Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  I clink my glass against his and Allegra follows suit, but as I drink, I catch a glimpse of Junior leaning against the bar in the far corner, a drink of what looks to be whiskey in his hand, his eyes narrowed on Allegra. Holstein follows my line of vision and clears his throat. It’s then that someone approaches to stand a few feet away. I don’t need to look to know it’s Enzo. We’ve worked together for six years. I know him well, and he knows me.

  “Let’s get this done,” I say, draining my glass and setting it down on a passing waiter’s tray.

  “I’ll get my son,” Holstein says and walks off.

  I turn to Allegra. “Enzo will stay with you. I shouldn’t need more than fifteen minutes. Then we can go.”

  She nods, but her eyes are on Junior stalking her from his corner.

  “Do you know him?” I ask her. “Holstein’s son.”

  “I really don’t think so. He makes my skin crawl though.”

  “He won’t bother you. He’ll be in the meeting room with us.”

  She smiles at me. “It’s fine. I’ve dealt with creeps before. I can take care of myself.”

  “Just remember what we talked about.”

  Holstein returns. “Ready?”

  Junior’s gone. He must already be in the room, so I take a second glass of champagne from a passing waiter and swap it out for Allegra’s empty one, handing it to her. “Lead the way,” I tell him, leaving Enzo to watch her, an uncomfortable sensation in my gut.

  The paperwork is already laid out on the long wooden table surrounded by a dozen chairs. Two men are seated, Holstein’s attorneys on one side, two I recognize on the other. I nod to them. They’re my family’s attorneys. Junior is pouring himself a drink, ignoring the waiter standing by the bar to do just that.

  Holstein follows him with a look of disgust as Junior plants himself casually at the table.

  “Gregorio, would you like something to drink?” Holstein asks.

  “No, thank you,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  The older man does the same. I pick up the stack of papers in front of me. “I assume you’ve read through it all?” I ask my attorneys.

  “Yes, sir. The amendments you asked for are here…” one says, leafing through a few pages to point to something further in the document, “here, and here.”

  I read the paragraphs and nod, then leaf through a few more sheets. I’ve already read it, actually. Just want to be sure there’s nothing new Holstein thinks he can slip by me. I like to give the impression of being casual, but I take the family business very seriously.

  “Everything should be as you requested,” Holstein presses. He wants the paperwork signed. He needs this money to stay afloat. Without it, he loses the property altogether. This way, he can retain some part of it.

  “I want it noted that I am not in agreement with this deal,” Junior starts.

  “We all know that, son,” Holstein says, slowly turning to face him. “But you’re not in a position to provide the funds the Santa Maria brothers have graciously offered, are you?”

  “We have another option,” he spits.

  His father gives him a stern look. “No, we do not.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t trust them, Father. I told you I can work out another deal.”

  “What other deal?” I ask.

  “No other deal,” Holstein says, eyes on his son, warning him.

  The old man is making the decision, not the boy, and the fact that I’m here says it’s been made. I lean forward, shooting daggers at Junior across the table. “I’m cleaning up the mess you created, asshole. Be fucking careful.”

  Holstein is visibly shaken. I sit back and adjust my bowtie, giving him a one-sided smile as he deals with Junior, whispering something to him. At that, Junior picks up the pen and angrily scrolls his name across the page before shoving his chair back and rising. He tosses the pen onto the table, opens his mouth to say something, but heeds his father’s warning look and, instead, walks out the door.

  “Excuse him, Gregorio,” Holstein says a moment later. “He’s young and inexperienced.”

  “He’s neither that young nor inexperienced,” I say. Holstein needs to get his boy under control.

  He nods, but is obviously uncomfortable, and gestures to the server standing by who drops ice cubes into a tumbler and pours him a whiskey. I check my watch as he sips from his drink while one of his attorney’s answers yet another question about the contract we’ve discussed at our previous two meetings. Essentially, by signing today, Holstein receives a cash payout to get his casino back in the black and enough so he won’t lose his mansion—at least, not for another year when we renegotiate.

