Say Daddy: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Read online

  Say Daddy

  By

  Shanna Handel

  Copyright © 2020 by Stormy Night Publications and Shanna Handel

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Handel, Shanna

  Say Daddy

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Image by DepositPhotos/VitalikRadko

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Additional Books in the Bachman Daddies Series

  Books of the Bachman Beauties Series

  More Stormy Night Books by Shanna Handel

  Shanna Handel Links

  Prologue

  Luke

  I believe that inside every strong woman is a little girl. One who longs to be cared for.

  Protected, spoiled, cherished.

  I’d go one step further to say that hiding within the heart of some women is a baby girl.

  One who longs for a man—a big strong man who she knows she can always count on no matter what. One who would lay down his life to protect her. A man who will guide her and correct her.

  And when she’s very naughty, take her over his knee and spank her.

  Call it kink, call it taboo, call it what you will but it’s a power exchange older than time; a daddy and his baby girl.

  Men like me have a deep yearning woven into the fibers of our being. When we find our baby girl, we want to be her protector and her hero.

  Her everything.

  We long to have her arms around our necks, whispering words of love and devotion. Her body tight against ours as we give her pleasure she didn’t know was possible. We want her adoration.

  I want my girl to think I hung the moon in the night sky.

  I want her to know that I’d do anything to bring a smile to her face.

  I want my baby girl to know that everything I do, I do it for her.

  I’ve finally found that girl. But my soul won’t be satisfied until I hear her say that one magical word.

  Daddy.

  Chapter One

  Victoria

  Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Hell—I didn’t even get to be a bridesmaid this time. Charlotte was whisked away from Bachman’s Jewelers and married so fast there wasn’t time to change my underwear before she became Mrs. Bachman.

  Do I truly envy her—a young girl forced into marriage upon threat of death?

  Yes!

  Because everything worth anything in this world is within the four walls of the Bachman family’s secret Village. It’s a hidden town right smack in the middle of New York City. The billionaire family runs the most powerful and secretive mafia in the world. And I have to find a way in.

  Or die trying.

  I know I am destined to be a wife in their prestigious, powerful mafia; a Bachman Beauty, as the women refer to themselves. There’s only one hang-up—a woman only gets to be a part of the family through marriage. And no man from the Bachman Brotherhood has shown me any interest.

  I blame it on lack of exposure. Lucky to be hired four years ago as a counter girl for the Bachman family’s high end jewelry store, I’m grateful for my job, but there’s a shortage of eligible bachelors coming my way. The men I meet are already head over heels for the one woman they’ve come to buy bling for.

  Maybe I should consider a different job.

  The sound of the ding of the store’s bell, the one attached to the door—the same one that’s been ringing in my ear for four long years—rips me from my planning.

  Rockland, the god of the mafia and the head of the Bachman family, fills the doorframe.

  Dread weighs in my gut—I know exactly why he’s here.

  He’s going to fire me.

  Almost a year ago, out of the blue I got a phone call from an old high school friend, Charlotte Greene. Desperate to get within the walls of the Village to surprise her lifelong crush, a man she knew from her small hometown, she asked me to help her.

  I used my keycard to unlock the back door to the shop, but that’s as far as I could get her. The stores on this block all belong to the Bachmans, and all have a gate behind them that you have to have a fingerprint code to open. That leads to a second gate. Charlotte had some insane plan to get in, but was caught by guards in the process.

  She was lucky they didn’t kill her—instead they gave Eli, the man she was stalking, an ultimatum.

  Marry Charlotte and make her one of us. Or she will never truly be safe.

  It all worked out in the end when she and Eli wed in secret, then months later, Eli grew to love Charlotte as much as she did him. My friend secured herself a pretty little happily ever after in the process, but that doesn’t let me off the hook.

  I stand straighter, swallowing down my nerves. “Good morning, Mr. Bachman. How may I help you?”

  He gives me a short nod. “Victoria, I’ll make this quick.”

  It’s only when I hear the terseness in his voice that I realize today is the day I’ve been dreading ever since helping Charlotte; the day he finally gets rid of my ass.

  Behind Rockland stands a perky brunette with a friendly, open smile. Despite her good humor, a hint of guilt shadows her brown eyes.

  Panic grips me as I realize who she is.

  My replacement.

  I rush over to him from behind the counter. “Please don’t fire me! I know what I did to help Charlotte was wrong, but can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me? And hasn’t it all worked out so nicely, with her marrying Eli?”

  He shakes his head and the woman gives me a sympathetic gaze. “I’m sorry. You’ve been an invaluable employee to the family, up until your misjudgment. I can’t have anyone within my employ whom I don’t trust.”

  Alarm bells ring in my mind—I’m screwed.

