Bad Behavior: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Leah Holt

  Cutting her off, I wanted her to understand what was at stake. “Do you really want to die tonight? I'll try to keep him away from you, but if he insists on seeing you then you need to behave.”

  Ivy's eyes lowered, her teeth biting down on her lip. “I'm not a dog.”

  “I didn't say you were. But if you can't follow simple instructions then you'll end up like my employee.”

  “Your employee.” Letting out a sarcastic laugh, she said, “Your employee was a fucking sick, twisted pervert. Maybe you should try a real line of work.”

  “You really don't think before you talk, do you?” Watching her chest rise and fall, her nipples were hard, poking out and inviting me in to bite them. “You should learn to think before you speak.”

  “I told you I'm not a dog.” Her lips went thin, drawing in air through the corner. “When I get loose—and I will get loose—I'm going to fucking make you wish you let me run outside.”

  “Don't be difficult, we both know that's not true.” Gritting my teeth, I coiled my fingers tighter against her roots. Snapping her neck back, her eyes opened on reflex. “This is the only warning I'm giving you. If you don't listen, then it's out of my control. I'll make this easier for you to understand. You're going to listen to me, you're going to follow what I say, and you're going to do as you're told.” Cupping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I stroked the curve of her jaw. “We can make this all go smooth and painless.”

  Laughing, Ivy rolled her eyes. “My God you're as fucked up as your employee. I understand that whoever is on their way makes you uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean shit to me. I'm a dead woman, aren't I?”

  “If you haven't realized by now that I'm not here to kill you, you never will. But the man who's on his way . . . He will kill you, and he won't think twice about it. I told you not to make me regret saving you, so don't.”

  Her face went soft, eyes falling to her stomach, then raising back to mine. “I still don't understand. Tell me why I'm here, tell me what you're doing.” She searched my face, trying to read my thoughts.

  But there was nothing there for her to see. I was a wall of grit, coated in thick steel. I was a trained killer. She could look all she wanted, but Ivy wouldn't get shit from me.

  “I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

  For the first time, she didn't resist, she just nodded. There was an understanding I felt we shared, and a feeling that drove me to keep her safe.

  I could see it in her face, in her eyes. She finally realized I was trying to help her survive.

  “Alright.”

  “Alright,” I said back. Loosening my grip on her hair, I ran my fingers through it softly. The strands were silky, twisting around my fingers and slipping away.

  Her face fell to her shoulder, a single tear streaking over her cheek. “I still think you're a fucking asshole.”

  “You're right, I won't tell you you're not. But I'm the only asshole who can keep you breathing.” Turning towards the door, I held it in my palm. Staring at the floor, I spoke firmly. “For your sake, I hope your mouth doesn't get the best of you.”

  My fingers pricked against the splintered wood, and I knew I couldn't leave this place looking like this. The door was cracked and split, the dresser was face down, the chair was broken into a million tiny shards.

  “This place is a fucking mess, and I can't even let you up to clean it.”

  “I'm not your house wife. Clean it yourself.” Ivy's head turned away, staring off into blank space.

  Curling my lip, I grunted in frustration. The woman had a mouth on her, and I wanted to shove my cock down her throat to shut her up.

  Heading downstairs, I went and found the hammer and broom. My father was pissed, I couldn't have him walking in that room and seeing it like that.

  He already thought I was a fuck up and that would only cement his belief.

  Freeing a door from downstairs, I carried it under my arm back up to the room. Kneeling down at the first hinge, I hammered the pin up to free it. Ivy watched me quietly from the bed, her face swollen and bruised.

  I didn't say one word to her. I was afraid if I did and she snapped back I might do something stupid. I wanted to kiss her, I wanted to fuck her, I wanted to break her.

  Putting the new door in its place, I swept up the wood bits on the floor and made a pile of the larger pieces.

  “Why do you care about that? Does a broken chair and door really fucking matter? Look at what you're doing to me.” Shaking her wrists, Ivy's brows arched high. “Don't you think this is just as bad?”

