There was something final about the way he walked out of my condo this afternoon. I felt it deep in my gut. I haven’t heard from him since, so it looks like yet again, my gut is right. I knew he was nothing but a client, and I would only end up hurt. I thought that I had more time, though. I’ve only spent mere hours with the man, and know next to nothing about him, and yet, it hurts to think that he won’t be back.
It’s for the best—a lie I tell myself. A lie I’ve told myself my entire life.
My phone rings and I jump, reaching for it. Unfortunately, it isn’t Aidan. It’s another man who so does enjoy hurting me, and often. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I answer the call, knowing that if I don’t, destruction will follow.
“Hello, Mr. Rossi,” I whisper, greeting my father.
I decide to place the call on speakerphone, not wishing to hold it too close to my ear, not wishing to keep him too close to me. A silly thing, I know, but when dealing with Antonio Rossi, it is an important thing not to let him too close.
He grunts. “Things are going well? The Russians are giving you the right clients?” he asks. I close my eyes, thinking of Aidan, then I shake my head.
“Yes, everything is good,” I lie.
He hums. “I have a special client who has taken it very hard that you’ve left us. You remember Mr. Blackburn, don’t you?” he asks, his voice soothing.
His words make me shiver. I do remember Mr. Blackburn. He is a politician, married, handsome, and an asshole. A man who dehumanizes for kicks, and since he certainly can’t do that to his wife, he enjoyed doing it to me. I hate him.
“Have you talked to Moriz?” I ask.
My father clucks his tongue. “Moriz would want a cut, Giovanna. This is a favor to a friend,” he explains in his soothing tone.
I think about what he’s asking. This isn’t a favor to a friend, as much as it’s a favor to a politician. He wants something from Blackburn, and he knows that if he keeps him happy, he’ll get whatever it is that he wants. Moriz would want money, or at least a favor for Timofei, too. Blackburn probably wouldn’t agree to have two favors owed, not for just a night with me.
“I don’t think…” I begin.
My father’s patience snaps. “You are not supposed to think. You are supposed to spread your legs. It doesn’t matter who it is for, Giovanna. You are a whore, nothing more, nothing less.”
I press my lips together, grabbing ahold of the kitchen counter, gripping it with all of my strength. Opening my mouth, I start to say okay when I feel something behind me. My phone is plucked from the counter and I spin around with my mouth hanging open.
“Excuse me, and who is this?” Aidan asks.
I reach for the phone shaking my head. Holy fuck. My father is going to have him killed, and me killed, everybody will be dead. A complete bloodbath.
I hear my father’s rumble of a laugh, and I know it’s bad. He only laughs when he’s pissed off or killing someone. “I am Antonio Rossi, boy. Who are you and why do you have my daughter’s phone?” he asks.
Aidan’s eyes snap to mine and I watch as something akin to shock passes over them. I am shocked, too. Never has my father admitted aloud that I am indeed his daughter.
“I am Aidan O’Neil,” he states.
It’s my turn to look shocked. I stumble backward, my lower back slamming against the counter. A counter that was covered in Aidan’s cum just a few hours ago. A counter that has now been disinfected. Aidan reaches out, wrapping his hand around my wrist and none too gently, tugs me forward. I fall against his chest, bracing my palms on him for support.
Aidan O’Neil, the head of the O’Neil family. No wonder Moriz said I was to only be his. He’s as important to the Irish as my father is to the Italians.
Holy fuck.
I press my lips together in an attempt to stay quiet. I don’t know a lot about any of the different organizations, but I’m knowledgeable enough to learn who the key players are.
I’ve been with a few of my father’s top men before, and Madam Carmella always taught me to learn my clients. So, I learned about them, and anybody else I came into contact with. Including a few Russians throughout the years, and some Irish as well. Although, I had never had an Irish mob member in my bed, but that didn’t mean that I hadn’t seen a few walking the halls of the brothel I grew up in.
“And you are with Giovanna, because?” my father asks, breaking me of my train of thought.
Aidan chuckles, it sounds humorless. “She was given to me, Rossi,” he states, sounding cocky as shit.