  My mom told me the day I turned eighteen that I was an adult and basically kicked me out. I’ve had no other job than this. I have no prospects for a new one. And no one pays like the Bachman family.

  I plead my case. “But I never went to college, I came straight here out of high school. I have no other experience than working your counters and I highly doubt any other jeweler out there will hire me when they hear I’ve been fired.”

  He says, “I’ve taken these facts into consideration. As well as your years of loyalty to the family. That’s why I’ve arranged for you to have another job. One where your pay will be generous, the tips ludicrous. You’ll probably earn twice what you’ve earned here. But you won’t be working for the family.”

  My panic ebbs as Rockland’s words brew curiosity within me. Visions of an apartment with its own private bathroom—one large enough that I can’t reach out and touch all four walls when I’m standing in the center of it—swirl in my mind.

  What place c
ould possibly pay so well? I ask, “Where?”

  “Gotcha’s. The Bachman-friendly night club down the street was looking for a bartender. They know I trust you—as much as I can, now—and I’ve told them you’re a hard worker. They’re excited to have you on board. Your training begins in two days’ time.”

  I can’t believe my luck!

  Throw me in a pumpkin carriage and call me Cinderella because Rockland’s my fairy godfather, granting the wish I made just moments before.

  It seems like more than coincidence; can there be such a thing as fate, an invisible energy swirling around me, helping bring me closer to my ultimate goal? Good fortune ties my tongue as I try to stammer out, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

  A smile from Rockland is rare; the grin on his face tells me all is forgiven. “Say thank you. And say you’ll take the rest of your time here to train Charlie as your replacement.”

  My livelihood is safe. The next step on my journey has begun. Able to breathe again, I gush, “Thank you. And yes, of course I will.”

  He leaves.

  Charlie hovers by the door wringing her hands. “I’m really sorry that I’m taking your job, I feel awful.”

  I give her a reassuring smile. “Don’t be. It was time for a change. Your first lesson? How to close up for the night. Go ahead and lock the door and change the sign over so we can get to work.”

  Charlie rushes over to the door, locking it, then flips the sign over to read Closed. Her skirts swish as she moves. Planting her back firmly against the door, she brings her hands to her heart. “That was easy. Now, tell me everything I need to know!”

  Breezing over to my favorite case in the store, I pull out a small black velvet tray dotted with brilliant engagement rings. One day soon, I hope to have my left hand weighed down by a piece of this ice. “Let’s start with the diamonds.”

  We go through three cases. Charlie is a fast learner and eager to please. We agree to meet in the morning, before the store opens so we can go over a few more gemstones prior to her shadowing me for the day.

  As we’re leaving, Charlie grabs both my hands in hers. “Thank you for everything. And I have a message.”

  I groan, “Please don’t let it be from Rockland. I don’t think I can handle any more news from him today.”

  “Not him.” She waggles her brows. “A friend. A recently married one?”

  Charlotte.

  I smile, thinking of my quirky, sweet friend with the innocent blonde curls. “Oh—what does she say?”

  She whispers even though we are the only two around, “She says... Gotcha.”

  I laugh at the silly message. “I guess Charlotte pulled a few strings for me with Rockland?”

  Charlie nods eagerly, excited to be in on the delivery. “Yes. She felt terrible about you being fired because of her. She wanted to be sure Rockland would find you a job somewhere—and these are her words, not mine—somewhere that you’d still have access to Bachman man meat, in the hopes that with a bit of luck maybe you’ll be neighbors one day.”

  I allow myself to picture it, me and Charlotte with the other Beauties, visiting one another in the spacious row homes that line the perfectly manicured streets of their secret world. It’s a world within a world, hidden behind the walls of the shops they own.

  I breathe the name like a prayer. “The Village.”

  “Isn’t a home in the Village the ultimate goal of every girl in New York?” Charlie asks.

  “Every girl that’s got the Bachman bug running through her blood,” I say.

  She laughs. “The Bachman bug—I like that. I had it once and now I’m one of the lucky ones.”

  I admit, “I may have my own case.”

  A bad one.

  On the scale of severity, I think my case might be dire. The Bachman bug runs strong through my veins, my blood coursing with desire for camaraderie, couture, and class.

  My heart beats to the steady hymn, Bachman Beauty, Bachman Beauty.

  My case is special, different from those of the other, desperate girls like me, the ones that want in those walls more than they want breath in their lungs.

  There’s one strange thing setting me apart.

  I don’t want the man.

  I’ve seen my mother trudge her way through too many assholes to desire one of my own.

  In my experience, love is for fools. Play with the fires of the heart and you’re going to get a third-degree burn.

  I don’t want to fall in love.

  And marriage—I wish there was a way to infiltrate the Bachmans without it. I’ll play the part to get what I want but it’s not the wedding I’m after.

