Beg Me: A Billionaire Syndicate Romance

by Penelope Woods

  I can’t believe this shit. I can’t understand why she’d run away from something this good.

  “Do not say that, Rocco,” she says. “None of this has been easy for me. I’ve tried my hardest to make this work. I didn’t think he’d follow me or you around like he did, but apparently he has all the time in the world. He’s already got it in his head you want to bring him down.”

  “Well, he’s right. I am going to bring him down. I’m going to destroy that whole company of his,” I say out of spite.

  I’m so infuriated, I can’t see straight. Here I am, thinking she came over to see me, to fuck me, but now I’m dealing with this bullshit?

  No thanks.

  “That’s my father’s company you’re talking about,” she says. “Don’t you dare.”

  “What does it matter to you? It’s not like you work there anymore. He’ll likely boot you out from the board. Trust me. He’ll make it happen sooner or later,” I say.

  She stares at me blankly, unsure what to do. Her crying has stopped, but I still feel for her. I’m angry, but I can’t help. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to comfort her at the same time.

  All I want is for her to see that I’m on her side. I’ll make things right for her. I have to. Her happiness is all I want.

  I sigh and decide to tell her the truth. She’s going to kill me, but I can’t keep this under the table any longer. “I think my team is going to bring up merging with the Napolitano Hotel chain,” I tell her. “We’re losing money every year. Things are on the upswing, but it’s still been difficult. I know it’s been worse for Byron. They want both companies to come together.”

  “What?” she asks, stunned.

  She processes the information and stands, headed for the door.

  “I thought you should know. I didn’t want to hide that from you,” I say.

  “Fuck off,” she says.

  Boy, does that sting.

  She stomps toward the door, but before opening it, she turns back around, eyes glazed with tears. “So, you’re just going to buy us out then? Is that your magical, little plan?”

  “Actually, yes,” I say. “What else can I do? We’ll go bankrupt in two years if I don’t. Look, I know it sounds bad, but it’s a good thing. You could get your job back.”

  “You think I care about having a job again?” she asks.

  At this point, I don’t care. If she doesn’t want a job, she doesn’t have to have one. I’m just trying to come up with real solutions.

  “Fine. You could do what you’re doing now for all I care,” I say.

  “And the rest of the workers? You’ll just fire them all to allocate funds in the right areas. I know how this works, Rocco. It’s a typical buyout,” she says.

  “You’re not listening,” I tell her.

  Big mistake.

  “Oh, I’m listening, and I hear you loud and fucking clear,” she says, swinging the door open. “Look. You can go ahead and act like the shady business man you are. I’m done with this anyway. Byron reassigned me to Colorado.”

  I stop dead in my tracks. I want to break everything in this damn house, I’m so angry. I have to force myself to take deep breaths, but they’re not calming me down one bit.

  “What did you just say?” I ask, fuming.

  “I’m leaving in a week. Just thought you should know,” she says. “I guess this is goodbye.”

  “Wait, don’t—”

  I rush toward the door, but she slams it in my face. I could chase after her, but I’ve done too much of that. I can’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want it.

  If she thinks I’m a monster, that’s fine. Maybe I need to let her go.

  This is fucked.

  Completely ruined.

  Tonight, the only friend of mine is the rest of this bottle of Jameson.

  Cheers to us.

  Madison

  I left his house in a storm of emotion. Like I was crazy-angry drunk.

  I get into my car and start sobbing. Maybe that sounds pathetic. Too feminine. Whatever.

  It’s Rocco…

  I just feel so weighed down by everything in my life. First, my father dies. Next, Byron takes the throne over me. I’ll never understand how that came to be, but my father wasn’t exactly a saint either.

  I have been forced out of any major decision. I’m still technically on the board, but the recommendation is that I sit out every single meeting.

  Nothing in life is fair. So be it.

  Dasha understands. She’s been dealt some blows in her time.

