His Captive_A Mafia Romance

by Nikki Chase

  My temple is throbbing now that all the blood has rushed up to my head.

  So not only was Giovanni caught trying to move my product, but he was also trying to score with a girl on my time. No doubt he was distracted. Probably didn’t pay enough attention to his surroundings, and that’s why Stefano saw him first and not the other way around.

  “Damon?” Giovanni asks from the other end of the line.

  “Did Stefano try our product?” I ask.

  “No, man. We just talked. That’s all. Just a friendly chat.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I just want to give you a heads up before you hear it from someone else. It went okay, just so you know. Stefano was smiling and nodding. He bought my story. I threw him off the scent. Don’t worry about it. Everything is taken care of.”

  Giovanni probably believes his own lie, but I don’t. I can’t.

  Stefano saw Giovanni making a transaction in one of Enzo’s clubs. He had probably been watching for a while before he finally approached Giovanni. He probably saw more than one transaction and drew his own conclusions. He wouldn’t have said a word had he actually thought Giovanni was just trying to impress some girl.

  Maybe I still have some time. It all hangs on one thing . . .

  “Did you mention my name at all?” I ask.

  Giovanni falls silent. Strange. He was so talkative before.

  “I said, did you mention my name?” I repeat, louder this time.

  “Well, yeah, but I didn’t tell him I got the stuff from you,” he says. “He just asked me what I was doing later tonight, and I told him I was meeting Antonio and you.”

  “Fucking idiot,” I curse. “I told you to never mention my name. And I told you not to sell in any one of Enzo’s club too, didn’t I?”

  Giovanni says nothing.

  “Didn’t I?” I ask again.

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you do? Not only did you sell in Enzo’s club and say my name to one of his men, but you were also distracted while doing it.” I take a deep breath. I feel like I already know the answer to the question I’m about to ask. “Were you high?”

  “Damon, it’s all taken care of, okay? Stefano, all he knows is I was trying to hit on a girl—unsuccessfully.” Giovanni laughs nervously.

  I bite my tongue and stop myself from repeating to him all the things he’s done wrong. Giovanni is stupid enough normally, but if he’s high he won’t even remember most of this conversation afterward.

  “I asked you a question. Did you snort some of that coke before you went out and tried to sell it?” I ask.

  After a long pause, he admits, “Yes.”

  Fucking imbecile.

  “You knew this was a dangerous operation and I didn’t want anybody to see you deal,” I say as calmly as I can.

  “I’m sorry, Damon. But I told you. Everything’s under control,” he says, as if repeating it enough times would make it come true.

  “No, everything is not under control. Are you still at the club?”

  “Why would you say that, man? Yeah, I’m still at the club,” he says.

  “Okay. Someone’s probably going to follow you tonight when you leave so don’t come to my place. If you forget our whole conversation and only remember one thing, it’s this. Do. Not. Come. To. My. Place. Understand?”

  “Geez. Yeah, okay.” Giovanni isn’t taking this seriously enough and he’s too dumb to realize it.

  Enzo’s men are aware of him dealing coke that doesn’t come from them in their territory. There’s no way they’re just going to let this go. Hell, maybe Enzo himself has heard of this.

  Giovanni even gave Stefano my name. So if Enzo can somehow link this to the failed Russian transaction, then he’d know who’s behind this. He knows Giovanni is too dumb to pull off anything that requires this much planning.

  There’s no need to share any of this with Giovanni. What good would it do him to know that he might be captured and tortured for information soon? May as well let him enjoy his last few moments as a free man.

  “When you get home, get rid of all the coke you have,” I say.

  I’m glad I only gave Giovanni and Antonio just enough product to sell in one day. At least, if Enzo’s men discover their stash, I won’t lose millions of dollars’ worth of coke and advertise just how big of an operation we’re running.

  “That sounds like a waste, Damon,” he says. “That’s a lot of money. I’m telling you, everything’s fine.”

  “Just do what I say. Go straight home and dump everything down the toilet,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Come on. Let me keep it,” he says.

  “You don’t seem to get it, so let me spell it out for you.” I pause and speak slowly. “Enzo’s men already know something’s not right. So you’ll go home right now and get rid of all the evidence.”

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, man,” he insists. “Let me keep the coke. I always have some stashed at home anyway. I’ll tell them it’s mine.”

  “What I gave you is way better quality than what you normally have. You know that, and that’s probably why you don’t want to see it go down the drain,” I say. “But that will be a big mistake. You’re lucky Stefano didn’t sample your stuff because he would’ve been able to tell it didn’t come from Enzo, and you’d be fucked. Your only hope is to make it seem like our product didn’t exist at all.”

  The line is silent for a few seconds.

  “Giovanni? You still there?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” His voice is trembling. Good. At least he understands how serious this is.

  “Look. You could be right. Everything could be fine. But you have to go home right away and get rid of what you have,” I say.

  He’s quiet.

  “Okay? You understand what I want you to do?” I ask.

  “Okay. Okay,” he says. “Shit. Do you think they’ll do anything to me?”

  Working with Giovanni can be frustrating but the damn moron tries his best. I have to give him that. And I don’t want to punish someone who’s loyal to me. That won’t be a good foundation on which to build my business.

