His Hostage: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)

by Willow Winters

  I pick up her textbook and my brow furrows when I see the cover. She’s really fucking smart. "Biology?" I keep my voice even as I set the book back down. My confidence takes a small hit though. She’s a good girl, and she’s in school. Judging from the book, she’s taking some pretty fucking hard classes. I never went that road. Not like my brother Dom. I mean, I still know my shit. I never wanted to sit in class and try to be the teacher’s pet. But I'm damn sure this broad isn't wanting a man like me.

  She’s not going to want the bad boy who’s only going to derail her plans. At most, maybe she'd consider me someone to go slumming with. But my read on her isn’t giving me that vibe; she’s not the kind of woman who'd go to a dive looking for a dirty fuck to get her off, the later tell her girlfriends what she did. Her soft blue eyes stare back at me with lust, but she's holding herself back. I can tell. And I’m finding the challenge alluring.

  "Yup! Bio." Her voice squeaks a little and it makes me grin. I love that I’m getting to her. I can tell she thinks this is a bad idea, and she’s right. Just like I thought, smart girl. "I--" She starts to speak, but I cut her off.

  "You want to be a biologist, or a teacher?" I ask her, knowing she’d be too polite to talk over me. She blinks a few times, proving me right. "I just ask 'cause my brother went to school, but he decided to teach." I take a deep breath, then sit back in my seat as I run a hand through my hair. "Seems like a shit deal, though. That degree cost a lot, but teaching doesn’t pay dick."

  My jaw tics as I realize I let a bit of profanity slip. I don't know why it bothers me. It's who I am, and this is how I talk. All I'm looking for is a quick fuck, and I think she'd enjoy my filthy mouth. Or at the very least, she'd enjoy it on her pussy. But something about cussing in front of her seems off. She's too sweet to taint.

  "I have no fucking clue, to be honest," she says, and I smirk at her response. I love her blasé attitude and that her sweet little mouth can say naughty things. I’ve always wondered why people spend so much of their lives doing things that don’t thrill them. I need the high I get from my line of work. I don’t get people who work themselves to the bone for something their heart isn’t into.

  "Then why do it?" I ask, and I honestly want to know. Her hesitation makes me think she doesn’t know how to answer. Then her eyes fall to the table, and her lips tug down into a frown.

  Damn. That's not what I was expecting. I feel like an asshole for putting that sad look on her face. "Didn't mean to upset you, sweetheart." She shakes her head and looks back at me with a pained expression. She swallows and takes a deep breath. She’s so easy to read, and the only thing coming off of her right now is sorrow. I don’t like it. It’s not the read I got on her when she walked in.

  "I'm just tired," she says. Her lips press into a sad smile. It's a lie. She may be tired, but that's not what's eating her. This is where I usually steer the conversation back to the direction of my dick, or just leave. But the fucking words come out of my unfiltered mouth with concern. "Tell me what's wrong," I say imperiously. I demand, rather than ask her for an answer, because I don’t want to give her the option not to confide in me. I want to know. Some sick, twisted part of me feels like I could fix it all.

  Her eyes narrow like she doesn’t want me prying. I get that. To be honest, I’m surprised the question popped out of my mouth. Finally, she answers, "I'm just not happy with the decisions I've made for people who don't appreciate them." Vague answer, but a bit of relief washes over her. Like she’s happy just to get it off her chest. Surprisingly enough, she continues opening up.

  "I keep moving my life around for my mother, who only seems to date shitty assholes who take, take, take until she's spent. And then she runs to me when she has nothing."

  My heart fucking hurts for this broad. She's intelligent, beautiful, and sweet, yet she's hurting like this over her own mother? That's a damn shame. "Why do you do it?" I ask her. I sure as shit wouldn’t. Not that Ma would ever put me in that position.

  She shakes her head and just like that, the walls come up. My fingers itch to touch her. I want to soothe that bit of sadness. I've never felt something like this before, like I could make her life better. Like I want to make her life better. It makes me feel uneasy. But I can't fucking stop it.

  "Because she's my mother." She gives me a tight smile and reaches for the drink I didn't even see on the table. At least Brant’s good at keeping a low profile.

  I’m really out of my fucking element here. I'm an expert on getting laid, but this sure as shit isn’t it.

  I raise my eyebrows and take a deep breath. "I can see wanting to help your mom, I guess." I should give her some time to study and get out of this shit mood. "You want me to leave you alone so you can study?"

  I feel like an ass, asking like a little bitch. I'd rather she didn't waste her time doing shit that makes her unhappy when I could have her bent over moaning in ecstasy. I should just drag her to the back room and give her what she needs. My dick is so fucking hard for her. I haven't had any ass for a while now, and the barest hint of her breasts is peeking out through her tank top, taunting me.