  “I don’t know what happened,” I cry. “I just blew up on him. Everything I had planned to say came out so wrong. I’m hopeless, Dasha. I feel like I’m standing on my last leg.”

  “You’re allowed to break down every now and then,” she says, rubbing my shoulder. “Things are really crazy for you right now. If I was you, I’d probably be dealing with it much worse.”

  “I don’t seem to have a handle on much of anything. I’m a total wreck. I’m sorry to put this all on you. You’re a really good friend, Dasha,” I say.

  “I’m happy to be here for you,” she says. “Anytime. Always. Forever. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I whisper.

  “I have an idea,” she says. “Let me take you somewhere fun. I’ve got a sitter coming for Holly soon. We should have a girls’ night out. We haven’t done that in such a long time.”

  “I don’t know. I think I might just go home and cry the rest of the night,” I say. “I’m feeling a bit emotional.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that crap. You’re going out with me tonight. You’re going to forget all about Rocco and Byron, and the whole Napolitano curse. We’re going to have fun, girl!” she exclaims.

  She’s way too peppy for me right now. I fake a smile and say, “Fine. But I’m only agreeing to this because I know you won’t back down,” I say. “And what’s this about a Napolitano curse? I wasn’t aware that my family has a curse around it.”

  “Are you kidding me? The Napolitanos are known for their bad luck. I’m sorry, but you know it’s true,” she says.

  “Whatever. We used to own this city. I don’t know what happened,” I mutter under my breath.

  She pulls open the front door. “Welcome to the modern world, honey. This isn’t Sicily. It’s Detroit, and it’s changing fast. Get with the times,” she says. “Come on. We’re going.”

  “Fine,” I mutter.

  She grabs my hand and practically pulls me out to the driveway. No time to change or do my makeup. We get into her car, and she speeds off into the distance.

  Soon enough, we’re on the freeway, and she’s blasting some Top 40 pop music, screaming her lungs out to the song that’s playing.

  “Sing it with me, girl!” she screams, holding an invisible mic out in front of my mouth.

  Girl, I’m not in the mood.

  I try and play along, but she knows I’m having a tough night. She reaches into her glove compartment and pulls out a big bottle of vodka.

  My heart rate spikes.

  “Oh my God.” I have to laugh, “Why do you keep a bottle of vodka in your car, Dasha?”

  “For times like these, baby,” she says, holding it out in front of me.

  She exits the freeway, and I take a big gulp. It tastes like rubbing alcohol to me, and there’s no chaser around. I take another swig, and hope to God I feel the effects from it sooner than later.

  This is stupid and completely illegal, but I’m going through something, okay?

  She pulls into a dark parking lot. A group of females walk past our car, screaming and laughing.

  “Give me that.” Dasha steals the bottle from me and takes a sip herself.

  “You’re going to get in trouble for carrying that someday,” I say.

  “Girl, it’s Detroit. Did I ever tell you about that one time I got pulled over last spring?” she asks.

  “Yes, I’ve heard it a million times.” I laugh. “You’re talking about when tha
t cop gave you his number, right?”

  “Yes!” she screams, taking two more swigs. I can already tell this is going to be a wild night. I’m bracing myself to hold on. “Fuck, he was kind of hot too.”

  “You never called him?” I ask, grabbing the bottle back.

  “Hell no! He’d probably handcuff me to his bedpost,” she says. “On second thought, maybe I should have called him back.”

  “Where are we anyway?” I ask her. “Some kind of ladies’ night bar?”

  “Just you wait,” she says. “This is my present to you. You’re going to have the best night of your life. Guaranteed.”

  “I hope so,” I sigh, feeling the alcohol course through my blood. “I guess I’ve been on edge lately. You’re right. I needed to get out of the house a little.”

  “Just you wait,” she repeats, smiling to herself.

  We walk into the unmarked building.

  Inside, we’re bombarded with neon lights, flashing strobes, and speakers that play heavy bass. The thumping sound of drumbeats floods the air.

  I regret walking into this place when I see what’s in front of me.

