Surrender: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Read online

  I tidy up the bathroom, hanging the towels and packing away my personal belongings. I leave my duffle on the counter and walk through the bedroom. I pause at the top of the stairs. Nervous butterflies dance in my stomach.

  Which I find to be ridiculous.

  I laugh at myself, wondering why this stranger has me so flustered. Is it just the fact that he threw me over his thigh and spanked my bum like a naughty schoolgirl? The thought that he might do it again?

  Or is the tiny, naughty voice correct, as it says you want him to do it again.

  I whisper back, “I do not! That was the most humiliating, ridiculous... downright archaic thing that has ever happened to me.” Yet just thinking about it has my skin tingling with arousal.

  I come to no conclusion other than the fact that I’ve got to start spending more time outside of the library. My reclusive studious nature must have me unable to process interactions with the opposite sex. Especially Nick.

  In the science world, I’ve come across men who think they’re better and smarter than their female colleagues. Men who don’t give us a second thought, don’t consider us their equals, assuming we’re there to fetch them coffee.

  At first, I thought Nick was like that. But he’s not.

  Yes, he’s quite old-fashioned—and I completely disprove of his methods for getting his point across—but I have the feeling he’s doing this to protect me, not show his strength over me. To care for me, not to make me look weak. He seems like someone who could admit when he’s wrong, laugh at a joke at his expense, yet when necessary, put you in your place.

  Which... he’s done with me.

  I find myself distracted as I descend the stairs. So much so that when I reach the first-floor hall, I bump right into Nick. “Oh! Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “That’s quite alright.” His strong hands wrap around my shoulders, steadying me. His eyes appraise me, making heat rise in my chest. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I manage to murmur before stepping away. I follow him to the kitchen.

  When he offers me wine, I accept so quickly it makes him laugh. He says, “You need to relax.”

  “I’ve been a little tense,” I admit. I don’t add that it’s his presence making me this way. He pours us both a glass of red. We sit next to one another at the bar. He smirks knowingly as I take my seat gingerly. I ignore the look, focusing on my wine. I sip from the glass. I don’t know what I’m drinking, but it tastes expensive.

  He asks me, “Do you like the wine?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I have no idea what it is, but I’ve been told it’s good.”

  “Let me guess—the Beauties stock your kitchen?”

  “What can I say? They take good care of me.” He smiles and his dimples appear. Making me almost forget how harshly he treated me on the street. He asks, “What was it like, moving from England to Italy at such a young age?”

  “It was fine. I was only five and it was just my father and me, so I didn’t have family to miss.”

  “Tell me about growing up in Adrianna’s village. What was it called?”

  “Brontes. It’s a lovely little place. The people take care of one another. I swear, Adri was related to half the town. When I first moved there, it caused quite a spectacle, most of the kids had never met someone from another country. But she took me under her wing and I was immediately accepted. We had the language barrier between us but we still found a way to giggle over everything. I picked up Italian quickly, solidifying our friendship.”

  “And her family?”

  “She had so many male cousins, I couldn’t keep track of them. But everyone was kind to me, welcoming. I loved how much laughter and teasing went on in their home. There was always huge pots of food cooking on the stove. Aunts and uncles coming and going. There was a lot of love. You could feel it.” I’m talking too much. I turn the tables, asking him, “Tell me about where you grew up.”

  His face closes. “Our town was not much to speak of.”

  There’s a heavy, awkward silence. He obviously doesn’t want to revisit his past. I do what any good Brit would do in this situation—change the subject to the weather. We sip our wine and chat. The conversation flows naturally, and I feel as if we’re becoming friends. When he’s not in his dom mode he’s got such an easy way about him. Joking, laughing, flirting.

  He’s very good at flirting.

  I’m finding myself growing attached. I could stay here all night, spending time alone with this stranger who spanked me. It’s unsettling. I set my wineglass on the counter. Clear my throat. Ask, “When can we see Adrianna?”

