Authors: Jaci J
Dante
I left a sleeping London in my bed, locked away in my apartment. The doors are locked from the outside and have a guard at each entrance. I hate to hold her prisoner … shit, that’s a lie. I love the idea of her locked tightly and safely away for me. I’m not trying to keep her in as much as I’m trying to keep the bad out. I’m a paranoid asshole these days so fucking sue me.
A slightly inconvenient twist of circumstances has brought me to one of my abandoned warehouses at one in the morning on this fine night. I’m not happy that I’m here, but there’s not a whole lot I can do about that now. Of course I’d rather be at home in bed, but this is the life – the business – that I deal in.
“What do you want out of him?” Cam asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Whatever he has to offer.” Everything.
“I’m not giving you shit.” I’m gonna clean that spit up with his face if he does it again. Of course he’s not gonna give me anything. I’ll have to pry it out of him, and I’m okay with that. I don’t mind working for my information.
I’ve removed my jacket, my watch, wallet, and phone, setting them on an old desk before I roll the sleeves up on my shirt.
The familiar sound of plastic under my feet gives me the feeling of coming home. I miss the smell of gunpowder, the feeling of rubber gloves, and the sounds of screaming and begging. I’ve spent weeks trapped in an innocent bubble with London, and as much as I love being wrapped up in her, this is who I am. This is what I know. This is my very own, personal shrink, and it’s also my high.
“
Boss
?” Rocco says hesitantly from the other side of the room. My new little party favor whips his head up to look at me in surprise.
“You-
you’re
the boss?” His voice shakes on a sharp inhale of breath.
“I am.” I nod and offer him a charming smile. Might as well put my best face forward considering it’s the last face he’ll see. I’ll make it a pretty one.
“What is it, Rocco?” He looks nervous, which is never a good thing.
“Miss London rang.” Of course she did. Normally she’d sleep all night, but the first night I slip out in weeks, she wakes up. Fucking figures. She’s so fucking nosey.
“I’ll call her later.” I have shit to deal with first and my beautiful girl will just have to wait.
I hate to be this close to them, but really there’s no other choice. His arms aren’t long enough for me to have him reach, and truthfully, I don’t want him bleeding all over me anyways.
We started with the questions, which took a while. I’d ask and he’d deny, but I exercised his aversion to my questions out of him. After some strong persuasion, he gave in.
We then moved into the barter portion of my evening. He offered information willingly, offering his life and services to my cause, his first born for my mercy, and his wife to my men in return for his life, but I graciously declined his offers. Now we’re onto the root of the problem―why they want what’s mine, and this topic is a little messier.
“So what is it that they want?” I ask calmly. Losing control never served me well. I’ve broken his resolve down and now he’s seeing things my way. There’s no need to exert more energy than needed.
“Th-the business. The connection.”
“What business connection would that be exactly?”
I know the answer, but what I need to find out is if their plans have changed. If this is the case, I need to know what they are. I need the information he has, and I need him to confirm it before I tear his fucking head off for poking
his nose into what’s mine. I’m looking for any details I can get from him. How the fuck am I supposed to take care of London, look out for her, if I don’t know what moves are being made against her at this very moment.
I know about her father. I know about his ties with the
‘Ndrangheta
, a mafia-type criminal organization based in Italy who deal in extortion, blackmail, kidnappings, and most importantly, the import and export of large amounts of cocaine. I know why he wants her in his clutches so desperately. He needs her to get to her grandfather, therefore getting that business.
I also know she has no idea that her father and I have rubbed elbows, and he’s the reason I sought her out to begin with. Those are details she doesn’t need to know.
After learning of her and the plans for her to take over her grandfather’s business months ago, my paranoia had me seeking her out to see how invested she really was in her family’s dealings, and what I found was a smart, sweet, innocent girl who was fucking clueless.
Her father wants what I want. He wants what belongs to me. Where as I’ve invested time and money, he’s invested blood, sweat, and tears, but fuck him. I don’t give a fuck what he’s done.