  Finally, once his glass is drained, he looks up at me. “Looks in order,” he says.

  I understand the old man’s hesitation, but he’s doing right by his family. They’ll be protected from bankruptcy. He just needs to give up control of his casino while maintaining the façade of still owning it.

  He picks up his pen, signs the copy Junior already scribbled on, and turns it around to me. I sign, then push my chair back to stand. Holstein looks a little paler as he reaches out to take my extended hand.

  “You made the right decision. Don’t lose sleep over it,” I say, and I mean it.

  I walk back out to the main room fully expecting to find Allegra waiting where I left her with Enzo by her side. But neither is in the room.

  “Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?” I ask a waiter. She must be there.

  He points around a corner, and I head in that direction, pulling my cell phone from my pocket as I do. Just as I reach the bathroom door, a woman emerges, startled when I nearly topple her over.

  “I’m looking for someone. About this tall, dark hair, pretty.”

  She just shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

  I look down at my phone and realize I had it on Do Not Disturb. I see three messages from Enzo on my screen. They’re from about ten minutes ago and all telling me he lost her. I call him as I continue walking down the hall, opening doors as I go.

  “Boss, I swear she was there one second, gone the next.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Downstairs. I checked Holstein’s penthouse, and she’s not there.”

  “Shit!”

  But just as I turn to make my way down to meet him, I hear a sound. A struggle. I rush back to the door I’d just tried and found locked.

  “Allegra?” I try the doorknob again.

  A muffled sound comes from inside, followed by that of glass shattering.

  I slam my full weight against the door.

  “What the hell?” It’s old man Holstein coming down the hall.

  I don’t stop to talk, to tell him I’m about to break down his door. I smash my shoulder into it twice more until it gives, the wood splintering, my shoulder on fire as I crash through it to find Allegra pressed up against the wall, Junior’s hand around her throat as he stands half doubled over and in obvious pain.

  “Let her go, asshole!” I grip his shoulder and shove him backward. When he stumbles, I do what I’ve wanted to do since the first minute I met this clown and smash my fist into his jaw.

  “What the hell’s going on in here?” Holstein asks. Behind him come the sounds of men running into the room.

  I ignore them all. Allegra’s still standing in the corner, her hands on her throat as she gasps for breath. When I reach her and draw her wrists apart, I see the violent red print of the hand that had been wrapped around her neck. Her hands catch mine, and I search her face. Lines of mascara smear down her cheeks. I wipe away a tear with my thumb.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nods.

  I nod too, relieved, then turn to Junior who’s just getting up off the bed he stumbled on when I punched him. I help him up, then land another hit to his face and one more into his gut. He’s doubled over by the time Holstein’s men drag me off. Holstein looks from Allegra to me, to his son.

  “Let him go,�
�� he tells his men just as I break free.

  “Gregorio,” Allegra starts, coming to me, standing between Junior and me. “Stop. He’s not worth it.”

  “Move,” I tell her, my eyes burning with hate at the sniveling buffoon.

  “What the hell did you do?” Holstein asks his son.

  “You know who she is. You recognized her; I know you did,” Junior says to his father, gesturing to Allegra.

  “I don’t care who she is. She’s here with him.” The old man points to me without looking my way, and, with a strength I didn’t know he had, lifts Junior up by the collar. “She’s his. Are you fucking stupid to mess with what’s his?” He tosses him backward onto the bed.

  “Gregorio,” Allegra’s hands are on my face, and she finally draws my attention back to her. “I want to go. Please, let’s go.”

  I nod, but push her aside, keeping a hand on her as I approach the Holsteins.

  “You get your boy under control, or next time, I won’t be so gentle,” I say to Holstein while looking at his son, who narrows his eyes but turns away. I take Allegra’s hand, and she stumbles as I walk her too fast out of the room, drawing my phone out as I stalk across the party space where the music has stopped, and people stand, watching the spectacle we make.