  “I can’t tell you what they will and what they won’t do,” I say. “But I want you to be safe. That’s why you should do what I say. If they can’t find anything at your place, they may leave you alone. Hell, maybe they’ll think you were just trying to get your dick wet.”

  “I don’t know, Damon. That girl, she was way out of my league.”

  “There’s no use panicking now. Just do as I say. If things go south, at least I have the girl as collateral. Enzo won’t be rash if he knows what’s at stake.”

  Giovanni pauses. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go home now.”

  “Good. If they check your phone and ask you why you called me, tell them you wanted to cancel because you weren’t feeling well after all the coke and booze you’d taken.”

  “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”

  “Good.” I hang up.

  I take a few deep breaths.

  Elena is still sitting in the living room, and she’ll probably expect me to pick up where we left off.

  That’s not a bad thing, of course. There’s nothing I can do now except hope Giovanni will be able to follow my simple instructions, so I may as well have some fun while I wait.

  I have no doubt Elena will take my mind off my problems. The way she squirmed on the couch, her face flushed red as she frowned in concentration. She was fucking ready for me.

  And I’m now ready for her. I can feel my cock growing hard again.

  Damn, there’s just something so sexy about Elena. I can’t tell if it’s because of the danger of because she’s so fucking sexy, but maybe I’ll figure it out after I fuck her.

  I pull my bedroom door open, eager to get my dirty hands on Elena again.

  And I find her standing right in front of me, her face a frozen mask of fear and confusion.

  How much of that phone call did she hear?

  El
ena

  It feels like my feet are stuck in drying cement. I can move if I try hard enough, if I yank my feet off the floor with enough force.

  But I don’t have the strength.

  And it’s too late anyway.

  Damon’s staring at me with one hand still on the door handle. His eyebrows are raised in surprise, and his eyes are widened.

  Has his apartment always been this cold? It’s freezing. So cold I’m starting to shiver.

  I should say something. Something about the temperature? About how he should probably crank his thermostat up? No, that’s stupid.

  He knows, right? He probably does.

  But maybe he doesn’t.

  Right. Maybe I can try to deny it.

  “I, uh, was looking for the bathroom.” I give Damon what I hope is a normal smile, but I don’t know if I’m pulling it off.

  Damon stares at me sharply, the gears in his brain obviously turning as he tries to figure me out.

  “So, uh, where is the bathroom?” I throw in something resembling laughter. Maybe that’s enough to break the strange atmosphere.

  Damon says nothing, but he takes a step forward, closing in on me.

  I raise my left hand and glance at my wrist to appear like I’m checking my watch. “Oh, you know what? I just remembered something. I have an appointment downtown. Supper. With an old friend. It’ll be quick. I’ll come back here right after.”

  I should run—no, walk. Walk calmly into the living room, grab my bag, and leave this apartment.

  But my feet still won’t move, and Damon’s only getting closer. He’s such a big guy, and this is such a narrow hallway that he only has to extend his hand to touch me, grab me, stop me from leaving.

  I pull my foot off the floor and stumble backward. My back is against the wall.

  Without saying anything, Damon plants his hands on the wall, caging me in.

  Is he angry? He looks dangerous.

  I’ve seen dangerous men—of course I have. But I’ve never been at the receiving end of whatever harm they can inflict on me.

  My heart hammers in my throat, so hard I can’t even swallow. If I try to speak, I doubt any sound would come out.

  “What did you hear?” he asks, pronouncing each syllable slowly. He’s in no rush. He’s completely in control here.

  Shit.

  What have I done?

  I’ve put all the control in Damon’s hands. Nobody knows I’m here.

  I knew this before I texted him from the airport. But what used to seem exciting now terrifies me.

  “Nothing,” I squeak out as I stare at my boots—the pair I chose carefully before this “date” so I could wear a dress on the bike.

  I put so much thought into my whole outfit. I hoped Damon would like seeing me in my favorite dress.

  But now I’m realizing that it doesn’t matter. I could be wearing a sack for all he cares. All that matters to him is who my dad is.

  “Bullshit.” Damon doesn’t raise his voice, but he speaks firmly. He knows he’s right.

  I stare at the floor, afraid of what I’ll see if I look up. “It’s true. I just . . . wanted to pee,” I say lamely.

  “So why did you stop right in front of my bedroom door?”

  My heart is pounding so hard my body is shaking. I have no explanation for that. I can’t explain that away. What do I say?

  Damon grabs my chin and raises my head like he did earlier when we were on the sofa. But it seemed like a sexy move before. Now, I’m scared out of my mind as I stare at the stubble along his sharp jawline.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you, princess. That’s the polite thing to do, isn’t it?” Damon’s voice is steady.

  But of course he’s not nervous. There’s no reason why he should be nervous. He’s probably done this a thousand times before to a thousand different people.

  He is a dangerous man like my dad warned me. Why didn’t I listen to him?

  “I said look at me.” Damon raises his voice.

  I lift up my gaze, my heart racing, until I’m looking right into Damon’s dark eyes.

