Say Daddy: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

by Shanna Handel

  She picks up on the first ring. “Oh, my gosh, Victoria! I was just thinking about you. Word on the street is that you were seen leaving Gotcha’s with that breathtaking bartender. The one all the Beauties drool over.”

  The Beauties are known for their gossip chains and lengthy games of telephone. Giving a laugh, I say, “Word travels fast in your world.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how many hours we spend gabbing over coffee and wine. You’d think we’d run out of things to talk about!”

  Her happiness does not escape me. A lonely pang tears at my heart—I so want what she has. Smiling through my pain, I say, “I’ll bet.”

  She says, “What are you up to? Please tell me you’re calling because you’re free for lunch today. I’d love to see you!”

  “I am. How did you know?” I ask.

  We make plans to meet at her favorite—Café Fresca, just outside the walls of the Village.

  I arrive before her. I’m seated at an outdoor table for two. As I wait, I people watch. Several Beauties are here, dining in small groups. They drink wine, twirling pasta around the tines of their forks, smiles on their faces.

  And laughing, always talking and laughing with one another.

  Charlotte arrives and I almost don’t recognize her—I’m not yet used to her transformation. She’s gone from wearing bright colors and flip-flops, to chic outfits from designers whose names I can’t pronounce.

  Today, she’s adorned in a deep red jumpsuit held up with spaghetti-thin straps. On her feet are matching sandals. With a heel.

  Her makeup is perfect, her blonde hair freshly highlighted and piled on top of her head. Tossing what I assume to be a thousand-dollar mustard yellow handbag on the table, she cries, “Victoria! How are you?”

  Overly aware of the casualness of my denim skirt and black tee shirt, I stand to greet her. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  She takes a seat. “Anytime. Is this just a catch-up session, or is there more to our visit?”

  I ask, “How’d you know? Does becoming a Beauty give you some kind of sixth sense? I’m beginning to think you’ve joined a coven of witches instead of a club of billionaire wives.”

  She laughs, waving away my joke with her hand. The huge pear-shaped diamond on her left ring finger sparkles, catching the light. “No witches, no bitches. Not in my crowd! Just something in your voice sounded... urgent.”

  “Maybe,” I say.

  She leans in, waggling her brows. She whispers, “Does this have anything to do with a hot bartender?”

  I repeat myself. “Maybe.”

  The waiter arrives and Charlotte takes charge, ordering for the both of us without batting an eye. Her confidence is contagious, and I find myself sitting up straighter in my chair.

  When the waiter leaves, she gives me an all-business look, demanding, “Spill it.”

  I squirm in my chair, suddenly shy to share details. “Um... I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Let me guess, then. You’ve been hanging out with Luke, who’s been hanging out with the Brothers. He took you to bed, shocking you with his dominant ways and taboo demands?”

  I ask, “How did you know?”

  The bread arrives. Charlotte waits until we’re alone again before answering me. She gives me a sidelong glance, whispering, “I’m married to a Bachman. And I’ve seen Luke in action at work—he’s totally dominant. Men like that have... tendencies.”

  “Such as?” I ask, a dampening in my panties.

  She gives me a naughty smile. “The desire to be in control. To spoil the woman he likes, and, when she’s been very, very bad...”

  Her words trail off, waiting from me to fill in the blanks. I ask the words I so dread saying out loud. “He... spanks them?”

  She smirks. “You got it.”

  There’s a trembling between my thighs, a wet, pulsing hunger brought on by her coy words. I tear off a hunk of bread, chewing nervously. I ask, “Why did you never tell me this before?”

  She laughs. “It’s not a secret. How have you not picked up on their ways, working for the family for four years?”

  I think back to my time at Bachman’s Jewelers. Often, the men and women come in without their partners, purchasing gifts for one another. But when a married couple did come into the store...

  I think of the way the men always press their hand flat into the lower back of their woman, guiding them around the store.

