Alessandro: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Mafia Academy Book 1) Read online

  Alessandro

  Mafia Academy

  Holly S Roberts

  Wicked Story Telling

  Copyright © 2022 Holly S Roberts

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Laura Randazzo

  These are your books mi amica. The roomate friendship is, of course, us. You brought laughter and love to my life when it was truly needed and now you're stuck with me.

  Glossary

  Bacha ma culo – kiss my ass

  Cagacazzo – lame ass dumb

  Capeesh – understood

  Cazzo – dick, like Americans use the word fuck

  Che palle – what balls Maria’s favorite phrase

  Che te pozzino ammazza – you shall be butchered

  Chi non va non vede, chi non vede non sa e chi non sa se lo prende sempre in culo - if you don’t go you won’t see, if you don’t see you won’t know, if you don’t know you’ll take it in the ass every time

  Cretino – idiot

  Cuando l’amico chiede, non v’è domani - when a friend asks, there is no tomorrow

  Cuore Mio – my heart

  Dio cane – goddammit

  Dio santo – oh my God

  Il mio tesoro – my treasure

  Ma' Don - surprise

  Manache – oh hell

  Mannaggia tua – shit damn

  Mia figlia – my daughter

  Mi amica – my sister

  Mi raccomando – listen to me

  Mi stai uccidendo – you are killing me

  Porca troia – fucking hell

  Puttana – whore

  Vita mia – My life

  Chapter One

  Alessandro

  Alessandro Brambilla, the future don of the Brambilla family, was my birthright. My friends, for want of a better word, called me San. Alessandro, never shortened, was what my father called me. He sent me to a private high school academy called Rochester. He said I would be safe within the hallowed walls of the most sacred institution that served the families. The truth was, I was the dangerous one and no one was safe from me. My father relished his control and explained Rochester was the place that would give me fucking refinement.

  Rochester was the private school for the Mafia’s progeny. There’s an entire story about how the academy began. Short version starts with two warring families. The war soon extended to every blood line in America and Europe. No one was safe. Women and children died and family succession was up in the air. To stop the bloodshed and annihilation of future leadership, Rochester Academy opened its doors. Mine was the fifth generation to reach senior year.

  The families took an oath that Rochester was safe ground for those who studied and trained to work or rule the family business. For each family, the ruler was chosen by birthright. I’m the oldest Brambilla heir and hold the future in my hands or for a better explanation, my dick. My job is to also make an heir, preferably a male born first.

  I couldn’t change destiny and I’d be fucking damned if I wanted to. Let me make it very clear, I don’t. What I’ve done is break Rochester’s golden rules and enjoyed it. There are tons of rules here but only two could get you kicked out of the academy.

  One: No one dies and no one is permanently maimed at Rochester.

  Two: Princesses are off-limits to dick.

  The first rule I’d ground around the edges and came out with a worse rep which hurt nothing. I’d faced serious consequences for the last beatdown and was almost slapped with a year suspension. I’ll admit it put a kink in my plans. After I knew I could stay at Rochester, they’d flown me home for a weekend to suffer my father’s never-ending lectures about shaming the family name. I would avoid that happening again for as long as possible. The senior who wanted my spot was fucking up my chance to graduate. A Laterza was coming in as a freshman and I was told to keep my eye on him too. If I managed to hold leadership this year, the next year would be interesting, and I couldn’t care less if Laterza comes out on top. Right now, it’s a fifty-fifty split whether I would get a diploma. Shit was getting worse and I had to shut it down. It wouldn’t be pretty.

  Transferring to another school was not happening. Our specialized curriculum made it impossible. I had to graduate on time to appease my old man. If a student at Rochester found out, it would be the kiss of death. Never show your weaknesses and my father was one of mine.

  My favorite rule to break had everything to do with the princesses.

  The goombah squad, as I liked to call the main families behind Rochester, kept our dicks in mind when they made the rules. How fucking considerate.

  Family was protected by family. Blood was everything and established the traditional connection. My father’s underboss, Jolly Ricci, was a great example. His family had served mine for generations. His son and daughter attended Rochester with me. The daughter, Gloria, without the princess status was for my dick. Marino, his son, watched my back. Marino was also my best friend and would take over for his father one day and give his loyalty to me.

  His sister was another story. Gloria was a lesbian and we kept that on the down-low. Homosexuality was simply not done within the family. If the cards were different, I’d have eagerly tapped her ass. I’d played with her and her brother since we were in diapers. Gloria had been a sexual wildcat since puberty or maybe before. I’d dreamed about sinking my dick into her tight pussy. My crush was embarrassing when I discovered her secret but she wouldn’t have it.

  “If you’ll stop acting so weird, I’ll give you a mercy fuck to get me out of your head,” she said years ago.

  “A blow job might do it,” I answered.

