by Nikki Chase
His Captive
A Mafia Romance
Nikki Chase
Copyright © 2017 Nikki Chase
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is for mature readers. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some.
All sexual activity in this work is consensual and all sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.
Contents
His Captive
Bonus: Virgin Fiancée
Preview: Single Dad’s Fake Bride
Bonus: Again
Preview: Protecting His Baby
About the Author
His Captive
Elena
Elena. I can’t believe you’re here. What a sight for sore eyes,” says a familiar, deep baritone.
My heart skips a beat.
Is it him?
I checked my dad’s secretary’s book of appointments so I knew he was coming.
“Hey, Damon.” I glance up at him in the breeziest, most casual way possible, as if I haven’t been waiting for him all day. “Here to see my dad?”
“You know it.” Damon strides toward me with his long legs and confident smile. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a plain, white shirt underneath a black, leather jacket.
“How’s life?”
“Eh, can’t complain. Especially now that I’ve seen you.” He stands by my couch and spreads his arms open. “Holy shit, you’re all grown up now.”
“Careful. You’re starting to sound like an old man.” I giggle as I get up from my seat and hug him. He’s so big I have to stand on my tippy toes to wrap my arms around his neck.
He’s such a man. So big compared to my petite body. So hard compared to my feminine softness.
I’m tempted to linger. He smells so good—like musk and fresh air. And his large hand on my back feels like heaven. But if I keep this hug going any longer, he’ll notice how weird I’m being.
“Quiet day, huh? I don’t usually see you around the house anymore.” Damon asks. His breath falls hot on my neck, caressing my sensitive skin, making me crave more of him.
But instead, I pull away from the hug. With a sigh, I say, “Yeah. I do a lot of overtime at work. But I’m under house arrest now.”
“Why?” Even when he frowns, Damon’s gorgeous. Dark, mysterious eyes, high cheekbones, and thick, messy hair that makes me want to run my fingers through it.
“It’s Rosa,” I say. “She did something crazy and now my dad has a crisis of confidence regarding both his daughters. He wants us under constant supervision.”
Damon chuckles. That voice . . . I swear I’ll hear it echoing in my head the rest of the day. He says, “That sounds familiar.”
“Right?” I sit back down and smile as he does the same beside me. This is exactly why I picked the big couch instead of the smaller one-seater couch.
“What did Rosa do this time?” he asks.
“She wouldn’t tell me. Probably because it was something really stupid. And my dad wouldn’t, either.” I grin. “So I asked one of the guards and he told me she’d kidnapped an ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend or something.”
Damon raises his eyebrows. “Whoa.”
“I know.”
“I have to say . . . this doesn’t seem like a bad thing to me. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Damon says, shooting me his charming smile. His dark eyes pull me in as he gazes at me.
I can’t help it. My cheeks heat up—something I hate because it gives away the secret that I’m embarrassed. I tuck my dark hair behind my ear and look up at Damon from underneath my lashes. “It’s been too long.”
“Yeah. I think the last time we hung out was before you left for college,” he says.
“You mean before Matteo left for college,” I correct him.
Damon used to hang out with my older brother a lot, until he went overseas to continue his studies and they naturally drifted apart. After Matteo left, Damon and I still saw each other from time to time when he came here to see my dad, but we’ve never made time to just spend time together, just the two of us.
“Right.” Damon cocks a lopsided smile.
His gaze makes me forget how to behave like a normal human being. Where do I put my hands? What do I usually do with my lips?
And, is it just my imagination or it something different about the way he looks at me?
He’s as friendly as ever, of course. But in these little awkward silences, there’s also the sense that he doesn’t know what to do with me, like I’m unfamiliar.
Damon runs his fingers through his hair when wild strands poke his eyes. He has thick, dark eyelashes—I’ve always thought it’s unfair for a guy to have those.
It may seem strange, but his uncertainty feels reassuring. I’m not the only one who feels nervous in his presence.
There’s a certain . . . hunger in his eyes. A kind of longing. He wants something from me. And it gives him a tiny speck of weakness, despite his size and strength.
“So, how long will this house arrest last?” he asks.
“I don’t know. How long do you want it to be?” I ask him back, encouraged by my newfound confidence to flirt with him for the first time ever.
It’s sad, but true. I’ve had a crush on Damon forever. Yet, I’ve never said anything about it to anyone, or shown him any interest.
The corners of Damon’s lips slowly curl up. Something sparks in his eyes. He likes it when I flirt with him, I realize.
“I don’t know. Is it up to me?” he asks.
I shrug. “Depends. There may be things you can do to make staying seem like a more attractive option.”
Damon’s smile grows wider. “Hmm . . . I wonder what.”
I say nothing, but I give him a smile that I hope comes off as mysterious and alluring.