  Taking a long stride forward, I held out my arm. “This shit right here . . .” Shaking the dust pan, the wood jostled around inside. “This is the shit that is going to get you killed. No more bullshit, Ivy, or it will be your last day on earth.”

  After removing the mess, I stood in the doorway. “I'm warning you, when he gets here, do not say one fucking word.” Slamming the door, I kept my hand pressed against the wood. She was difficult, and had a whole lot of fucking balls. Balls bigger than some of the guys I'd dealt with in the past.

  But a mouth like that would get her killed, and if she didn't play the game the way I was telling her to then she'd be sleeping next to Tony.

  I'd doubt she'd like that much. I don't think she realized that this was out of my control now, all I could do was wait and see how things played out. I was going to try my hardest to keep her alive, I'd work my father and do everything I could.

  I just didn't have any guarantees.

  Tony fucked this for us and for her.

  Walking towards the stairs, I stopped short. I couldn't answer her questions, I couldn't let her go, but there was one thing I could do for her. Slipping into the second bedroom, I sifted through the closet hoping to find something that might bring her a little comfort.

  Spotting it tucked away in the corner, I nabbed it quickly and headed back to her room. Instinctively I knocked, and as my knuckles grazed the wood I felt stupid for even doing it.

  Opening the door, Ivy stared at me with empty eyes. “So, you knock now? How polite.” Rolling her eyes, she let her head drift to the window.

  “Some things are a habit. There is a half-naked woman in here, I'm not a complete fucking prick.” Holding out a blue sundress, I fiddled with the straps. “I got you this to put on.”

  “What am I now, your fucking baby doll? Wanna do my hair too, maybe pose me in a position you'd like to fuck me in?”

  “Watch your fucking mouth, that attitude of yours isn't going to fly much longer.” Walking to the bedside, I laid the dress by her feet.

  Lifting my hands to the tattered shirt on her body, I started to peel it up, revealing a small hint of her stomach. Her muscles were shaking, eyes watching my every move. “This isn't going to work like this.”

  “Nope.” Shaking her arms, the metal rattled against the headboard. “You should probably undo my wrists.”

  “Nice try, but no.” Grabbing the base of her shirt, I held it firmly between my fingers. “I promise I won't look . . .” Scrunching my lips, I said, “Too long, I can't say for sure my eyes won't find their way to your chest. I am a man, after all.”

  “Don't try and be fucking sweet and courteous. You think that'll change anything? That if you try and show some decency I might listen to you?” Huffing under her breath, the loud rush of air from her lungs whistled behind her tongue. “You're not a man, you're a fucking pig.”

  Clenching my teeth, I tensed my fingers around the fabric, and stared deep into her eyes. “Fine. I'm an asshole and a pig, you called it.” Tearing the shirt right up the middle, the remaining bits fell onto the bed.

  Her tits were exposed, nipples perked and firm. Goosebumps broke over her skin, riding her ribs and spotting her belly. She was shaking, her stomach a rolling wave of nerves as she laid there vulnerable and completely naked.

  My eyes followed her body, taking in every inch of her as she watched me with a shocked but warm expression. Her e
yes were huge, but it was her body that spoke to me.

  I watched her thighs cross over each other, calves twisting with ease around the end of the bed. Her lips had parted, tongue gliding over her teeth. “Well are you going to leave me like this, or put the dress on?”

  Scooping it into my hands, I crinkled it up, starting at her feet and working my way over her legs. Letting my knuckles touch her skin, the warmth of her flesh was enticing.

  She was hot, smooth, and at my mercy. I could take her right here, right now. I don't know why the thought turned me on so much, but it did. She was my trapped vixen, arousal painting her skin in flesh colored bumps and cold sweat.

  And by the look in her eyes . . . I didn't think she'd resist me if I tried.

  Her blue stare was crushing, sparking my chest with electric need. “Excited?” she asked.