  I remember one time in particular. It was years ago, when Bronson, the then leader of the Village brought his little wife Paige in. She said something snappy to him. He took her by the arm, whispered something in her ear that made her blush, then led her from the store.

  And when Rockland came in once, something funny happened. Bronson was in that day and I remember the two of them talking. I heard Rockland say to Bronson, “If she doesn’t get that attitude in check, her ass is going to be the same color as her hair.”

  Tess is a redhead.

  I chalked the conversation up to poor hearing and an overactive imagination. But I lay in bed that night picturing Tess’s lovely body stretched over Rockland’s hard thighs. Him spanking the milky skin of her bottom until it was as red as a cherry.

  I’ve heard rumor about the couples, but who hasn’t? The Bachmans are constantly the topic of discussion in the city, but I never really thought the scandalous gossip was true.

  Shaking my stream of thoughts from my head, I admit to Charlotte, “There may have been some signs. But the whole thing, it’s just so unbelievable.”

  She says, “Is it though? A power exchange is common amongst couples. It keeps the peace, leaves one partner feeling like a protector, in charge and responsible, and the other feeling loved and adored. It works for me.”

  Our food arrives, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts.

  Pushing my food around with my fork, I murmur, “Sounds nice. Almost too good to be true.”

  She shrugs as she says, “Well, there are drawbacks.”

  The pasta she’s ordered for us is delicious. Slurping up the end of a noodle, I ask, “Such as?”

  “Such as when you can’t sit down on a hard chair without your ass aching. Or when your man cuts off your wine intake, or makes you go to bed on time. Sometimes you don’t want to submit, but you have to.”

  I sigh, “I would love someone to take care of me like that.”

  She smiles. “It is wonderful. And it sounds like you might have a man interested in you.”

  I shake my head, saying, “But he’s not a Bachman.”

  Her tone is soft. “You have your heart set on being a Beauty, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I answer honestly.

  She puts her hand over mine. “I’ll be honest, my heart is set on it too. I’d love you to be one of us. But I don’t want to see you pass up a good guy because he’s not a Bachman. And who knows, maybe one day he will be one. I know he’s close with a lot of the guys.”

  We chat of other things, a light flow of conversation running between us as we eat. When our bowls are empty, I know our time is almost up. I feel the conversation coming to a close, but I haven’t yet addressed my most pressing issue.

  I force myself to bring it up. “Charlotte, there’s this one other issue that’s really been bothering me.”

  A look of concern flashes on her face. “What is it?”

  Carefully, I choose my words. “He wants something from me. Something I don’t think I can give him.”

  “What?” she gasps.

  Can I do this? Can I really say the words? I take a deep breath and confess, “He wants me to call him... Daddy.”

  Her face goes bright red. She sits back in her seat, clearly flustered, obviously disturbed by what I’ve shared with her. “Oh.”

  Putting my fork down, I start my string of apologies. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I know it’s a taboo topic, not elegant lunch conversation. I just had to tell someone—”

  She puts her hand over mine once more, this time not
to comfort me but to stop my flow of words. “It’s not that, Victoria.”

  I ask, “Then what has you so upset?”

  Her features wrinkle with embarrassment. “It’s just that I actually call Eli Daddy.”

  It’s hard to believe what I’m hearing. But her face is so sincere, I cover my mouth with my hand. “Really?”

  “I know. I know. I don’t think of him as my father or anything weird like that. It’s just in this sexy ‘who’s your daddy’ kind of way.”

  “So, it’s not that uncommon?”

  “Not in my world. Men like Eli and Luke are called ‘daddy doms.’ They have a special way of treating their girls. He likes to spoil me, and what can I say?” She gives a smile and a shrug. “I’m his baby girl.”

  The word strikes a chord in my heart.

  Baby girl.

  That’s what Luke called me outside his apartment, when he kissed me and told me I’d be back.

  Maybe, for once, I should give in to my dirty desires.

  I could give Luke one night.

  One night to see what it’s like to have a daddy dom.

