by Diana Bell
Held by the Hitman
Diana Bell
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 by Diana Bell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information, contact [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Contents
Copyright
Held by the Hitman
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Thank You!
Held by the Hitman
I know she’s lying about who she is.
After I brought her home last night, she’s still here the next day. I’m in no rush for her to leave, either.
But she’s looking for something, I can tell.
I may not know the exact truth, but here’s what I do know: She’s mine.
She was mine the moment I laid eyes on her.
But in order to get to the bottom of this plan, I need patience.
So, patience it is.
Who can wait this out the longest?
At least I’ll have some fun while we see how long this lasts.
Chapter 1
Mia
The room is smoky, but I can see him clearly enough through the haze.
Larger than life, Lucian Dragonetti exudes an air of casual confidence that makes all men around him seem dwarfed by comparison.
I stir my drink with my cocktail straw, waiting for my moment. I had gone over the plan so many times in my head. That's why I was chosen for this. Because he's my first mark, preparation was imperative.
The better I know what I'm doing, the less chance there is to make a mistake.
And a mistake is life or death when dealing with Lucian Dragonetti.
He laughs at something a man near him says, and the sound ripples through the air around me.
No, Mia, remember the plan. Stick to the plan.
My family depended on me too much to get in over my head. And they'd kill me if I had a misstep. Maybe even literally.
I shift in my seat at the bar, letting my skirt hike up my thigh just enough to look accidental.
The bar is his favorite — a dark, elegant spot where you can blend into the wall or stand out in a crowd. The event is a fundraiser for the Dragonetti family company's charity and foundation. The charity, which Lucian helms, is something to do with childhood brain tumors. They had donated millions of dollars over the years, but I know it's just a front.
I watch as Lucian finishes his drink, wondering how a man like him ever managed to blend. Who wouldn't be able to see an actual god?
I watch as Lucian placed his empty champagne glass on a waiter's tray, then makes his way past the cocktail tables and towards the bar, heading for the restroom.
As he gets closer, I take a deep breath, straighten my posture, and conveniently knock my clutch to the ground just in time for it to fall at Lucian's feet as he's passing.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I say, trying to appear flustered, placing a hand on my chest.
Lucian bends, retrieving my bag. As he stands, I feel the weight of his gaze slide up my leg, over my breasts, and then study my face.
"Thank you," I rush to say, widening my eyes and biting my lip in what I hope looks like embarrassment.
"My pleasure," he says, his voice like smooth caramel.
We pause, staring into one another's eyes. Even in the dim light, I can see that his eyes are a yellow-green. They're more vibrant than the photos I had studied.
For a moment, I'm entranced, suddenly forgetting what I'm doing. His jaw is so square, covered in stubble that I want to feel against my skin.
I push down the immediate butterflies that flutter around in my stomach.
Remember the plan.
"Mia," I say, reaching out my hand. "And, of course, I already know who you are, Mr. Dragonetti." I push my hair back from my face, appearing shy.
"Please, call me Luca," he says, taking my hand in his, raising it to kiss my fingers.
Oh, how badly I want him to take my fingers in his mouth, to slide his tongue along my skin, to suck and bite on the soft skin of my palm.
I smile as my hand slips from his. I can appreciate the job while still staying professional. And right now, my job is to get into Mr. Dragonetti's home and find out who his next hit is. Which will be much easier if he unlocked the door and holds it open for me.
"Lucian," someone says over his shoulder.
For the briefest of moments, I detect a hint of tension behind his eyes, as though turning away from me will be difficult.
Perfect.
"I beg your pardon," he says, turning away from me.
Little did he know, I won't make it easy to leave me.
As I watch him make the rounds again, I can feel something magnetic pulling me in.
No, that's too dangerous.
I hold my clutch to my chest as I walk to the bathroom. I'd spent hours getting ready, curling my hair and putting on makeup. It felt like I was getting ready for combat, putting on my armor and face paint.
And in a way, I was.
I run my hands under the cold water, then dry them and put them to my cheeks, the coolness instantly reenergizing me.
A woman walks out of the stall behind me and briefly makes eye contact with me in the mirror.
I smile. "Warm out there," I say, trying to explain my hands on my cheeks.
She looks up at me through long, perfectly placed false lashes. "Sure, honey," she says.
I feel unnerved by her slow swagger, the way she unashamedly watches me.
Like she knows.
Did she know? I feel spooked by the idea.
I watch her leave, then turn back to the mirror. Was I just being paranoid?
I take a deep breath, reaching into my clutch to reapply my war paint. The lipstick is smooth and dark red on my lips, one of my favorite colors. It's called Black Widow, which is precisely the feeling I needed to channel.