It makes this messier for London and I. Business is about to bleed over into my personal life, but it was only a matter of time before it all came to a head. It was gonna happen regardless. She’s more involved in the
Cosa Nostra
than I initially thought, but only by family, not by choice. It adds an element of difficultly to the situation, but it changes nothing of how I feel for her. In fact, it only fuels my desire to keep her clean and safe. Nothing I learn about her will change that.
Clenching the pliers tightly, I give them a good, solid tug. A scream bursts from his lips and bounces around the soundproof office.
“
Dio mio
, he’s a fucking screamer,” Cam complains around a yawn.
“
Si.
” I couldn’t agree more. “So, are you ready for a visit from the tooth fairy?”
“No! No more, please.”
“What do they want besides the business?” I scream in his face, my temper flaring.
“Please, stop!” With a quick twist of my wrist and a rough tug, the tooth pops out. “Fuuuck!”
“Let me ask you again, what the fuck do they want?” Putting the pliers on the next tooth, I twist and twist ‘til it gives way and comes out like the first. This shit is hard work, but rewarding.
“Her! The girl. They want the girl.” I was hoping he wouldn’t say that.
Setting they pliers down, I pick up my gun. Leaning in closely, I wrap a hand around his neck, pulling his dirty, bloody, tear-stained face closer to mine. This was a light lesson. Many get a far worse punishment. To some, this would be considered as too easy, but to this man, it was hell. Having each tooth removed and both hands smashed is never easy, but this is the life he chose. I didn’t force him into it, but for his choice, he’ll pay the ultimate price. “May
God
bless you.” The loud crack of the gun echoes around the room as his body slumps in close to mine. There’s nothing more fulfilling than eradicating a threat―nothing more enjoyable than winning this game.
“Clean this up.”
“
Si, Boss.
” They all say in unison. I peel off the gloves and leave them in the dead mans lap. Grabbing my phone, I find several missed calls and texts from London. Of all times to blow up my phone, it’s now. Fucking Christ.
“We good here?” Josh nods and Cam smirks.
“This is a mess,
cugino
.” Cam states the obvious.
“Do you think I can’t handle it? Are you second guessing me?” I yell.
“Not you I’m worried about. It’s her.” Yeah, me fucking too.
~~~~~~
Stepping inside, I hear outrageous noises coming from the kitchen. Walking through the living room, I stop when get to the door and see it. My kitchen is a fucking disaster. There’s flour on every square inch of working space. Bowls, spoons, and measuring cups are stacked to the brim in my sink, baking dishes and cupcake tins are everywhere. The food network channel chatters loudly in the background and
I Care
flows through the sound system over the TV. She’s pissed.
I step inside and into something sticky, but I could care less. The only thing I'm concerned about is getting my hands on the little tornado in my kitchen.
My
little tornado.
It’s not possible for her to be any more fucking perfect than she is in my eyes, but then she goes and does this, raising that bar. She’s standing at the counter in nothing but silk and black lace, and she looks amazing. Those small panties and bra leave little to the imagination and right now, it’s running wild. My kitchen smells like a home.
I watch her for a few moments and savor the calm before the violent storm. She doesn’t know I’m even here, watching her. Scooping something from one bowl and pouring it into another, she hums softly as chocolate drips from the bowl onto the counter. Some even spills from the side when she mixes it. I could quite possibly spend the rest of my terrible life watching her just like this.
I have no more patience. I walk up behind her and wrap an arm around her, tugging that soft body against mine and for one single moment, she melts into me before she catches herself. Spinning around, she shoves me off her. “What the hell, you fucking psycho!” She hisses, slapping a hand right in the middle of my chest.
There’s that Sicilian spirit. “Excuse me?” I know what she’s carrying on about, but why not let her get it out of her system. She’s already worked up, so I may as well let that fire burn until she burns herself out. “You locked me inside your dungeon!”
“I’d hardly call it a dungeon. It’s four thousand square feet of lavishly designed prime New York real estate.” Such dramatics.
“You’ve lost your goddamn mind. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She throws the chocolate from the cup on me, covering my shirt. “What the fuck, London? You’re the one who’s lost their goddamn mind.”