  “Get the car,” I text Enzo.

  The elevator doors open, and we step inside. I don’t see a single person’s face in the room full of people openly staring at us as the doors slide closed, and we ride down in silence, me, still fuming, Allegra studying me as if afraid I’ll lose it again. I finally face her, look her over, and quickly notice how her dress is askew and torn in one place. I adjust it over her shoulder before meeting her eyes. She’s still fucking beautiful, despite the makeup running down her face and the hair that’s come out of its chignon.

  I close the space between us, taking her face in my hands, hearing the old man’s words again: “She’s his. Are you fucking stupid to mess with what’s his?” I kiss her hard on the mouth, backing her against the elevator wall, swallowing her sharp intake of breath, devouring her mouth, her lips, her tongue, because it’s as if, suddenly, I’m a man starved, as if I can’t get enough. Her hands close over mine, and she opens to me, and I taste her until the elevator doors slide open, and I’m forced to step back. Breathing hard, I watch her, and she, me and I know for a fact that yes, she is mine.

  And I have no intention of giving her back.

  Chapter Seven

  Allegra goes quiet when we get into the SUV, her face drained of color. I get the feeling she’s only now processing what just happened.

  “Did he hurt you?” I ask.

  She turns to me. She knows what I mean. “No. He just wanted to scare me.”

  Mother Fucker.

  “I’m going to hurt that boy.”

  “You already did.”

  We drive the hour and a half back to the penthouse. I’m fuming the entire time, and Allegra’s quiet. She doesn’t resist when, once inside, I guide her through the master bedroom and into my bathroom.

  “I shouldn’t have taken you there,” I say, plugging the tub and running a bath. I want to wash her clean. Get his touch off her. It was stupid to take her.

  “Arturo’s going to come for me,” she says, looking beyond me. “This is just one more thing. One more example of what my life will be like, isn’t it? The kind of men I’ll deal with. It’s going to be me against all of them.”

  “We’re not all like that.”

  She gives me the saddest smile. “I’m not going to get out of this.”

  Her arms are freezing when I wrap my hands around them and give her a little shake to make her look at me, really see me rather than look through me. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Allegra.”

  She blinks. Her eyes are bright and full of tears.

  “Understand?” I ask.

  She nods, but it’s not very convincing. I pull her in and hold her. I don’t even know why, but I just do it, and as soon as her face is buried in my chest, I feel her body begin to tremble, feel tears soak through my shirt.

  “Shh. I promise; I won’t let them hurt you.”

  I hold her tight, watching our reflection in the mirror, her slight body in my arms, small and vulnerable. We stay like this until the water fills the tub, and she has stopped crying. I don’t ask her, and she doesn’t resist when I unzip the dress from her. And when I pull back a little, she stands there and lets me undo the halter top. We never take our eyes off each other as it slides to the floor, leaving her in panties and shoes. I swallow, and, every nerve in my body alive, I look at her. At her nearly naked body. Slowly, first down, over her slender neck to small, perfectly round breasts, the flat of her belly to black silk panties, to tanned legs, and back up to meet her gaze.

  She bites her lip, and I hook my fingers into her panties, holding eye contact as I slide them down over her hips and let them fall to the floor. She steps out of them and her shoes at once, and she’s suddenly four inches shorter.

  I get rid of my jacket and begin to unbutton my shirt, undoing the cuffs first, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Her gaze roams over my chest, and I step to her, wrapping one arm around her waist, gripping the hair on the back of her head with the other to tilt it back, and kiss her mouth hard, taking from her, wanting to stamp my own print on her. Feeling like I’m some animal needing to mark his territory.

  She makes a sound and urgency moves me. I walk her backward, pressing her against the wall, the kiss intensifying.

  “I want you,” I moan against her mouth, one hand wrapped around her jaw, the other gripping a handful of hair, tilting her head backward. “Now. I want you now.”