  “Welcome to heaven,” Dasha says, laughing hysterically.

  “A male strip club?” I scream. “You brought me to a male strip club? Oh, Jesus. I have to leave now.”

  “Come on, don’t be too loud. People will hear you,” she says. “And don’t even think about leaving.”

  On the stage is a man in some sort of speedo-thong combination. It’s funny, I guess, but it also somehow keeps reminding me of how Rocco is the perfect man for me.

  I feel depressed.

  “I don’t think I want to be here,” I tell her. “I feel weird about this.”

  “What? Like you’re cheating?” She pulls me to a table near the stage and orders us some drinks. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just having fun. It’s not like I come here to get my fix of dick.”

  I put my face in my hands and sigh. Okay, I’ll just stick it out. I’m not a prude. I can laugh with her.

  When the server comes back with our drinks, I tell her to bring another one. I know this night is going to be a long one, and I might as well get a little liquored up. I down the first drink and wait for the second, trying to smile.

  My phone vibrates as the man rips his speedo off. The entire crowd of females goes wild as he walks down the aisle toward us.

  I grab my phone and check it. Of course, it’s Rocco, and he’s decided to be real sweet to me.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

  I swallow, chest feeling tight. He texts me again.

  “I won’t do the merge. I’ll figure out other ways to save money. That stuff isn’t important to me anyway. You are.”

  I grab my second glass and quickly drink. Soon after, everything starts to spin.

  Oh, no…

  “Are you having fun?” Dasha asks, clapping her hands as the man walks up and straddles her.

  I shoo him away when he tries to do the same to me. I feel terrible. I want to go home.

  I text him:

  “We’ll talk later. I feel weird about everything and slightly embarrassed.”

  Dasha glances at me and rolls her eyes. “Come on, put that phone away. Live a little!”

  Three more men come out on stage, and I start to feel really dizzy. It’s hard to stay cognizant and aware of my surroundings.

  Another drink comes, and I take a few sips before running to the bathroom. A minute later, I’m puking my guts out while Dasha holds my hair above the toilet.

  “Girl, I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should have never brought you here. Shit, it was the vodka wasn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have gotten it out of my glove compartment.”

  “It’s fine.” I spit into the toilet and flush. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, I’m not. I’m drunk as hell and we need a ride home,” she says. “And I sure as hell don’t have money for a taxi. Got any cash?”

  “Shit, I left it at home,” I say. “Don’t worry. I know who might be able to help us.”

  “Rocco?” she asks, putting her hands against her hips with enough sass to shoot me dead.

  I give a weak smile and shrug. “Unless you want me to lay in this bathroom the entire night, we should call him.”

  I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, shakily handing it to her.

  “You’re the worst,” she says. “But I guess it’s my fault we’re in this situation.”

  She scrolls through my phone and finds his contact information, calling him from the toilet, waiting for his answer.

  Except, there is no answer. He’s pissed as hell at me. I guess it’s for good reason.

  Luckily, when she calls again, he answers. “Hey, this is Dasha. Yeah, the friend from the party,” she says. “Look, we have a situation. What’re you doing right now?”

  She pauses, and I can hear the fragmented words come through the receiver, “Drinking… porch… nothing much…”

  I picture him sitting on his porch, tears welling up behind his eyes. I can see him sitting there with a bottle in his hand, wondering how I could be so harsh. At this point, I’m not too happy with myself. At the same time, I feel violated and partially betrayed.

  Was he really going to buy my father’s company without telling me? I lean over the toilet again and vomit. I feel and probably look like a monster.

  I’m beyond embarrassed he might see like this.

  “Your girlfriend Madison is on the floor of this bathroom, puking her brains out. I don’t have enough money to call a cab. Can you come and pick us up?” she asks, biting her lip.

  “…On the way…” I hear him mutter into the receiver.

  That’s that.

  If he doesn’t already hate me, he probably does now.

