His words are a low rumble of thunder. “An attempt to break into the Village is a threat. Not a scrape. Even if it is an employee of ours.”
Damn if I’ve not put my foot in my mouth for the umpteenth time tonight. I lower my gaze. “Forgive me.”
Rockland rests his elbows on the table, leaning in. “Tell me, Eli, why did Charlotte attempt to come into the Village?”
“Sir, she only said she wanted to see me. I’m sorry I can’t give you a more reasonable answer. I’m not really sure what she was thinking.”
He says, “My wife wants her gone.”
“I think she’s made that clear.”
“If you hadn’t been there, it’s quite possible she’d have been shot on sight,” he says.
My gut roils at the thought. “I understand. And I’m glad to have been there.”
He shrugs. “Girls go missing in the city every day. Especially little naive blonde ones with cute bottoms. She’s easily disposed of.”
The way he speaks of Charlotte like she’s some insignificant girl that can be done away with causes anger to burn in my chest. I sit up, squaring my shoulders. “I think that would be a very unwise move on your part.”
A smile plays on his lips. “Do you?”
“Her father is an employee of the family,” I say.
He shoots back, “Then he knows the risks.”
I reply, “You’d be opening yourself up to an investigation. One I don’t think you want.”
He shrugs. “We have men who take care of that.”
“Still, her hometown would go crazy if Charlotte went missing. It may be small, but it has a pretty hefty social media presence. A lot of distraught mothers would be pointing their fingers.”
He sits back in his chair, eyeing me. “For you to offer your opinion so freely, you must have an alternative planned. A way to deal with this other than disposal?”
I fear Charlotte’s life is in more danger in this moment than it was before. The anger dissolves, leaving the bitter taste of defeat in my mouth. I throw out my last, desperate plea in hopes of saving her. “I don’t. Other than to let her go and punish me in her place.”
A look akin to respect enters his gaze. “I admire your integrity, but I’m afraid that won’t be an acceptable alternative to my wife.”
Standing from his seat, he strolls casually across the kitchen, his hands linking behind his back. He stops at the big picture windows that overlook his back garden, staring out. “Tess had an interesting proposal.”
I’ve heard enough of Tess’s opinions for one night. Between gritted teeth, I ask, “Did she?”
His head turns to face me. His gaze locks on mine. “She did.”
I sit, silent, waiting to hear what sordid future Tess has concocted for Charlotte.
“She suggested you marry the girl.”
His words seem to travel slowly through the air and land with a thud in my chest. “Marriage?”
“Yes. She would become one of us, pledging her total loyalty, become your wife, and in exchange, once she’s a Bachman Beauty, no one from the family can touch her, they will have to accept her and her past transgressions. Her father could keep his job. And you could be her husband, guiding her from her ‘scrapes,’ as you call them.”
“And you’re in agreement with this?”
“I value my wife’s opinion above all others. Sometimes I doubt her, but in the end she’s always right. Tess cares for you. She worries someone of your ranking staying single isn’t a good look for the family, or the best setup for you, personally. She thinks a woman grounds a man and, having been a bachelor for many years, I tend to agree. This could work in your favor. You’ve had a long string of girlfriends in the past, but none lasting over six months. Perhaps it’s time for you to settle down.”
“Perhaps,” I mutter, my mind going a million miles an hour. “Where is Charlotte? Is she safe?”
He sits down in the chair beside me. “She is. She’s spending the night in Carter’s old house, under guard. You can trust me—she’s being well taken care of.”
This news is some solace, though when the sun rises if I don’t put a ring on her finger I get the feeling all their good care could turn to bloodshed. “Of course, I’ll defer to your decision, but isn’t there another way?”
“I’m afraid not. Marry her and she’s safe. Otherwise... I can’t make any guarantees. You can take the night to decide. I’ll expect your answer in the morning. In the meantime, we’ve confiscated the girl’s phone and sent her father a message telling him she’s sleeping over at a friend’s in the city. In the end, it will be your choice.”