  She’s clutching at me, her hands clawing in my hair, drawing me closer, her body pressing against me, one leg wrapping around my hip.

  With a groan, I lift her, holding her tight, still kissing her as I carry her into my bedroom and lay her on the bed, falling on top of her. There’s an urgency burning inside me, controlling me, and it’s like I haven’t fucked a woman in years. Like I have been lost in a desert for too long, and I’m parched for pussy. For her pussy. I suddenly can’t think straight, can’t see straight, and when I feel her little hands working to undo my belt, I give myself over to the beast inside me.

  Standing beside the bed, I grab her ankles and draw her to the edge of it so I’m between her wide-spread legs. I can smell her arousal, and I devour her pussy with my eyes as I undo belt and pants and push them and my briefs down. Laying one hand roughly on her wet pussy, I find her clit and work it as with the other, I reach to open the nightstand drawer and take a condom, unwrapping it, watching her face as I manipulate her hard little nub, see how her eyes go soft, how she bites her lip and moans and looks angry when I release it to slide the condom over my dick.

  “I’ll make you come, don’t worry,” I say, gripping her thighs and spreading them wide to look at her glistening, pink pussy. I line my cock up and shove her thighs back and hold her gaze when I impale her, liking the momentary flash of pain on her face, that one that turns instantly into pleasure and whimpering as I begin to fuck her tight little cunt.

  “Fuck.”

  I moan. I want this to go on forever, this sensation, the complete pleasure, but I want to come. I want to blow inside her. Leaning down to her face, I kiss her, rubbing against her clit with each thrust until her nails are digging into my back and her pussy tightens around my cock, and she comes all over me, her slick passage hugging my dick as it pulses around me.

  When she lets up, I pull back, my cock still buried in her. I’m seconds from coming, but I pull out and flip her onto her belly to grab her ass cheeks and pull them wide so I can see her, all of her, her soaking pussy, her tiny little asshole. Lifting her a little so her face is buried in the sheets, I take her from behind, fucking her hard, thrusting wildly, claiming her like some animal claims its mate. It’s when I feel her come again that, with a sound unfamiliar to me, something from deep inside me, I blow, collaps
ing on top of her when it’s over, feeling emptied.

  I pull out and get rid of the condom before she’s had a chance to move. I draw the blankets back, climbing in with her beside me, holding one arm around her middle, and we fall asleep to the scent of sex and sweat and fucking.

  ***

  My cell phone buzzing on the nightstand beside me wakes me at a little after five. It takes me a minute to wake up, to unravel myself from the still sleeping Allegra. By the time I grab the phone, the buzzing has stopped, but I can see it’s my brother. I get out of bed, pull on a pair of sweats and walk into the living room to call him back. Something’s up.

  “Gio,” I say when he picks up. My voice sounds thick and groggy.

  “I have some news,” he says.

  Something tells me it’s not good. “What?”

  “John Antonino’s dead. Pulled the plug two days ago.”

  “What? Two days ago?” That wakes me up. “How?” But I think the question is more who. “We’re just finding out?”

  “Yeah. And as for how, mother and son decided to do it,” Giovanni replies, the tone of his voice telling me he’s not happy.

  “Shit.”

  “There’s more. Arturo requested you send the girl.”

  “He requested I send the girl? What am I, fucking UPS?”

  Giovanni chuckles at that. “Dominic is getting ready to send men to support the cousin. He’s less than thrilled about the Rossi family slithering into Benedetti territory and pissed with Arturo for allowing it.”

  “I bet.” I don’t care about that, not right now. “I have to tell Allegra her father’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry, brother.”

  I hear my bedroom door open and turn to find Allegra walking out of it.

  “When’s the funeral?” I turn my back to ask so she can’t hear.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “I have to go.”

  We hang up, and I shift my gaze to Allegra.

  “Who was that?” she asks sleepily. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts. It rides high on her thighs when she stretches.