Surrender: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Read online

  “The professor?” Tears fill her eyes as she says her enduring nickname for him. The sadness that comes over her face almost makes me regret what I’ve said. The edge in her eyes melts away. Adrianna’s warm sweet side instantly takes over. She moves to the seat next to mine. Her arm goes around my shoulders. “When did this happen?”

  “Just before your wedding. That was why I wasn’t able to make it.”

  “Oh, Hannie. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come to the funeral. It was scheduled for the day before you left for your honeymoon and I knew you’d change your plans.”

  “Of course I would have. I would have wanted to be there for you, Hannah. You should have let me.”

  “You were so excited about your trip... about Dante. I’d have felt awful. Putting you out like that.”

  “But you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t push people away like you do.”

  “Do I? Push people away...”

  “Yes. You do. Your bogus excuse when you left last time? A lab emergency? I knew you were feeling something for Nicholas and couldn’t handle it.” Again, she’s right. It hurts to hear the truth, and she’s not finished. “I know you were proud of your father for what he did. But he couldn’t have done it without breaking the law.”

  “He was protecting people, Adrianna. People who couldn’t protect themselves.”

  “As are we.”

  There’s a tense silence resting between us. I rack my brain for words that will fix this. I want our relationship to be as it was, when we told one another everything.

  But things change.

  We’ve spent too much time apart. We’ve got our secrets. And it’s put a distance between us. One I can’t fix. A feeling of hopelessness fills my chest. I force a tight smile. And hug her and tell her it will all be okay.

  I don’t tell her that my father’s entire life’s research was destroyed. That he was murdered in cold blood.

  By a group of thugs.

  Probably no different than her precious husband.

  I’m done with this family.

  I’m leaving.

  I grab my purse from the back of my chair, excuse myself to the restroom. By the time I make it to the back of the café, unshed tears are stinging my eyes. I push right through the kitchen, past the curious looks of the staff. Out the door into the alley. Rush to the street and hail a cab.

  I have no plan other than get to Los Angeles as fast as possible. Start my new life and leave these crazy Bachmans behind. I open my purse and find my phone, turning it off so no one can contact me. I zip it back up, thankful it holds all my identification and bank cards.

  Everything I’m leaving behind is replaceable.

  Even friendships.

  After battling an hour of traffic, the cab pulls up to the airport. I pay the cabbie. Brush tears from my eyes with the backs of my hands. Fight my way amongst the crowd until I reach the airline that will take me to my new life in Los Angeles. I negotiate with the clerk to change my flight to today. It turns out there’s a plane leaving in five hours. There’s one seat left. And now it has my name on it.

  I buy a coffee from the newsstand. Find my gate. It’s slow, no one’s departing from this area for a few hours. I sigh, cross my arms over my purse and lean my head on the back of the chair. Leave my coffee forgotten on the floor and close my eyes.

  Letting the sleep take over the pain.

  * * *

  Hannah

  I’m startled awake by the feeling of someone tugging at my purse. “Are you seriously sleeping in the airport with your purse in plain sight like that?”

  I’d be panicked but it’s no stranger. I groan, the familiar voice irking me before I even open my eyes. “The only thief around here is you.”

  “That’s a low blow, Hannah.”

  I sit up, opening my eyes to see a very angry Nicholas. He has my discarded coffee in one hand, my purse in the other. “Let’s go.”

  “What are you talking about?” I look up at the departure screen. “There’s only two more hours till my flight leaves—one until we board. I’m going nowhere with you. Give me my purse.” I reach out to retrieve it.

  Storm clouds gather in his eyes. His brow sets. “Absolutely not.”

  Angry as I am, a hint of fear mixed with some inkling of obedience creeps in. It’s his tone. And the set of his jaw. And those eyes, piercing right into the center of my being. I swallow, hard. “Kindly hand me my purse or I will make a scene. Call for the police. Cry theft.”

  He leans in, furious. “The only scene that will be made is you over my knee. Kicking and screaming while I give your perfect little ass the spanking of a lifetime.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Try me.” His gaze bores into mine and I know he’s not bluffing. If I don’t get up and go with him right now, I’m going to be over his knee having my naked bottom jiggling for all the world to see. He’s spanked me on the street once, I don’t put it past him to do it here.

  I stand. Hold my head high. Try to maintain some shred of dignity as I smooth down the delicate fabric of Adrianna’s dress. “I’ll go with you to talk. But I’ll be back here for my flight.”

  “You’re going to give me one hour to talk some sense into you. And if you still want to go after that, then I won’t stop you.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  He hands me my purse. Tosses my coffee cup in the trash. Locks his arm around mine as if to keep me from running off. Which I won’t. I have the decency to let him say his piece. I owe him that much. Even though it will only bring more heartache to the both of us. Because when that plane starts boarding, me and my perfect little ass are going to be on it.

  We sit down at the airport café. It’s a few gates down from mine and little too far for my comfort level, but I’m not in the mood to argue, and it’s a cozy place to chat. The waitress hands us two menus, but not before getting her eyeful of Nick.

  Politely dismissing her, he asks me, “Are you hungry?”