  “What?”

  Flicking her eyes to my dick, she asked again. “Excited?”

  Glancing down, my cock was rock hard, pushing up high. “Shut it.” Yanking the dress up the rest of her body, I let the top snap around her tits, leaving the straps to dangle. “He'll be here soon.” Taking in a deep breath, I left her, walking back downstairs and letting my body fall weightlessly back into the chair.

  Fuck! What the hell am I thinking?

  I had to get away from her. She made me want her so badly I was second guessing myself. Ivy was turning me into a fucking hot mess, eager to just get a piece.

  Chugging the last gulp of scotch, I made a loud hissing sound as the remaining liquid hit my throat. Tonight had just gone from sucking to down right fucking horrible. And all I could do was talk to my father.

  He would make the final call. None of this was up to me.

  And in the end . . .

  She didn't really matter to my father.

  But I had to find a way to keep her alive.

  To keep her for myself.

  Six

  Ivy

  I stared blankly into nothing. My body was strained and tired, but I refused to let my eyes close. I wasn't going to sleep, not here.

  Defeat had pained every muscle in my body, I was sore and uncomfortable. But there was nothing I could do to change that. The idea of giving up was dangling like a spider on a web in front of my face.

  But my mind was still racing with ways to get free, to hide, to fix this.

  A door slammed somewhere downstairs. The bang vibrated the walls, window mimicking the shake with a wave of ripples. My eyes zeroed in on the door, waiting for it fly open.

  Dante started speaking first, his words low and inaudible. I couldn't make out what he was saying.

  Fuck! What the hell is he saying?

  Glancing up at the shackles on my wrists, I tried to roll my body closer to the door. I wanted to hear them, I needed to hear them. My arms bent unnaturally, twisting and popping at the joints.

  Sweat had started to form on my brow, wiping it away with my shoulder, I strained my neck to lean closer to the door.

  Inhaling a sharp breath, I naturally forced my body to slow down so I could hear anything and everything around me. I wanted to be prepared, it was important.

  Life had thrown me so many fucking curve balls, I'd grown accustom to anticipating the worst. I always found that if I expected the worst then I wouldn't be blindsided.

  But this shit was different. The past few months had been fucking different. I hadn't seen any of this coming.

  Then again . . . Maybe if I had paid more attention, I would've noticed something.

  The meetings my father had with Remo would've been a start. I chose not to notice, going about my business like he wasn't even there. If I could've known then what I know

  now . . . I would've run.

  I replayed that day in my head a million fucking times, the day he came for me. And the look in my father's eye was one of sadness, regret, and relief.

  Money talks, especially to those who are desperate.

  You can't change it. What's done is done.

  All you can do is survive it.

  I could hear Dante talking, his voice was going in high and low tones, raising and dropping with precision. The other man was obviously someone of power. After spending these past couple months around Remo, I had developed a sixth sense to those who had authority, and those who knelt before them.

  Dante's voice was calm but confident, he was speaking in a way that seemed to heighten then drop in submission. He wasn't afraid of this person, but he was well aware of his position. The man who showed up was definitely higher in the chain.

  There was a level of respect in Dante's voice that wasn't there earlier with Vince and Tony. Around those guys, Dante was the big dog, but not now, not with that man.

  That made me nervous. I didn't want to see anyone else. Especially if they were the one holding the cards. I wasn't sure where in the pecking order Dante fell exactly, but just knowing he didn't have all the control scared me.

  I should be scared! I should be scared out of my fucking mind!

  So why am I not afraid of Dante?

  The look in his eyes should be enough to send me over the edge into a state of pure fear. But it didn't. I was willing to challenge him, I willed him to kill me.

  But he wouldn't.

  That had to count for something. Right?

  They were discussing something important. Their voices drifted between anxious beats and exploding in words. A loud crack rang out and I shuddered.

  Did he hit him?

  What the fuck is going on?

