Controlled by the Mob

by Tami Lund

  She almost winced as she led Leo to her room, at the same time hearing the scrape of metal sliding against metal in her mind as that door at the top of the stairs opened. She’d held her breath, her fingers curling against the comforter, as she’d waited for her fate.

  The flash of light had made her blink rapidly, which hadn’t detracted at all from watching the shiny leather loafers thump, thump, thump as they made their way down the stairs. She didn’t dare look up into her captor’s face because that would make it real.

  And then he spoke, and her situation went from bad to confusing.

  “Hello, Shannon. How are you feeling?” The voice was pleasant, warm, and…familiar.

  “Mr. Grigoryan?” She recalled glancing sharply at a clean shaven, strong jawline. At laugh lines around brown eyes that were ringed with thick lashes. At black hair with white streaks at the temples. At the body of a man with not a paunch or bit of flab in sight. Definitely not a dad bod, but certainly a dad.

  Davit’s father.

  “Wh-what are you doing here? Why am I here?”

  He’d flipped on a lamp perched on a nearby table, illuminating the full-sized bed she sat on, that was situated against a wall, in a space that resembled a studio apartment, except with no windows. Besides the bed, there was a bistro-style table and two chairs, a basic kitchen with a sink and cupboards but no stove, and an open door across the way, through which she could see a shower stall and toilet.

  “How did I get here?” she asked.

  Nothing had made sense. This man wasn’t someone she feared. To be honest, ever since she became aware of the differences between men and women, she’d had a slight crush on him, despite the fact that he was three decades older and had two sons, one who was her age and another several years older.

  He was one of her father’s business associates, someone who came to their house regularly. His wife had died a few years previous—cancer, if she recalled correctly. She hadn’t liked Davit or his brother, even back then; they acted all macho and tough like they needed to prove to the world they were better than everyone around them. She preferred men who had an inner confidence.

  Like Mr. Grigoryan. She’d always had a soft spot for him. He treated her like she was in the room, whereas most of the men of her acquaintance tended to ignore her or ogle her, nothing in between.

  “It’s a very long story, dear,” he responded to her question, “and we’ll get there, eventually. But first, please call me Hayk.”

  She’d shifted backward on the bed until she was propped against the wall. “Okay.”

  “Say it.”

  “Hayk.”

  He smiled. “I like the way you say it.”

  She hadn’t known how to respond to that, so she said nothing at all.

  “You are probably going to stay here for a very long time, my sweet. So I want to ensure it is comfortable. I’ll bring you meals every day or have them brought if I’m away on business. But please tell me what sorts of snacks you’d like. And drinks. Also, do you have a favorite shampoo, body wash, maybe perfume? I’ll need your clothes sizes, everything from your bra to your panties to your shoes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She recalled the bed creaking and sagging under their combined weight as he sat down next to her and patted her knee. “I know you don’t. You’ll learn, soon enough. For now, just know this: you belong to me now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’ve wanted you for a very long time. Well, in truth, not that long. You haven’t had a woman’s body for very many years, and I’m not attracted to young girls. Too young of girls, I should say. But now, you are fully grown, and you are glorious. And I’ve decided I want you. So I took you.”

  “You…you took me?” She’d pictured herself as a woman-shaped diamond or perhaps a ruby. The image was as ridiculous as his words. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “All sorts of things, I hope.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do. You are just processing, and I imagine it’s a bit overwhelming.”

  She stared at his pleasant smile. “Are you…are you going to rape me?”

  That smile had turned upside down, and his brows dropped over suddenly stormy eyes. That had been the only moment she’d feared the man himself rather than the situation.

  “Absolutely not,” he’d said. “But yes, we are going to have sex. A lot of sex, I sincerely hope.”

  She shook her head. Her father had lectured her endlessly about sex, about protecting her body. “If I say no, that’s rape.”

  He patted her knee again, that pleasant smile back in place. “You won’t say no.”

  “If you touch me, I will.”

  “That’s not how it’s going to work. I’m not going to touch you until you ask me to.”

  He’d stood then while Shannon’s mind had been reeling, still trying to understand the situation. “Now, would you like any snacks? As I recall, you have a fondness for sour candies. Shall I bring you some?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve been watching you, studying you for quite some time, my dear. This sort of plan does not occur in the blink of an eye.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll never ask you to touch me.”

  His smile never faltered. “Well then, I suppose we’ll never get to have sex, will we?”

  He’d visited every day, unless he was out of town. And he’d stayed true to his word. He hadn’t touched her. For almost a year, he didn’t lay a finger on her.

  Until she asked him to.

  No.

  She shook her head. That was the past. She couldn’t change it; she could only learn from it. And tonight, she wanted to learn what it was like to be with Leo. To have sex with this man, on her own terms.

  She was no longer a confused young woman who did everything she was instructed to do, whose immature crush morphed into her being kidnapped and held prisoner in a windowless room. Or a grieving fiancée who transitioned from being manipulated by one man to becoming a pawn for his son.

