Daddies: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Read online

  It’s a dangerous mission, but I’ve worked too hard for this job to risk losing it. I make up my mind; today is the day I begin my real investigation—the one that is sure to make me famous.

  I’m going to see what I can find out by perusing through their jewelry store. Plenty of Bachman couples shop here. Maybe I can eavesdrop, get some clues on where to start.

  Or, find a way into the Village.

  “Let me out here! Please.” I tap the shoulder of the cab driver.

  He pulls over and I shove a crumpled bill in his hand.

  I slide out from the cab and stand before the impressive storefront.

  “Bachman’s,” I breathe, my gaze caressing the sign. My hand grabs for the door handle and I feel electricity run through my palm from excitement. As I make my way inside, a bell hanging from the door alerting the salesgirl with a friendly tinkle that makes me jump.

  I’m greeted by a picture-perfect Beauty. A crisp white button-down shirt is tucked into her floral skirt. A string of pearls hangs around her neck. She comes rushing over, her large brunette curls bouncing off her shoulders. “How can I help you?”

  “Hi there.” Can’t she tell by my thrift store vintage dress and knockoff yellow purse I have no business in this place? I study her open, eager face. She’s one of those who’s going to be excited and polite no matter who you are—like a small, yapping lap dog. “I’m just browsing.”

  “I totally understand. This place is gorgeous, isn’t it? Take your time and call me if you need me. My name’s Charlie.” She gives me a wink as if to tell me that she remembers a time she too couldn’t afford this place.

  Giving her a tight smile, I move toward the back of the store.

  Lucky for me, a couple comes in, perfect pedigrees and dressed to the nines. They ooze wealth and the desperate need for all the attention in the room, which Charlie happily provides them.

  Leaving me to browse around on my own.

  What am I looking for?

  A trap door in the marble floor? A bookcase that turns with the push of a button, creaking as it opens to expose a secret entrance to their town?

  I take a long look at Charlie. She’s knee deep in diamonds and commission-based sales, not that she needs the money. She’s paying me no mind whatsoever.

  Taking the opportunity I’ve been gifted, I dash down the long hall. To the right there’s an impressive office; a small clock sits on a huge mahogany desk. At the end of the hall is a black door, a blinking green light shining from the lock. One you must need a keycard to open.

  To my left is a longer hall. A dark one without an overhead light. One that looks foreboding, yet for my intent and purpose, promising.

  At the end of the hall I can make out the glint of a silver door handle.

  Like any journalist worth their ink, I have to know what’s behind that door.

  Dashing down the hall, I wrap my fingers around the handle. My heart is beating so hard in my chest, I can hear the blood as it whooshes through my arteries.

  Am I on the precipice of mortal danger? What will I find on the other side of this door?

  I have no idea, but something in my gut, an instinct older than time and stronger than my will to survive bubbles up, telling me to push down and open that door.

  Even if I shouldn’t.

  I follow the golden rule for good reporting—always listen to your gut.

  I push the handle down and open the door slowly, grateful there’s no sound of a squeaky hinge. Peeking past the door, I find a large, dimly lit warehouse. The ceilings are high, the floors concrete. The place looks vacant.

  Strange. I’d thought Bachman’s was next to Daughtry’s Clothing store. This must be some kind of shared hidden place behind them both. Finding nothing of use, I turn to head back to the jewelry store. As I’m closing the door, I hear the deep timbre of a man’s voice.

  One I’d recognize anywhere.

  It belongs to Jet; the tall, broad-shouldered man with the ice blue eyes and sleek black hair. A newly initiated member of the Bachman Brotherhood and the man I’d first pegged to seduce in order to pen my tell-all about the family’s kinky sex lives.

  I know him from around the city. We’ve danced at the Bachman family’s favorite club, Gotcha’s, him holding me close as we sway. Chatted at a few parties, always finding ourselves in a dark corner together, a light banter flowing between us.