  She gave me the fucking blowy and I stopped acting weird. That’s the fucked-up Mafia life for you.

  Freshman through junior year I slid between quite a few sheets and many were the forbidden princesses. Forcing a girl wasn’t my style. Making them beg for it was. For most, giving up their V cards was a necessity. Once they graduated they would basically be locked down until marriage.

  This was senior year and I had a very special princess on my radar. I hated her with a fury that had no equal. This was her year to step up to the damn plate. It didn’t matter that her eyes held revulsion and her sneer showed contempt.

  I owed her family a blood debt and she would be the first to pay. Someday, my father would be gone and I would be in charge. It was part of my plan. Giavanna Rossi would look back on my dick with a dirty smile and a quiver of fear because she would know I was coming for her father.

  Chapter Two

  Gia

  “Mi raccomando!” Maria, my best friend, scolded from the other side of the closed door. “I’m leaving you behind if the clock ticks another minute and your booshi ass isn’t out here.”

  I stepped from the bathroom, my expression and words making my feelings clear for the millionth time.

  “Leave me. I don’t want to go. Mannaggia tua!” Shit damn was my favorite saying and if Maria was bringing out her Italian, accent and all, I could too. I crossed my arms and resisted the need to stomp my foot.

  “You promised,” she whined, her hands flaring out around her in danger of removing an eye, to
gesture her displeasure in the appropriate Italian manner.

  I gave her quirky, sexy outfit a sweep. It was totally Maria Greco with wild slashes of red through the black material. The dress, cut on the bias, whatever that meant, wrapped her curves perfectly with a sassy flare at her hips. She knew exactly how to show off her short voluptuous frame and give it every advantage. She kept her dark-brown hair in a strategic chop around her face. Her eyes appeared larger with the strikingly bladed hair. Maria was a knockout and she knew it.

  My brown hair remained long which was dictated by my father. My future husband, whoever that would be, would want long, silky, and alluring hair with minimal makeup targeted to highlight my large brown eyes, full lips, and above all, family features. My husband should never forget the blood that ran through my veins.

  I was the Rossi princess.

  Maria’s life wasn’t mapped out. She had choices and I hated her for every single one of them.

  That hate wasn’t a problem between us. Maria understood why I felt as I did. I loved her far more than I hated her world of options. Our friendship was a quandary and right now she was a bigger thorn in my side than usual and that said a lot.

  I pulled my hair over one shoulder and leaned a hip against the bathroom doorjamb, preparing to battle.

  “You cheated and you know it,” I said, reminding her of the deck of cards she rigged when I wasn’t paying attention.

  “Che palle,” she groaned, using her favorite Italian which meant “what balls” without denying she cheated. “I win, you go with me. You win, I stay home and be bored by you.”

  The cards landed in her favor. It was best two out of three. She won two straight. It wasn’t until she left the room that my brain questioned what happened. I went through the deck and it was stacked. I’d been conned.

  She rolled her eyes when I continued my defiant stare and said nothing.

  “Of course, I cheated, mi amica.” She wasn’t my sister but knew it softened me when she said it. Maria added a pathetic smile and blinked her eyes in innocence. I swear she worked on this look in the mirror along with her sexy ones. “You never go anywhere except class or the nerd coffee shop.”

  By “nerd” she meant the freshmen sophomore coffee house, Wired Youth. The academy provided the Upper-Class Den for juniors and seniors. Freshmen and sophomores grabbed the coffee house in town as their own. I liked their hangout even if it was smaller and not nearly as luxurious as the UCD. The underclassmen didn’t bother me and I could easily ignore their whispers. Once I sat in my favorite spot and opened a book, I could relax and enjoy the expensive coffee while I pretended to be a normal teen. Which I was not.

  Normal is not in the cards for me. I’m a Rossi and so far above normal, it hurts to think about it. Maria’s family has served mine for eight generations. As a female, she had choices that I don’t have. My marriage will align another family with ours. The practice is archaic and I will do my duty because, and here it comes again. I am Rossi.

  Maria wants to be a clothing designer. I have no doubt she will get there; she’s already amazing and talented as tonight’s outfit reflected. The problem is Maria doesn’t do wallflower and she made my outfit so I would be forced to come out of my shell just by wearing it.

  “You are not getting out of this.” Her hands went to her hips and the look in her eyes startled me.

  It said she would drag me kicking and screaming if she had to.

  “I hate you,” I said with a groan of acceptance.

  “I hate you too,” she shouted after I slammed the door in her face.

  I glared at the barely-there dress that hung from the shower rod. It was sexy and gorgeous, everything I was not. I was pretty. Just pretty and I liked it that way.

  The vampish look was not for me. My heart jumped when Maria’s hand hit the door with a loud thud.

  “Put it on so I can see. It will be perfect, I promise. I covered all your bits and I know you will be gorgeous in it. It’s made just for you.”

