by Amy Brent
“Don't call me – ”
One of the other guys reached his hand out to slap me, but Deacon caught it before it landed on my face. With a scowl, he turned and pushed the other man back, hard, throwing him into the wall with so much force, it rattled the pictures hanging on it. I thought the frame might come down, but it somehow stayed on the wall.
Deacon looked at one of the other men – a tall, very large redheaded man – and said, “Don't you fuckin' touch her, you hear me? There better not be a hair out of place or a scratch upon her delicate little body. Not unless I say so – got it?”
The red-haired man scowled and held back, but he didn't speak again. He simply nodded and turned away from Deacon.
“Colin, please restrain her now that she's awake – ”
“Restrain me? What?” I almost shouted. “Are you afraid of a tiny little girl or something? Afraid I might get the drop on your morons here?”
“One thing I've learned is that one can never be too careful, Emmy,” Deacon said.
“Don't call me Emmy either, asshole,” I said.
Only my closest friends and family could get away with calling me that. Though, as I looked at the glint of amusement in his eyes, I had a feeling he used my nickname on purpose. It was to make a point – maybe as a way to prove he knew all about me. I glared at him, hate filling my eyes as we gazed upon each other.
“He can call you whatever the fuck he wants, sweetheart,” the man referred to as Colin said.
“Like hell he can,” I muttered, mostly to myself.
Colin reached for the restraints and started to tie me down while Deacon watched. I saw him flinch as I struggled and fought back against the man trying to tie my hands down. For a big, tough guy, he didn't like to see them getting rough with me, that was for sure. I filed it away in my mind, thinking that maybe it was a chip I could somehow cash in later. It was a weakness in him and I needed to find all of his weaknesses in order to better exploit them and improve my odds of getting out of there whole and intact.
“How long are you going to keep me here?” I asked. “What if I have to go to the bathroom or something?”
“Tell the guards,” Deacon said. “We'll get ya a bedpan.”
“Please, no – ” I begged – being forced to use a bedpan would be the ultimate form of humiliation and degredation.
For the first time, I felt real fear. I was tied down to a bed, surrounded by the enemy – and I had no idea how I was going to get out of there alive. My father would likely be looking for me, sure, but would he find me in time?
“How long do you intend to keep me here?”
“As long as is necessary, I'm afraid,” Deacon said, turning toward the door. “Hopefully your daddy and fiance cooperate quickly. If they do, you can probably be home in time for breakfast tomorrow.”
I had a feeling that whatever he wanted from my father wasn't going to be that easy. Nothing with guys like these ever was. Whatever these guys were after, my family wouldn't hand it over so easily I was afraid.
“And what if they don't cooperate?” I asked, my voice shaking.
He looked at me for a long moment, something inscrutable passing behind his eyes – something that chilled me to the very bone.
“We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said.
DEACON
Once she was restrained, I sent the others out of the room. I sat on a chair in the corner and watched her, waited for her to say something. Anything, really. I thought she'd want some answers or have some questions – but she just stared at me with eyes filled with hate. It was just me and her, and for the longest time, she wouldn't even speak to me.
“I know what you want. Or rather, what you don't want,” she said to me after some time of petulant silence. “And I can get it for you. But I need to speak to my father first.”
I tried not to laugh. “Oh, if only it were that easy, Emelia.”
“It can be that easy,” she said, looking over at me, her eyes large and taking up most her face. “Do you think I really want to marry Tony Bellini? Do you think that was my choice? I'd do anything to get out of that engagement. Believe me, we're on the same page here.”
My ears perked up. “Anything, huh? You'd go against your family and work with the enemy? All to avoid marrying a man most women would sell their soul to be with?”
“I don't love him,” she whispered.
“You don't love him?” I scoffed. “Oh that's so incredibly sweet, Emmy. And so incredibly naive.”
“Look, I didn't ask for any of this. I never asked to be auctioned off like a damn prize horse,” she said. “I didn't ask to be born into this family or this life. I just want to be left alone. I just want to do my own thing.”
Her sweetness and naivete were almost too much. It was actually downright adorable. I couldn't help but stare at her and gaze into those doe eyes. But then my eyes began to wander and slowly, deliberately, moved down the length of her torso. While her face made her look much younger than she was, she most definitely had the body of a grown woman. With her perky boobs and those curves in all the right places, there was no mistaking her for anything but a woman. I could see why someone like Bellini would be anxious to wed that gorgeous little piece of tail.
As I let my eyes roam all over her body, I started to think that she was still a virgin. Pure and sweet and ripe for the taking. All of this talk of love and romance made me think she was waiting for The One, that she was saving herself for her Prince Charming. If only such things existed in the real world, then maybe she'd be able to wait for him to ride up on his white horse and sweep her off her feet. But the fact of the matter was that Prince Charming didn't exist, but with her wealthy and powerful family, her life was as close to an actual fairy tale as anything else in this world – and was as close as she was going to get.
“Why would you think I care who you marry?” I asked her, leaning in close.
She flinched away as I moved in probably a little too close. I could feel her breath against my face and caught a faint whiff of her perfume.