  But, if she wants to bury herself in her work to forget about that shit, I can wait until she's done and then make sure she gets what she really needs. That, and I know she can read me like the back of her hand. She’s smart. If I pull a move now, then she'll know what’s up and just push me away. If I give her this, there's a better chance of me getting that ass later. I can wait. Usually I don't have to, but I'm willing to deal with a bit of blue balls, for a little while at least.

  “Yeah, thanks. Sorry to be such a downer.” Her words drip with disappointment and sarcasm. What the hell? She’s blowing me off? Nope, not gonna fucking happen. I look like a bad influence, because I am a bad influence. It's real cute that she thinks I'll just go ahead and leave her to do her work after that smartass answer. I'm not that kind of guy though.

  “I don’t like the way you talk about yourself,” I say with a hard edge to my voice, because I really don’t fucking like it. Being honest and open like that takes courage, at the very least. She shouldn’t be putting herself down. I also don’t like her attitude, not one fucking bit. She’s pushing me.

  She squares her shoulders and looks me straight in the eyes. She speaks calmly, but her voice is strong. “I can do what I’d like.” Her defiance makes my dick hard, and I ache to turn her over right here in front of everyone and show her what a good punishing fuck she needs right now. Then she adds, “And right now I’d like to study.” With my blood boiling and my agitation growing, she grinds her teeth and turns her shoulder to me, effectively dismissing me.

  “You could really use a release, sweetheart.” I can’t stop myself from saying it. I shouldn’t. I should let her finish her work, and I sure as shit shouldn’t get involved with her problems. But her being so short and snippy with me has me wanting to spank her ass and pound that tight pussy. She’s wound up so damn tight. “A quick fuck will do you good.” I tap my fingers against the glass holding her drink. “Much better than this.”

  I watch her squirm in her seat under my gaze. I know I’m turning her on. She wants me just as much as I want her.

  She bites her lip and swallows loudly before she says, “At least you’re being up front about it now. I knew you just wanted to fuck me.” Her voice cracks at the end and betrays her confidence. I fucking love it. She's so damn innocent. I bet she’s only done missionary before with some uptight, nerdy boyfriend. She’s never been fucked like a woman deserves to be fucked. She tries to play off her desire by moving her book closer to the edge of the table and pretending to ignore me. That shit’s not happening. I’m hard and we both need this. I shut her book and wait for her to look at me. She blurts out, “Why are you being such an asshole?” I have to stifle my grin.

  “Because you keep denying yourself. Do us both a favor and stop trying to push me away.” I don’t understand her anger, but at least anger is something I can work with. You need passi
on to be angry. So I’m gonna fucking run with it. “You’ll forgive me when I’m deep inside that tight pussy of yours. You need this, sweetheart, knock it the fuck off and let me take care of you.”

  Her breathing picks up. “I need this?” She huffs a humorless laugh. “What I need is for you to stop harassing me.”

  “Sweetheart, I’ve never seen anyone who needs a real good fuck as much as you do. Tell me you don’t want me. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me to leave, I will. Cross my fucking heart.” I lean forward, daring her to tell me off. I know she wants me, just like I know she needs this. I just hope she doesn’t disappoint me. As she stares into my eyes searching for something, an uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest. She had better not deny me.

  “Who do you think you are?” She’s still playing at being offended, but I can tell she wants this. “I’m not some whore.” My jaw clenches at her words. I don’t like that. First a downer and then a whore. She really doesn’t speak highly of herself.

  “I never said that, sweetheart. I never even once had that thought. So, are you telling me to leave, or are you ready to get out of here?” Her eyes look back to her computer, breaking my gaze.

  She answers with her eyes still on the screen. “I don’t have my car with me.” Her breathy words give me deep satisfaction. I’ve got my sweetheart right where I want her.

  “You don’t need one. We can go to the back.” She gapes at me in surprise, but then her eyes widen in anger. “Relax sweetheart, this is my family’s place. No one’s gonna fuck with us here.” Her cheeks flush pink and she turns away from me. Shit, she’s embarrassed. She probably thinks I do this all the time. And I don’t. I’ve never fucked anyone here. But I need to get inside her as soon as fucking possible. She’s so damn indecisive I can’t give her the chance to change her mind.

  “No one’s gonna know,” I tell her, as I see her internally debating over what she should do. She should let me help her get this edge off. That’s what she should do.

  “Okay.” The desperate word leaves her mouth with a primal need. She stands up and starts putting her things away, but I put my hand over hers to stop her.

  “I got it, sweetheart.” I put her shit in her tote as quick as I can and grip the straps in one hand. With my other hand, I take her hand in mine and pull her closer to me as I walk her to the back. I don’t look around as we walk, and I’m glad she isn’t looking around either. The guys may see, but they won’t know for sure what I’m up to. Even if they do, they'd better not say a damn word to her. I won’t let her regret this.