  Using all my womanly wiles and tricks of the trade, I tried to get him to hook up with me, but he declined, saying, “I don’t mix business with pleasure, unless I’m forced to,” whatever that meant.

  Now I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I grab onto the words, mission, shipment, and danger.

  Intriguing.

  Stepping further into the big open space, I close the door quietly behind me. Tiptoeing toward the sound of the voice, I hold my breath, terrified to make a noise.

  I see no one. And the talking has stopped. I look left, then right.

  The place is eerily silent. Further in the warehouse are a few doors, mostly closed. There’s a blue glow coming from an opened door of a room in the back. I want a closer look, but my body freezes in fear.

  Though the voices have gone, I sense I’m not alone. I feel eyes on me. Prickles raise on the back of my neck and I turn as slowly as one of those ridiculous girls in the murder mystery movies who know the killer is just behind them but still call out, “Who’s there?” anyway.

  Only I say nothing, my words caught in my throat, unable to form a sound with my sandy dry tongue.

  Materializing from the shadows, Jet stands before me, looming like a giant—one that wants to gobble me up. A thatch of black hair hangs over his eye and he brushes it out of the way to get a better look at me. “Are you lost, little girl?”

  His words send a tremble through me, tightening my nipples. “I was just... I guess I did get a little lost and—”

  “Nosing around where you shouldn’t be?” He gives a raise of one dark, intimidating brow.

  I shake my head. “I-I was... investigating.”

  “Well, around here do you know what we call investigating?” he asks, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

  “No.”

  He says, “A cause for a disappearance.”

  My blood runs cold, a white heat flashes over my face. “M-murder?”

  “Maybe.” As he studies my face, a slow calculating grin crosses his face. “Of course, in this mafia, we are gentlemen. We hate to lay a finger on a lady.”

  I say, “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “What have you heard?” Jet demands.

  If I’ve risked my life, I may as well try to garner some information from him. I egg him on, hoping for dirt. “That you punish your women... physically. That you inflict pain to keep them in line. To make them submit to your will.”

  “Then you’ve heard wrong.” He gives a predatory grin that doesn’t match his words.

  A second voice joins our conversation. “Partially, at least.”

  I look over my shoulder to find the owner of the smooth tone. Another large man, his body tight and muscular, though not as broad-shouldered as Jet, with sandy hair and bright green eyes, steps out from the shadows.

  Jet gives him a greeting with a tilt of his chin. “Hey, Liam. Tell our little visitor here what parts of the legend she got right.”

  He steps forward, his jade eyes burning into mine. I catch the faintest hint of his woodsy cologne. “You mean about how we punish naughty little girls we catch snooping.”

  “Spank them until they’re begging us for mercy.” Jet gives a dark chuckle.

  Liam’s eyes rove over my body as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Make their pretty asses red like a cherry—”

  “Then use them for our pleasure,” Jet answers.

  My life might be on the line but the first question that pops out of my mouth is on clarifying facts for my article—are they talking about anal? “Wait—use the women, or use their asses
?”

  They answer in unison. “Both.”

  Jet smiles. “We like to punish them, inside and out.”

  “Tell me more, gentlemen.” My throat suddenly feels impossibly tight but I press on with my information gathering mission. I’m getting direct quotes right from the source. I swallow hard. “But only if they consent, right? I mean... you wouldn’t take a woman that didn’t want to be with you?”

  Liam gives his own dark chuckle. “But you will want to be with us.”

  Jet’s eyes undress me. “Not only because of what we can do to that tight little body of yours.”

  “But because if you don’t submit to our way, you’ll still be punished.” Liam steps closer.

  So does Jet. “But not by us.”

  I take a step back. “What do you mean? What will happen to me?”

  “Like I said, the Brotherhood doesn’t like snoops.” His tone is heavy, his words a warning.

  Jet crosses his arms over his chest, pushing up his already insanely huge biceps. “We can always turn you in to the cops for trespassing. Or, call your magazine and let them know that you went about gaining your information in the most unethical way.”

  “Wait—you know about my article?” I squeak.

