DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

  DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia copyright 2017 by Zoey Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

  ***

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  Contents

  DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  CARRYING HIS SEED: Damned Devils MC

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  EPILOGUE

  BEARING HIS SEED: Anarchy’s Horsemen MC

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Books by Zoey Parker

  BEARING HIS SEED: Anarchy’s Horsemen MC

  TAKING HIS SEED: The Jagged Rebels MC

  CONVICT’S BABY: Black Dogs MC

  WED TO THE BIKER: Skeleton Kings MC

  WED TO THE DOM: Heaven’s Veil MC

  GIFT FROM THE BAD BOY: Dark Knights MC

  KILLIAN: The O'Donnell Mafia

  GUNNER: The Immortal Devils MC

  BOUGHT BY THE BAD BOY: A Dark Mafia Romance

  STARSTRUCK: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Destroyers MC)

  HIS POSSESSION: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Vicious Thrills MC)

  HIS PROPERTY: Iron Bandits MC (A Bad Boy Baby Romance)

  UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

  UNTAMED: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)

  Zoey Parker Mailing List

  DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia

  By Zoey Parker

  They better keep their filthy hands away from my woman and my baby.

  It started as a one night stand.

  But it won’t end until I own every inch of her…

  From her lips to her heart to her womb.

  And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.

  She was delicious to devour.

  I could have had her over and over and over again.

  And when I find out who she is, that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

  Because Isabella isn’t just some girl in a bar.

  She’s the key to a forgotten mafia fortune.

  If I want my rise in the underworld to continue, I need to find Isabella again…

  And keep her for myself.

  But there’s more to the girl than meets the eye.

  Like the baby blossoming inside of her.

  More specifically – my baby.

  Now I’m truly invested.

  Because there’s some bad men coming for her.

  But if they touch so much as a hair on their head…

  I’ll send them to hell where they belong.

  Chapter 1

  Isabella

  I flashed a smile at myself in the mirror, trying to buoy my confidence. It didn’t work — I felt just as unattractive as before. It was towards the end of summer, one of the last really brutally hot days I thought we’d be getting. Outside, the temperature had held fast at over ninety degrees for a week now. I shuddered; every time I stepped outside, a faint sheen of perspiration broke out over my body. The heat made me feel weak, sluggish. I could barely move without sweating like a pig. It wasn’t fair. I was a woman. Weren’t women supposed to sweat less?

  I sighed loudly and felt my bangs rise up in the humid air with the force of my exhalation. No matter how I wanted to look at it, I was still Isabella Bianchi. Blonde hair, straight nose, slightly crooked mouth. And tits for days, I thought as I stretched. I grimaced. Men loved to stare at my curves, but men didn’t have to walk around with giant bags strapped to their chests until their backs were aching. Stop being so melodramatic, I told myself. It’s just another long shift. You’ll get through it. You’ll be fine.

  I’d been waitressing at Maison Bridges for almost two years now. Originally, when I was hired, I didn’t think I’d be there more than a month. I’d told the owner, Ricardo, I thought my singing career was just about to take off. He’d nodded with a grin partially concealed on his broad face. At the time, I’d been angry he hadn’t taken me seriously. But time had proven Ricardo right and me wrong, and there was really no other way to look at it. That was back when I was singing a few nights a week at this little club in Brooklyn. It had been a two-hour drive from where I lived in New Jersey, but it was worth it every time. The audience, while not huge, was always appreciative. And the little man who ran the club had a crush on me, so he let me take longer sets than the other girls. I really thought I was on my way to fame.

  That was when I’d met Kyle. Kyle DeLuca, the fastest talking asshole I’d ever met. He was charming, too. With his blond hair and blue eyes, girls mooned over him whenever he stepped foot in the club. But, seemingly, he only had eyes for me. I remembered the first night we’d met.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said. “I’ve been watching you all night. You really know how to draw people in.”

  I blushed. “Thank you,” I said as sweetly as I could. He winked at me and I felt my heart slow to a stop. “I’ve never seen you in here before. Are you local?”

  The gorgeous blond man threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Sweetie, it’s New York. Is anyone r
eally local here?”