  “It’s almost time.” He looks at his watch. It’s different than others I’ve seen men wear. Classic with an elegant style, yet several extra buttons adorn the edges of the face. I chalk it up to fancy rich guy tech.

  “What’s she been tied up with all day, anyway?” I don’t want to admit it but my feelings are a bit hurt that she hasn’t come for me yet.

  “You’ll see. Drink up. You’ll need it.” The last part is said under his breath, and I feel I’ve not heard him correctly.

  The twinkle in his eyes tells me I have. I ask, “What are you playing at? What do you mean?”

  “Let’s go.” He tips his glass back, the burgundy liquid disappearing. Sets it down on the counter with a delicate clink. He stands from his stool. He stares down at me for a moment, as if deciding something. Then, he leans down, his face inches from mine. He softly brushes my cheek with the gentlest of kisses. My heart flutters like the wings of a hummingbird.

  I blink hard, trying to get a hold of myself. I stand from the stool and quickly chug the wine. It instantly goes to my head, making me giggle. I smooth my short skirt—it’s crept up, bunching around my hips. I feel very aware of its size and apologize. “Ugh. This skirt is much smaller than I remember. All those hours locked in the library must have widened my rear.”

  He inspects the problem area I’ve just complained about. There’s a sultry look in his eyes as he brings them up to meet mine. “Looks perfect to me.”

  And he’s had a good look—my skirt around my waist, my bum jiggling beneath his heavy palm. I lower my gaze and tug at the hem. I feel his attention lingering on my hips as I make my way out of the kitchen toward the front door.

  I’ve got to get out of here. This man has stained my face as red as my ass.

  He brushes past me to open the door. A breeze blows in, and I’m grateful for the cool night air against my hot face. The sky is dusky, the sun disappearing behind the horizon. He snakes his arm around my waist, locking himself against me as my escort. “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I shiver despite my answer. A product of his embrace. It feels nice. Too nice. The corners of my mouth creep upward in a private smile.

  “We’re going to Adrianna and Dante’s for dinner. You must be starving.”

  As if on cue, an embarrassing rumble escapes my stomach. I laugh. “I guess I am. Haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “You’re in luck. There’ll be enough food to feed an army. Can you cook?”

  I shake my head. “Mac and cheese out of a box is about all I can manage. I normally take my meals in the dining hall.”

  “Any special guy accompany you?”

  “No. I usually eat alone. Over a book. Or a research journal.”

  “What do you study?”

  “Genetics. My father was a geneticist. That is how I ended up in Brontes in the first place. He was studying a rare mutation that was prevalent in that area of Italy at the time. We would have dinner together every night and he would tell me about all the updates in his research. I was fascinated and found myself following in his footsteps. I finished my masters and have just been accepted into the doctorate program.”

  “You must be a hard worker. I like that.”

  “Thanks. You must be as well. Adrianna mentioned you are Dante’s right-hand man... What is it that you do, by the way?
”

  He ignores my question. Stops on the sidewalk, gazing at me. The soft yellow light of the streetlamp shines on his face, enhancing his already chiseled features. His blue eyes seem to light from within and I’m entranced by them. There’s a tugging in my chest. A longing I’ve not felt before. I can’t place the feeling and a discomfort grows within me. He says, “We’re here.”

  “Finally.” A smile stretches over my face. I look up to see the home he points to. It’s painted white with a cheery yellow door. A wreath made of olive branches hangs over the glass. I’ve no idea how many blocks we’ve walked, or which street we are on—I’ve been too distracted. But I can feel Adrianna in the décor and I know she’s inside.

  We make our way up the stairs. The door swings open and there she is. My old friend. She looks so grown up, a married woman with a large diamond adorning her finger. Her emerald dress is smooth and sleek and I have no doubt her wardrobe cost more than a semester’s tuition. She’s so elegant, standing in the frame of her impressive home, for the first time, I find myself intimidated by her.

  But then she’s bounding down the stairs on those long gazelle legs and lifting me from the ground in her arms, giggling as she says my name. “Hannie!”

