Hitman's Bride (Bad Boy Empire)

by Vanessa Waltz

  “Why the fuck not?”

  I stare at him. “There are people in New York who would love an excuse to see me dead.”

  “Well, honey, you’ve got to do something. He’s going to come after you.”

  Tears well in my eyes as I shrug at him and stand up. “Do what? I don’t know what else there is to do. I thought that if I—if I left New York, maybe he’d leave me alone. Maybe if I was with someone else, I don’t know.”

  “He’s going to find you, and when he does, New York will be the least of your problems. He’s going to kill you, Elena—”

  “I know! You don’t think I fucking know that?”

  My head pounds with what will surely become another bruise. The air feels strangely thin, and I stagger toward the wall. Colors bleed together, and the room swims. It feels as though I’m drunk, but it’s hard to breathe. Tommy grips my arm and squeezes hard, and the pressure from his fingers makes me feel my pulse pounding against his skin.

  It’s happening.

  I’m panicking.

  “You don’t look good, hon. Maybe you should take the night off.”

  “Hell, no! I’m not—I’m not leaving here. This is the only place I feel safe.”

  Tommy’s concerned face swims in front of me. “Safe? He’s not going to leave you alone, Elena. Not unless you’re fucking married—”

  I don’t hear the rest of Tommy’s sentence.

  Not unless you’re married.

  So I just have to marry someone. Simple. No, that’s fucking crazy.

  You have a ton of cash. It’s possible.

  Yes. Someone out there is willing to marry me for cash. I’m certain of it.

  “That’s it!”

  I’m still shaking, but my vision clears and I grip Tommy’s arms, almost sobbing in relief.

  Tommy smiles back weakly, uncomprehending. “What is it?”

  “That’s—a really good idea.”

  “What did I say?”

  “What if I gave you a ton of cash to marry me?”

  He tries to swallow his laughter, and it cuts right into me like a sharp knife. “Sweetie, I’ve a girlfriend. I don’t think she’d like that very much.”

  Fuck.

  I turn my back to him and enter the bar, looking for the guy I was with last night. He’s fucking perfect. He’s a member, isn’t he? He was kind of an asshole, but it’ll just be for a little while. Long enough to get Rafael off my back.

  “What about Tony?”

  Loud, obnoxious laughter echoes down the hallway. I whirl around, annoyed when I see Tommy leaning against the wall, laughing his ass off. He looks at my serious expression and tries to keep it together, but he just can’t.

  “You’re—you’re fucking serious? He’s the biggest man whore I’ve ever met. He’ll never do it.”

  “Then I’ll find someone else,” I say in a hard voice.

  “It’s a stupid idea.”

  It is stupid. So is doing nothing.

  Tommy’s mirth rings in my head as I step into the bar. Immediately I spot Tony at the same spot. I hang near the doorway like an awkward mannequin, and then his heated gaze finds me.

  A violent flush creeps up my neck as I imagine Tony laughing the same way Tommy did when I told him about my idea.

  It is fucking stupid.

  It’s so dumb, it just might work.

  It’s not as though I wouldn’t make it worth his while. I was willing to part with a lot of money to place a hit on Rafael. What should I offer him?

  Twenty-five grand? Thirty? What’s fair?

  You barely know the guy.

  I’m desperate. If it gets Rafael to back off, it’ll be worth it. As of right now, the only future I see for myself is in a body bag.

  The only problem is that Tony intimidates the hell out of me. He reminds me of Rafael, in a way. The same allure drew me to him—the suspense, the excitement. I had to beg him to let me stay the night. What kind of asshole does that to someone? He’s the only other guy I’ve slept with—and I had to pull out all the stops to impress him. Will I be able to do it a second time? A third?

  I just don’t know.

  My heart pounds hard when my eyes sweep over his handsome face. Last night throbs in my head, all of the images playing in front of me like a highly colored dream.

  A perfect shadow of stubble covers his jaw and mouth, just long enough to look sexy, teetering on the edge of being disheveled. Cool eyes meet mine, almost indifferently, and my guts clench. I lose my nerve. I grab a discarded rag with the pretense of cleaning.