  Leo was nothing like those men she’d known. And Shannon was no longer that woman, controlled by the mob, doing whatever she was told because she knew no other way. Hell, if someone had bothered to ask her about her relationship with Hayk during those two years between his freeing her from the basement and his death, she would have defended it.

  She would have said it was better than living at home with her parents, who had been simply waiting to pawn her off on someone else. For the right price, of course.

  She glanced at Leo over her shoulder, matched his crooked smile with one of her own.

  And then she inserted the old-fashioned skeleton key into the lock and opened the door.

  ***

  Her room was smaller than Leo’s, but then again, he’d booked the honeymoon suite. And they didn’t need much room. She had a bed piled with a thick comforter and a bunch of pillows, and a private bathroom; what else did they need?

  She bent over and tugged her sandals off her feet and then pointed at the bathroom. “I’m going to freshen up.”

  After she closed the door, he wandered about her room, not being nosy, just killing time. Unlike his room, where he’d left his suitcase sitting on the dresser, open, yesterday’s clothes in a pile on the floor, he didn’t even see her suitcase. She’d tucked it into the closet, or she’d fully unpacked and put everything away.

  A package of sour candy and a paperback book rested on the bedside table—a romance, based on the embracing couple on the cover. There were several bottles of water in her mini fridge, so he helped himself to one and stepped up to the windows overlooking the patio. She did not have a balcony like he did.

  He heard the knob twist, and he turned around and watched as she stepped out of the bathroom, haloed by light that made her look like an angel. She still wore the dress, but she’d washed the makeup off her face and had pulled the tie out of her hair so that it draped in waves
around her shoulders.

  “Breathtaking,” he whispered, staring.

  Her lips quirked, and she touched her hair, clearly self-conscious. “I got the impression you aren’t one of those guys who expects women to wear makeup to bed.”

  “Guys like that exist?” He strode across the room until he stood before her. “If you’re fishing for compliments, I’ll happily go on and on about how insanely gorgeous you are just as you are.” He lightly ran his fingertips up and down her arms.

  She shivered and shook her head. “No, not fishing for compliments. It’s just that…this is going to sound weird, but I was, um, groomed to act a certain way, to do certain things. To…”

  He lifted a hand, cutting her off. “Stop. You’re getting uncomfortable, and I like it much better when you’re relaxed. And I don’t care who else you’ve been with or what you did with them. In fact, I’d really rather not know. If this is leading to where I’m hoping it is, all I want is for you to be you. With me.” He cupped her cheek. “All I want is to make you happy.”

  Her eyes widened briefly before her lashes dropped and then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, drowning in the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against his.

  He’d spoken the truth. All he cared about was making her happy. That should bother him, since a day ago he’d declared he was no longer doing that, and yet, here he was, on what was supposed to be his wedding day, breaking his promise to himself already.

  Except the difference was, making her happy made him happy, and that was the aspect that had been missing for all these years.

  Besides, everything about this weekend, everything about Shannon felt perfect. This wasn’t a mistake; this was what he should have been striving for ever since he started dating. Ever since his father announced that the heir to the Beneventi Corporation had to marry a certain type of woman, one whose connections would help take their company to the next level.

  He had no idea what sort of connections Shannon had, and he didn’t care. All he cared about at the moment was her lips pressed against his, her hands stroking his back, her breasts pillowed against his chest, her foot twining around his calf.

  All he cared about was spending the night with this woman and getting to know her far more intimately than he’d ever known another human being, ever.

  Chapter Eight

  He didn’t care. Well, he didn’t know what he claimed he didn’t care about, and Shannon wasn’t an idiot. If he had an inkling about her past, he most certainly would care.

  And they likely would not be here, right now, kissing passionately, wrapped in one another’s arms, on the verge of making love.

  Leo had no expectations. If she stopped right now, she knew he would back off, would leave and go to his own room, and tomorrow morning, they would still be friends.

  But she didn’t want to stop. Her history with sex had not ruined the act for her, thank God. In fact, she was looking forward to experiencing it with Leo. She was certain it would be so different, it would be like she was doing it for the first time.

  He squeezed her breast, and she moaned, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He swallowed the noise, sweeping his tongue into her mouth while kneading her breast with one hand as the other drifted down until it smoothed over her ass.

  She slipped her hands under his shirt so she could stroke his skin. Her hips undulated, practically of their own accord. But that wasn’t enough, so she pushed the material up, over his pecs, until he stretched his arms, grasping the collar, pulling it over his head, and dropping it on the carpet.

  “Better,” she murmured, her gaze drinking in all those beautiful muscles while her hands freely explored.

  He touched her thighs, just below the hem of her dress, feather-light at first, and then he dragged his hands up, taking her dress with them and tossing it to the floor with his shirt.

