.”
I shake my head. “I really don’t mind. You know I go stir-crazy if I don’t keep myself busy. Besides, I only work at the restaurant a few days a week.” I give her a relaxed shrug. “The extra cash is nice.”
“Well, if you ever decide you want to take a break, just know that we’ll be okay if you do. Good things are happening, and I have a feeling we’ll have more than enough money to get by, okay?”
“I know. Promise,” I say with a smile even though I’m not sure what she means. I do well with my tips, and my mom does well with hairdressing, but “more than enough money to get by” seems like a stretch.
It’s always just been my mom and me my entire life. She was raised in the foster system, and my dad ran out on us before I was born, so we’re the only family each other have. It’s one of the reasons we’re so close.
My mom has spent most of my life supporting us on her own, so maybe me working two jobs is my way of trying to give back and lighten the load she’s carried for the both of us.
I take in her perfectly styled dark waves that come down just past her shoulders, and the smile on her face shifts to a frown, giving me the sense she’s lost in her own thoughts. It reestablishes my suspicions that there’s something else bothering her about New York City. I just don’t know what it could be . . .
1
LUXTYN
“Luxtyn, I need four tequila shots with this beer order.”
I glance up, brushing a dark strand behind my ear, and make eye contact with Macie, who’s leaning over the counter at the opposite end of the bar. She’s holding up her order ticket with the fake smile I’ve grown accustomed to over the past few months.
A please would be nice, but for her to use actual pleasantries around me would probably require a knife to her throat or a gun to her head—something dramatic like that.
Giving her an equally fake smile that will leave me with crow’s feet at far too young of an age if I continue charading it around for people like her, I say, “No problem,” as I head in her direction.
I pull the ticket from between her freshly manicured nails, then read the order.
Four Corona Lights and four Patrons.
Rolling my eyes, I hold up the paper between my fingers. “You realize I can read, right?” She’s wearing the same crimson lipstick I’ve seen her wear five days a week since my mom and I moved here three months ago.
Without a hiccup in her expression, she continues with her annoyingly condescending tone. “I figured I’d tell you too. You know, just in case.”
Picking up her notepad and shoving it into the back pocket of her Daisy Dukes, she turns to walk away from the counter but, of course, has to add one last snide remark.
“I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any excuses if there’s a mistake.” She gives me a patronizing wink before taking off toward a table full of male patrons with a sway in her step.
That girl irks me.
Grabbing four shot glasses, I line them up on the bar top and pour the tequila in each before grabbing the beers and popping off the caps.
You’d think with the way she acts that I’d be notorious at Snide’s Dive Bar for messing up drinks all night, but nope. Macie’s just a bitch. Your typical small-town, lived here my entire life so don’t try to show me up kind of bitch.
I’ve come across several Macies in my life, so I’m used to her bad attitude. It’s annoying but not something I need nor have the energy to combat.
Grabbing a circular serving tray, I load the drinks and bring it over to the side of the bar where servers pick up their orders.
Macie’s still flirt
I smirk while placing her order ticket on the tray. I’ve never served Corona or tequila shots without lime, but Little Miss Efficient didn’t write it on the order ticket, so I guess no lime it is. Two can play petty, bitch.
As Macie makes her way back toward me, my phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I know it’s my mom calling from New York.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and answer it. “Hey, Mom, hold on a sec,” I say while ducking under the bar.
I walk down the hall, making my way to the kitchen when Macie’s shrill of a voice comes from behind me. “Hey! You forgot the lime for these drinks, Luxtyn!”
As I peer over my shoulder, I take in her narrowed gaze and scrunched nose. Poor Macie has to get her own limes. What ever will she do?
“Maybe you should’ve left explicit directions if you didn’t want any mistakes to happen with your order,” I shout back at her with a shrug before pushing the kitchen doors open. “I’m not a mind reader, Mace.”
I giggle to myself because I know how much she hates when I call her that. Which, in my defense, isn’t very often, but she’s pissing me off today, so I might as well poke the bear while I can.
“That’s not my name!” The swoosh of the swinging doors drowns out her shriek.
I roll my eyes as I weave my way through the kitchen, doing my best to stay out of the cooks’ ways as I head toward the back door.
Stepping outside, I breathe in the slight breeze from the ocean. You can practically taste the salt from the sea. I take a seat on the bench and bring my phone back to my ear. “Sorry about that, Mom. I just needed to get somewhere quiet.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Lux. I know you’re working tonight, but I wanted to chat before it gets too late. How’s the bar?” she asks in her normal chipper tone.
“Not too bad. Still early, so it’s not quite busy yet. Did you make it to New York okay?”
There’s a brief pause before she answers. “Yes, I’ve just been relaxing in the hotel room.”