  Then I see something that makes me want to vomit.

  A woman hangs around his arm and then sits down next to him. She’s beautiful, with long highlighted hair and shining red lips, and Tony gives her a lascivious grin that makes my insides clench. A vicious surge of jealousy rises in my throat as I gather the drink orders and pass them out.

  I can’t let her get him.

  “Another one! Hey! Mange de la marde!” Eat shit!

  A patron hisses at me as I ignore his request and disappear behind the bar, watching as she reaches forward to touch his thigh. My face heats up.

  I’m annoyed by the fact that I’m annoyed at their antics.

  She whispers something in his ear, and he smiles. The bitch gets up to go to the bathroom, leaving him alone.

  Good.

  He doesn’t see me coming. The glass he’s holding obscures his vision as he sips his drink until I slide another one under his nose. Tony responds to my presence with a wide, cocky grin.

  “Hey, sexy.”

  Hey, asshole.

  My heart makes another painful thump against my chest as I take the girl’s seat, forcing a smile on my face. The last thing I want is to ask him for a favor because of the way he looks at me with the widest, smuggest smile. Vivid images of his wickedly tattooed body thrusting over mine run through my head. The smile paired with his seductive eyes seems downright dangerous. He looks me up and down, the heat from his gaze scorching through my clothes. He wears a midnight-blue suit, the stubble over his jaw rougher than yesterday’s.

  “I enjoyed last night.”

  “Of course you did.”

  Smug asshole.

  “Your tits looked better in that other outfit.”

  Ah, the backhanded compliment. What a jerk.

  “Yeah? Would you rather I took my shirt off?”

  Amusement twinkles in his eyes. “I think every guy in the bar would love that.”

  “Too bad I’m only interested in what you want.”

  Rich laughter booms from his chest. “I’ve already got what I want, sweetheart.”

  “You should take me out and fuck me again.”

  So fucking blunt.

  He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his attention is riveted. There are probably hundreds of women constantly kissing his ass.

  I’m different.

  His eyes sear my flesh. “One night, hon. That’s all you get.”

  “One night? Even though I made you come three times? Sounds like three nights to me.” I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “You’ve already broken your rule.”

  “You were a lot more fun than most girls, I’ll admit that.”

  I lean in, placing both hands on his thighs as my lips brush his ear. “Then fuck me again. And again.”

  His voice strokes my ear. “Are you begging me for more, or do you want something specific from me?”

  “Specifically, I want your cock. Inside me. Now.”

  A small growl rumbles in his throat. “It’s rented for the night.”

  My hand slides around the back of his neck. “Aren’t you tired of mediocre sex?”

  His eyes lighten at that, and a smile spreads over his rugged face. “Who says I’m having mediocre sex?”

  “Can that girl suck your dick like I can? Can she fuck you like I can?”

  Tony’s smile never falters, but it darkens. His eyes are all over me.

  “You’re fucking crazy, aren’t you?”<
br />
  Lust heats his face until I can almost feel it radiating off his skin. My fingertips brush over his cock, and he suddenly grabs my arm. My heart leaps as he pulls me onto his lap and crushes his lips against mine.

  It’s like instant electricity. It shocks me to feel the sudden rush of blood. Then my back hits the bar counter as his tongue slips into my mouth. I cling to his shoulders because all the energy evaporates from my limbs. I kiss him back and gasp as he grabs my tits, right in the middle of this bar. Everyone can see, but he doesn’t give a shit. He pulls back with a grin that sends a jolt of anxiety through my heart, and I realize I’ve just given myself to another monster.

  He’s deadly. Just look at him.

  “What the fuck!”

  A shrill, feminine voice makes him break apart from me, but only barely. I taste the sweetness from his tongue, and I want more.

  “Ah shit.”

  “Putain de merde!” The tall brunette screams herself hoarse, looking mad with rage.