“Yes!” She screams, pointing a flour covered finger at me. “You’ve made me lose it. You drive me fucking crazy. Why did you lock me in here?”
“You were fucking sleeping! Were you planning on leaving in the middle of the goddamn night?” She was. The guilt flashes across her face immediately, before she can stop it. “Exactly. That’s why I locked you in here, so get the fuck over it.”
If she only knew about the true danger out there, a locked door wouldn’t cause her such grief. Lurking behind every corner and hiding behind every closed door there’s someone waiting―someone bigger and badder than me. To London I’m the worst bad guy she’s ever met. God, if that were only true. I’m the lesser of two evils. I lock her behind closed doors because I’m fucking scared for her. I’ll take her anger if it keeps her ass safe.
She goes on, throwing shit around the kitchen and banging bowls on the counter with vigor. She’s really going to town tonight. “
Fottuto stronzo
!” Now I’m a fucking asshole. I really do enjoy when she yells shit in Italian, but it’s always when she’s pissed off. Curse or not, it’s a fucking turn on.
If any other woman pulled this shit she’d be out on her ass. Actually, no other woman would ever be here in the first place doing any of this shit. “London?”
“What, ya fucker?”
“Shut up, baby.”
London
Standing in the middle of Dante’s kitchen, my chest heaves and my anger flares. I let my eyes wander the room, looking for something sharp and pointy. Where’d that knife go?
He locked me in his apartment. He literally
locked
me in. Who the fuck does that? I shouldn’t be surprised, but really? I wonder what personality decided it was a good idea to lock me up because that’s the one I’d like to stab first.
I woke up to a cold, empty bed, a bed that Dante was in when I feel asleep, but I woke up and the only thing I was tangled in was the sheet. I got up and searched his giant apartment and found… wait for it… no Dante. So I called him, but no answer. I texted him, and got none in return, so I waited. I waited an hour before I decided I was going home. I threw on my clothes and went for the door and found that the motherfucker was LOCKED. I tried the door again, hoping there had been an error, but no, it was still locked. That’s when my mood really went to shit.
I beat on the door, kicked it, yelled at it, and beat on it some more. Someone answered me, which should’ve been just as disturbing as the locked door, but oddly enough, it gave me hope. Maybe I could get out of here.
“Miss London?”
“Let me out.” I tried to sound pleasant, really I did, but it came out rude and demanding.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have orders to keep you here.” That’s when I really lost my shit.
“I’m going to kill the both of you!” I told the voice on the other side of the door. He’s lucky the door and a wall were between us.
I spent another hour stomping around Dante’s apartment, looking for sharp and pointy things to kill him with. That didn’t last long because I got bored. I dug through his shit like again, hoping my chances would be better than the last time, but I found nothing but more locked doors, so I tried to pick them. It didn’t work in my favor because I was still sequestered to the bedroom, living room, and kitchen. Finally I showered and tried to relax, but that didn’t help either.
I succumbed to baking at one in the fucking morning. I tore through his well-stocked kitchen for all the things I needed. As I stacked all the baking stuff on his counter, I decided I was going to annihilate his kitchen. Fuck him and his pristine kitchen. I’m making the biggest mess humanly possible, hoping it will piss him off.
I baked because it’s what I do when I’m having a bad day, and I was classifying this to a bad night.
Two-dozen triple chocolate cupcakes with whipped peanut butter frosting, two loaves of French bread, and a German chocolate cake later, I was finishing up my frosting for my cake when the sick fucking psycho showed up.
“Why would you lock me in your goddamn apartment?” Taking a step toward me, I take a step back.
“Don’t do that, London. You know I’d never hurt you.”
“Does emotional hurt not count?”
Running lips across my jaw and down my neck, I can feel him smile against my skin. “I wasn’t trying to keep you in as much as I was trying to keep the bad out.” My head lulls to the side, giving him access to my neck.
“What bad?”
“The world is what’s bad, London. I’m trying to keep you safe from the world, and the bad people in it.” His words make no sense, but I understand his lips. I understand his intentions.