  Or the money.

  Or the prestige that comes with being a member of the world’s most powerful mafia.

  There is only one reason I want to be a Bachman.

  I simply long to be a Beauty.

  Just watching those lucky women walk by the store makes an aching loneliness throb deep within my chest. They breeze by my window in flocks, shopping bags by their sides, smiles on their faces. Arms slung around shoulders. They are so happy, so confident in one another’s company that I can’t help but picture myself among them.

  They come into the jewelers together, huddled in little packs, laughing and giggling over silly inside jokes. They smile at me, speak politely, ask how my day is going. Then turn their attentions back within their tribe, holding earrings up to each other’s lobes, complimenting one another’s purchases.

  They are the ultimate picture of a strong woman. Once you are in their fold, you are instantly accepted as one of them.

  For life.

  There is no room for jealousy between them; they’re too close to make room for the ugly green-eyed monster to squeeze into their ranks.

  Growing up, I always had a close circle of girlfriends. We keep in touch, but life has scattered us our separate ways. I miss that closeness you can only have in the presence of your very best girls.

  My mother was indifferent toward me, often leaving me with a babysitter so she could go out with her latest man. I think she loved me, at least until I grew curves and her boyfriends suddenly began giving me their unwanted attentions.

  Which sparked a gross jealousy in her. No mother should envy her daughter in that way.

  To this day I still think the main reason that she kicked me out at eighteen was because she didn’t want any competition around. Not that I tried to compete, even for a second.

  I never wanted what she had.

  If I ever have a daughter, I promise myself things will be different. That I will adore her, love her, and above all else, protect her. No man will ever come between us.

  The Bachmans value their strong family ties above all else. And the women are the ties that bind. I crave their lives and the fierce and total loyalty and devotion they offer one another.

  The camaraderie of these women, to belong to their tight-knit pack is my only dream. And I know in order to get what I want, I must catch a Bachman man.

  And so I will.

  But I am certain of one thing; I will not be falling in love in the process.

  * * *

  Luke

  One more drink to serve and then I’m calling it quits for the night. Pouring a shot from a hundred-dollar bottle of bourbon, I slide it across the bar top. “Here you go. One for the road.”

  My patron snorts. “For the road? I don’t think so. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I wipe down the bar. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have a strict policy not to over serve.”

  “Since when do you thugs care about upholding the law?” He’s drunk, and if I didn’t already know he was an undercover agent, he’s about to give himself away with his liquor-loosened tongue.

  Scrubbing over a stubborn, sticky spot on the bar top, I say, “I have no idea what you mean. I’m just a bartender.”

  “That’s what the hoodlums of the Bachman Brotherhood say.” He lifts his hands, making air quotes as he speaks in a condescending tone.
“I’m just an accountant. I’m just a stockbroker. Like you need to pack heat to crunch numbers. I don’t think so.”

  Giving a bored shrug, I say, “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”

  Rage flashes in his eyes. He leans across the bar, grabs the collar of my shirt, and pulls me toward him. “Follow them blindly? Doing Rockland Bachman’s dirty work for him? Never questioning who you’re killing in the process?”

  Playing it cool, I count to five in my head and wait for him to release me. There’s no need to cause a scene. He’ll be leaving soon. He’s always gone by closing time; the copious amounts of liquor seem to hit him all at once, making him sway as he exits the bar.

  Besides, I’m being paid to keep the scenes to a minimum. How would it look to my boss if I knocked this guy out cold?

  As much as I may want to.

  When I reach the number five in my mind, he releases me. I go back to mopping my bar. “I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”

  He slumps back down in his seat, seeing that I’m not going to rise to a fight. “They killed my brother.”

  I don’t bother asking why.

  If the Bachman mafia murdered his brother, it was for a good reason. Their Robin Hood-style crime ring only targets the selfish, corrupt abusers of power who keep the endless cycle of poverty alive in order to keep themselves rich. The Bachmans take that money, double it, and redistribute the wealth amongst the poor.

  The man who sits before me is Theodore Tompkins—otherwise known as Theo. He never should have been put on the case of his brother’s murder, but he must have pulled some strings. It was a bad call on the part of whatever government agency he works for because his pain has driven him to drinking.

  And talking. So much so that if he doesn’t shut up soon, his own guys might get rid of him before Rockland does.

  He’s in his late twenties. About my age. We’re the same build and height. Both with sandy brown hair that could use a haircut. We even both have green eyes. It kind of makes me feel for the guy. I’m sure when he joined the force, he wanted to do the right thing, protect his country.

  He probably had no idea when he signed up that there were a few bad dudes mixed in the rank, who were willing to ruin it for everyone else. Unbeknownst to Theo, his brother, Thomas, was such a man.