  It’s my same old friend. I’ve just got to get used to seeing her in her new lifestyle.

  She reintroduces me to her husband, Dante. The group was so large at the bus stop, I had barely shaken hands with him. He embraces me. Kisses me on the cheek. He’s polite but reserved. Almost standoffish. But then, Adrianna whispers something quietly in his ear. Placing her hand softly on his cheek. He turns to her and laughs. His face lights up like the sun. The way he looks at her... it makes a queer longing well in my breastbone. Embarrassed, I look away but my heart is full for my friend.

  She’s found her soulmate.

  She grabs my hand and pulls me up the front steps. As we cross the threshold, I’m suddenly aware the place is bursting with people.

  She’s gushing. “Surprise! I’ve been planning this party for you. I wanted everyone to get to know my very best friend. We’ve been cooking all day and the Beauties have decorated their hearts out for you.”

  I look around in amazement. First off, Adrianna’s house is gorgeous. On top of her own décor, they’ve decked the place out with white lights, candles, bouquets of fresh flowers.

  Second, there are more beautiful people crammed within these four walls than there must be in all of Hollywood. She pulls me into the kitchen, introducing me—by my full name as promised—as we go.

  Every inch of countertop is covered with dishes that look as if they’ve been prepared by Michelin-starred chefs. Platters of seafood, shrimp, lobster, rare cuts of beef, colorful salads, mounds of desserts. My mouth waters. She takes a plate, stacking it high with food, telling me the names of the people who prepared each course.

  Beauties flock toward us. Introducing themselves and fawning over me. My eye catches their necklaces. They all have sparkling pendants shaped like swords dangling from them. Curious.

  There are so many people I can’t remember their names. I recognize a few of her cousins from back home, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them. I nibble a few bites of food in between the introductions but I’m so afraid of speaking with my mouth full or dropping my plate, in the end, I’ve barely eaten.

  I sense a huge, looming presence approaching. “Hannah.”

  I’d know that voice anywhere. “Rockland. Long time, no see.”

  His short dark hair meets a short dark beard. There’s a few creases around his eyes that weren’t there when I’d seen him last. Otherwise, he looks exactly the same. Intimidating, commanding, and gorgeous. He takes me in his arms. Kisses my cheek, his beard rough against my skin. “Welcome. I think the last time I saw you was back home. Before I left the Parish.”

  “Yes. It was.”

  “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. Adrianna tells me you’re still poring over your studies?”

  “I am.” As always, I find my words clipped in his presence.

  “We’re happy to have you here in the Village. I trust you’ve been informed of my terms?”

  “I... have.” I break his gaze, afraid that in my eyes he’ll read that not only have I been informed of his condition, I’ve experienced the repercussion of noncompliance.

  “Good.” He gives a nod. Kisses my cheek once more. Drifts off into the crowd.

  I catch my breath.

  The evening is a whirlwind. I find a savory pastry that reminds me of a British meat pocket and scarf it down in a dark corner. It’s hot and flaky and delicious. My stomach satisfied, I trade my plate for a wineglass. Over the next hour, no matter how many sips I take, it never seems to empty. There’s someone at every turn, filling it up for me.

  My eyes can’t seem to stop scanning the room for Nick.

  After a few hours of socializing, my cheeks hurt from smiling. My feet are sore from the heels I’ve chosen to wear, trying to keep up with the fashion in this family. I’m tipsy from the wine. And I’m suddenly exhausted.

  I have no idea where I’m supposed to be sleeping. I scan the crowd. These people aren’t turning in anytime soon—I have a feeling they party into the wee hours of the morning. I need to find Adrianna, but I don’t see her anywhere.

  I feel a familiar hand on my arm. A brush of a kiss against my cheek. “You alright, sweetheart?”

  Nicholas.

  I’m so relieved to see him, I collapse into his arms. He wraps them around me, holding me. “You want to get some air?”

  Too tired to speak, I nod. He gives me a smile, lays his arm over my shoulders, and leads me out the back door to the garden.