  The other man's voice grew loud, his words unmistakable. “She should be dead by now! After what she's seen, Dante, you thought it was a bright fucking idea to bring her here?”

  They weren't just discussing business. It was about me.

  Shivering to his statement, my eyes snapped shut. I wasn't doing to die, I wasn't going to let that happen.

  But how am I going to stop it?

  Dante was talking but I couldn't make out what he was saying. The other guy wasn't trying to hide his intentions, and he was sure as hell making his point.

  “If Tony wanted her, you should have let him. She means nothing to us, Dante, who the fuck cares about some whore? You violated my orders, she was supposed to stay there. Not here, not in our home, not anywhere someone might find her. This is our safe house, not hers.”

  Their voices were growing in volume, the stairs creaking and cracking as pressure came down on them. Each step of their feet caused the lump in my throat to jump. Swallowing thickly, I forced myself to breathe the closer they got.

  That was all I could do. I couldn't hide in some corner, bury my head, and pretend I was someplace else.

  This was real.

  Dante must have stopped somewhere in the man's way. “Get out of my way, Dante.”

  “No, you wanted this deal, so we'll do it, we still can.”

  “No, we can't. She's seen too much. She's seen you and what you did. She's a loose end, she needs to go, end of discussion.”

  “Dad, we don't need to.”

  Shit. His father.

  Bane

  Bane Pisani was the cream of the crop, he was the man who ran it all. It was his word that would create the ending to my story. And his reputation wasn't all candy and pink ribbons.

  I only knew from Remo a little bit about this man. And none of what I knew was good. They worked together and Remo always made it seem like he was what kept Bane going.

  But Bane was a cold-hearted killer, no remorse, no compassion.

  Fuck, I need to get out of here!

  Frantically I yanked on the cuffs, hoping they would break away and crumble around my skin to set me free. But that was a wish I knew would never happen. Their feet crept closer, one step then two, till they were right outside the door.

  “Move, Dante.”

  I stared at the handle, waiting. The knob turned in slow motion, door creeping open. My eyes expanded, body wiggling without me consciously trying. Feverishly I yanked down on the
cuffs, small whimpers escaping my lips as I tried to break their grasp.

  But I couldn't do anything to snap the metal. I was completely stuck, no way to run, no place to hide. I was a sitting duck laying in the middle of that bed, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Bane stepped inside, his face stone still. He stared at me from a distance, stepping gingerly over the floor till he was right beside me, hovering with a dark presence. “Ivy, do you know who I am?”

  I didn't want to speak, I couldn't. Shaking my head, I curled my body up to make it as small as possible. His eyes were inky black, bleeding into red veins that popped against what white I could see.

  His head was shaved bare, a thin trickle of a mustache crested his upper lip. Bane was dressed in a charcoal colored suit, with a bright red handkerchief peeking out of the left breast pocket.

  As nervous as I was, I couldn't help but find it comical how well-groomed these gangsters were. Were suits a requirement for the job? They must all have closets full, one for each day.

  It was ironic in a way. To be so well dressed when you're going in to spill blood. Most men dressed like that would do anything to dodge a fucking splash of wine, but these guys were ready to blow you away with one click.

  And I was sure they didn't even have to think about it.

  Dante made that clear when he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

  Inside I wanted to yell and scream, but Dante had warned me to behave. His warning had been heard loud and clear. I wanted to listen to him, I wanted to do anything and everything I could to make sure his father didn't kill me right there.

  The men from earlier were fucking dirt, they were sloppy and careless.

  But Bane . . . He wasn't a man who made those mistakes.

  “Good. Then you know what I am. Unfortunately for you, tonight you saw more than you were supposed to. For that, I am sorry. Ivy, I would suggest closing your eyes, I'm a firm believer that will make it easier on you. Watching will only hurt you more.” His hand slipped free from his pocket, the shine of silver sparked as he lifted a gun chest high. “I want you to know this isn't personal, it's business.”