I straighten my sleeveless black dress in the mirror, tighten my high ponytail, and test out my shy smile once more.
Okay, round two.
I take a deep breath and open the door, only to find Lucian leaning against the wall of the dark hallway, waiting. And when he sees me, it's clear that he was waiting for me.
Chapter 2
Luca
I'll be the first to admit that I wasn't thinking with the head on my shoulders. In fact, I wasn't thinking at all. I didn't have to.
Because my mind cleared the moment I saw her. Long legs, curved hips, full red lips. It was torture acting as though I was a gentleman in front of her, when all I wanted to do was to give into my caveman tendencies, throw her over my shoulder, and leave immediately.
Unfortunately, it was my event, and I knew my father would kill me if I left early. But no one ever said anything about having a little fun while I was here.
I watch as she leaves her seat and walks into the hallway towards the bathroom, and I excuse myself from the conversation with the councilman.
I never lost sight of my mark. That's why I was so good at my job. And even though she wasn't technically my usual kind of mark, tracking her brought out all the same excitement. I didn't question why — I'd l
eave that to my therapist to figure out.
I follow her to the hallway near the women's restroom and wait.
To lessen the creep factor, I lean casually on the wall.
Elise, an old family friend, walks out of the restroom first, and I try to hide my disappointment, seeing her.
"Hello, Luca," she says, and her hips swing wider in her swagger.
Not in a million, Elise.
I give her a curt nod and break the eye contact, so she knows I'm not in the mood to chat.
I swear I hear her sigh as she continues walking.
Then, finally, Mia appears.
Her cheeks look flushed, and her eyes widen as she sees me. Good, I think, I like surprising her.
"Long line for the bathroom?" She asks with a grin.
"Asks with a grin.
"Yeah, you think owning the place would give you privileges, asks with a grin.
"Yeah, you think owning the place would give you privileges, but alas," I tease.
Her eyes widened for just a moment, almost imperceptibly. Ah, so she didn't know the bar was mine. The less she knows about me, the better.
"Stars, they're just like us," she jokes.
She laughs, the sound musical, and I want to pull her close and make her laugh again. My cock twitches at the thought, especially the idea of what other noises I could have her making.
I can tell by her body language that she's thinking something similar. Her hips are angled towards me, and her shoulders are relaxed.
She fidgets with her hands, tightening her grip on her purse. She bites her lip*lip, and her gaze trails down to my mouth.
The edge of her mouth corks up* Quirks up, in a mischievous grin, and she says, "do you want to get out of here?"
I'm slightly shocked, but mostly impressed at how forward she is. I know my answer has to be no, given that I have to be here until the VIPs leave.
But I have a better idea.
She must see my hesitancy because she quickly shakes her head and waves her hand in the air. "Sorry, I just—"
"I have a better idea," I say, stepping towards her. I move towards her until she's backed up against the wall.
The sound of heels on the hardwood floor stops me. I pause, standing up straight as a person passes us to go into the women's restroom. "So, that's why we began the charity," I say, as though I was explaining the foundation to Mia.
She plays her past well and nods. "That's so noble," she says, and then glances sideways as the bathroom door shuts behind our interrupter.
I grin and reach for her hand. "I can't get out of here, per se, but I can show you somewhere a little more... private," I explain.
She raises her eyebrows in apparent intrigue. "Lead the way," she says.
My lower belly tightens, and I try to keep from sprinting down the hallway towards the office.
We walk into the room, and I turn, shutting the door behind us. Although the GM and other assistant managers share an office, I reserve this one for my own. I've never allowed anyone else in before — not even my brothers.
She pauses, turning to take in the small space. A black leather sofa and two chairs form a sitting area in front of the desk, which sits proudly in the middle of the room.
"Wow, who knew you had such good taste?" She says, running her hand along the back of the sofa.
I like beautiful things. I don't own much, because I'm picky. What I own was carefully selected and impeccably built.
Cash, my older brother, had an interior decorator decide on everything in his home. Me? I was a little more eclectic — when I saw something I had to have, I knew it.
Right now, I see Mia.
And I have to have her.
She stands in front of the desk, watching me on the other side of the couch. I'm trying to flex every ounce of self-control I have left not to push the furniture over and take her on the desk right there.
My pulse picks up at the thought.
"What did you want to do once we were, how did you word it? Out of here?" I ask, grinning.
"I mean, I'm up for a good time," she teases. "We could go grab a drink—"
"We're at a bar," I say, taking a step closer.
She swallows, looking very much like the prey in my trap.