  The whole bar turns their attention to the pretty girl, screaming her head off. They laugh behind their hands and even Tommy emerges from his office to see the commotion. He leans against the doorway, spotting me on Tony’s lap, and frowns.

  My face burns as she turns away from us, angry tears glittering in her eyes as she stalks away. Another man attempts to comfort her, but she storms out of the bar.

  Her tears give me a stab of guilt, but it dissolves when Tony turns back toward me with a shrug, extreme indifference all over his face.

  “Well, I guess that makes your decision much easier.”

  He takes my head in his hands. “This is all your fault.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sorry for that.”

  Deep laughter shakes from his barrel-like chest, and my face flushes with pleasure. My hands play with the hair behind his neck. It’s just at a length where I can curl my fingers through his strands.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Don’t you have work?”

  “Fuck work.”

  He smirks at that. “Ask Tommy if you can cut out early. I’ll wait.”

  “You better.”

  As I slide from his lap, I feel his hands on my ass. There are people watching us as he gives me a rough squeeze and then slaps me, sending me on my way. He winks at me when I turn around, and I feel like shrinking on the spot.

  The men jeer after me as I enter the back and look for Tommy. He’s on the phone, a mess of paperwork scattered on his desk. He’s frowning.

  “All right, I’ll—yeah. Thanks, Vince.”

  At the mention of his name, fear stabs my chest. The high from successfully asking out Tony pops like a soap bubble, and a chill creeps up my arms.

  Vincent. There’s only one that Tommy and I know.

  He hangs up the phone and folds his hands into steeples, looking unhappy. “Listen, Vince just found out that one of his men was detained for resisting arrest. He doesn’t know why, but he wants one of us to bail him out. Whatever you’re going to do, you better do it fast.”

  My face drains of color. “Thanks—I was going to leave with Tony. Is that all right?”

  He looks like he wants to say something else, but he stops himself. “Yeah, okay.”

  Shit. He’s getting bailed out a lot sooner than I thought.

  I gather my things and head out, fixing a smile when I rejoin Tony at the bar. The sooner I ask him, the better. The tension in his face dissolves somewhat when I take his hand. A dark, searching look descends over him as he squeezes my fingers.

  “Are you hungry? I was going to take that girl to dinner.”

  Surprised, I look up at his expressionless face. “Yeah, a little.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  “Okay.”

  He leads me out of the bar, holding the door open for me with a self-assured smile. God, the man exudes confidence. All of Dad’s men seemed like that, at first. It took a few months for me to realize the difference between confidence and cocky assholes flying off the handle at every perceived slight.

  “So what kind of food do you like?”

  “Oh, anything is fine. Really.”

  We walk down the streets as I cling to his hand for warmth. He keeps giving me meaningful looks as we pause for the lights, and then we finally stop in front of a restaurant. Tapeo.

  “Hope you like Spanish.”

  There’s a line inside the restaurant. The foyer is completely packed, but Tony calmly pushes to the front where the hostess recognizes him.

  “There’s no way we’ll get a table!” I shout over the din.

  He gives me a secretive smile and nods toward the hostess. “Table for two,” he says in his deep voice.

  “Right this way, Mr. Vidal.”

  My jaw drops as he turns around to give me a wink.

  Of course. Johnny must have all the restaurants in the city in his pocket.

  The hostess takes the heavy coat from my shoulders, and I feel oddly vulnerable without it. I’m dressed in a flowing tank top and jeans, and he’s in a suit. Discomfort rattles against my ribs.

  It’s a nice restaurant, low lit and moody. The golden tone of the lights complements the steel-blue walls nicely. Tony’s strong hand wraps around my waist and a flash of desire trails up my thighs. I forgot what it was like to be excited for a date, to have his hands around my waist, and for that small, yet powerfully intimate touch to send a thrill to my heart.

  But it’s not a date.

  No, I’m here to ask Tony for a favor.

  The hostess leads us to a table with two white, round candles. The rustic decor in the restaurant gives the place a trendy vibe. There are no tablecloths. Tony pulls my chair out and pushes me in when I sit down.

