Mafia Men VI - Alessandro's Games

Vivian Kane is a ghost in the digital underworld, slipping into Alessandro Costello’s world like she’s always been there. She lifts his wallet with a swipe of her fingers, and just like that, she’s not only hacked his systems—she’s hacked his life.

Alessandro Costello doesn’t do forgiveness. She’s made it personal, and now he’s out for blood. He’s ready to turn her life into a living nightmare, using every dirty trick he knows to make her regret ever crossing him.

What starts as a simple theft quickly spirals into something far darker. They’re trapped in a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, where every touch and taunt turns up the heat until it’s a steamy, no-holds-barred battle of lust and dirty games.

In this twisted mind-fuck, trust is a luxury neither can afford.

PREFACE

DEDICATION!

This one's for all my bad girlies who get off on the dark side—if you’re itching to be chased and fucked senseless by a faceless hunter who doesn’t bother with niceties, you’re about to get your fix.

Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride.

Get ready to be hunted, cornered, and seduced by a man who doesn’t ask for permission. Because for Viviane Kane, danger is an aphrodisiac.

So, get ready to let your fantasies run wild. These men play dirty, and they play to win. Are you game?

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DISCLAIMER!

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional.

This book, including all its content, is protected by copyright laws. All rights are reserved by the author, and no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or otherwise utilized in any form or by any means—whether electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the express written permission of the copyright holder. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this work is prohibited and may result in legal action.

Copyright © 2024 by Jane Doe Writings. All rights reserved.

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TRIGGER WARNING!

The following book contains imagery that some readers may find distressing. This book contains multiple explicit scenes that graphically simulate sexual assault, although every encounter is fully consensual.

•Simulated Sexual Assault

•Consensual Non-consent

•Strong Language

•Graphic Violence

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you so much for choosing to read my story! Your support means the world to me. I would love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to leave a comment and vote if you enjoyed the book. Your feedback not only fuels my writing but also keeps me from talking to myself in a padded room.

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POINT OF VIEWS - POVs.

This book is written with both the main male character’s (MMC) and main female character’s (FMC) perspectives. However, I’ll include these viewpoints only when they fit the story. I won’t add the MMC’s or FMC’s POV just for the sake of it, especially if it doesn’t match the scene or the mystery of the plot.

I know some readers might want more of the MMC’s POV, and while I understand that, every choice is made with the story’s development in mind. Each perspective is used to help the story flow and keep the suspense. Thank you for understanding and enjoying the ride.

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UPDATES SCHEDULE

I post one chapter every day (though I might miss a day or two here and there). Please understand that this schedule is the best I can manage with my busy, hectic life as a medical student.

Even though I try my best to stick to a daily schedule, sometimes my schoolwork takes up more time than I expected, which might cause a short delay.

Your understanding means a lot to me, and I’m grateful for your support as I juggle these responsibilities. Thank you for being patient and for following along with my story despite the occasional delays.

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J A N E D O E W R I T I N G S

Prologue

Viviane

☩═✦═☩

I have always been observant...

Just a glance and I can piece together someone's story. Their clothes, the way their hair is styled, the nuances in their speech, and their mannerisms—all of it tells me something. Most of the time, I'm spot on. It's like reading an open book, only the pages are made up of subtle cues and unspoken words.

Take the guy sitting at the bar, for instance. His suit is expensive but slightly wrinkled, suggesting he's been wearing it all day, probably in a high-pressure job. His hair is perfectly styled, but there's a hint of gray peeking through. He speaks with confidence, but there's an edge to his voice, a tension that reveals more than he intends. He's trying to project power, yet there's a vulnerability in his eyes.

Or the woman across the room. Her designer dress and polished nails scream wealth, but the way she clutches her purse and glances around nervously tells a different story. She's uncomfortable, out of her element, perhaps trying to blend into a world she's not quite a part of.

Reading people is second nature to me. It's not just about what they say, but how they say it, how they move, and what they choose to hide. Every detail is a clue, and I have the ability to put the pieces together.

It's not just a skill—it's an art that I was born with.

The Kanes had always been extraordinary. My father, a sharp lawyer, and my mother, a brilliant doctor, set the bar high. My sister became a therapist, healing minds, while my brother was a man of the law.

Intelligence runs deep in our veins. We Kanes were gifted with sharp minds, and it was up to each of us to decide how to wield that power. Most chose the path of righteousness, upholding the family legacy. But I took a different route.

I became a thief, a pickpocket, and I excelled at it.