“Did you make me cupcakes,
cara
?” No I didn’t make him cupcakes. I made
myself
cupcakes, but with those lips on my naked skin, I’ve lost my mind, along with my anger.
Dipping a thumb into the chocolate I threw on his shirt, he sweeps it across my bottom lip and runs his tongue slowly across, then sucks it into his mouth. I’m so fucking wet I’m damn near uncomfortable. Biting down, he forces a hiss of pain from me.
“My own little London cupcake,” he whispers roughly against my lips, licking the chocolate away. He starts to kiss a path down my jaw and to my chest before the ringing of his phone cuts into the thick sexual tension. My body sags into his from relief and irritation.
Ripping it out of his pocket, he doesn’t stop his assault on my skin. Without even glancing at the phone, he smashes it on top of the counter. Fisted in his huge hand, he slams it against the counter over and over until the ringing stops. “No one’s gonna take time with you away from me.” He says against my skin.
“O-okay.”
He gets on his knees in front of me and dips his tongue into my belly button, making me moan. Working his way down, he reaches the black lace and I about die of anticipation. Running a finger under the waist of my panties, “This pussy wet and wanting me?” He breathes against the inside of my thigh. I nod stupidly, my voice stuck in my throat.
“I asked you a fucking question, London.” His hand lands on my thigh with a slap. “Yes.” I yell. He’s never done that before, but fuck, it’s hot.
“I know you are, baby.”
He lifts me up on the counter and forces my legs apart so my feet can have a place to rest. His thick fingers push aside my panties and his mouth devours me, thrusting his tongue into my pussy. I feel his tongue moving around inside of me and I immediately explode all over his tongue as he starts to suck and lick fast and hard. “Fuck!” My fingers clutch tightly around the high cabinet handles, not giving a fuck if I pull the cabinets off the goddamn walls.
He shoves my legs open as wide as they’ll go, trying to get more access to where I need him. It’s such a fucking turn-on, watching this man in his expensive designer suit on his knees, fucking me with his mouth and tongue, and watching getting to watch him as he does it. This only makes me come again, shoving my pussy harder into his face. I feel the cum as flows out of me and into his mouth. He makes it his business to lick me everywhere, not wasting a drop.
“I need to take you to the bed where you can ride my tongue like you ride my dick. I’m not even close to being done tasting you, baby.”
~~~~~~
“Just wait in the car. It’ll take me three minutes.” I hold up three fingers, hoping that will drive it home. I’m one foot in the car and one foot on the sidewalk when he starts in.
“I’ll send Branson in for it.”
“Why have Branson unbuckle and go in when I’m halfway out of the car already? I’m going up and I’ll be right back. Calm down.” I throw over my shoulder as I try to rush away before he says anything else.
Pressing the button to my floor, I lean back against the glass wall of the elevator and wait. Today is the day I finally, after what’s now been close to six long years, graduate for the last time. Although this isn’t my first graduation, it is my last, and as much as I didn’t want to attend, I’m going because of Mr. Bossy. I would’ve been happy with a diploma delivered via mail, but Dante pushed and I conceded like always.
Today is graduation day, but if I don’t stop forgetting shit, I’ll never make it on time. This time it’s that ridiculously traditional hat that screams “graduate” that I forgot. God forbid I don’t have the most important accessory.
I make a mad dash into the apartment. I toss around the mess of clothes I left on the bed until I find the buried treasure. Stuffing it under my arm for safekeeping, I make the mad dash back to the elevator, waiting those excruciating fifteen seconds as the elevator makes its decent down into the lobby. I hope they’re serving drinks at the after party, I think as the elevator doors open.
The car isn’t more than fifty feet away, idling at the curb when I push through the front doors, but in a bout of bad luck, a leather hand creeps around my mouth with force while an arm wraps around my middle, leaving my feet dangling a few inches from the pavement. I can see the car mere feet away, but I’m panicked and I lose all control.