“Because once I marry Bellini, the alliance between our two families will have the power to take over the city,” she said. “The whole city. Including Irish territory. Which would be very bad news for you.”
“How do you know all this?”
Perhaps I shouldn't have been, but I was alarmed that she was so well informed. But tried to play it off, not wanting to see that she'd scored a direct hit. She was obviously a smart girl. I'd underestimated her – a mistake I wouldn't make again.
“I am the heir to my family name,” she said quietly. “Do you think I don't listen? That I'm not privvy to certain details and plans?”
Most women in her position wouldn't care about the politics. They cared about the money, the shopping, the nice clothes and raising children that would eventually take over the family name themselves one day. They left the politics up to the men and concentrated on more banal pursuits. At least, in my experience they did.
But clearly not Emelia. Or not completely, at least. Still, she seemed to have an awful lot of naive thoughts running through her head and ddin't understand just how cutthroat this life could be. Especially if she thought we could team up and help one another. That was most definitely not going to happen.
I could think of plenty of things I'd like to do with this little hottie, but working out a deal with her? Not happening. She was right about teaming up being a mutually beneficial proposition, but I wouldn't risk it because there was no way I could trust her.
Sitting back in my chair, I watched her carefully. “Your father and your fiance will be hearing my demands shortly,” I said.
“And you think my father is the kind of man who takes well to demands?” she said.
No, but I'm sure you do, I thought to myself. Imagining that tight little body bent over the bed, her skirt raised and her ass cheeks bared for me, waiting, her tight little opening, glistening and ready...
“When it com
es to his precious little girl, one would hope that he will listen to what I have to say,” I said. I pulled out my phone. “Here, why wait? Let's see what your father has to say on the matter, shall we? Now's as good a time to call as any, since he's had a few hours to search for you – a search I can guarantee you was completely fruitless. And I will have to assume that he probably knows you're missing by now. I would hope that Tabitha would have sounded the alarm when she came out of the bathroom to find you gone.”
Emilia scowled at me as I punched in the numbers and called her father. The man on the other end of the phone answered on the first ring, and he knew who I was – though perhaps, not by name just yet. But he seemed to know exactly why I was calling – instantly. Clearly, word had gotten around quite quickly. Which pleased me greatly.
“You son of a bitch, Deacon,” he roared. “What have you done with my daughter?”
“Your daughter is fine. She and I were just having a little fun together – weren't we, Emmy?”
I winked at Emilia and she spat at me. I tamped down the momentary flash of anger and wiped away the saliva that was slowly running down my cheek. The girl was a spitfire, that was for sure.
“Let me talk to her,” he said.
“Patience, mate. You'll get to talk to her soon enough, but not just yet,” I said. “First, you need to hear me out. Because what you do next can have very real, very serious consequences for your beautiful little girl. And I have to say in all honesty, she's even more beautiful than I imagined. All that dark hair and pale skin, and those tits... ” I let out a low whistle of approval. “I'm sure her fiance is dying to get his hands on those perky little things.”
“Let me talk to my daughter, asshole,” he said, his voice low and fierce.
“Only if you ask nicely,” I taunted.
“How do I know she's not dead already?” he asked me. “I refuse to say anymore or even deal with you until I have proof that she's alive and unharmed.”
I rolled my eyes – her father was not a fun man to play with. He didn't enjoy the game like I did. Of course, knowing I had his little girl probably wasn't the best way to start off a fun and frivolous conversation. But, whatever.
“Fine, talk to your darling Emmy,” I said.
I held the phone out toward Emelia, putting it on speaker and said, “Talk to daddy, honey.”
“Emelia, are you okay?” I heard him say on the other end of the line.
“I'm fine, daddy,” she said, her voice low – almost too low. I feared he might not be able to hear here from there, so I moved closer.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No, I'm not hurt. Not at all, I'm fine,” she said, tear welling up in her eyes.
She held them back though. No screaming, no crying, no begging for her father to find her. This girl wasn't like most others. She was tough and wasn't going to give me the satisfaction. I had to admire that. Her eyes widened slightly though, when I took the gun out of the holster beneath my jacket – just the sort of reaction I'd been hoping for.
“Stay strong, Emelia,” he said quietly. “We'll get you back.”
I turned off the speaker and put the phone back to my ear. “Only if you do as I say, Antonelli. Remember that. I have your daughter, and if you ever want to see her again – in one piece – you will do exactly as I say.”
“I will fucking kill you for this,” he growled. “Mark my words, I'm going to make you suffer. You're going to wish you were dead long before I'm through with you.”
“Let's not waste time with petty, idle threats you can't back up. Not without endangering the well being of your gorgeous little girl here,” I said, smirking to myself “So, let's cut the bullshit, mate. Are you ready to make a deal? Or should I start sending you beautiful little Emmy one piece at a time? Though, I gotta tell you, it would be such a waste of such an amazing piece of tail.”
“Show some fucking respect, you son of a bitch,” he growled. “That's my daughter you're talking about. Now, what in the hell do you want from me?”