I can sense our discussion is over. I rise from my chair. “Thank you for your time.”
Rockland reaches out a hand, placing it on my arm to stop me. “One moment, Eli.”
I sit back down. “Yes, sir?”
His tone is much softer now. His gaze almost friendly. “Marriage isn’t so bad, you know. I was a lonely bachelor for a lot of years, and I have to tell you, marrying Tess was the single greatest blessing of my life.”
I give a terse nod. “Tess is a lovely wife.”
“Charlotte would make a lovely wife as well. If you had it in you to correct her, protect her, there may be a connection there you’ve overlooked. And she certainly admires you.”
I snort. “To her detriment.”
He chuckles at my comment. For a millisecond, the weight is lifted from my shoulders. Then it comes crashing down like an avalanche of stones as I remember his indecent proposal; make Charlotte my wife, or harm may befall her.
Sensing our conversation has now truly come to a close, I excuse myself from Rockland’s home. Stepping out into the evening, I breathe in the fresh air, trying to clear my mind. It’s dusk now, the sky an array of warm colors, a sight normally beautiful enough to relax me. Not on this night.
There is no real choice—there’s no way I can let them hurt Charlotte. But to marry her without love is like its own death. And somehow exchanging vows with her seems more permanent than death, as there are no divorces in the Bachman household, so you’d best choose carefully who you pledge your life to.
A curious thought creeps into the back of my mind: Is this just a clever ploy of Tess’s to get me married?
She thinks the single men are too distracted by the Beauties and need a partner to fulfill their sexual cravings. Tess considers herself somewhat of a matchmaker. And as Rockland said, Tess cares about me, which may have clouded her judgement into thinking this marriage is what’s best for me.
To be so adamant that Charlotte must go, then to offer an alternative, the whole setup smacks of manipulation. But if I say no, and there was truly no bluff, no working behind the scenes, the consequences could be dire. Am I prepared to take that gamble?
Not when Charlotte’s safety is at stake.
The situation forces me to take stock of my emotions. I find I care for her. A great deal.
And as Rockland said, she does have a cute bottom.
I remember baring it in that hallway the night of the ball. My hand reddening her milky skin as I punished her. I can’t deny that my trousers were tighter when I let her up. And the kiss. I can no longer pretend it was on a whim. I’ve stared at her rosebud lips more times than I can count, wondering what they taste like.
Then there’s that other thing between us. The burning secret I’ve buried so deep inside of myself, and ignored, refusing to let it come to the surface.
When she called me Daddy.
I can’t deny the strength of the reaction I had to her calling me that endearing name. My chest welled and my cock has never been harder.
Deep inside, I’m a daddy dom, longing for a baby girl to spoil and spank. But I’m also practical, putting my desires for a serious, successful partner above my sexual cravings. Though each and every one of those relationships left something to be desired, and I ended them shortly after. I often wonder if my past relationships dissolved due to sabotage on my part. No
matter how perfect these women were, they were not baby girl material.
But Charlotte... she’s a woman who needs a strong man to guide her. Who wants a daddy to spoil her and hold her in his arms and whisper sweet words to her. A woman who needs a man to take her over his knee and give her bottom a good spanking when she’s being naughty.
A man she can call Daddy.
Although I’m not in love with her, I do have a strong love for her. Maybe it will grow. I could do worse.
The decision is made. Tomorrow morning, I will go and deliver the news to Rockland and Tess, that I will agree to their terms and marry Charlotte. I only have one condition. I will be the one to punish her, and being forced to marry is consequence enough in my book.
The night is long. An hour after I lie down, I’m still twisting and turning in my bed, unable to think of anything other than Charlotte and the commitment I must make. I try to picture her as my wife, here in my bachelor pad, decorated in gray and black. Her bright spirit seems so out of place, I can’t imagine it. I find myself thinking of things she might like. A softer rug. Cozier blankets. Maybe even some pink.