“We should do something, Elena,” he says without taking his eyes off me. “We should catch up. Not now, I mean.” He glances at the double doors.
“Maybe if you do something bad enough, my dad will keep you locked up here, too. And then we’ll have all the time in the world,” I say in my best bad-girl voice.
Damon laughs. He’s loud, but there’s something boyish about the way he laughs. Like he has just heard the funniest thing ever. Like I’ve just told the best joke ever.
I remember when I used to jump out of bed whenever I heard Damon’s laughter. I’d rush to my vanity, check my appearance, and nonchalantly go outside to join him and my brother.
“He’d sooner kill me than lock me up here with you. You’re his precious little princess and I’ll never be good enough for you,” Damon says, something dangerous gleaming in his dark eyes.
“I’m not so little anymore, Damon,” I remind him. I’ll have to admit it’s annoying to hear him say that.
With a smirk and an appreciative gaze, Damon simply says, “Evidently.”
My heart does a backflip in my chest. What does he mean by that?
Before I can delve deeper into Damon’s one-word answer, my dad’s secretary opens the door to my dad’s office and calls his name.
All day, men come into the office and leave again.
Old men. Young men. Big, burly men—many
of them. Old, frail men. Friendly men. Angry men. Nameless men. Men who show up so often my siblings and I have taken to calling them uncles.
I’ve seen the secretary interact with all these people. I may be reading too much into things, but the way her gaze lingers on Damon and the way she smiles at him . . .
I don’t like thinking about Damon entering that secret room where I’m not allowed when she’s there with him. I know he’ll be talking business with my dad and not her, but it makes me feel small and excluded.
And jealous.
“Will you be here when I’m done with your dad?” Damon asks as he gets up, his eyes focused on me—not her.
“Not going anywhere,” I say.
“Good girl. See you later.”
I watch Damon’s back as he walks toward the double doors, his leather jacket stretched snugly across his broad back and his jeans hanging from his hips in a way that lets me appreciate how cute his butt is.
But more than that, I can’t help but think about . . .
Good girl.
Those two words make me feel small and sensual at the same time. Just replaying those words in my head makes me squirm in my couch.
I’ll definitely be here when he comes back out.
Damon
What the fuck happened last night?” Enzo asks as soon as I walk through the door.
Jesus. He won’t even let me sit down before starting with the interrogation.
I walk across Enzo’s home office, meeting his eyes but ignoring his question for now. If I’m going to have to listen to his demands, I need to be comfortable. The way my shoes sink into the plush carpet isn’t unpleasant, but I’ll feel better once I get my ass on that chair with buttery-soft Italian leather upholstery.
After all, even though all these things belong to Enzo in name, a big reason why he has managed to attain them in the first place is me. Me and my parents.
Ah, Enzo and the pretty things he owns . . .
I don’t know how a guy like him can have a daughter like Elena. She’s lovely and innocent. Beautiful.
Him, on the other hand . . . I’ve always thought he looks like a bulldog with his permanent frown and his judgmental stare.
Aria, his assistant, closes the door behind me and struts back to her desk, her heels clacking loudly against the marble floor.
She’d look perfectly at home behind the counter in a library with her glasses and her hair pulled up into a tight bun.
She’s got a certain appeal, I guess. Schoolboys would no doubt speak in hushed whispers about her and dads would stealthily glance at her when they take their kids to check out colorful children’s books.
She’s not my type but I tried to get close to her anyway—not because she’s attractive but because she could be useful.
Aria never says much during my meetings with Enzo Guerriero, but she’s always there in the background, listening and taking notes. No doubt she’s privy to some top-level intel.
If I could get to her, I’d get to Enzo eventually. I’m a patient and determined man.
I pull out a chair and calmly take my seat across the desk from Enzo.
He’s glaring at me. “I asked you a question.”
“And I’m about to give you an answer.”
It’s not time to exact my revenge yet, and I’m supposed to play the loyal foot soldier now. But I can’t just bend over when Enzo wants me to either. That wouldn’t be consistent with the way I’ve acted over the years.
I need to act like everything’s fine—until the time comes for me to carry out my plan. It won’t be long now.
“I’m still waiting,” he says.
“It’s nothing exciting, really,” I say. “It was that new kid Giovanni insisted to bring along. He got nervous. He fucked up. It’s that simple.”
“Stupid motherfuckers,” Enzo curses. “What’s the kid’s name?”
“Antonio. He’s Giovanni’s cousin.”
“Antonio, huh?” Enzo pauses to think, his breathing getting so heavy I’m worried not just for Antonio’s future career in the business, but also his safety. When Enzo is in a bad mood, he tends to be pretty heavy handed with his punishments.
