Next Door Daddy

by Amy Brent

  “Nah, man,” I said quietly. “I think the Brotherhood is probably better with somebody else in charge, you know? After all that went down, I don't think I can get back into the big seat. It wouldn't be the same and I'd always be wondering who was plotting to take me down next.”

  “We miss you, brother,” he said. “At least some of us do, anyway. And we'd most definitely love to see you back in charge, man. These guys are dicks.”

  “Not going to happen, Neil,” I said. “I don't see how it would even be possible, honestly. But that's not why I'm calling. That's a bridge we'll cross another time. No, what I need to know is whether or not you know anything about the Antonellis? I know Colin was working with the old man, didn't know if others were too, but – ”

  “Yeah, we are,” Neil said. “Or rather, some of the guys are. I'm just going along with whatever to keep myself from getting killed. I didn't think you were alive or I'd have – ”

  '”It's okay, I'm not blaming you for anything,” I said. “It's not your fault, man.”

  Neil sounded surprised by how easily I let this betrayal go – but I knew it would help me in the end. Or at least, I hoped it would.

  “In fact,” I went on, “if you have any intel on the Antonelli's, that would be incredibly helpful right now.”

  “Intel? Like what?” Neil asked. “What are you plannin' Deacon?”

  “It's hard to explain, and I doubt you'll understand it all anyway, Neil. And besides, the less you know is probably safer for you,” I said. “But what I need to know is whether you got anything about their household. Anything at all could help.”

  “Honestly, I don't know much,” Neil said. “I'm not trusted with that kind of inside info, man. I'm barely hanging on over here, you know?”

  “I know. I figured as much, but I wanted to ask anyway,” I said with a sigh.

  As much as I appreciated Neil's loyalty, it would seem like he was not going to be of any use to me after all. At least, not in that moment – which meant it was probably best to keep on good terms with him.

  “Thank you, Neil,” I said. “If you hear anything – ”

  “Yeah, of course. No sweat, man,” he said. “But I gotta tell you, I hate working with these assholes. We have some fancy ball or shit at the house tomorrow night. Colin's tellin' everyone they have to go to this stupid shit and – ”

  “Everyone?”

  “Well at least within their network. Colin's saying it's a business event, of sorts,” he said. “I dunno, just that I have to wear a fancy tie and shit and I'm not looking forward to it in the least. But at least there's gonna be food catered in from some fancy restaurant, so it's not a total loss, I guess.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I said sarcastically.

  It actually sounded like the exact opposite of fun and something I never would have done in the big seat – I never would have climbed into bed with scum like Antonelli. Never in a million years. But I knew that with both Antonellis' men and the Irish there, it would be a well-guarded building. So at least I knew to avoid heading over there tomorrow night unless I wanted to get myself shot.

  But as the thoughts swirled through my mind, an idea suddenly started to form. Admittedly, it wasn't the brightest or sanest of ideas, but it was an idea nonetheless – which was more than I had five minutes ago.

  “So hey,” I asked. “What's being catered in? You know the name of the restaurant?”

  “I dunno exactly. I guess Antonelli's aunt owns some restaurant downtown – I can't remember the name off hand,” he said. “Some family business, that's all I know. And it's supposed to be the best Italian food in Chicago, so hey – free food, right? That's a win.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Anyway, I should run. But thanks again, man. I appreciate you talking to me.”

  “Sorry I couldn't be of much help,” he said.

  “Nah, you were great,” I said.

  Neil thought he hadn't been of much help to me, but he really didn't have any idea how much he'd actually helped me out. Even though I trusted Neil and believed him when he'd said that he – and others – wanted to see me back in the big seat, I just couldn't trust him enough to let him in on the plan. When it came to Emelia, I couldn't really trust anybody. Wouldn't. Not when her life and her safety were on the line.

  Thankfully though, he had never been the brightest guy in the group and didn't stop to ask questions others might have. Which worked for me. Because when we hung up, and I immediately Googled the family restaurant, trying to dig up the name.