“Given?” my father hisses.
Aidan snorts. “Given to me by Timofei Vetrov, a gift of sorts.”
“Had I known that Timofei was going to just give my whores away, I would have never made such a deal with him. You’ll buy her just like anybody else,” he shouts.
“Take that up with Vetrov,” Aidan snaps, then ends the call.
I stand in complete silence, shocked still. Aidan takes his own phone out and I watch as he punches a few buttons, bringing it up to his ear. “Call me, Vetrov. Call me before you accept a call from Rossi,” he barks.
“Aidan?” I ask.
He dips his chin, his blue eyes focused on me and nowhere else. They look intense, bright, and cold all at the same time.
“Pack your fuckin’ bags, Vanna,” he barks.
CHAPTER NINE
AIDAN
Standing at Giovanna’s doorjamb, I hold my cell in my hand, hers is in my pocket, and I watch her pack her fucking shit. Her bag is small, and she’s shoving stuff left and right inside. I would assume that I have fucking smoke coming out of my ears I’m so goddamn pissed off.
My phone vibrates in my hand. Looking down I let out a sigh of relief that it’s Timofei calling me. “So, you found out who she is then?” he asks on a chuckle as soon as I accept the call.
Turning away from the bedroom, I walk into the kitchen, as far away from her as I can. “Yeah, I fuckin’ found out. I walked into her kitchen and her father was on the phone attempting to force her into doing a freebie for some politician friend of his,” I growl.
There’s a beat of silence before Timofei speaks. His voice is low and soft, but his tone is fucking hard. “He did what?” he asks.
“When she tried to tell him it wasn’t a good idea, he told her that it wasn’t her job to think. She was to spread her legs and it didn’t matter who for. He said if Moriz knew he’d want a cut, and this was a favor to a friend. That friend is Blackburn,” I growl. “Then when I introduced myself, I told him you gave Giovanna to me and I wouldn’t be allowing her to do what he requested. He told me I had to buy her, like everybody else,” I snort.
Timofei grunts. “That fucking asshole. Blackburn was just elected as mayor. He fucking hires the goddamn police department and the police commissioner. He can make or break an organization.”
“And?”
“If Rossi makes a big fucking deal about this, which he will, then he can make our lives hell, Aidan. We need Blackburn on our side,” he explains.
My stomach knots, the implication of his words more than I want to think about. “So, we give him what he wants?”
“Is she more than your whore?” Timofei asks.
There’s a noise at the kitchen entrance and I look over to find Giovanna standing there. She’s wearing a pair of light washed tight jeans, a plain navy blue t-shirt, a gray hoodie zipped up the front, and a pair of Converse on her feet. Her face is completely bare the way I like it, and she’s got her hair up in a messy bun. She looks gorgeous, simple, young, and mine.
“She can’t be,” I lie.
I fucking lie through my teeth. She has been more than just my whore since the second my eyes took her in. She is more than a whore, more than my whore, she’s mine. I want to keep her, but I’m not sure that I can.
She deserves someone who will treat her with respect, always, who doesn’t keep trying to talk himself into the fact that she’s less than because of her job, a job that
I don’t think she actually ever chose. She deserves someone who will get to know her, instead of using her and turning his back on her, only to come to her because he’s addicted to the way she feels and tastes.
She deserves so much better.
“Then we need to take Rossi out of the mix. I’ll schedule an appointment with Blackburn immediately. If it’s Giovanna he wants, then let’s give her to him. When Rossi has nothing to hold in his hand, then he’ll have no other option than to fold,” he murmurs. “Is Giovanna safe right now? She shouldn’t be there at her condo alone,” he says in his next breath.
“She packed a bag, where do you want me to bring her?” I ask.
My original plans of taking her home now all but forgotten. Her eyes lower to her feet, but I caught the tears that were welling as they did, and I feel like an even bigger fucking asshole.
Timofei clears his throat. “I’ll need her at a safe house. Take her to your place and I’ll send someone to pick her up. Moriz is probably already being watched, it can’t be him,” he mumbles.