“Yeah. He’s just a kid. I’ll take him off the bigger jobs and keep him on delivery duty,” I suggest.
“Fuck that. The transaction last night was supposed to solve my cashflow problem, and now I’m pressed for cash,” he says.
If Enzo knew what I’m secretly plotting, he wouldn’t be so frank with me. But in his eyes, I’m probably still just an inexperienced, dumb kid who poses no threat. And I’d like to keep it that way.
“So what do you want to do?” I ask, making it clear that whatever he says goes. I’m like his genie. I grant his wish.
“Take Antonio off the streets altogether for a couple of months. Giovanni, too.”
“They’re not going to like that. The streets are where they make the most money,” I say.
“I don’t give a fuck about their money. They need to learn a lesson. The lesson is to be fucking careful when they’re dealing with my money,” Enzo says, smoke practically coming out of his ears. “They’re going to be on guard duty here”
“I’ll let them know.” I stop myself from smiling. That would only raise Enzo’s suspicion.
Antonio and Giovanni are loyal to me; not Enzo.
Enzo still thinks it’s the same thing because he believes I won’t ever betray him. Well, that may be true if he hadn’t betrayed me first. But now that I know the truth, everything’s different.
Once the men find out Enzo is punishing them for trying their best to complete a difficult job, they’re just going to dislike him even more.
I don’t have much use for Antonio and Giovanni if they stick close to me. But if they’re going to be around Enzo and his daughters all the time . . . That’s a different story.
In my line of work, I need to be able to recognize when it’s time to change my plan on the fly. My life could depend on it. This looks like a great time to make a few tweaks.
My old plan was going well. But, whatever. It doesn’t matter.
I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I don’t need more intel. I’ve worked for Enzo practically my whole life. I know almost everything there is to know about his business.
Hell, at this point, I probably know more about his business than he does. Nothing is more destructive to a man than thinking he’s on top of the world. And Enzo has reached that point now.
He thinks he’s too big to fail. Too rich to lose everything.
In reality, he’s too fat not to become a target.
Many men have approached me, having set their sights on Enzo’s blinding wealth.
I’ll be honest; some of the offers I’ve gotten were tempting. But I wasn’t going to betray what I thought was my family.
As far as I knew, Enzo was a fair employer to my dad. He also took me under his wing when I was just a useless kid with too much time on my hands. He gave me the skills I needed to thrive in this business.
Sure, I was also aware that he didn’t just do it out of the goodness of his heart. He did it because we could have a mutually beneficial relationship.
So I never entertained any of the offers I got from Enzo’s enemies. Not even the ones that would allow me to retire in luxury and guarantee that my kids would be born with silver spoons in their mouths.
Family was worth more than that, even if the bonds weren’t made of blood. Money wasn’t going to sway me. My loyalty wasn’t up for sale.
But everything changed when I discovered the truth.
“I assume we have rescheduled?” Enzo asks.
I hate the way he says “we” when I’m the one doing all the work while he just sits there behind his desk, drinking booze in the bright daylight and getting richer.
“Of course.” I’m not about to abandon my duties, no matter how much I hate doing things that put even more money in his pocket. The success of my plan depends on Enzo thinking of me as his lo
yal, dependable guy.
“When?” he asks.
“In two weeks.”
“Fucking two weeks?” he exclaims, slamming his hand on the arm of his big swivel chair.
“That’s the earliest the Russians can do it.”
“That’s too long, Damon. Too damn long.” Enzo’s fingers tap furiously on his desk.
This is your own fucking fault for letting go of your best men because you don’t want to pay them what they deserve, fuckface, I curse inwardly. We wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t hire clueless newbies like Antonio.
“That’s the best they can do, and you know they have the best goods,” I say.
It’s downright crazy the kind of big, glaring flaws I notice as soon as I open my eyes and realize Enzo isn’t some perfect god for me to worship. The fucker manages his business worse than a recent business-school graduate manages his fledgling tech start-up.
Maybe it’s a good thing he’s just another asshole, after all. The way this business is going, it’s going to shit in a few short years. If I were to stay loyal to Enzo, I’d end up going down with a sinking ship.
“Fine.” Enzo sighs. “I’ll have to cut corners somewhere to keep things running. Tell Antonio and Giovanni their pay will be late and it’s their own fault.”
I chuckle. “Sure.”
They won’t be happy about it. But then again, who cares whether they like working for Enzo? Not me.
Smug bastard thinks people are expendable. In this business, even the bottom feeders can do great damage. I guess he’s spent too much time at the banquet tables and too little in the field to know what’s going on anymore.
If he knew what was good for him, he’d retire and spend the rest of his days with his family. He certainly has enough money to last generations. His opulent lifestyle will bite him in the ass when his men feel the brunt of his cost-cutting measures.