  Liam raises a brow. “Yes, and you sneaking around gathering information, it’s no different from stealing, is it?”

  “And those who steal from the Brotherhood rarely live to tell the tale.” Jet’s words make me shiver.

  Liam leans in, his face close to mine. “What’s it going to be, Lulu? Or should we call you Lourdes?”

  They know my name. They know my intentions. A sick feeling swirls through my insides. My shaking words tumble from my mouth. “It’s Lulu to you.”

  “What’s it going to be?” Jet asks. “Are you going to take your punishment from us, or should we call your boss and lodge a complaint, Lulu? The Bachmans have a lot of influence in this city, as I’m sure you’re already well aware.”

  Liam shrugs. “Or we could take her to Rockland. Though there’s no telling what he’d do to her.”

  I can’t lose my job. I can’t go to jail. And I do not want to face the head of this family—he’s not going to look lightly on my trespassing.

  My only choice?

  To submit to these two men.

  To let them punish me however they choose.

  The knowledge should have me panicked, have me wanting to run, wanting to cry. Instead I find a calm, curious warmth spreading over my entire body. Much like when I wake from my recurring dream.

  I look into Jet’s blue eyes, then Liam’s green ones. Taking a deep breath, I hold up my chin—though I’m about to lose, I can try to retain my pride. “I choose your way. But know this—I don’t go down without a fight.”

  They exchange a knowing glance—as if they’ve just won a contest, and my body is their prize.

  Chapter Two

  Jet’s brow narrows as he stares down at me. “For the rest of the night, you will call me Daddy, or sir, and Liam will be your papa.”

  The thought of calling them by those names—it’s so taboo, so... hot, yet filthy, shameful. It has my insides twisted in knots, wanting to be untangled. My pussy wanting to be fucked. Despite the dampening of my panties I let out a snort. “Like Papa Smurf? You have to be kidding.”

  “Admit it; you get a little wet between the legs just thinking about calling me Papa.” Liam takes a step toward me, his gaze burning into mine, making heat rise in my cheeks. “Should I show her what happens to little girls with sassy mouths?”

  Jet says, “Not yet.”

  “Soon, though,” Liam says, gazing at my breasts, my taut nipples pressing against the thin fabric of my dress.

  Jet eyes me, as if deciding what to do with me. “I want to know what she’s doing here, first.”

  Clearing my throat, I speak clearly. “I’m here on a mission. I’m investigating your family to write an article for the magazine I work for called The Spread. I plan to uncover all your kinky lifestyles and write the biggest, most purchased gossip piece this city has ever seen, thus making me millions and a famous journalist in the process.”

  They stare at me, surprised by my honesty.

  “We can give you part of what you want.” Jet eyes me with those icy blue pools of his. “We can show you a taste of our lifestyles, how this all works.”

  “We can show you how men like us handle women like you.” Liam reaches out, twirling the end of a strand of my hair.

  Shivers run down my spine at his light touch.

  “But not one word of what happens here today will make it onto paper.” Jet’s eyes rest on my face. “Let’s punish her for trespassing, then send her on her way.”

  “And see if she comes back?” Liam asks.

  Jet’s chin tilts with confidence. “Oh, she’ll be back. I can see it in her eyes. In the flush of her cheeks. In the hardness of her nipples. I smell it in the scent of her arousal.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” I step backwards, denying the aching between my legs. “I can scream, you know. Charlie saw me come into the jewelry store, I’m sure she’s wondering where I’ve gone.”

  “Doubt it.” Jet moves toward me with the sleekness of a panther. “Charlie, unlike you, understands the importance of minding her own business. And if she comes wandering in to find you, she’s going to see you with your panties around your knees, getting your ass spanked. So, I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to lock the door or not.”

  If I lock the door, I have no out. If I don’t... Charlie might come in and see me being punished. But there’s another choice. I make a run for it, then figure out the rest later. “I’ll lock the door, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. But while you’re at it, know this—if you try to make a break for it, this belt is coming off.” Jet’s massive hand goes to the silver buckle at his waist.