“Oh, I think you already know what I want, Antonelli.”
“I can't break the deal with Bellini. You know that,” he said. “That's something I simply can't do. The deal has already been made and what's done is done.”
“Oh is it? That's really too bad then. Because if that's the case, might as well put this gun in my hand to good use right now,” I replied. “No need to keep Emmy around if there's nothing you can do to better her circumstances.”
“Bellini won't back down,” Antonelli said, almost pleading. “His family has put everything into this deal, and they won't back out of it so easily. Not even for Emelia.”
“Well then, I guess you better say goodbye to your darling daughter,” I said, cocking my gun and hoping he'd hear it through the phone. “Because her brains are about to be splattered all over the wall – ”
“No, wait, please,” Antonelli said. “I'm begging you. Just don't.”
Emelia didn't say anything. She looked at me with her doe eyes, as if she knew I wouldn't pull the trigger. It was as if she was daring me to do it. Daring me to blow her pretty little brains out. Something in her eyes was calling my bluff – and she was right. But I couldn't let her – or her father – know that I wouldn't. A bluff was only good so long as the people you were bluffing believed you were capable of anything – no matter how monstrous.
“Oh, so maybe there is something you can do after all?” I asked.
“Let's talk about this, Deacon,” he said. “I'm willing to make a deal with you. We'll figure something out. Just don't hurt my daughter.”
“You want a deal with me, Antonelli? Kill Tony Bellini and deliver his head to me in a box in exchange for your daughter's life and well being. Then we'll have a deal.”
I hung up the phone and looked over at Emelia. Smiling, I said, “Well, looks like you may not have to marry Tony after all. You're welcome, Emmy. See? I'm not such a bad guy after all, am I?”
EMELIA
I didn't know why or how, but I knew Deacon wasn't going to hurt me. I knew he wasn't going to pull that trigger. Somehow – call it a sixth sense, woman's intuituion, or whatever you like – but I knew that it was all for show. He was bluffing my father, sure, but I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he wasn't really going to kill me.
“Granted, I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep if he was gone forever, but killing Tony is going to start a war between the families,” I said softly. “It's one thing to break up our engagement – but to actually kill a member of the Bellini family is an act of war. And it's one they won't overlook easily, Deacon. A lot of people are going to die if that happens.”
Deacon smirked as he leaned back in his chair, staring at me with those blue eyes of his. I felt myself drawn into those eyes every damn time he looked at me, and I couldn't look away. Even after all this shit he was putting me through, I couldn't bring myself to not meet his gaze. It was heady. Intoxicating. Compelling. And I hated myself for feeling so drawn into them.
“Oh cheer up, buttercup. Don't look so sad and scandalized. If you think about it, I'm doing you a huge favor and you know it. You didn't want to marry him, and now you won't have to. I don't want the families uniting and they won't be able to. I'd call this a win-win for both of us.”
I swallowed the lump growing in my throat before I spoke. “Yes, but I didn't want anyone to be killed just to get me out of a goddamned wedding. Jesus, Deacon, I don't want to marry the man, but I also don't want him dead. And the backlash – you don't think it'll blow back on your guys too?”
He shrugged. “Chaos is good for business,” he said. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, Emmy, but the Irish will come out ahead with this, mark my words. Like a phoenix from the ashes, we'll rise bigger, stronger, and fiercer than before. Besides, how can I be sure all ties between the Bellini's and Antonelli's are broken without at least one dead body between 'em? That sort of blood feud can stretch on for generations. It's in my best interest to kee
p both families at each other's throats for the foreseeable future.”
He was enjoying this. He was actually enjoying this sick little game he'd devised. I'd overheard people talking about Deacon Murphy before – they all talked about how he was cunning, smart and extremely dangerous. They spoke in hushed tones, like he was going to materialize out of thin air right there behind them. When people spoke of Deacon, it was with an air of respect – and fear.
I knew he was a force to be reckoned one, knew he was someone to fear. But even as I sat in front of him, restrained and completely under his control, I found that I actually didn't fear him. Instead, I felt myself drawn to him in ways that didn't make sense. Maybe it was because of how I'd grown up and the fact that I'd been around dangerous men my entire life, but his ruthlessness turned me on. I was horrified and appalled to admit that to myself, but – there it was. Out in the open. And I had no idea what to do with the horrible conflicting emotions roiling around inside of me.
“You're smart, Deacon,” I said. “I have to give you that. Smarter than my father, maybe. But he's not going to kill Bellini. He will come for me first, and kill you in the process. This little game you're running is doomed to fail because he's been in the game a lot longer and knows the rules better than you do.”
“And what if he does?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, this is what we do, isn't it? We win some and we lose some. But I'll tell you something, love – we never get ahead in this game if we're not willing to put our very lives on the line. The stakes have got to be high to make victory worth claiming. And personally, I can't think of any stakes higher than one's own life. This is why I do what I do, Emelia. This is why I'm the leader of this organization. Because I'm not afraid of your father or the Bellinis. And I'm not afraid of war. Hell, I'm not even afraid of death.”