Am I crazy? A few hours ago I was single; now, I’m picking out furniture for my bride?
And what if Charlotte’s little crush doesn’t extend far enough to want to marry me? The need to see her suddenly takes precedence over everything else. Abandoning my bed, I dress quickly and head out the door to find my bride to be.
Chapter Six
Charlotte
My stomach is sick with nerves. I’m afraid I’ll throw up all over these white silk sheets. I climb out of the bed, and gaze around my room—my prison cell—admiring the expensive furnishings.
I’ve never seen such high-quality craftsmanship in my life. Running my hand over the carved roses in the thick wood bed frame, I wonder what it would be like to live in one of these elegant row homes.
Three stories tall with huge picture windows that look over the street. The grass along the sidewalks is perfectly manicured. The homes in perfect repair, each one with its own personality, shiny lacquered door, window boxes of flowers, or decorative wreaths.
And in front of the door of my home for the evening stand two guards from the Brotherhood. Dressed all in black with huge, bulging muscles, one hand on the gun at their waist, just glancing down at them makes a wave of terror rock my soul. The dark swirling tattoos that peek out from their shirtsleeves tell me they’ve come from the Parrish—the family’s secret island off the coast of Greece where the store of ammunitions is kept.
Pacing the room, I wonder what Rockland will do to me. Surely he doesn’t mean to kill me. My father’s worked for the family since I was a young girl. The Brothers know me from the yearly parties; I’ve served them on the yacht.
And then there’s Eli, who came to my rescue. He can vouch for me and get me out of this mess... can’t he? My stomach sinks down to my bare feet.
What if he can’t?
What if Rockland has already decided what he’s going to do with me and Eli can’t—or worse, won’t—persuade him?
This could be my last night on this Earth. The feeling settles into me, tearing at the center of my being. “I’m going to be sick.”
I tear off for the bathroom—one so beautiful and vast I’d normally be thrilled to be using—and kneel on the cold marble floor as I lose the entire contents of the dinner I was earlier delivered into the toilet.
Heaving and gasping, I wipe tears from my eyes. “How did I manage to get myself into this big of a mess?”
The sound of footsteps on the stairs reaches me. They’ve come for me in the dark of the night. Should I fight? Get up and at least try to lock the door, to prolong the inevitable? I find I’m too weak to care, the fight draining from me. It’s no use. They’re coming to take me to the guillotine, or a vat of acid, whatever it is this mafia uses to dispose of troublemakers like me.
I rest my head on the luckily pristinely clean toilet seat and manage to mutter the words, “Do what you will.”
From the corner of my eye I find Eli leaning against the doorframe, staring down at me. “How about we get you cleaned up.”
Hope wells in my heart at the familiar voice. Snapping my head up, I look to see if it’s really him. “Eli!”
“Happy to see me?” he asks, kneeling down beside me. He pulls my hair back, away from my face, tucking it into the back of my shirt. “Just in case you’re going to be sick again.”
His gentle touch makes me want to shed tears of relief, but my gut is still in knots of terror. “Tell me—what are they going to do with me?”
His gaze is soft, but behind it I see inward turmoil. “Everything is going to be okay.”
Relief bursts in my chest. “They aren’t going to... kill me?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Charlotte, it wasn’t looking good. But... we found a way to keep you safe.”
“I knew it.” My breath leaves my body. The worst I feared has happened. Men, sitting around a dark room, talking of all the terrible ways they can dispose of me. I start to tremble, seconds later my limbs are shaking.
He wraps his arms around me, attempting to hold my shivering body. “They aren’t going to do anything to you. They’ve found... an alternative.”
His tone is so heavy, I fear the alternative might be worse than death. I look up at him, my eyes widening, “What is it?”
“Before I tell you, let’s get you cleaned up.” He helps me from the floor. I stand, staring in the mirror at my ghostly pale face as he goes to the cabinet and retrieves a stack of fluffy white towels. “Do you think you’ll be sick again?”