  My gaze travels over Charlotte. I’ve never seen her look more put together and confident. And more important, I’ve never seen her this happy. And I’ve known her almost all my life.

  Her happiness doesn’t come from being a Beauty, or a Bachman.

  It comes from being in love.

  I want to experience what she has. Play a role, just for one night. See what it is that makes her glow the way she does.

  But then I’m back on my quest. Love or not, I’m going to become a Beauty. I’ve got my mind set on it.

  I’ll go to him. One last time. Give into this temptation, this all-consuming... thing that keeps me up at night, not letting me sleep, not letting me eat.

  For one night, I’ll call him Daddy.

  Then I’ll let him go.

  Chapter Six

  Luke

  She’s wearing a tighter dress than usual tonight. Her small breasts are pushed up, encased by a plunging neckline. Her cleavage has been dusted in gold powder, lighting her skin, drawing attention to the curve of her flesh.

  Did she do this for me?

  Or are her efforts for another man?

  The club is packed. We barely have time to acknowledge one another, the place is so crazy. I’m mixing and stirring drinks, sliding them across the bar one after the other.

  Though there’s a ton of people here tonight, the mood is light, casual. There’s a good deal of couples on the floor, which means the drama will be down. It’s higher when there are more single men than woman milling about—that’s when we have problems.

  Theo isn’t around, or his pal Jet. It’s been four weeks since I’ve seen either of them. I’ve let Rockland know because it’s much more dangerous having a man like that off your turf than on it where you can watch him.

  “Oh, shit!” I hear Victoria call from the other end of the bar.

  Looking over, I see that in her haste, she’s spilled a drink. Grabbing a towel, I head over to her. “I’ll clean this up. Go ahead and make another one.”

  She looks at me with relief. “Thank you.” She goes to find a new glass, and as she does, I grab her arm.

  Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “But Daddy really ought to spank that pretty bottom of yours for using such naughty language.”

  Her eyes lock on mine, wide as saucers as a pretty blush rises in her cheeks. Do I see her nipples hardening beneath the fabric of her thin dress? For one moment, I imagine I can smell the musk of her arousal.

  She quickly recovers, snapping a sassy retort. “You ever heard of a sexual harassment lawsuit, buddy?” Tugging her arm from my grip, she leaves me to clean up the mess.

  Watching her walk away, that tight dress hugging her curves as she moves, my cock hardens in my trousers. I let out a low whistle, mopping the bar top. “That girl’s going to be the death of me.”

  The rest of the night, I do my best to get her attention. When she walks by me, I snap a towel across her ass. Slide my hand around her waist to move her from the front of the fridge she’s always blocking.

  Whisper dirty things in her ear every time I get the chance.

  When are you going to come over and let Daddy take care of you, little girl?

  My attentions make her blush. Have her throwing sassy remarks at me.

  But they don’t make her say yes to me.

  If anything, I’m driving her away with my teasing. I try a new approach; I do my job and let her do hers.

  When the night ends and I go to lock up, she’s already gone. A note’s been left on the bar for me.

  There’s a little doodle of a cat at the top that makes me smile.

  Luke,

  I hope you don’t mind locking up by yourself. I went home to change.

  I have a date tonight.

  V

  Reading the note, my smile evaporates. My stomach dropping into my steel-toed boots. “No way. Who dared to defy me?” I think over my very clear instructions to the Brotherhood to steer clear of her.

  It must be someone else. A civilian. A non-Bachman.

  Disappointment creeps into my chest.

  I long to tell her the truth. That I am not only the daddy she needs, but the man who can fulfill her dreams of being a Beauty.

  But I wouldn’t want her to choose me because of what I can give her. I want her to want me.

  I lock the door and head home.

  Alone.

  * * *

  Victoria

  My heart is pounding in my throat as I knock twice on the door.

  The door opens and the sight of him in the frame makes my knees weak. Briefly, I allow my gaze to dance over his high cheekbones, his steel-cut jaw, his bare, muscled chest. The low-slung waist of his ripped jeans.