  “Even better,” he said, cupping her breasts over her lacy, aqua-colored bra. He bent to trail kisses from one boob to the other before pressing his lips against her mouth again. His arm snaked around her back, and a moment later, she was freed from the restraints of her bra, which he flung across the room.

  “Come here,” she said, tugging him toward the bed. Her legs were wobbling so fiercely she was afraid she’d collapse if they remained standing.

  She gave him a little push and he fell backward, lengthwise across the bed. Grinning, he immediately tucked his arms behind his head. She climbed over him, her knees on either side of his hips, and leaned down to kiss him. He grasped her hips and tugged her forward.

  When she resisted his efforts, he said, “Come up here. I want to taste you.”

  “Oh.” She sucked in a sharp breath and let him pull her up until she was kneeling over his face.

  “Yeah.” He stroked the inside of her thigh. “I like this.”

  He hooked a finger into her panties and moved them to the side. She could feel his hot breath on her ultrasensitive nerve endings. “Me too,” she managed, her legs quaking when his lips touched her.

  His tongue swept out and lapped at her, and she let out a gasp that was closely followed by a low moan. He kept it up, his lips and tongue and fingers working her into a frenzy, until she couldn’t hold it in anymore, and why was she doing that anyway?

  She let go. Let the orgasm pour over her. Let that incredible sensation fill her until she was brimming over. Until she was a boneless mass of sated pleasure and would have collapsed if he hadn’t flipped her onto her back and rolled on top of her.

  She blinked dazedly while he grinned down at her, looking pleased as punch.

  He should. That had been marvelous.

  She patted his cheek. “Well done.”

  He barked out a laugh and pressed a smacking kiss to her lips. “You liked that?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Good. I did too. Hopefully, you let me do it again.”

  She giggled. “Anytime you want, big man.”

  “How about this? Can we do this too?” He rolled his hips, the abrasive material of his shorts dragging across her drenched silk panties.

  Before she could come up with a cheeky answer, he leapt off the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, probably sounding harsh, but that had been abrupt and not at all what she’d expected him to do at that moment.

  He extracted his room key from his pocket and said, “Be right back.” He practically ran out the door.

  What the hell?

  And then he was back, breathless, clutching a box of condoms.

  She laughed. “Glad you came prepared.”

  He ripped open the box and pulled out a foil square, tossing it onto the bed before shedding his shorts and boxers. The brief sprint down the hall had not tamped his arousal.

  “This was supposed to be my wedding night, remember?” He climbed onto the bed, once again covering her, pressing his forearms into the pillow on either side of her head so he could prop himself up to look down at her.

  “Oh, right.” She frowned. “Does that make this weird?”

  He kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. Her nose. Her lips. “This is perfect. And frankly, unless you happen to carry a box of condoms around while on a solo vacation, we would’ve been in trouble.”

  She smiled slyly. “Nah. We just would’ve had to get creative.”

  “Well, damn, now I wish I wouldn’t have remembered the condoms.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. She’d never had so much fun during sex before.

  She’d never enjoyed herself so much before.

  She wiggled out of her panties and wrapped her arms around him, twisting, bringing him with her as she rolled him onto his back, with her straddling his thighs. She plucked the condom from the comforter, unwrapped it, and then sheathed him, tickling his balls with her fingernails.

  He groaned and clutched her hips while staring at
her face. The moment she was done, he kissed her like a man desperate for a drink after walking through the Sahara Desert.

  “Wow,” she said when he let her up for air.

  “I agree.”

  She kissed him again while reaching down and grasping his erection. And then she sank down, filling herself, stretching, taking him in, and immediately rolling her hips because it felt so good she was certain she was about to have another orgasm.

  He tangled one hand in her hair while the other pressed against the small of her back, guiding her movements as he continued to make love to her mouth, and Shannon once again let herself go, simply reveled in the sensations, in the pleasure this man was giving her.

  Nothing else mattered. Not her current career, not her past, not what would happen in a few days when she had to return to her regularly scheduled life.

  She pinpointed her focus to this moment, to this man, to how utterly perfectly they fit together.

  And to that second orgasm he dragged from her, moments before he reached his own peak and then held her tightly, like he never wanted to let her go.

  ***

  Shannon came awake to the sound of something pelting against the window. Blinking slowly, she realized several things all in quick succession.

  It was after nine in the morning, yet as dark as dusk outside. And it was raining, heavily, based on the sounds from outside. And Leo was lying next to her, on his stomach, his head buried between two pillows, the sheet draped haphazardly so that his muscular back was on full view and part of his tight ass, too.

  It was a spectacular picture.

  And then she realized the most important piece of information of them all.

  No nightmare.

  She’d made it through an entire night without a nightmare.

  Sure, that did happen on occasion, but they’d been occurring so frequently lately that she’d forgotten what it was like to have a full night’s sleep.

  Well, she supposed she hadn’t actually slept all night last night. Leo was an energetic lover. And yet, she felt as refreshed as she used to upon waking, nine years ago, before Hayk Grigoryan locked her away.