  And it didn't take long for the name to pop up. Domenicos. Perfect. I got the address and I was off to scope the place out and see what I could see. Because when tomorrow night rolled around, I was going to be ready.

  I was getting into that house one way or another, even if it killed me. And I knew going in that the chances were good, it just might.

  EMELIA

  I clung to the bedspread that was covering me up and hiding away from my father, Tony, and the rest of the world. Staring up at the ceiling, I still couldn't believe I was back there, in the home I'd grown up in. It was beautiful and decadent, there was no question about it. But as luxurious as it was there, I'd take a cheap hotel that had a bed with a lumpy, uncomfortable mattress with Deacon any day over this. I wanted out. And I wanted out quickly. The problem was, I just wasn't sure how I would go about getting myself out.

  Not knowing what else to do, I tried to turn my thoughts from my current predicament to something else. Anything. But as I laid there, my mind seemed to gravitate naturally toward Deacon. I missed laying next to his naked body, feeling the hard angles and planes of his body pressed to mine. I missed the way he touched me, the way he kissed me. I missed the scent of his body, the sound of his voice.

  I yearned for him with such an intensity that my body ached with a need I feared may never be met again. Closing my eyes and feeling that familiar fire ignite between my thighs whenever I thought of him, I let my hand slide down lower on my body. I imagined Deacon hovering above me, kissing me deeply as he pressed himself against me and that fire low inside of me started to burn out of control.

  I feared that I might never experience Decon sexually again – my fantasies might be all that I had left. As I touched myself, I imagined that it was him touching me – his fingers circling my clit, pressing against my opening. My body arched upward and I craved more. I needed more.

  Reaching into my bedside table, I pulled out the vibrator I'd used countless times before Deacon came into my life. It was long and thick and meant to feel realistic – but there was absolutely nothing in this world that would ever feel the same as having his hard, thick, throbbing cock inside of me – I knew that now. Still, it would have to do.

  Turning it on low, I massaged my clit as I imagined Deacon's tongue licking and savoring my pussy. He knew exactly how to make me cum in a matter of seconds using nothing but his tongue. I pressed it firmly against me, circling and teasing myself – but the vibrator wasn't getting me anywhere close. Not yet.

  So, I shifted my thoughts to remembering the way he'd filled me up and stretched me open with his cock. And as my pussy grew hotter and wetter as the memories flooded my mind, I shoved the vibrator deep inside of me. I gasped, shuddering as I got used to the sensation. With my eyes closed, my back arched as I moved it in and out of me, I eventually got myself so lost in the fantasies, I could almost feel Deacon fucking me.

  “Yes, yes,” I muttered, my head pushing back against my pillow.

  I bit my lip so hard, trying to keep quiet, that I winced at the pain and tasted the blood trickled into my mouth. I buried the vibrator deep inside of my tight little pussy and arched my body upward, feeling the tightness in my belly as well as my pussy, and of course, warmth that always came before my climax.

  “Deacon, oh God, Deacon...”

  I shoved the fake dick inside of me again. And again. And again. As my vision filled with his face and I strained my senses, trying to feel himself fucking me,
I pounded the vibrator into my pussy hard and faster. My back was arching upward as I finally reached the peak and then gave myself one good, hard thrust and sent myself over the top of it.

  As the sensation of electricity running along my nerve endings rocketed through my body, I groaned and tried so hard to keep quiet. The last thing I needed was for my father to burst in here to see who I was fucking. Or worst yet, hear me calling out my lover's name – imaginary though he might be at the moment – as I came hard for him.

  Deacon. Oh God, Deacon. I needed you so badly. I thought to myself. I need to feel you inside of me again and this vibrator just isn't cutting it.

  As my orgasm slowly subsided, I slid the vibrator out of me – it was predictably, soaking wet and covered in my juices. I imagined Deacon would get a kick out of seeing like that – I even imagined that he enjoyed tasting me so much, he'd probably lick it clean.