  Forget submitting to their punishments; I’ve got to get the hell out of here. Now. I nod. “Got it.” The leather belt around his waist is a threat that almost makes me reconsider my plan. In order to use that belt on me, he’s going to have to catch me first.

  And I don’t plan on letting that happen.

  It takes every ounce of courage in my body to turn my back to them. I creep over to the door, reaching out as if to flip the silver deadbolt. Instead, I grab the handle, pushing it down and ripping the door open.

  I only have one foot in the hallway when a pair of unbelievably strong arms wraps around my waist, pulling me back. It’s Jet and he’s got my back pressed up against his chest. His breath is hot in my ear as he growls, “Going somewhere, little girl?”

  Fighting back, I struggle against his strength but it’s no use—this man is massive. His size makes me think of the name he demanded I call him: Daddy.

  “Let me go or pay the price!” I shriek, throwing my elbows behind me, trying to strike him.

  “What price?” he laughs.

  “I’ll kick your ass!” I shout.

  A deep laugh rumbles up from his belly. “I’d love to see you try. It makes me hard feeling you squirm against me. I’d love to feel your little fists trying to punch me.”

  “Little fists? I’ll show you my little fists.” He’s holding me against him, and as much as I fight him, I can’t turn around to face him and give him the knuckle sandwich I’m planning on.

  I’ve got to find an alternative way to show him it’s a mistake to be messing with me. Lifting my high-heeled foot, I stomp hard down onto his toes.

  “Shit!” Releasing me, he pulls a sharp breath between his teeth. “Damn, Liam, this girl’s got fight in her.”

  I hear Liam say, “Bring her over and let her fight us both at once.”

  “Hell, yeah.” Jet grabs my elbow, dragging me across the room.

  “What the hell do you think you’re going to do with me?” I scream as I try to twist from his grasp.

  Jet growls, “I told you. We’re going to punish you for being so damn nosy.”

/>   “And you’re going to call us by our names. Daddy and Papa,” Liam adds.

  “No, I’m not.” I tug and pull but Jet’s hold on me is too strong. “Let me go!”

  Jet tightens his grip. “Not a chance. You need to learn what happens to little girls who put their noses where they don’t belong.”

  He pulls me further into the warehouse and though my heart thumps against my ribcage, I still crane my neck to get a look at the room with the blue light. Liam sees me eyeing it and walks over toward the door. Just before Liam closes it, I catch a glimpse of a wall of television screens.

  “What’s that room for? Why the televisions? What are you monitoring?” My nosy questions are ignored as we enter a room. There’s a long, dark wood table in here, but nothing else. Jet bends me over the table, pinning me to the top. My hipbones dig into the edge. My hands shoot out, pressing into the wood.

  He pins down my lower back with his huge hand. I’m pushing myself up, best I can, struggling against his power. “You can’t do this! I just walk into a room and you think you can abuse me like this?”

  He snorts, “Just walking into a room, huh?”

  Liam says, “Not snooping, trying to find dirt on the family?”

  “Which you’ve already admitted to,” Jet adds. “Let’s get this pretty little dress pulled up and see what we’re working with, Liam.”

  “Great idea.” I feel Liam pressing against me.

  Then I feel fingers tugging at the hem of my dress. I’m not sure whose they are.

  A low moan rises in the back of my throat. It’s so humiliating, being here in this huge empty warehouse, having two men controlling me, undressing me... punishing me.

  My skirt is lifted. The cool air rushes over my bare thighs. I try to think what panties I’m wearing, which only furthers my shame—it’s my old faded pink panties with the white hearts.

  Why do I even care? I should be screaming for help, trying to find my phone and dialing 9-1-1. Where is my purse? It must have fallen from my arm.

  What are they going to do with me? Panic invades my body. I’m hot and cold all at once, prickly chills dance down my skin. My chest feels tight and I’m finding it hard to breathe.