The phone dies and I’m left in silence, staring at Giovanna, and wondering why I couldn’t just tell Timofei the truth, that she’s so much more than my whore, that she’s just fucking—mine. Trying to keep from lashing out in anger because it isn’t her fault I’m a fucking cunt, I walk over to her, grabbing her bag and gently taking it from her fingers.
“Let’s go then,” I mutter.
She doesn’t respond verbally; her feet begin to move. I watch as she turns all the lights out in the condo on her way out of the door. I begin walking down the hallway but freeze when I don’t feel her presence behind me. Turning around, I notice she’s just standing at her doorway, frozen to the spot.
I wait for a beat before calling her name. Her head lifts to me, and her dark blue eyes look fucking wild. With long strides, I hurry toward her, stopping right in front of her body. I watch as she cranes her neck back, her wild eyes unable to focus as they dart all over my face.
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice soothing and gentle.
Giovanna rapidly shakes her head. I lift my hand and place my palm on her cheek to keep her from doing it, and I wait for her to speak. “I haven’t left this condo in over six months,” she whispers.
I frown at her words. “Why not?” I demand.
Her bottom lip starts to tremble. “Don’t ask me questions you already know the answers to, Aidan.” Her words are smartassed, but her tone is anything but, she’s fucking scared.
“Nothing will happen to you, Vanna,” I promise.
She gives me a sad smile and closes her eyes slowly before she reopens them. The wild fear is gone, but sadness has replaced it. The look sends a punch to my gut and I fucking hate it, then she speaks, and it makes me feel even worse.
Her midnight blue eyes, darkened even more, and a smirk appears on her lips. “You don’t know that, but it’s sweet that you’re trying to ease my worry. I know what Blackburn expects from me, you don’t,” she states.
My phone rings in my pocket, breaking our moment, and my opportunity to ask what she means by her statement. Her feet begin to move as I reach for my device, answering it without looking at the name.
“Mr. O’Neil, this is Nurse Hodgens and I have Isla in my office. She’s just thrown up,” the nurse explains. Isla is my five-year-old, my sweet soul, and my heart speeds up at the thought of her being ill.
“I will be right there,” I state.
“Thank you,” she breathes.
Nurse Hodgens is single, a point she’s made with me about ten times over the past year. She’s single but not my type. She’s not Giovanna, not even close. “We have a stop to make,” I announce as we step onto the city sidewalk.
Walking up to my car, I pull my key fob from my pocket and unlock the trunk, then the doors. Placing Vanna’s bag inside, I hurry toward the driver’s seat. Giovanna is already buckled in and waiting to leave, her head turned, and her eyes pointed out the passenger side window, deep in thought. I don’t bother her, my new focus being Isla.
It doesn’t take me long to arrive at the school. All of my children attend the same private Catholic school, on the same campus. Without speaking I turn the car off, and slide out, jogging over to Giovanna’s side, I pull the door open. When she doesn’t rise out of her seat, I look down at her, arching my brow with impatience.
“Come, Giovanna,” I grunt.
She stands, placing her hand on my wrist, keeping me in place. “This is a school,” she states.
“My daughter is sick, I need to pick her up and take her home,” I explain.
Giovanna’s mouth opens, but I don’t have time to explain anything to her. Wrapping my hand around hers, I tug her behind me and swiftly walk toward the school’s entrance. The secretary greets me with a warm smile as soon as we walk up to the counter.
“You can go to the nurse’s office, Mr. O’Neil, Isla is waiting for you there,” she smiles. Keeping my grasp firm around Giovanna’s hand, I pull her behind me as we walk around the corner to the nurse’s office.
GIOVANNA
I feel like I’m seconds away from falling on my face. Aidan keeps pulling me all over the place, and now we’re going into a school nurse’s office because his daughter is ill. His daughter that I didn’t know he had. Walking into the room, I notice a few children lying on small little cots and my eyes widen as I take them in. There are two boys and two girls. I know immediately which girl is Aidan’s, she has his eyes.