  I giggled nervously. “I live in Jersey,” I admitted. “I bet that makes me less beautiful, huh?” I was so used to men flirting with me until they found out I lived in Jersey. It was like a stain on my face, something unavoidably unattractive. I couldn’t figure it out — most of the people in NYC had come from Jersey. So, what made me so bad?

  “Nah,” the man replied. “It makes you human, like all of us.” He winked at me. “So, have you always lived in Jersey?”

  I nodded. I was relieved he wasn’t turned off, but it was almost suspect. “What about you?”

  The man grinned. “Honey, I’m from everywhere,” he said in a low drawl. “But I happened to wind up in a big city. It’s the only place you can be really anonymous, you know?”

  I nodded again. I did know. Being alone, really alone, was something I’d felt for almost my entire life. But back in the sleepy little town of Morris, I didn’t feel nearly as alone as I did every time I made the journey across the river to New York City. There was something about all of the lights and the buildings. On a dark night, I felt like I was going to be swallowed up by the landscape. It was so intimidating, so incredibly powerful and big.

  “I’m Kyle,” the man said. “Kyle DeLuca.”

  “Isabella,” I said softly, slipping my hand into Kyle’s giant paw. “Isabella Bianchi.”

  The man hooted. “And you’re Italian, too! Damn, have I struck gold!” He laughed again and I felt a warm blush spread over my cheeks. “You’re blonde and you’re Italian?” He shook his head, still chuckling. “You’re perfect, did anyone ever tell you that? You’re a perfect angel.” Kyle waved the bartender over. To him, he said, “Barkeep, this woman is a beauty. You seen her before?”

  “Oh, yes,” the bartender replied. “She sings here every week.” He smiled at me. “And she likes gin and tonics; isn’t that right, Isabella?”

  I nodded shyly. “I do,” I admitted. “But I have to drive home tonight, so I really shouldn’t have any more to drink.”

  “Two gin and tonics,” Kyle said. He winked at me. “I’ll keep you company. I promise I’ll let you go after one drink.”

  Except he didn’t let me go, not after one drink, and not after ten. After the second cocktail, we were finding ourselves even closer together, our heads nuzzling and bumping. I felt my skin growing prickly and hot with arousal and the warmth of the alcohol. When our lips finally met, it was like stars exploded in my head.

  “I’m taking you back with me,” Kyle said gruffly. “Come on.”

  I shivered as I followed him out of the bar. Kyle led me to a motel across the street and we made love all night. I shrieked every time he plunged his hard cock inside of me like I’d never been with a man before. Kyle was so loving, so skilled. He worshipped my body. In his hands, I felt like I was made out of gold and diamonds. I’d never been treated like such a precious commodity before.

  In the morning, everything felt shy and new. “Are you feeling okay?” Kyle looked at me. “You seem quiet.”

  “I don’t normally do that,” I confessed. “I’ve never had a one-night stand before.”

  Kyle crossed the room in a quick stretch. He lifted my chin up and looked deep in my eyes. “You think that’s all this was? A one-night stand?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve learned not to expect much from men.” I winced as soon as I’d said it; the remark sounded more callous than anything I’d intended. But I meant it. I’d been fooled by men like Kyle before. And sooner or later, all of them disappeared.

  Kyle pursed his lips. He sat down on the bed and gazed deeply into my eyes. “Isabella, I know this is crazy,” he said in a low voice. “But I’m feeling like I could fall in love with you. What do you say? Do you think you could fall in love with me?”

  I shook my head to rid myself of the memory. I couldn’t waste any time thinking about Kyle today. Every time he came back into my mind, the pain and the wounds felt fresh. Like someone had ripped the Band-Aid off my heart and rubbed salt into the worst of the heartbreak.

  I realized I was going to be late. Even though I’d worked at Maison Bridges for longer than anyone else on the staff, I didn’t want to take my chances. Ricardo liked me but not enough to keep me around if I kept showing up late. Besides, it was a Monday. Mondays were the slowest days of the week. I hated working them — there was almost no tip money to be had — but I didn’t have a choice. There were some bills due at the end of the month and if I didn’t act fast, I knew I’d be underwater sooner than I could ever anticipate.

  “Isabella,” Ricardo barked as soon as I stepped in the door. “You’re late! Third time this month, girl! What’s going on?”

