by Julia Sykes
I needed to know that she was okay before I could go. If she was still upset over what had happened last night, I wouldn’t leave her side until her fear passed.
A shadow flickered across her eyes, and her brow furrowed. “I’m… I’m okay.” She took in a deep breath and blew it out again. “I am. Marco got me away from that man. And you…” She shivered. “You stopped him.”
I didn’t like the little shudder that had raced through her.
“What’s wrong? Tell me.”
Her lashes lowered, hiding her eyes from me. “Would you really… Marco told you not to kill him. Would you have done that?” Her gaze finally lifted, the fear in her eyes cutting into my chest. “Would you have killed him?”
I cupped her face in my hands. She didn’t flinch away.
“No. I wouldn’t have killed him. I wanted to hurt him, but I wouldn’t have killed him.”
“Because Marco told you not to?”
“No, angel. Because I don’t have it in me.” A touch of shame tinged my words as I remembered my father’s embarrassment. Even though I didn’t want to be a killer, I hated Dad’s disappointment.
I took a deep breath and decided to tell her the whole truth, the depth of my sins. I’d owed her this for a long time, and I knew I’d never earn her trust back if she didn’t fully understand why I’d run away from New York.
“I have killed a man,” I admitted on a pained whisper. “Once. I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t change what I did.”
Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t say anything. She let me continue with my confession.
“When I was younger, a teenager, I was just an errand boy. I helped deliver messages and oversee the exchanges that took place in my family’s restaurant, when the drugs changed hands.” That part didn’t really bother me. In those days, I’d been eager, ready to make my father proud.
But that was before I learned the realities of my world. My father had shielded me from the violence, wanting me to have a happy childhood.
“That ended when I turned eighteen,” I said. “I was a man then, with a man’s responsibilities. Marco was in charge of recruiting new soldiers, finding men to join our family. I helped him. At first, it was just a matter of identifying boys with a violent streak, boys who wanted to grow into men who moved up in the world and made something of themselves.
“But the jobs got dirtier. Bloodier. I started helping with my father’s racketeering, and that involved intimidating people into making deals with our family. When they couldn’t pay their debts, Marco and I would threaten them until they did.”
I took a deep breath, bracing myself to reveal the ugliest part of my soul.
“About six months ago, we were intimidating a man with the help of some new guys, men Marco and I had recruited. The victim’s name was William Johnston. I’ll never forget his name. I’ll never forget his face, pale and scared. Bloody and ruined.
“The boys got out of control. They took it too far, and William ended up in the hospital. He died there two days later. And it was my fault.”
I grimaced and looked away, no longer able to bear her wide-eyed stare.
“I vomited when I found out. I got sick in front of Dad and Marco’s father. My dad was so ashamed of me. I hated that I’d disappointed him, but I hated what I’d done even more. That’s why I ran away to Cambridge. I’d always wanted to go to college, but I hadn’t been allowed. My education in violence was more important than anything I could learn from a book.”
I found her gaze again, desperate to drink her in. This might be the last time she ever allowed me to touch her, and I didn’t want to waste a second with her.
“And then I met you, and I deluded myself into believing everything would be okay. That my life would be different. That I’d deserve you.”
I traced the lines of her cheekbones with my thumbs. “I know now that I don’t. I never will. But I can’t let you go, Ashlyn. I need you.”
She drew in a sharp breath, but she simply continued to stare up at me in shock.
“Say something, please,” I begged, my gut knotting when she didn’t respond right away.
She reached up and touched her fingertips to the tense line of my jaw. “I knew you were a good man. I need you too, Joseph.”
I huffed out the breath I’d been holding, relief ripping through me.
“I’m not a good man, angel.”
Her gaze sharpened with determination. I rarely saw this fire in her, but when it flickered to life, I knew she was about to give me a piece of her formidable mind.
“You are. You didn’t ask for your life. And you obviously don’t want it. You want to change. You didn’t mean for that man to die.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he did,” I said, strained.
“No,” she allowed. “It doesn’t. But the way you feel about it changes everything. When Marco kidnapped me, I thought I didn’t know you. I thought I couldn’t trust you. But I was always right about you. I know you, Joseph. You are a good man. And when all this is over, we’ll go back to Cambridge and have the life you want. The life you deserve.”
My chest tightened at her words. I wished they were true. I was relieved at her reaction to the ugly truth about me, but I knew we could never go back. Now that she was in my world, I wouldn’t be able to return her to her old life, even if she could go back to her classes at Harvard. Her life would always be tied to mine.
Because I wouldn’t let her go. I wasn’t capable of letting her go.
“I’d like that, angel,” I said, offering her the only truth I could. I longed for the dream of a normal life with her, but the time for that had passed. It had never even been a possibility.
She beamed up at me, elated at my response. She didn’t realize I was deceiving her again, but I couldn’t bring myself to shatter this moment with her. By some miracle, she wasn’t horrified by my admission. I wasn’t willing to ruin that by dashing her hopes. She’d adjust with time, and she’d forget that she’d ever thought about leaving.