  His lips curl up into a smirk as his fingers stroke my chin. “That’s it, princess. Now, tell me what you heard. And don’t even think about lying. I can see everything on your face.”

  A million thoughts swirl in my mind, but none of them seems like the right thing to say right now.

  “I . . . I don’t understand anything I heard. I swear.” If he won’t believe I didn’t hear anything, maybe he’ll let me off the hook if I convince him it doesn’t matter what I heard.

  Damon chuckles. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, princess. Come on. You’re smarter than that. We both know it.”

  I freeze as Damon leans closer.

  “You know I’m not letting you go. It doesn’t matter what you heard. Even if you were deaf, it still wouldn’t matter one bit.” He levels his gaze at me. When he speaks again, his face is only inches away from mine.

  I swallow. “I heard something about coke,” I admit. “But I don’t care, Damon. Sometimes, I hear my dad say things too. I’m good at looking the other way.”

  Damon nods. “Good girl.”

  I search his eyes for answers. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Nothing I’m not already doing,” he says.

  “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “Maybe.” Hunger flashes in Damon’s eyes. Something tells me if this man ends up hurting me, he’ll enjoy it. “Do you want me to hurt you, princess?”

  I shake my head. “Of course not.”

  Damon chuckles again. He moves his hand down and curls it around my neck. “On the contrary, princess . . . I get the feeling you’d want me to. You’d even beg me to. I can tell.”

  What does that even mean? Why would I want that? Is he crazy?

  “Are you going to let me go?” I ask.

  “Sure. If your daddy cooperates.” Damon caresses my neck and the back of my head, his touch gentle but firm. He isn’t hurting me, but he’s making it known that he could easily overpower me if he has to.

  “What do you want?” I ask, wondering how my dad will react when he realizes I’ve been lying to him. I’m not even supposed to be in San Francisco. I’m meant to be in a whole other country right now.

  “Your dad owes me something, princess,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s too bad you have to get involved because you haven’t done anything to me. But this isn’t personal. I don’t have anything against you. In fact, I kind of like you . . . maybe a little too much.”

  I gasp when Damon puts his lips on my neck and bites down, hard. The pain sends a shock of pleasure straight to my core. With shame, I realize I’m getting wet for Damon again.

  Traitor. My own body is betraying me.

  “You like that, don’t you, princess?” Damon asks, his hot breath falling on my sensitive skin as his free hand traces the curve of my hip.

  I bite my bottom lip, stopping myself from moaning and making it clear that I do, in fact, like Damon . . . maybe a little too much.

  “No,” I say.

  “Liar.” Damon drags his lips across my neck and my collar bone, nibbling on my flesh as he goes.

  I gather all my remaining strength. I have to make a point. Can’t just be a passive plaything in whatever sick game Damon’s playing.

  I mean, how lame would it be to put my dad through trouble just because I’m desperate to give his enemy my V-card? He didn’t even have to kidnap me, for God’s sake. I went with him willingly.

  “Damon. Please,” I say, my voice coming out more like a hoarse moan than a serious plea. I clear my throat. “It’s not too late now. You can stop this.

  “On the phone. It sounded like there was trouble. It doesn’t have to go any further than this. You can let me go. My dad won’t know this ever happened. I’ll help you fix everything.”

  Damon straightens his back and stands up to his full height, towering over me. Looking down at me arrogantly, he says, “Y
ou’re not leaving, princess. You’re too useful for me to let go just like that. The sooner you deal with that, the better.”

  My heart races as Damon’s words register in my mind. He really can do whatever he wants to me. I’m in a criminal’s den, and I delivered myself to him.

  As my eyes well up with tears, Damon strokes my hair gently.

  “Shh . . . Don’t cry, princess,” he coaxes me. “It doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom. We were having fun before, weren’t we? You can’t leave, but you can choose to have fun. Learn to be zen and shit. Now, give me your phone.”

  Damon

  It’s been almost an hour since Elena overheard my phone call. She did make a quick visit to the bathroom so maybe she really was on her way there when it happened.

  Elena is no longer crying, but she just sits there on the other end of the couch like she wants to be as far away from me as possible while still following my orders to sit still.

  “The pizza is getting cold,” I tell her.

  She says nothing. Just keeps staring at the TV screen. Her gaze is distant, though, like she’s looking right through the wall at all the people walking around across the street outside, enjoying their freedom.

  “You’re going to have to eat sometime,” I say.

  Even when she’s moping, Elena looks graceful. Poised. She doesn’t beg, even when she was crying. She accepts her reality with dignity.

  “Suit yourself.” I lean back against the back of the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table. I’ll just enjoy the game on TV.

  I know girls don’t typically watch sports, but whatever. If Elena were to ask me if she could watch something, I’d oblige.

  The idea is to make Enzo suffer—not Elena. We used to be friends, Elena and I. Her dad may be a monster, but she didn’t get to choose which family she’d be born into.

  As it is, I have no idea what she wants, though.

  So I do whatever I would if she weren’t around.

  I watch the game. I check my phone in case Giovanni or Antonio calls me. I drink some beer and realize too late that booze only gets me horny, and I’m not getting into Elena’s panties tonight.