  It’s a beautiful night. Clear with stars dotting the navy sky. The breeze is cold now and it refreshes me, waking me. White globe lights are strung over the patio. Adrianna has potted flowers, placing them around the boarder of her small backyard. It’s all so pretty and put together.

  I sigh a deep, exhausted sigh.

  “You’ll freeze out here. Take my jacket.” He’s shrugging out of his blazer, sliding it over my shoulders.

  “Thank you,” I say, pulling it tighter around me.

  It’s quiet out here, a stark contrast from the lively party inside. I’m suddenly aware of how alone we are.

  My eyes catch his. I’m not sure what to say, what to do. The wine mixed with the chill of the night has me feeling a sense of magic in the air. I wait for him to speak. Make small talk. Ask me polite questions to pass the time.

  He doesn’t.

  He steps closer to me. “Come here.” His hands wind around the back of my neck. Tangling and tugging my hair. Making shivers run down my spine. He pulls me to him. His lips press against mine. A soft kiss. It electrifies my skin, wakens my senses. My mind blanks. My knees go weak.

  I expect him to pull away but the kiss deepens, his arms winding tighter around me. His mouth exploring mine as if I belong to him. As if I’ve always belonged to him. As if this is not our first kiss, and certainly won’t be our last.

  It’s intoxicating.

  His blazer slips from my shoulders, falling to the ground around my feet.

  His hands creep down my back. Lower and lower. His tongue brushes mine just as he takes my ass in his hands. His fingertips dig into my flesh. Pulling my hips toward him. Too soon, his mouth leaves mine.

  I’m left breathless. Speechless. Wanting more.

  He stares down at me with a sultry gaze. The corner of his lips rise as he asks, “May I kiss you again?”

  “I’ve not known you to ask before you touch.”

  He responds with a deep chuckle. His eyes caress my face, then close as he kisses me again, hard. An intense rush of heat flies through my body. I wrap my arms around him and we quickly become a passionate tangle of limbs and lips. A floating feeling fills my mind. My muscles relax, my body melts into his.

  A sharp slap to my ass brings me back to Earth. I break our kiss, my mouth gaping. My h
and goes to my bottom. “Hey! What was that for?”

  “Your sassy response.”

  I want him to kiss me again. Instead, another smack lands on my rear. “Hey!”

  “And that one is for walking away from me earlier today.”

  “Not fair! You’ve already spanked me for it.”

  “I’m still mad about it. Don’t ever do that again.”

  Before I can respond his lips are back on mine. Punishing my mouth with harsh kisses. His hands caress my stinging ass. Squeezing and patting my curves. Building a fire between my legs. Exposing a dirty little truth I’ve kept hidden.

  I like it rough.

  He stops kissing me. I feel his eyes trained on my face, watching my reaction as he delivers another spank. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, holding in a moan. My toes curl inside my shoes. I break his gaze, too ashamed to look at him.

  He knows what he’s doing to me.

  I’m relieved when his attention moves from my face.

  His lips find my neck. Kissing and biting, making his way up to my ear. He whispers, “You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

  His words run right through me, electrifying every nerve in my body.

  This has to stop. It’s so... wrong. His words are so... dirty.

  “Am I?” I lean my head back, inviting him to keep kissing. Sucking, biting that tender flesh between my shoulder and ear. His fingertips tease the hem of my skirt, tugging and pulling on it.

  His mouth finds my ear, his breath tickling my lobe. “I knew it the moment I saw you. You tried to play tough when I took your bag.” His hands slip under the back of my skirt. Brushing lightly over my panties. Raising goosebumps on my flesh.

  “I just wanted to carry my own bag,” I protest, breathless.

  “Then why does your face blush so much whenever I take a little control?”

  “I... dunno.”

  “You’re just a naughty little girl waiting for a big strong man to take her.” His words are catching me on fire. “And naughty girls like you enjoy being punished. Don’t they?”

  His fingers pinch the still sore bare curve of my bottom beneath the elastic legs of my panties. My heart is hammering against my ribcage.