I hoped I wasn’t deluding myself.
Chapter Thirteen
Marco
“Are your eggs okay?” I asked, breaking the stretch of silence. Ashlyn was pushing her food around her plate rather than eating it. She’d been quiet ever since Joseph had left to go into the city an hour ago.
She shot me a shy glance, then dropped her gaze back to her plate. “They’re great. Thanks for cooking for me all the time. I know you don’t have to do that.”
It was the first time she’d ever expressed gratitude for my cooking. Something swelled in my chest.
“I want to do it,” I told her. “I like cooking for you.”
I’d like to take care of her more, if she’d let me.
My gut told me she’d welcome Joseph’s kinkier games. I wanted her to welcome me, too.
But my perversions weren’t a game. They were a part of me, a need that gnawed at my soul. In the time she’d been with us, that need had shifted to Ashlyn. I’d thought about her countless times, our few intense encounters giving me enough fantasies to make me come in the shower every day. When I stroked myself, I’d close my eyes and remember the way she trembled for me.
She might think her reactions were fearful, but I knew better. She was a little intimidated, but she liked when I imposed myself on her. I could see it in the way her eyes locked on mine and her breathing hitched as she stared up at me. When I turned that side of myself on her, I commanded her full attention.
And when I’d held her last night, protecting her and sheltering her while she cried, I knew I was just as devoted to her as Joseph was.
He might secretly want to corrupt her innocence, but I would cherish it. I’d ensure that she never lost that part of herself, no matter how depraved Joseph’s games became. She was made for both of us, a perfect match for our needs.
I just needed to convince Joseph that I was right.
“You’re not eating,” I observed. “Are you still upset ab
out last night?”
She peeked up at me. “A little. I feel… a little out of sorts. It would really help if I could go for a swim.” Her tone turned hopeful, her eyes wide and beseeching. “It helps clear my mind.”
I locked down my emotions before they could rise, shoving them away with familiar, ruthless force.
“No,” I said, an absolute refusal. I’d been putting Joseph off, but I had no intention of getting that pool filled and letting Ashlyn in the water. “Now, eat your breakfast.”
Her brows rose. “No? That’s it? Just no?”
I placed my hands on the marble countertop, leaning toward her. The kitchen island separated us, but she shrank back on her stool.
“That’s it. No. Now, eat.”
Her lips thinned, her eyes flashing. “No,” she said, the word heavy with mockery. She flung her fork down. It clattered on the china plate.
I fixed her with my sternest stare. “I’m going to give you three seconds to pick up that fork and eat, little girl.”
“Little girl?” she repeated, her voice high and thin. Her cheeks flushed with something other than anger.
I tipped my head in confirmation. “That’s right. Now, be a good girl and eat your eggs.”
Her lips parted on a disbelieving huff. I was certain no one had ever talked to her like this. She’d probably been spoiled, cosseted. Joseph certainly treated her with kid gloves.
She wouldn’t get that from me. She’d get a firm hand and learn a little respect.
She pushed her stool back from the island and got to her feet, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she turned away from me. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“And you’re being a brat.”
To my shock, she shot me the middle finger and started storming off.
Any restraint I might have possessed snapped. I’d held back, for Joseph.
I was done denying who I was. I was done denying what I wanted.
It only took three long strides for me to catch up with her and close my hand around her upper arm.
“Let me go,” she seethed.
“No,” I said again, mocking her this time. “You want to be a brat? You’ll get treated like a brat.”
I grasped her waist and bent slightly so I could lift her over my shoulder. She shrieked and kicked out. I barely felt the little blows of her knees on my abs. She really was small and delicate, but I knew she could take what I needed to do to her.
Her fists pounded against my back, feeling more like a massage than angry punches.
I started striding up the stairs, eager to get her back to my bedroom.
She twisted on my shoulder, but holding her in place was laughably easy.
“Put me down!” she demanded.
I savored the little quaver in her voice as I stepped into the bedroom. I set her down on her feet, and she tried to shove at my chest. I grasped her wrists in one hand, pulling her toward the corner. I pressed her hands against the wall, so she was facing away from me. Then, I pushed my chest against her back, letting her feel my presence. I was careful to keep my hips away from hers, though. She wasn’t ready to feel my hard-on. Not yet.
She stopped yelling at me, going quiet except for her little panting breaths.
“You want to act like a brat?” I growled in her ear. “Brats get punished. Brats get disciplined.”
She shivered. “What are you—”
I nipped at her neck, a sharp bite of rebuke. “Quiet, little girl. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”
I kept her wrists pinned with one hand, leaning against her back so she was forced to press her chest to the wall.
“Stay still and take your punishment like a good girl,” I rumbled in her ear before brushing a kiss over the spot I’d bitten.
“Are you…” Her voice broke. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
I nuzzled my cheek against hers, letting her feel our connection. “I’m not going to hurt you, princess. You’re going to have a very sore bottom when I’m finished with you, but I won’t hurt you. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t,” she whispered, her small body shaking.