“Oh, Mr. O’Neil, you’re here,” a woman breathes.
Her tone is laced with seduction and I turn my head to look at her. She’s dressed in a pair of pink scrubs with kittens and rainbows on them. She’s fairly young, pretty, and her eyes are only focused on Aidan’s. He clears his throat and pulls me a little closer to his side. The movement causes the nurse’s gaze to turn toward me and her eyes widen.
“Thank you, Nurse Hodgens,” he says, clearing his throat. She doesn’t respond, her eyes directed toward me. Aidan releases me, and I glance over in his direction as he makes his way to the little girl on the bed. I can’t hear what he’s saying to her, his voice is too low.
The nurse takes the opportunity to introduce herself to me. With a smile that looks like she’s eaten something sour, she holds out her hand. “I’m Melissa Hodgens, the school nurse,” she quips.
“Giovanna,” I offer, taking her hand in mind.
Her eyes narrow on me, as she waits for me to add some type of title to the end of my name. I don’t do it, though. I’ve accompanied men in public before as dates, and I’ve learned you never give your last name and you never give yourself a title. Even if you really want to tell a little nurse bitch that you’re Aidan’s girlfriend.
“Ready, Vanna?” Aidan asks.
I turn my head and my heart completely stops beating in my chest. Standing in front of me is Aidan, but his young daughter has her legs wrapped around his waist, and her arms around his neck. He’s looking at me from over the top of her head and I melt. I thought he was breathtaking in his suit, and then I thought it again when he was naked, but I was wrong. I was so very wrong. With his child wrapped up in his arms, he is heart stopping.
“I’m ready,” I exhale.
He holds out his hand, only needing one arm to hold his daughter, and takes my hand in his grasp. Only then does my heart begin beating again. We don’t speak as we leave the school. My mind is bursting with questions, questions that aren’t mine to ask, so I keep my mouth silent as we load up in Aidan’s car.
CHAPTER TEN
GIOVANNA
Pulling up to Aidan’s home, I’m shocked, yet again. It looks like a modern Italian villa. The outside of the home even has pillars and rock all the way around. It doesn’t look like anything I would ever picture Aidan purchasing, which means his wife picked it out—whoever she is.
No words are spoken as we exit the vehicle and walk up the rock staircase that leads toward the glass and wrought-iron front door. Tip
ping my head back, I’m met with an entrance that is top to bottom glass, surrounded by wrought iron and a chandelier, that’s just the front entrance before I even walk inside of the home.
Aidan glides past me, not even pulling a key out to unlock the front door, which can only mean that he has a staff. I follow behind him until he keeps moving throughout the home. I choose to stay in the receiving room, instead of going with him upstairs to where his daughter’s room presumably is.
The sofa is white, and the floors are marble. No man would ever choose this on his own, and as I glance around at the ostentatious décor, I know for a downright fact that Aidan would never decorate his house this way. He’s almost obsessed with things not being fancy, no shimmer and shine, and yet this entire home, I can tell, was decorated by a woman who was trying to show off.
My stomach turns as I think about his requirements for me. No makeup, no flashy lingerie or shoes. His wife is flashy, she’s over the top, and he wants the exact opposite in his bed now. She was probably blonde haired and blue eyed as well, maybe rail thin, and always perfect looking.
I stay seated on the edge of the sofa, afraid to touch it and leave stains. Not that I have anything on me or my hands, but it’s just that perfectly white.
“She’s in her bed with the nanny now,” Aidan announces as he walks into the room. I jump, not having expected him to appear so soon. “Giovanna?” he asks.
Lifting my head, I look at him. He looks so serious, and his face is etched with worry. No longer is he concerned with my father, his call, or Blackburn. Now, he’s just a worried father.
“Why don’t you go take care of her? I can wait right here for whoever is to pick me up.”
His brows tug together, and he frowns before he speaks. “Isla is with her nanny, Giovanna. She’s fine,” he mutters.
I shake my head. “She was wrapped around you like that was the only place she wanted to be.”
Bought by the Badman Page 8