  She hangs up the phone and hands it back to me. “You’re lucky this guy loves you,” she says. “Otherwise, we’d be stranded here for another two hours.”

  “Thank you, Dasha,” I whisper, head against the porcelain.

  I know how I must look. Classy. Whatever - we’ve all been there before, right?

  “I’m so sorry I ruined your one night away from the kid,” I add.

  I give a weak smile and turn into the toilet again to hurl.

  “Aw, it’s okay, sweetie,” she whispers, sitting down next to me. She strokes my hair and kisses the back of my head. “I’m always here for you, girl.”

  “Me too. I swear,” I tell her. “Next week you can get too drunk, and I’ll hold your hair.”

  “Deal,” she says.

  There’s a pounding on the door and Dasha runs to open it.

  “There’s someone in here, you idiot!” she screams.

  The woman shakes her head and walks away.

  “It’s okay.” I smile. “I can walk outside. I’m ready to go.”

  She grabs my hand and leads me through the spinning room, the one with all the lights and dancing, and debauchery. It’s a funny place, really. I can’t tell if people are there to get off or have a laugh.

  When I get outside, I fall onto the curb next to her car. “I can’t believe I fucked things up with Rocco,” I say, unable to control my volume.

  “Madison, it’s—”

  “No!” I yell. “I’m so stupid. I should have never walked away from him like that. I should have never gotten angry. I lied. I didn’t tell him about Boulder when I should have. I’m such an idiot. I think I really him.”

  “You do?” a man’s voice says, directly in front of me.

  I look up, and it’s Rocco.

  “I think I really like that lady too.” He smiles. “It’s a shame she’s leaving town, but I’m sort of glad she got too drunk to drive tonight. Otherwise, we wouldn’t cross paths again.”

  I laugh and throw my arms around him, feeling the life shoot back into my body. “I was wrong,” I whisper. “So wrong.”

  Rocco

  I hold her in my arms and she sways with drunkennes
s.

  I’ve missed the way this woman feels against my body. I miss the way she looks at me, the way she smells like roses and everything good in the world…

  I miss it all.

  Even if it was only one night apart from each other, I thought it could last a lifetime.

  “I was wrong too,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I thought I could fix things. I thought there could be another way around it.”

  “I don’t care anymore,” she says. “What do I care if Byron loses his business? It’s not my father’s. He’s gone now.”

  “But it’s yours,” I say. “It should have always been yours.”

  “What do I want to run a business for? I just want to be happy and away from Byron,” she says.

  “I take it you’re not going to Boulder?” I ask her.

  “Hell no,” she says. “I’m staying right here in Michigan. I want to be near you.” She stumbles a little, but I hold her steady. I hope she means all this. I hope it’s not the alcohol talking.

  “Okay, you lovebirds. Enough of this, or I’m going to start vomiting,” Dasha says. “Can we go, or what?”

  I kiss Madison and turn to Dasha. “Okay, we’re leaving. Let’s go,” I say, walking her to my car.

  When we’re driving, I glance at the neon-lit sign. It reads: “Bar and More!”

  “Why the hell were you at a male strip club?” I ask them, shaking my head.

  “Don’t be such a prude,” Dasha says. “I wanted to cheer up my friend because you were making her sad.”

  “Don’t lie, Dasha,” Madison says. She turns to me and tells me, “She took me against my will. I didn’t know that’s where we were going.”

  “Ugh, fine.” Dasha rolls her eyes. “Throw me under the bus, why don’t ya? She’s right, Rocco. I took her hostage and made her watch the sexy men. Don’t punish her too hard, okay?”

  I laugh. How much does Dasha know about us? Does Madison talk about me a lot to her? The entire situation, oddly enough, makes me feel excited.

  She likes me. She doesn’t want to leave me. Everything is okay.

  I pull into Dasha’s driveway and stop. There’s that weird feeling of air becoming motionless as she steps out of the car. Madison looks over at me clutching the door handle, as if she’s waiting for an interruption.