In his presence, I suddenly feel calm, my stomach settling. “No, I don’t think so.”
He runs the tap until steam rises from the sink and wets a washcloth. Wringing it out, he brings it over to me. I stare at his face as he gently wipes every inch of mine. There’s a look of determination in his eyes, a steely set to his jaw, as if he’s preparing for battle. When he’s done, he untucks my hair, smoothing it down my back.
“Let’s go to the bed. I think you should be sitting down for what I’m about to tell you.” Holding my arm to steady me, he guides me over to the bed. We sit down, side by side, our thighs pressed against one another’s. He takes my hand in his, holding it, smoothing his long fingers over the back. “Charlotte, you need to know one thing—when I tell you the alternative, to...”
I give a manic laugh. “My death?”
His gaze is serious, pleading. “I don’t know what danger there is, but I know one sure way to keep you safe.”
His words are heavy, knotting my already tight insides. “What is it? Just tell me. I don’t think I can take much more of this not knowing—”
“You have to marry me.”
Have I heard him correctly? His words swirl inside my mind as if they are another language, one I cannot fully understand. I feel my brow knit in confusion. “Marry you?”
His answer is a grave nod. “Marry me and then you’ll be a Bachman and no one from the family can touch you.”
A thousand emotions swirl through my chest. I stand from the bed, my hands waving as I ramble. “But why? And how is that fair to you? To be forced into marriage because of a silly mistake that I made?”
He grabs my hand, attempting to pull me back down beside him. “Charlotte, calm down.”
Yanking my hand from his, I remain standing. “No! I won’t do it. Forcing you into a marriage for the rest of your life—one with someone you obviously have no feelings for, at least not those kind—and all on my account? That’s like exchanging your life for mine, and I won’t do it.”
Slowly, he rises, towering before me. “Yes, you will.”
I back away, trembling. “No, I won’t.”
He points to the window. “Charlotte, when that sun rises tomorrow morning, I’m going to Rockland to tell him that you and I are going to be married. That is final.”
There’s no way I can let Eli give up his entire li
fe for me—someone he never, ever would have chosen to marry. Strange, the thing I’ve wanted for so long is now within my grasp and I’m going to turn it down.
Tomorrow will my last day on Earth. I have to get him out of here, now before I grow weak and change my mind. I lie, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
He looks as if he wants to say more. Our gazes hold one another’s in a moment of confusion and desperation. He leaves, brushing past me without another word.
How could it come to this? The man I love being forced to marry me or see me die?
I fall on top of the bed and cry until I’ve worn myself out. Until every sordid emotion is cleared from my mind. Until my resolve is strong as steel. Tomorrow, I will defy Rockland and refuse to marry Eli. Then I will die.
A strange velvety peace comes over me. I pull the sheets up to my chin and drift off to sleep.
In the morning I’m woken by a trilling voice calling out, “Someone’s getting married today!”
I look up to find a tall brunette woman pulling the curtains back from the windows, letting the early sunlight pour in. I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands. “Hello?”
Seeing such a chipper Beauty makes this morning even more strange—today is the day of my death, but here she is, in a cheery turquoise dress I’d love to own, pearls dotting her earlobes and strung around her neck. “Get up, darling, we’ve got lots to do!”
Perhaps I’m already dead and this is the afterlife. Maybe this woman is an angel, sent to prepare me for my eternal destiny. My throat feels tight. I swallow hard and say, “Who are you?”
She’s over at the enormous bureau, pulling out bottles and trays and brushes of what looks like makeup. “Charlie. At your service! Luca wouldn’t let Emily come, he’s so worried about keeping her stress levels low during the pregnancy—I’m sorry about that—but they let me. I’m her good friend—so the next best thing.”
Instantly, I can see why Emily was drawn to this woman. Her positive, energetic spirit is contagious. She’s flitting about the room, pulling out clothing from the trunk that’s somehow mysteriously appeared in the room.
Daddy Page 6