Growing up, I enjoyed every privilege. But life has a way of throwing curveballs, forcing choices between being good and surviving. When that moment came, I chose survival. I may not have anything to my name now, but that doesn’t mean it will always be this way.

The thrill of the game, the adrenaline rush when slipping a wallet unnoticed, the satisfaction of outsmarting someone—it all called to me. My skills were honed, my instincts sharp. I learned to read people, to understand their vulnerabilities, and to exploit them.

Take the crowded subway, for instance. People pressed together, lost in their own worlds. A perfect setting. I’d spot my mark—a businessman engrossed in his phone, a distracted tourist with a loose grip on her bag. A quick bump, a deft hand, and the prize was mine.

But now it wasn't cutting anymore. From simple pickpocketing, I needed to move on to bigger scores.

The world is full of opportunities, and if you don’t have something, you can always steal it—that was my motto.

The Kanes might have chosen their noble paths, but I forged my own. I thrived in the shadows, where the rules were different, and right now, I had spotted the perfect target.

With one glance, I knew he was the perfect mark.

He exuded power and danger, draped in a suit that whispered wealth—a custom-made masterpiece worth around one-hundred thousand dollars. The Alexander Amosu Vanquish II Bespoke suit fit him perfectly, showing off a lean, muscled build that spoke of both discipline and strength. His hair, thick and dark, was meticulously styled, he likely spent a fortune on maintaining it.

His eyes were a striking blue, so deep they seemed to pull you in, yet they were cold, devoid of any warmth. They held a darkness, an indifference that hinted at a capacity for cruelty. It was the kind of look that pierced right through you, making you feel both exposed and insignificant.

His cheekbones were sharply defined, like the edge of a blade, and his lips twisted into a perpetual sneer that seemed to mock the world around him. He carried himself with an air of superiority, as if he knew he was better than everyone in the room and found it endlessly entertaining.

Every detail about him screamed expense—from the subtle glint of a custom watch on his wrist to the polished leather shoes that gleamed under the lights. He was the epitome of luxury and danger, a lethal combination that made him all the more enticing as a target.

He moved through the crowd with a predatory grace. I could see the way people deferred to him, their smiles strained, their gazes averted. He thrived on their fear and admiration, basking in the power he held over them.

This man wasn't just rich; he was the embodiment of danger wrapped in the finest trappings money could buy. And I was determined to make his wealth mine.

- Baby Costello

Alessandro

☩══♛══☩

Being the hacker for the Cosa Nostra is a job that demands not just skill, but brilliance—a brilliance only I possess.

Long hours, confined to a room, staring at a screen, but it’s a small price to pay for perfection.

Hacking is my art, my science, my lifeblood. The thrill of it all is intoxicating. Every breach, every firewall I tear down, every encrypted message I decode—it's a rush like no other. They depend on me, even if they don't fully understand how much.

Arrogant? Maybe. But when you're as good as I am, you've earned the right to be.

People think Nikolai Costello runs the Costello Crime family, but they're deluded. Even Niko is delusional but I won't say it to his face, well, because, respect.

With a single click, I could bring the entire operation to its knees. I'm the reason the family stays one step ahead, the force driving every success.

I'm their god, their savior, their worst nightmare.

But I was also...

"Baby Costello!"

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh to calm myself. I hated that nickname.

Scott slung his arm over my shoulder, his whiskey sloshing dangerously close to my shirt. I swear to god, if a single drop touched me... He had that twisted grin on his face, the one that usually meant trouble. "Happy birthday! What are you now, twelve? Fourteen?"

I rolled my eyes heaven wards, "Twenty-five, Scott. Try to keep up."

"Twenty-five, huh?" He let out a laugh, "Well, you could've fooled me. You still look like you just graduated kindergarten."

I pushed his arm away, and gave him a shove, "Fuck off!"

"Enjoying the party?" Marco's voice cut through the thumping bass.

I shrugged, a sly smile playing on my lips. "This is nothing. Cindy always knew how to throw a real party," I said, leaning closer to be heard over the music.

Scott raised an eyebrow, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She’s Mrs. Capone now, remember? Put some fucking respect to her name."

I merely lifted a shoulder, "That doesn't change the fact that she threw the best damn parties this family has ever seen."

The nightclub throbbed, the music pounding through the air. Neon lights bathed everything, showing off the sea of bodies dancing and grinding together.

I stood in the VIP area with the men, looking down at the crowd, a drink in hand. The dim lighting couldn't hide the women winking and batting their eyelashes at me.

Getting pussy was the easiest shit ever when you looked as good as I did.

It was surreal, really.