“I think you do,” I countered. “You’ve practically been begging me for a spanking ever since you got here. You’re not a brat with Joseph, are you? You only act out around me. Because you know I’ll give you what you need.”
“And what’s that?” she asked tremulously, but she wasn’t struggling to get away from me.
“Discipline. Structure. Rules. You need someone who will take care of you, someone who cares enough to correct your behavior when you’re acting out for attention.”
“I don’t want attention.”
“Don’t you?” I challenged. “I know you care about Joseph, but he’s not giving you what you need. I’ll give you what you need.”
“You’re scaring me,” she breathed, but she still wasn’t trying to fight me off.
“You’re not scared, princess. You’ve never been scared of me. Not really. You’re scared of what you want from me. You’re scared of how I make you feel.”
I wrapped my arm around her and cupped her breast, squeezing gently. She gasped and arched into my touch.
“And I’m going to make you feel so good, babygirl. I promise. But first, you need a lesson in respect. You’ve been pushing me, testing me. Then, you hide behind Joseph before I can give you what you really want. Well, I’m not going to let him come between us anymore. He’s acting like an idiot, and I’ve run out of patience. You shouldn’t have flipped me off, princess. That was very naughty. You should have been a good girl and eaten the breakfast I made for you.”
“I didn’t want to.” There it was. The petulant pout I’d been waiting for. She was playing right into my hands, even if she didn’t realize what was happening between us.
“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t want to. Daddy knows what’s best for you.”
“What?” The question was barely audible, coming out on a little puff of air.
“You heard me, little girl.” I palmed her breast, and her head tipped back against my shoulder. “I don’t have many rules, but the most important one is that you always respect Daddy.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words were faint, breathless.
“You will. I have so much to teach you, princess.” I pulled back just far enough so she’d feel the heat of my declaration on her neck. “You will learn. I’m going to punish you now. I’m going to turn your pretty bottom red with my hand. You’re going to take your discipline like a good girl, aren’t you?”
“I… I don’t know…”
I shushed her gently. “You’ll feel better after. You shouldn’t have flipped me off. You know it was wrong, don’t you?”
“I was mad at you. You aren’t going to let me use the pool.”
“We can’t always get what we want, babygirl. You have to trust that Daddy knows what’s best for you. It’s not okay to disrespect me, even if you’re mad.”
I moved my hand down from her breast, feeling her body through the thin camisole she wore. When I reached the band of her yoga pants, I tugged the material down slowly, revealing her bare ass.
Fuck. Joseph hadn’t given her underwear.
Maybe he wasn’t holding back as much as I thought.
I pushed the pants down her thighs, leaving them bunched at her knees so she couldn’t kick out at me, if she decided to be even naughtier.
I didn’t think she would, though. My princess was a sweet girl at heart. She just needed attention. Correction. Affection.
I lightly tapped my palm against her pale ass cheek, just hard enough to elicit a small pop. Judging by way she gasped and rocked her hips forward, you’d think I’d put my full strength behind the blow.
I wrapped my arm around her waist, guiding her back so her ass was thrust out, waiting for my discipline.
“Stay still,” I commanded, my tone dropping deeper without a thought.
A light tremor ran thr
ough her body, but she didn’t shift away when I released her waist.
I stroked her ass, letting her feel the heat and size of my hand. “Good girl.”
She pressed her face against her arm and let out the most adorable little whimper. She was deeply affected by my words of praise, by my gentle touch. She was still confused, probably overwhelmed by her reaction to the shifting dynamic between us.
But she wasn’t moving away from my hand.
My cock throbbed, straining against my jeans.
I took a breath and mastered my lust for her. This was for her benefit, not my sexual gratification. I got a deeper satisfaction out of her budding acceptance than I could have attained from a rough fuck against the wall.
“I’m going to give you ten,” I told her. “I want you to count them. Can you do that for me, princess?”
She kept her face tucked against her arm, as though she could hide from what was happening between us. But she nodded, and I was satisfied that she was ready to continue. She wasn’t screaming at me to let her go. She wasn’t fighting.
She was submitting, and her surrender was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever experienced.
I let the first stinging slap land. It was little more than a love tap, but she wasn’t accustomed to this. She’d probably never been spanked in her life, as a child or an adult. So, I’d get her warmed up. I’d go a little easy on her. This first time, at least.
“You’re supposed to count,” I reminded her.
“One,” she whispered.
I slapped her other cheek, spreading out the heat.
“Two.”
The third hit was harder, delivering a little more sting. I watched her, studying her reaction.
“Three.”
Her face was still against her arm, her eyes squeezed shut.
I resumed stroking her ass. “Look at me.” It was an order, but my tone was soft, cajoling.
Her lashes fluttered, revealing her pretty blue eyes. She looked at me with such innocent confusion that all the air was knocked from my chest. She was just as pure and perfect as Joseph had always said, and I now fully understood why he worshipped her.