  Her weaseling was pushing me in the “try” direction. I closed my eyes and took a breath.

  I never wanted this life and never wanted to be a Mafia princess. The academy was created for us. The Mafia elite, the next generation of death, the continuation of darkness that only gets more terrifying. I was born into this world and loathed it. No woman should be sold into marriage, but tell that to my father. I wasn’t the son he wanted to seal the deal after my older brother was born but I had another use. I would add security. He and my unassuming mother groomed me to be quiet and watchful so I could give my father information about the family I married into.

  I’ve been raised to spread my legs for the highest bidder when the time came. Until then, my legs would remain closed and my virginity intact as per my father’s order. He never minced words or cared that the embarrassment darkened my face to the point of a stroke when he told me. He then reminded me of my Rossi heritage like always.

  “You will do your duty as a Rossi,” he intoned in his harsh voice, then waved his left hand for me to leave his office.

  That joke is on him and the other fathers who think they controlled the young virgin princesses. Most here cared nothing about their virginity. Sex happened in every dark corner of Rochester’s sanctified halls.

  We, the children of murderers, were protected, even from our own families. The staff understood who they were dealing with and kept silent. The secrets at Rochester stayed behind the walls forever.

  Maria’s brother graduated the year before we started Rochester. He never uttered a word about what happened even though we hounded him endlessly before our first day. It was actually strange because he loved gossip as much as Maria, but he spilled nothing. We were only told the academy was designed to give us four years to grow and learn our place within the family.

  Our eyes were opened the first day. We were in a practice session of life where viciousness was considered a virtue. The only thing off the table was death and taking the virginity of a princess. Students were okay with abiding by fifty percent of the rules. No one died was held dear because no one wanted to suffer the consequences of breaking that rule or standing in front of the man who decided your fate if you did kill or harm a student permanently. There had been a few close calls. Or so says Maria, my personal rumor mill. I kept my head low and tried to stay off everyone’s radar. On those rare instances that someone crossed the line, the academy locked us down.

  With a tug of resentment, I remove my shirt and slid the jeans down my long legs that Maria envied.

  “I’m putting this thing on but if too much skin shows, I’m not coming out.”

  “Che palle! I may kill you for calling my work of art a ‘thing.’ Hurry.” The frustration remained heavy in her voice and I knew I wouldn’t escape this night of horror.

  Maria had little patience to begin with and I’d pushed it too far. With a groan she could hear, I slid the material over my head and allowed it to slink down my body. Black silk, or a silk-like material, with a sheer see-through mesh weave that showed skin. Lots of skin. I glanced in the mirror and groaned louder and removed my underwear because it showed.

  “It’s perfect, isn’t it?” came from behind the door.

  “I hate you,” I repeated.

  The dress wasn’t me but it was flawless or at least would be if I were going to a strip club to perform. The sheer parts would tear free from the silk with the slightest tug or so it seemed. I felt indecent and couldn’t wear it.

  “Yes, you can,” Maria argued because she knew my thoughts like the stylish witch she was. “Live a little. Get wild. I have your back and you know it. I won’t leave your side and I’ll ball-bust any guy who tries to pin you against a wall and believe me, they will try.”

  “You’re not helping.” I opened the door and stepped out.

  “Holy shit, girl,” she said, then whistled with her hands going hairy scary and endangering me of having an eye poked out.

  “You wear it like it’s made f
or you.” She met my eyes and winked. “It totally was.” Her forefinger spun for me to turn. “I take that back,” she said when the turn was complete. “You wear it like it’s painted on.” She brought out a pair of black leather lace-up boots and a black thong from behind her back. “I’m not making you go bottomless and the boots will take your killer outfit up another notch.”

  “An inch shorter would help,” I complained and glared at the ridiculous four-inch heels.

  I’m five eight and the heels would put me at six feet. I would hover over most of the senior guys. I’m relieved about the thong and don’t want her taking it back so I zipped my mouth shut.

  Maria’s eyes rolled before she winked again. The wink is her signature and something else she practiced in the mirror.

  “Look down on those people, Gia. They are beneath you.”

  She moved her head in a practiced manner and her hair swooshed from side to side, then dropped back into its perfect pixie place. Her lips were the color of candied cherries and her makeup gave her eyes the perfect sultry look for her outfit.

  I grabbed the thong and ducked back into the bathroom, slipped it on, and applied a little mascara. I saw a few stray eyebrows trying to pave the way for the Italian unibrow and plucked them. I added a touch of blush which is all I felt comfortable with before I left the bathroom and walked into our living area.

  Our suite was much like a penthouse apartment. We each had a private bedroom with a seating area and full bath, a walk-in closet the size of most normal dorm rooms, and a full state-of-the-art kitchen to share between the two of us.