That fight or flight instinct takes over and I struggle against the person holding me. Things blur and everything slows to a crawl while I wiggle and jerk around in his grip, but nothing I do helps. I can hear my blood pumping violently in my ears and feel the painful uneven beats of my heart against my chest. I’m pulling at the hand, struggling to breathe. The panic is overwhelming and not being able to breathe is making the panic even worse.
A black SUV jumps the curb, causing people to scream and scatter. I’m still trying to fight, but I can’t scream and my body’s giving out. Tears stream down my face because I should’ve known that it would only be a matter of time before my father and Perry stopped talking and started doing. I was stupid to think they’d give up on me, especially now that I’m so close to taking over the business they so desperately want, but now it seems they have help. They’re going to fucking use me for ransom or kill me.
The back door of the SUV flings open and I see nothing inside except an uncertain future. The moment he gets me inside, I’ll be left to the mercy of the devil, and I know in my heart it won’t end well for me. I’m not going down without a fight, though. I won’t make this easy.
Now that I’m trying to think instead of freak out, I stop fighting as the man drags me closer to the open door. I can feel him tiring so I go completely limp, letting him drag my dead weight along the sidewalk. But when he hefts me closer to the door, I get my balance quickly, raise my arms above and behind me and begin clawing at his face. He lets go of me, but not before shoving me with a solid push towards the door. It’s a shove that doesn’t quite get me there, but it does get me close enough to bash my head into the metal bumper, and then to the sidewalk.
It happened so fast, I didn’t get my hands up in time to catch myself. My fucking head hurts and I’m dizzy, but I’m able to push myself up from the ground. With my mouth finally free, I do the only thing I can think to do. “Dante!” I scream at the top of my lungs, but something hard meets the side of my head and I go back down, hard.
I hear gun shots, screeching tires, and men shouting. Now my eyes are unfocused and there’s a burning pain on the right side of my face. I open my eyes and I can’t see a fucking thing and my ears are ringing. There’s so much pain radiating behind my jaw, down into my neck. I send out a small prayer and get some relief when I finally black out.
~~~~~~
Before I crack an eye open, I can feel the pressure in my skull, along with the pain in my eye and face. My first instinct is to rub my eyes, but even half asleep I know better. This is like a hangover, only ten times worse.
I give myself a moment to figure out where I’m hurt. Everything besides my head, eye, and face feel normal, but my face feels like it met a cheese grater. I wiggle my fingers and toes, roll my shoulders and move my legs. Everything feels normal.
Lying silently for a few moments after taking inventory of my injuries, I hear voices, and one is very distinct. Slipping from the bed, I take a moment to let myself adjust. The side of my cheek throbs to the beat of my heart and I have a dull headache, but otherwise, I feel okay. I’ll survive, but I missed graduation. I would’ve rather been there than go through all of this.
Walking down the hall, the voices grow louder. I make it to the door and see Dante’s hands planted in the center of his desk with Josh on one side of him and Cam on the other.
“This will never happen again. Ever. It will
never
fucking happen again.” Dante’s handsome face is contorted in rage. I’ve never seen him this angry. His eyes are bloodshot and seems crazy. This man looks worn out and furious.
“I-
I’m
sorry,” A voice says. Taking a step closer to the door, I can see Pete standing on the other side of it. His face is filled with terror, and he’s shaking uncontrollably.
“You’re sorry?” Dante spits. “
I’m
sorry that I didn’t just fucking shoot you on the goddamn sidewalk with the other piece of shit. Was it her fault you weren’t paying attention? Your job was to look for her to come out of the building and get into the car, that was it.” Dante screams the last word and then goes quiet. Holy shit.
For a single moment everything is silent. I can hear my heart in my ears again. My hands are shaking and clutched in front of me, just like Pete’s. Shifting nervously, I swallow the lump in my throat. “Was it her FAULT?” he roars. In the blink of an eye, he’s around his desk with a gun in his hand, the barrel inches from Pete’s terrified face. “WAS IT?” My stomach drops.
I watch Dante’s finger on the trigger flex a fraction and I instantly feel sick. “What are you doing, Dante? What the fuck are you doing!” I scream.