  I didn't know when – or if – I'd ever see him again. So, at least for the moment, all I had were the memories of my lover. They were comforting and sweet, and they'd help keep me content, helping me drift off to sleep. At least for the moment.

  But as I lay there, alone in my bed, traces of my orgasm still tingling in my body and yet, still unsatisfied, I found myself wishing and hoping for the impossible – for Deacon to rescue me.

  I wished and hoped that he'd save me, and not end up dead by my father's hand. I wished and hoped that we could run away to some exotic land where we could raise our child and live happily ever after.

  But I was a big girl now, and I knew that happily ever afters only existed in fairy tales. So for now, my dreams would have to do. I would have to find solace and comfort in them. But as I thought about it, I wanted to cry, not knowing whether or not that was all I was going to have. Forever.

  ooo000ooo

  “You're doing what?” I asked my father. “I've only been home a day. Do we seriously have to rush things anymore than we already are?”

  He shrugged. “I'm afraid there isn't much choice,” he said. “Tony is anxious to get this done.”

  Get this done. Like I was a job or a business transaction that had to be checked off his to-do list. Hearing that my father was making things with Tony official though – announcing my engagement and the pending wedding date to that sick, old son of a bitch – made me sick to my stomach. I needed more time. A lot more time. Maybe like all the time.

  While many little girls dream of the day they announce their engagement to the world – and I probably had too at one point – this wasn't what I had in mind. Not anywhere near what I would have imagined. I wanted to scream I wanted to cry. I thought about all those years I'd saved myself, not giving in to temptation every time a cute boy hit on me as a teen and into college – it wasn't so I could give it away to a disgusting creature like Tony.

  “The sooner we get things settled with him, the better for everybody involved,” he said. “I'm not well, Emelia.”

  My father looked at me and for a moment, I saw a flash of sadness in his eyes. At one time, when he talked about his death, I assumed he was sad about leaving me and wanted to make sure I was taken care of when he was gone. But now, with everything that had happened – and was happening – I realized he was only sad because his time left on this earth was drawing to an end, and he would no longer be able to run his organization. He would no longer be able to wield the power and control he once had – always had.

  “You and Tony will continue the Antonelli legacy,” he said. “And I want – no, I need – to make sure you're taken care of before I die.”

  “You're not going to die tomorrow, papa,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Doctors say you still have months to live. Maybe even years. They don't know for sure.”

  “But I'm not the same man I was. I'm weak – and growing weaker by the day – and my enemies know it,” he said. “And that's why Deacon was able to kidnap my daughter the way he did. Because I'm weak. But Tony is not weak, Emelia. He's very strong. Very powerful. He will be able to protect you and keep you safe in a way I no longer can. And of course, he will make sure you're able to keep our family's proud legacy alive.”

  “Sounds like you're more worried about your legacy than you are me,” I said, feeling my irritation growing.

  I knew I shouldn't have said anything, but I did anyway. I was upset by the cavalier way my father talked about me needing protection – about making sure to safeguard and carry on our family's legacy. He didn't even seem to care about me – his daughter. I was nothing more than a poker chip that he could play to make sure he stayed in the game – long after he was gone.

  Of course, my impudence and what I'd said earned me the very predictable and not entirely unexpected backhand across the face. I held my hand up to my stinging cheek, but rather than cry, I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But that slap did more to encourage me to get the hell out of there, away from my father and the Antonelli name, than anything else he could have said or done. It reinforced my notion that I was nothing but a tradeable commodity to him – not that it needed much reinforcement.

  “This family is everything to me, Emelia. Everything,” he said, his voice burning with a quiet intensity. “It's what I've worked so hard for. It's what I've bled for. It's what I've sacrificed everything for. You're one small part of it, yes, but only part of it. I have countless other people who depend on me – who will depend on you one day too, to keep things running smoothly. You would do very well to remember that, dear daughter. This family name – that you seem to so willingly scorn – is all that you have. And it can open many doors for you.”