  It’s kind of startling to see how well mannered he is. I didn’t expect it because he talks like a goddamn jerk.

  Here we go.

  My nerves fire up as he sits across from me and orders a bottle of wine. The sommelier whisks back with the bottle, pouring two glasses for us. I take the delicate stem in my hands and swallow a small gulp, shuddering as it spreads heat over my chest. Tony looks vaguely content, his eyes relaxed, but with the occasional glance toward the door.

  I wish I could just sit here and enjoy the night like a normal person.

  “When was the last time you’ve been on a date?” I ask him.

  “I go on dates all the time, I just don’t go on second dates.”

  “Why not?”

  He lifts his shoulder in an elegant shrug as a complicated look flashes over his face. “What’s the point?”

  What’s the point?

  “Oh, I don’t know. Friendship? Love?”

  He smiles at me. “I don’t know if I care about any of that.”

  Wow.

  “What do you care about?”

  He grins like a devil. “Pussy. Money. Those are my two loves.”

  It’s like a wrench inside my chest. This is going to go so badly. A man like this will never agree to a marriage of convenience.

  “Aren’t you a charmer,” I say in a very dry voice, sipping more wine.

  “I never pretended to be.”

  His gray eyes are as dark as his face, and just as cold. His indifference strikes me hard, and I don’t know why I care. I don’t care. Whatever, I’m not here to make him smitten with me. I’m here to hopefully get him to agree to marry me.

  “So why the fuck are we here, huh? You got rid of that girl I was going to bring home.”

  I roll my eyes at his narrowed ones. I decide that Tony looks even sexier with a scowl on his face. “Please, don’t act like you don’t want me. You were all over me as soon as you recognized me in the bar.”

  “I don’t like being manipulated, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want.”

  The tiny flames of the candles flicker in his unrelenting stare.

  Fine, I’ll tell him.

  I lick my dry lips and open my mouth, unable to ask him.

  Hey, guy I barely know
. Wanna marry me for money?

  The cutlery on the table rattles as I bump my fist against the wood, suddenly overcome with a fit of giggles. I cover my mouth as he stares back at me in bemusement, my shoulders shaking.

  He swirls his wineglass. “You seem a bit stressed.” Then he leans in closer. “Maybe I should have just taken you to my place to fuck the pain away.”

  The laughter breaks off and my skin blazes under his penetrating stare. “Yeah, maybe you should have.”

  “This is about your ex, isn’t it?”

  A wary look hardens his face.

  “Yeah, but it’s not what you think.”

  I still can’t fucking tell him.

  “He showed up to my apartment right after I got home yesterday. We—we fought.”

  He says nothing, but his eyes blaze.

  “The cops showed up just in time, but he’ll be out soon. And then he’ll come after me.”

  My face still smarts where he hit me, made worse by the alcohol flushing my skin. Tony looks back at me, his face stony. “How did you end up with a guy like that?”

  Now it’s my turn to shrug.

  “Dating opportunities were pretty thin on the ground. Daddy scared the guys away and he didn’t approve of a lot of them. He liked Rafael, though.”

  Tony would know all about the traitorous New York boss, who was killed by his own crew for mob justice.

  He leans back into his chair and swallows hard. His gaze flicks toward mine and away. “I’m sorry about your dad. I know what it’s like to lose a father.”

  Somehow I see that. Something deep stirs inside his eyes: the jagged pain of losing someone too young, or some long-ago horror.

  “You’re the first person who’s said that to me. Isn’t that—isn’t that funny?”

  It’s not, really, but he makes a valiant attempt at a smile. His hand slides over the rough wooden table and seizes my hand, squeezing it.

  Why is he being so nice to me? This wasn’t what I expected at all. A lump rises in my throat and my hand trembles inside his.

  I bite my lip hard as images of the poorly attended funeral run through my mind, everyone’s lack of sympathy, my mother, crying. It buries me.

  “You should be glad I even came,” Rafael said, his mouth curled. “Your father was a coward—”

  “Don’t you—don’t you dare talk about my father like that!”