"Okay, grab a bite," she says, smirking.
"A bite?" I ask. "I'd like to take a bite." I close the distance between us.
Where did that come from?
She looks nervous, but not afraid.
She tilts to look up at me, and I move my mouth over hers, holding her face in my hands.
The kiss is slow and passionate. I feel warm all over, with a familiar tightening in my pants. Her hands come to tangle in my shirt, and my tongue slips into her mouth, exploring her in earnest.
I step her back until she's pressed up against the desk. I reach under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly to sit on the edge. Her legs wrap around my hips, holding herself fast against me. I place kisses over her cheek and down her neck, nibbling gently, pulling my tongue along her tender skin, until I take her earlobe between my teeth.
She moans, and my dick twitches violently.
She tilts her head back to give me more freedom. Our hips begin to move in a gentle rhythm, slowly dry fucking on the edge of the desk.
God, I want her too badly I'm about to embarrass myself by coming early.
My pulse races as I bite at the delicate skin of her collarbone. She is delicious and soft, and I want to lick every inch of her body, hearing her pleased moans and sighs.
I barely even noticed that her hands were in my hair until she has it in her fist, holding me close.
I groan against her mouth, taking her lower lip between my teeth as my hands slide up the bare skin of her thighs, dipping under her dress.
I rub a finger over her underwear, hitting her most sensitive spot. I worry I might break the zipper of my pants with the pressure of my erection on the fabric. I can hardly think straight. I want to take her right there on the edge of the desk.
"I want you," I say.
She moans again, her eyes closed. "Good," she says, her mouth curling in a coy grin.
I laugh, bucking my hips into hers. "Oh, you think this is funny? I'm going to teach your smart mouth a lesson," I joke.
She opens her eyes and looks into mine, her intense dark chocolate stare piercing me through. "Good," she repeats.
Fuck. I might be in love with her already.
But as much as I want her, I want to spend the entire evening with her, not just a quick fuck on my desk in my office. I slip my finger under the edge of her underwear, and I pause at the delicious touch of how wet she is for me.
I circle her clit with my thumb. "You're going to come home with me," I say.
She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back in pleasure. "Yes," she says.
I love how fucking responsive she is to my touch. I can't wait to fuck her senseless.
Later, though.
I pull my hand away, and she raises her head, watching me with a confused expression.
I lick my thumb, tasting her sweetness, and her eyes widen as her cheeks flush. I want more, but I also know that I have to go back out there and make sure that our donors leave happy and with emptier wallets.
"In thirty minutes," I say.
She laughs, surprised. "Excuse me?"
"Wait for me," I command.
"If you're lucky," she says, but I can tell that she's already all mine.
Chapter 3
Mia
How can I possibly want to kill someone and reward them with the best sex of their life at the same time?
I watch as Lucian leaves the room, and I wonder how he's going to hide the visible tent in his pants while he's talking to donors. The thought makes me laugh.
I turn, looking around the office.
I can't believe my luck — he left me in here, all alone, unsupervised...
Unsupervised? I glance around the room for cameras. A man like Luca leaves nothi
ng unsupervised.
There's nothing evident on the ceiling or corners of the room, so I start looking around his desk, trying to appear nonchalant as I pick up various paperweights and desk items.
A smart man like Luca would hide a camera in plain sight. I take a step back, trying to judge what angle wouldn't be apparent, but would keep the entire sitting area in view.
My eyes land on the carefully arranged pen holder. Too carefully arranged. I grin, trying to step just far enough outside of what I imagine the frame is as I reach for the one pen that appears only slightly different than the rest. I quickly cover the part that I guess is the lens with my thumb.
As I examine the pen, it occurs to me that there might be microphones in the room, too.
My phone buzzes inside of my purse, startling me. I set the pen down, aiming the lens away as I reach for my phone. It's my Uncle Georgie, the Lieutenant of my family's business.
"Hello?" I answer the phone, trying to seem casual.
"How's the party?" He asks.
"Fine," I say, opening a desk drawer to glance inside. Empty.
"Met anyone fun?" He asks.
If there are microphones, I don't want to sound like I'm using some sort of code. That'd be too obvious.
"There is this one guy. He seems kind of important, though, and he had things to do, so he left me to wait in his office," I say.
Uncle Georgie chuckles. "Well, you have fun and stay safe," he says.
Is it kind of fucked up that my family encouraged me to go home with a man just to find information for his next mark?
Best not to think about it.
Besides, they only said to get to his house. And that could mean just a drink.
I volunteered for the job, after all. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to show my Uncle Frank, the head of our family, that I'm capable of helping.