  “Car trouble,” I said darkly as I pushed past him and into the kitchen where I stowed my purse and changed from flats into platform pumps that hurt like hell after only a few seconds. Yeah, car trouble. Like I don’t want to get into my car and drive out here. Especially not on a fucking Monday.

  “Isabella, there’s someone at the bar,” Ricardo said. He was tapping his toe, obviously waiting for me to finish getting ready. “Can you take care of him?”

  “I’ve got it,” I said automatically. “I’ll just be a second, Ricardo.”

  Ricardo huffed but he finally left me alone. “Thanks,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or just rushed, but I was grateful for another few seconds of solitude. Thinking about Kyle again had put me into a dark mood. I didn’t ever want to think about his name again, but I knew I couldn’t avoid it.

  “Isabella, I miss you,” Kyle’s voice sounded tinny through the phone. “I wish I could see you tonight, but something came up.”

  I frowned. “We’ve had these plans for a month,” I said. “What could have possibly happened?”

  There was a wet squishing sound in my ear and I realized Kyle had covered the receiver with his hand. I waited, growing angrier by the second, for him to return.

  “I’m sorry,” Kyle said again. “I have to go, but we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

  I pouted. “Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound bitchy. I was just…I was just looking forward to seeing you. It’s been a week! I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, baby,” Kyle said. “I promise, we’ll see each other soon.”

  I hung up and moped around my apartment for a couple of hours. Kyle and I had plans to visit a local historical town and find a cute bed and breakfast to spend the night. I’d looked up tons of places online — I wanted to surprise him ahead of time — and I’d booked us a room there. I’d already paid for the room, and I wasn’t going to get my deposit back.

  Suddenly, the idea struck me: why couldn’t I just go alone? Sure, it would be weird and I’d feel kind of lonely. But I’d get out of Morris for the night and have some alone time. Maybe I could be like one of those classy women in movies who brought a book to a nice restaurant and enjoyed a long, slow meal by myself. I envisioned myself walking down a dark street and then hopping into a cute historical inn for a long soak in the tub. Some alone time. It sounded good, and I thought it might be exactly what I needed.

  As quickly as I could, I packed a bag and hopped in my car. As I drove, a bad feeling started in the pit of my stomach. I kept checking my phone, thinking Kyle would call me. But as the minutes ticked by, I didn’t hear a peep from him. I texted him, Just want to say I miss you, baby. Looking forward to seeing you soon.

  I’d thought I’d be lonely, but I was actually fine once I got there. The hotel was adorable, even if I did get a few raised eyebrows when I checked in alone and didn’t ask for a second key. I took a quick shower and headed outside to walk around for a while after dinner. I missed Kyle. Every time I saw a couple walking by, hand in hand, I thought about him and my crotch gave a jump. It had been a few days since I’d seen him, and I was feeling horny as hell. I decided I was going to surprise him as soon as I got back to New Jersey. I’d buy some fancy lingerie. The next time we met up, I’d put that on under a trench coat
and show up, ready to surprise him. Just thinking about the plan was turning me on even more. I wished I was back in the hotel room so I could lie down on the bed, spread my legs, think of Kyle and maybe slip my hand between my thighs.

  “Ma’am,” someone called. “You dropped this!”

  I turned around with my cheeks burning bright red, almost as if the stranger could have been reading my thoughts. “What is it?”

  “Your keys,” the voice replied.

  As I walked closer, I saw it was a younger guy, probably in college. He smiled at me. Then I realized he was wearing a busboy’s uniform. “You work here?” I gestured to the Italian restaurant.

  The kid nodded. “Great food,” he said with a toothy grin. “You feel like coming in for a meal?”

  My stomach growled and we both laughed. “Sure,” I said as I took my keys back from his proffered hand. “Table for one.”

  The kid raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. I was starting to feel sick of being ostracized just because I was alone. So what if I didn’t have a man with me? Women were allowed to travel alone, damnit. After a few minutes, I realized I wasn’t being judged. It was just unusual; no one saw single women much anymore. A lump came into my throat as the kid led me to a quiet table in the middle of the restaurant.

  “This is one of our nicest tables,” the kid said. “Your server will be right with you. Enjoy your dinner, ma’am.”