People were always getting blinded by appearances, and mine was perfect. If I hadn’t been born with a diamond-encrusted spoon shoved so far up my ass I could taste it, my looks alone would’ve handed me everything I wanted on a silver platter.

I didn’t have to earn a damn thing—I just had to show up and let my presence do the work.

I knew my exterior was pure power, a weapon that guaranteed I’d get whatever I wanted without breaking a sweat.

I took a sip of my drink, savoring the burn as it went down. All of it was amusing, really. They didn’t even know who I was or what I did; they were just drawn to my looks, power and money that radiated off me.

Pathetic but still amusing.

The countdown to the final ten seconds began, and the entire room joined in, their voices rising in unison.

A waiter approached with a magnum of champagne. He popped the cork with a bang, and as the midnight struck, I grabbed the bottle, shook it vigorously, and threw it into the air, sending a shower of champagne cascading over everyone. The crowd roared, soaking up the liquid gold.

Scott clapped me on the back, "Now that's how you kick off a birthday, Alessandro!"

Niko, Lorenzo, and Marco joined us, raising their glasses in a toast. "To Alessandro!" Niko said, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "I've got you the car you have been eyeing for the past week. It will be in your garage before you get back home."

We clinked glasses, the sound of crystal ringing through the air. The music pumped louder, and the dancing intensified.

The women around me grew bolder, their touches lingering, their whispers more suggestive.

A tall blonde in a tiny sequined dress, slid next to me, her fingers tracing my jaw.

As more women flocked toward us, one of them reached out for Scott, her fingers almost grazing his arm. He pushed her away with a dismissive shove, his irritation barely masked. Scott might have looked the most approachable, but even he had his limits.

Niko, with his brooding presence, scared everyone who dared to look his way. Lorenzo, on the other hand, was a walking nightmare, his reputation alone enough to scare off anyone with half a brain. Marco’s stern expression was a silent warning—if looks could kill, the women would have dropped dead on the spot.

I was the charming one in this family, everyone knew that.

Scott raised his voice over the clamor, “We’re all married here, ladies. Focus on the birthday boy, not us.”

He gestured toward me with a dramatic sweep of his arm, making it clear who the real prize was.

A brunette with curves in all the right places sidled up beside me, her hand sliding over my shoulder and down my chest. She pressed herself against me, her lips brushing my ear as she spoke, her words lost in the loud music.

The music changed, the bass vibrating through the floor and up through us. I stood, holding the champagne bottle high, and the crowd's energy surged. I took a swig and passed it to the blonde, she drank eagerly before passing it around.

I leaned back, pulling the blonde and brunette closer. They giggled and whispered in my ear, their voices a sweet background noise to the pulsating beat.

I took a sip of the champagne and then kissed the blonde deeply, forcing the champagne ointo her mouth. As I pulled back, she giggled again, her eyes half-closed with lust.

Turning to the brunette, I pressed my lips to hers, feeling her melt against me. The blonde took another swig of champagne and then transferred it mouth-to-mouth to the brunette. Then the brunette, did the same, passing the champagne to me through a kiss.

Eventually, the men headed home to their families. Hours passed, but the party didn’t lose its energy.

I leaned in close to the girls on either side of me, "Let's get out of here," I suggested. They looked up at me and eagerly nodding their heads.

We made our way down from the VIP section, leaving the exclusive area behind. The bass from the music was so loud it seemed to shake the floor beneath us. As we went down, the space opened up, and we were hit by the full force of the crowd. The main level of the nightclub was packed, with people dancing and shouting over the booming beats. The air was thick with energy and the smell of sweat and perfume, it was nauseating.

As we walked through the throng of people, a woman suddenly collided with me. The first thing I noticed about her were the freckles on her face. Followed by her hazel eyes staring up at me in panic and the hint of her red hair as light fell on her for a moment in between. She muttered a quick "sorry," before she disappeared back into the sea of bodies.

I barely gave her a second glance. She probably did intentionally, girls like to throw themselves on me. I continued forward, both of the women following closely.

We made our way through the crowd, the girls clinging to me. The club's heavy doors swung open, and we stepped out into the cool night air.

The city lights reflected off the wet pavement, my driver pulled the limo outfront and I led the ladies inside first before following behind.

As we drove through the quiet streets, the girls leaned into me, their hands exploring, their lips brushing against my neck and ears.

We arrived at my place, and I led them inside, shutting the door behind us to cut off the outside world.

As soon as the door closed, the mood shifted. I turned to the girls and pulled the blonde in for a kiss. She pressed close, her body warm and soft against mine. I felt her hands exploring my chest.