  “You mean depend on Tony. These other people you talk about will have to depend on Tony,” I said. “Because they wouldn't suffer having a woman in charge.”

  My father could smack me again, it didn't matter. I didn't care anymore. No matter what he did, I was going to say my piece. He was going to hear me. I'd make sure of it. The pain of his hand hitting me was no match for the pain in my heart anyway. He'd hurt me too much for too long, and I wasn't about to hold back now. I was well beyond that point.

  My father didn't say anything to that though. There was nothing to say. Nothing he could say. I was right and it was the God's honest truth. There was absolutely nothing he could say to dispute it and nothing I could do to change it. That's just how things were in the little empire he'd built. How things would always be.

  “Why are you fighting me so hard on this, Emelia?” my dad asked. “Before the kidnapping, you were okay with all of this. You were happy with Tony. And you were willing to do sacrifice for this family. You were willing to do what needed to be done. And believe me when I say, it's going to happen sooner or later anyway. We might as well do it while I can still walk my baby girl down the aisle.”

  He was wrong. I was never okay with any of it. Ever. But I'd along with it all because I saw no way out. Back then, I'd believed that I was stuck. Trapped. With no means or opportunity to escape.

  But now, I saw that I had an opportunity to get out of the life. A way out from under this family, the name, and all of the bullshit it brought with it. And after I'd had a taste of it, there was no way I would go back to it. Not easily or willingly, at least.

  And besides, my father didn't know about the baby growing inside of me. Deacon's baby. I already knew that there was no way Tony would raise another man's child – nor would I even give him the opportunity to. And there was no way in hell I was giving up my child or going to watch it be neglected or abused by a cretin like Tony.

  “If only I was still your baby girl, father,” I said, smiling weakly. “I miss those days. The days when being your baby girl was enough. When I was enough. The days I actually thought you loved me.”

  “I do love – ” he started to say, but I never heard him finish his statement.

  By the time he'd started to speak, I'd already walked out. I didn't need to hear anymore of his pathetic lies or bullshit manipulations. If he truly love
d me like he claimed to, what he was doing to me was one hell of a way to show it.

  DEACON

  Domenicos. Owned and operated by the Antonelli family since 1964. Nice place, all things considered, but not the type of place I'd ever be seen at. For good reason, obviously. It was old, traditional, and had a loyal clientele. But I didn't see anything overly special about it. Looking at it, I thought it looked like your typical Italian eatery.

  It was supposed to be the best in Chicago. But somehow, I doubted that. I'd eaten in some fantastic Italian places and I doubted this place would measure up. But I wasn't about to test it out for myself.

  No, I knew I couldn't afford be seen inside the joint, just in case someone recognized me. So, instead of going inside, I hung out back, watching the catering trucks loading up for the even out at Antonelli's place. Last night, I'd done the same thing from a safe distance. I'd watched to get a feel for the flow of things, see how they worked, what they did. And I also wanted to get a good look at the employees. Last night, I'd done the same thing, but tonight was different. Tonight, maybe they didn't realize it, but I was going to be tagging along with them to Antonelli's place.

  There was one man, a large, pot-bellied Italian guy, who stood on the back dock and barked orders at the others. Several of the other workers did most of the heavy lifting while Boss Man was content to hurl insults at them and generally be an ass. Sounded about right based on what I knew about the Antonelli's. Boss Man went back inside, yelling that the driver should be ready to head out. Poor sap, he had no idea what was coming. If I didn't need to do what I was about to do, I'd feel bad for the guy. But I needed to get into Antonelli's, and this was my only ticket in.

  Before he even saw me, I was on top of him. I used the baton I was carrying to hit him over the head – not badly enough to kill him, just bad enough to put him to sleep for a while. He was going to have a wicked headache when he woke up, but at least he was going to wake up. I quickly pulled his limp body behind the dumpster, stripped off his clothes and located the key to the truck in the pocket.