  Surprise fills his gaze, then a slow smile of delight stretches across his face.

  I smile back, suddenly shy. “Hi, Luke.”

  “Damn.” He eyes me, his gaze dipping between my breasts that I’ve put on display, just for him. He asks, “I’m your date?”

  Faking a confidence I do not feel, I quip back, “You bet your ass, you lucky son of a bitch.” Shoving past him, I enter the apartment as if it were my own. Turning on my heel, I face him. “Shut the door.”

  “You’re pretty bossy for such a tiny little thing,” he muses. But he obliges, closing the door. Locking the deadbolt.

  To keep others out, or to keep me in?

  Resting his back against the door, he crosses his arms over his chest, forcing those gorgeous biceps upward, drawing attention to them. His hair hangs just a touch over his eye as he cocks his jaw toward me. “I’m listening.”

  The magnetic pull I feel toward him is almost my undoing. Part of me wants to throw myself into his arms, tell him to take me—in any way, anytime he wants.

  Tell him I’m his to command and to dominate.

  The other part of me knows this relationship will lead nowhere. That—while he is the most amazing lover I’ve had, in tune to my body and my desires like no man who has come before him—he is not my forever.

  Thus, this cannot continue. And I must make that clear. Then enjoy my final night of mind-blowing sex. And be on my way.

  Clearing my throat, I churn up my best ‘couldn’t care less’ voice and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Two things.”

  A cocky smirk stretches over his face. Raising one dark brow, he says, “Yes?”

  I put my hands on my hips and steel my gaze. “Number one. Let me make this very, very clear. This is a one-night thing. After tonight, we go back to being friends and co-workers, like this never ever happened. No more flirting with me at work. No more inviting me back to your apartment. I will not come back here after tonight.”

  He gives me a look of disdain. “How fun. What a way to set the mood. And number two?”

  The second point I have to make is the harder one to say. Swallowing hard, I press forward with my speech. �
�I am here because I want your body. Not because I want to call you Daddy. If I have to play your game to get what I want, then I will. But know this—it’s only a little bedroom game to me. Nothing more.”

  As I say the words, I feel an intense tugging in my heart. Unnamed desires well in my core, calling me out, daring me to be brave enough to give in to them. I push them down, letting the shreds of my dignity hold tight to my lie.

  He gives me a stern look. “You done, little girl?”

  His gaze sends a tremble through me. Faking total confidence, I cross my arms over my chest, tilt my chin, and sniff. “Yes.”

  He takes a step toward me. “My two things. Number one, I told you if you came back here, I was going to spank your ass. Hard.”

  Holy shit. My ass cheeks clench, remembering his promise.

  Did I make the right choice? My mind is screaming ‘run.’ My pussy is saying other things, dampening my panties as I press my thighs together. I say nothing.

  He takes another step toward me. “Number two. Afterwards, you’re going to touch yourself until you come. And I’m going to watch.”

  My heart is thumping in my chest, the blood whooshing in my ears. My tongue feels thick and I have no idea how to respond. I manage to get out, “What? I—”

  But my words of protest are cut off by his predatory stalking toward me. I take a few steps back, putting my hands in front of me as if to keep him away.

  Two more strides and he’s over to me. “One more thing—you’re going to love calling me Daddy.”

  One arm snakes around my waist, his gentle touch sending tingles down my spine.

  His other hand winds in the hair on the back of my neck.

  I can feel the heat of his bare skin radiating through my dress. I look up, into his eyes, his face only inches from mine and the desire I see there makes an aching thrum pulsate in my core.

  With one tug, he pulls my face next to his. His breath is hot in my ear as he whispers, “Last time you were here, you were a bad girl and didn’t do what Daddy said. This time you’re going to be a good little girl and follow all my rules.”

  He’s barely touched me and I’m already so close to coming. Tingles dance across the back of my neck as I breathe, “You’re asking too much.”