“I’m glad you made it safely. Maybe if you get the opportunity to go back I can come with you. Or hey, maybe that’ll end up being our next home for a few years.” I laugh.
My mom and I have moved around a lot throughout my life, and when I say a lot, I mean like every few years.
I know it seems weird, chaotic even, but when you know nothing else, it’s really just a way of life. I think my body has adjusted to wanting to be in a different place every few years, because sometimes when we get to the latter end of the three-year residency period, I get the itch to just leave. You could say I have quite the nomad’s soul.
When I was younger, I used to question my mom, asking her why she was always moving us around, but she would never give me a solid explanation. Always brushing me off, telling me she was ready for a new adventure. I know my mom well, though, and that was never the real reason.
Something must’ve happened, but I gave up on pushing it a while back. If she’s not telling me, then she has a good reason.
I know my mom’s only ever had our best interests in mind. Some people might call me naive, but they don’t know the relationship we have. There’s none like it. She’s always been there for me, like I’ll always be there for her.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Lux,” she blurts. “It’s far too crowded here. We do much better in smaller towns.” She quickly changes the subject. “So, tell me, is that Macie girl still giving you a hard time?”
I chuckle because I know she heard us through the phone just minutes ago. “Oh, you know, she’s just acting like her typical self. Nothing I can’t handle, though.”
I hear the grin spread across her face as she says, “That’s my girl. Don’t allow anyone to treat you like they’re better than you.”
“You’ve taught me well, Mom.”
And she has. Ever since I was a little kid, Mom has always instilled the importance of having confidence in myself.
“The strength of a woman comes from her confidence within, and it’s my job as your mother to teach you and make you see the worth you have.”
“You’ve grown into quite the remarkable young woman. I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter.”
“Oh no. I know that voice, Mom.”
She sounds like she just got done watching one of those welcome home videos you see on social media when a parent deployed comes home and surprises their child at school or somewhere public and unsuspecting. Those videos get her every time. She cries. Sobs, really, and right now she sounds like she just got done watching a long line of welcome home videos.
“Oh, hush, I’m fine,” she says unconvincingly. “I’m just so proud of you, Lux. And I’m honored to be your momma.”
“Mom, what’s with the emotions? I haven’t done anything for you to be that proud of,” I mumble.
“Hey, you’re strong, and that’s a trait some can only aspire to have.”
While rolling my eyes, I’m startled when the back door is thrown open. Sitting up straighter, I glance over and see it’s Kelly, one of the other bartenders and Macie’s best friend.
I give her a small smile before a muffled voice in the background, followed by my mom’s gasp comes through the phone.
“Mom, are—”
The faint sound of a man’s voice mixed with some shuffling, sounds over the line before my Mom’s voice comes through an octave higher. “Angelo?”
“Mom? Are you okay?” I ask, bringing myself to the edge of the bench. My heart rate elevates when she doesn’t respond right away.
“Mom!” I hiss out, trying to get her attention while also attempting to keep from drawing unwanted attention from Kelly, but she eyes me warily over the screen of her phone.
“I-I have to go, sweetie,” my mom finally says, but her stammer, along with the sudden worried tone, has me on edge. Saying bye isn’t something I’m inclined to do right now.
“Mom, what’s going on? I heard a voice in the background, and now you sound worried. Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” she replies, hastily brushing me off and forcing her voice back to normal. But I know when something is off.
“Mom—”
“Sweetie, I have to get going, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“But—”
“I love you. Text me when you get home from work tonight so I know you made it back to the apartment safely.”
Sighing, I begrudgingly say, “Okay. I love you, too. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”
“I look forward to it. Bye, sweetie.”
“Bye, Mom.”
Hanging up is difficult to do when there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me something was off with that conversation. My mom might have tried to act like it was nothing, but I know her well enough to know that something is up.
“Luxtyn!”
Snapping my gaze toward the sound of my name, I see Monique, my boss, poking her head out the backdoor. “There are drink orders piling up on the bar. I need you back inside now!” Glancing at my coworker, she adds, “You too, Kelly!” before disappearing back inside.
I can’t shake the feeling that something is off, so I glance down at my phone, noting the time, and begin counting down the hours until I can talk to my mom again. I just need confirmation she’s okay.
2
MATTEO
“Have you spoken to Mancini about the impending nuptials?” my younger brother, Enzo, asks over the pounding bass of the music at Fierce, a high-end nightclub I own in the heart of New York City.
“He rescheduled that meeting to Sunday,” I say as a group of ladies led by a familiar-looking blonde with long pin-straight hair, and even longer legs, make their way toward our VIP lounge.
“Incoming, Boss,” my guard, Rocco, says, nodding to the entrance of the room that is now occupied by the three girls. They’re each wearing the same style dress, just in different colors. Short enough that they barely cover the curve of their asses, and tight enough that their tits nearly pop up over the edge of their tops.