  “No. I’ve just come from brunch with Adrianna.”

  “She called me. That’s how I knew you’d be here. Said you walked out on her too. Left without saying goodbye. We both had our bets on the airport and you leaving town.”

  I shrug. “Well, you figured me out. Here I am.”

  “You broke your promise.”

  “And you turned out to be a mobster. I guess we’re even.”

  “I don’t think so.” His words are cold and they form ice in my stomach.

  “How so?”

  “First off, on the motorcycle, you lied. Leading me to believe you knew the family business.”

  “How so?”

  “By telling me you knew the family business.”

  He’s not wrong. “That was a long time ago—”

  “I’ve never lied to you. And I’ve never made a promise I wouldn’t keep. I may break the laws man has made, but I won’t break my word. I’d never, ever do that to you.” His eyes bore into mine.

  I feel terrible. I’ve left him with no explanation. For a second time. I’ve broken a promise to him. “I apologize. Truly, I do.” The guilt I feel is not enough to stop me from leaving. I’m ready to go to my gate.

  He’s not letting me off that easily. He studies my face. “Adrianna said something upset you at lunch. Something about your father. She thinks that’s why you left. Is it?”

  At mention of my father, the tears instantly begin to form in my eyes. My lower lip trembles. “Maybe.”

  “Tell me what happened. Please.” He reaches out over the table, grasping my hand.

  I don’t want to trust him, but I do. I know what he says is true—he would never break a promise or lie to me as I have done to him. The story comes flowing out, almost as a penance for letting him down. “My father was researching a rare genetic mutation—the prothrombin mutation—in Adrianna’s village. It affects less than two percent of the population,
but the cases around her village were much higher—almost a third of the people there had it.

  “Prothrombin is a protein found in the blood and your body needs it in order for your blood to clot properly. In rare cases with this mutation your body can produce too much prothrombin, and blood clots might form when they aren’t supposed to.

  “Most people with the mutation will never develop an abnormal blood clot, but unfortunately women who are pregnant already have a higher risk of getting a clot during pregnancy and that’s what happened to my mother. It caused a blood clot and she died in childbirth.”

  His thumb strokes the back of my hand. “I’m sorry—I didn’t realize.”

  I brush his apology away with the wave of hand. Continue my story. “My mother’s death is the reason his work was so important to him. He didn’t want to see other kids lose their mothers like I did.

  “We spent twelve years in Brontes. Just before I left for Columbia, he’d discovered a very inexpensive drug that could almost completely eradicate the risk of having too much prothrombin in your blood. One that worked better than the blood thinners that they were prescribing.

  “There was just one problem.”

  He leans in, enthralled by my story. “What?”

  “During the clinical trial with the drug, they found it had some side effects. Positive ones.”

  “Which were?”

  “Not only did the drug prevent blood clots in patients, it seemed as if it could cure other diseases too.”

  “But that’s great, isn’t it?”

  “Not for one company in particular—Vacso. They control the entire market on a medicine that could easily be replaced by the one my father created. The drug was so affordable—it cost pennies to make, my father was set on finding a way to produce it without a markup. And they charged hundreds per dose. They wanted him and his research gone.”

  Nick squeezes my hand. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. How did you find out he had died?”

  “I got the call at university that my father had a massive heart attack while working in his lab one night. When the night crew found him, he’d been dead for hours. I got right on the plane and flew to Italy—missing Adrianna’s wedding in the process. When I got there, I was handed a box. My father’s remains cremated and neatly packed inside. His lab padlocked and inaccessible. No evidence of wrongful death.

  “The funeral was scheduled for a few days later—the day Adrianna was to leave for her honeymoon. I didn’t want her changing her plans. I couldn’t tell her that my father had died.”

  A sheepish look crosses his face. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time for missing her wedding.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  We sit in quiet for a moment, him absorbing my story. When he speaks, his voice is tinged with emotion. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. That must have been painful.”

  “It was.”

  He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. His brow knits, his gaze locking on mine, boring into me, demanding the full truth. “I don’t understand what that has to do with you leaving Adrianna at brunch like you did.”

  “At the funeral, one of the villagers pulled me aside. An older woman named Mary. She told me there was a rumor that what the cleaning crew had really found was his entire lab destroyed. All his research burned to ashes. That there was blood... a lot of blood. Her hands were shaking as she spoke, her eyes darting around the room, as if waiting for the men who did it to come for her next.

  “I wanted to protect the people of Brontes. I feared if I asked questions, the cleaning crew that found him would be at risk. If not them, then Mary.

  “I pretended as if I knew nothing. I scattered my father’s ashes into the ocean and left.

  “I went back to school. Secretly vowing to piece together what I knew of his work. To continue on his path. I tried, but without his brilliance, I was useless. I gave up trying to replicate his work. Luckily, I still had passion for genetics and lost myself in new research. I think of my father often... I’m trying to move on with my life, but talking to Adrianna, it just brought everything back...”

  “And made you think of the thugs that killed your father?”

  I nod, holding back tears.