The brunette started kissing my neck and shoulders. She slipped her hands under my shirt. I gently pushed the blonde onto the couch and then kissed the brunette. The blonde began trailing kisses down my chest, her hands moving to my crotch.

I settled back on the couch as both girls took their place between my legs, kneeling on the floor. The blonde unbuckled the belt while the brunette unzipped. They were all over me—hands exploring, mouths working, tongues flicking, and fingers stroking with a satisfying rhythm.

I leaned back against the plush cushions, a groan escaping my lips as I savored the sensation. The heat and pleasure were overwhelming, and a contented smile spread across my face. At that moment, I couldn’t help but think, damn, I really love my life.

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I woke up to my phone vibrating insistently somewhere nearby. Reaching out, my hand landed instead on the warm, bare skin of the girl beside me.

I cracked my eyes open, squinting against the early morning light, and then reached for the phone on the nightstand.

Thirty-one missed calls from Niko. It was barely seven a.m. What the hell did he want this early?

I answered the call and pressed the phone to my ear, irritation already creeping into my voice. "What?"

"Where's the money?" Niko's voice was a harsh, he sounded pissed and he was rarely pissed at me.

"What money?" I snapped.

"Have you looked at our goddamn accounts, Alessandro? Eleven accounts are fucking drained—eleven! That’s millions of dollars fucking vanished!" He snapped, completely taking my out of my sleep, I blinked, giving my head a shake to clear my head.

I sat up in bed, the movement causing the girls around me to stir. One of them blinked awake, her smile slow and sleepy as she looked at me. I gave her a quick glance and then turned my attention elsewhere, not interested in small talk.

That can't be, no, I felt a sudden jolt of adrenaline as I processed what he had just told me. This couldn't be happening. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, pushing the sheets aside. The blonde beside me gave a startled yelp as I shoved her out of the way, sending her tumbling to the floor. She looked up, bewildered, but I didn't spare her a second glance. There was no time for apologies.

I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and booted it up, my fingers moving as fast as they could, "I'll call you back," I muttered to Niko before ending the call.

I logged into our accounts. Each one required a password reset. What the fuck?!

My jaw clenched as I saw the timestamps—early this morning, during the hours I had been dead to the world.

"Fuck," I hissed, slamming my fist on the nightstand. The girls around me jolted awake, eyes wide with alarm. The blonde scrambled back onto the bed, her face pale with fear.

"What's going on?" she asked timidly, but I didn't even glance at her.

My passwords had been changed. All of them. The security questions had been altered. I scrolled through the transaction history, my rage building with each new discovery.

"How the hell did this happen?" I muttered to myself, my mind racing with the possibilities.

Whoever did this was no amateur. This was a high-level, premeditated operation. They’d used my credentials to breach the system—there was no other way they could have gotten in. No fucking way.

Could it be the FBI? The thought made me swallow hard. This shit could seriously fuck us over.

"Get out," I growled at the girls. They looked at me, confused, "Now!" I barked, and they scrambled to gather their things and leave, their eyes darting nervously between me and the door.

Once they were gone, I turned my attention back to the laptop. My thoughts were a mess of anger and confusion.

How had this been possible? I had implemented every conceivable precaution, every advanced security measure. Yet here I was, facing a breach that no one had ever achieved before. The FBI had tried and failed to crack my defenses in the past. When they nailed Uncle Luciano for money laundering, I made sure everything disappeared—there wasn’t a trace of the cash they were after.

The thought gnawed at me. I’d always prided myself on having the most unbreakable security in the game. The fact that someone had managed to outwit me was a slap in the face—more infuriating than the prospect of going to prison for life.

Nobody fucking outsmarts Alessandro Costello.

I yanked open a drawer in the nightstand, pulling out a secondary phone. I needed to contact my team, get them on this immediately. I dialed quickly, and waited as the phone rang.

"Frankie," I said when he answered, "we've got a major breach. Eleven accounts drained. Millions gone. I need you on this now."

"I'm on it, boss," Frankie replied, "I'll start tracing the breach and see what we can recover."

"I’ll dig into the breach from my side," I said, "I need a full forensic analysis of how this happened and who’s behind it. If it’s the FBI, obliterate all traces—leave no digital footprint. If it’s not them, gather every bit of intel you can: IP logs, transaction trails, and any metadata they might have left. I need a complete fucking picture."

I ended the call and fixed my gaze on the laptop screen. This wasn’t just a hit on our assets—it was a direct challenge to me and my reputation. Whoever pulled this off thought they could outsmart me, play me for a fool. They were about to learn just how wrong they were.