  “And you associated them with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come here.” He stands up, reaching his arms out toward me. I hesitate for a moment, but in his arms is where I want to be. I leave my chair, joining him, laying my head on his chest. Let him wrap his arms around me and stroke my hair. “We’re the ones fighting the kind of men that took your father’s life and destroyed his work. We’re the ones getting the medicine to the people in need. We just have bad ways of doing it. There’s no other way in this world to get done what needs doing. It’s the history of mankind. Force, violence, coercion, they are all pieces of the game. Man is not a peaceable being. Not a pretty picture, but it’s the truth.”

  His words make my heart heavy and light all at the same time. I know he’s not the kind of bad guy I’ve been fearing for years.

  But I also know he’s not a banker.

  He breathes into my hair, “You’re safe with me. You know that?”

  I nod my head against his chest.

  “We may be bad guys. But we are the good bad guys.”

  That makes me laugh. “Catchy. You guys should have tee shirts made.” I imagine him in a tight black tee, the words proudly stamped across his ripped chest. Bachmans: The good bad guys. Or, the good... the bad... the gorgeous.

  He holds me another moment. Kisses the top of my head. When he releases me, I instantly miss the feel of his arms around me.

  We sit down. Chat a bit more. As the end of our hour nears, my stomach begins to tangle in knots. I’ve got a decision to make. One that may change the trajectory of my life.

  He senses my unease. “Come back to the Village, Hannah. I’ve waited three years for you to come back. I can’t take it if you leave again.”

  “I’m not sure.” I look up at the departure screen. It’s almost time for me to head to my gate.

  He takes my hand in his. Leans his face to mine. Kisses my lips ever so gently. When he pulls away, the light in his eyes shines like a beacon to my heart. “Stay.”

  I’m suddenly so very, very tired. Tired of the guilt from giving up on my father’s work. Tired of mourning a loss I can’t regain. I’m tired of the surface conversations with my colleagues. Tired of the distance I keep from everyone.

  Adrianna was right. I do push people away. I can’t handle losing someone else, so I don’t get close to anyone.

  Here before me is a man who makes my heart sing. A man that no matter how hard I try to forget him, he’s still the first thing I think of when I rise. His face, the final image I see before I drift off to sleep.

  It’s time to finally let someone in. “I’ll stay.”

  His face beams at me. Dimples on full display. They quickly melt with his next words, reminding me just what kind of man I’ve just pledged my time to. He says, “Do you remember what I said would happen if you broke your promise?”

  “You said... I’d not be able to sit down for a week?”

  “You made me a promise. You broke that promise. And now you’re going to find out how Bachman men handle women who break their promises.”

  Part of me wants to run. Part of me wants to giggle from nerves. And there’s another part of me that suddenly very, very wet.

  He’s got my hand in his and he’s tugging me through the halls of the airport. I want to ask where we’re going but I’m breathless from trying to keep up. He marches past security, through doors marked Airport Employees Only, and down another long dark hall. We reach a sleek black set of doors. They are unmarked and have no handles, no obvious way of opening.

  He holds up his watch, turns then presses one of those tiny buttons on the side of its circular face.

  The doors part.

  Exposing what looks like a VIP first-class sky lounge. And an
impeccably dressed flight attendant standing at attention on her stilettos. She smiles, as if she’s been expecting us. “Greetings, Mr. Bachman. And guest. Will you be traveling today?”

  Nick says, “Hello, Heidi. No traveling. We’re here to use the private room.”

  Private room? The words have me on edge, goosebumps rising on my flesh.

  Her eyes widen and I swear she throws me a look of sympathy, but her professionalism doesn’t allow the features of her face to give away much more. “Of course! Right this way.”

  She escorts us through the lounge.

  It’s breathtaking. If I wasn’t such a bundle of nerves, I might try to snap a picture of it.

  The entire rear wall is a made of glass. Outside, I see two large jets, Bachman Enterprises painted on their proud sides. A few men that look to be Brothers move about on the ground. I recognize the tattoo of the Parish peeking out from one of their shirts.

  The seats and couches are all black leather. The tables are made of sleek metal. We walk past the seating area, a full bar, what looks like a tiny café. To another black door in the back of the room.

  Heidi stops in front of the door, asking me, “May I take your bag?”

  I hesitate but Nick’s harsh gaze has me taking the strap from my shoulder and handing her my purse. She gives me a tight smile. “I’ll keep this safe for you. Mr. Bachman, will you be requiring... anything else?”

  “I’ve got everything I need,” he says, his hand resting on the belt around his waist.

  I swallow, hard.

  “Very well. Ring if you need me.” She offers me a friendly smile and disappears.

  My words come out in a jumbled chatter. “So, you all have your own sky lounge. Very cool. And the jets. Those must be your private jets. I thought I saw a tarmac at the Village, when you first gave me a tour. Do you fly out of both places? How on Earth do you have clearance to have your own terminal at such a large public airport?”

  He’s ignoring my questions. He pushes another button on his watch. The black doors slide to the sides, disappearing in the wall, revealing what I assume is the private room. It’s a large room with marble floors. Shiny black drawers line the wall. My stomach does a somersault imagining what they might hold. We step over the threshold.