  Chapter 3: Elle

  I hear a loud bang, then someone yells. The sounds are faint, and distant. What the fuck happened? I try to move my arms, but someone’s holding me down. A small moan escapes from my lips. I'm so sleepy. Why am I so drowsy? I feel groggy as I turn my head slowly from side to side, and then I remember. I remember his mouth on my body. The heat between my legs makes my body want to turn and my thighs clench, but I’m pinned down. A strangled groan leaves me as I try to move my wrists, but I can’t.

  “She’s fine.” A distant, masculine voice that I don't recognize has my forehead creasing with confusion.

  “If you lay another fucking hand on her, I’ll--” He sounds so angry. Why is he so angry? I struggle to remember. Vince. His handsome face and cocky smile flash before my eyes. “I’m Vince.” I hear his words in my head. It feels like a faint memory.

  “Calm down. It had to happen, Vince. This is the better alternative. For now, this should work.” I hear a third voice as I start to feel slightly more alert, but I keep my eyes closed.

  “I didn’t fucking touch her. It’s a roofie, for Christ's sake. It was either this, or off the broad.” Roofie. That word triggers something within me, and makes me move involuntarily.

  I try to jackknife off the desk, but someone’s still holding me down. I open my eyes and focus on the man holding me down. I recognize his face. Vince. I struggle against him. His large frame towers over me as his dark eyes search my face. Betrayal hits me hard, and tears prick my eyes. He drugged me. Did he…? I can’t even finish the thought. I struggle to breathe as a sob rips through me.

  How did I get here? I’m in an office and it seems vaguely familiar. I shake my head and try to shake the sleep away. How long have I been here? I remember his face, I remember his name, I remember this room. I remember it all, but only in brief flashes. I shake my head again.

  “Vince?” I ask in a wary voice. Please let me know him at least. I need to remember something.

  “Shit, she remembers,” one voice from over my shoulder says, and then he curses under his breath.

  “She won’t remember it all. I promise you this is going to work,” the third voice sounds out with confidence. Remember what?

  I turn to my right to avoid looking at Vince. Fear washes over me like ice against my skin. Two large men stare back at me. Their tanned skin is stretched tight across their bulging muscles. One man is much less muscular compared to the other one, but he's still jacked. It's only because he's standing directly next to a guy with a truly beastly physique that he seems even a hair less intimidating than he actually is. Their dark hair and eyes make them a frightening sight. Mostly because they look back at me like I’m a threat. Again I try to move away, but Vince's grip only tightens on my wrists as his forearm digs deeper into my hip. My wrists burn as I continue to struggle.

  Their words finally start to register and sink in. I don’t know who they are or why I’m here, but I know they want to kill me. Or did. I open my mouth to scream for help out of pure instinct, but Vince is faster. He covers my mouth with his hand. I take the arm that's suddenly free and push against his hard, unmoving chest in a feeble attempt to push him away. It’s useless.

  Vince leans down with his lips barely touching mine. “Don’t fucking do it, sweetheart.” His voice holds a threat that leaves my chest hollow as fear consumes me. Who is this man? The weight of the situation crashes down on me. What the hell did I do? My eyes dart to the other men in the room. I’m surrounded by criminals, predators who’ve drugged me. I close my eyes and try to will away the depressing helplessness. I’m not okay. I’m not going to be okay.

  “Get out.” Vince’s hard voice has the two men walking slowly to the door. I concentrate on my breathing and watch them leave.

  The larger of the two men looks back at Vince with a hand on the door, standing just inside the room, and holds his gaze. After a moment. Vince says softly, “I’ll let you know if I need you.”

  Something about his tone, the somberness of it, sends pricks down my chilled skin.

  The second the door shuts, I try again to get out of his grasp.

  “Stop struggling.” I hear the dark threat he whispers in my ear through his clenched teeth, but I don’t listen. I can’t listen. I saw those men. I saw the look they gave me, and then the ones they gave him. I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. They’re going to kill me, and I don’t even know why. I need to get the fuck out of here. I try to scream again, and the hot air and spit cover my chin as his hand presses even harder against my mouth.

  “I said to stop it!” he yells. His strong arms wrap tighter around my body, and he easily lifts me up and against the wall. My heart beats frantically as I search for a way to escape. Adrenaline rushes through my blood. “Don’t make me gag you.” I hear his threat in my ear as tears streak down my face. I try to calm down, but all my body can do is stay tense. My muscles scream for me to move them. They want me to fight. Everything in me wants to fight. Against a man like Vince, it’s hopeless.

  But I can at least beg.

  I stay still and try to calm my breath. My chest rises and falls with sporadic hiccups from my sobs. I need to calm the fuck down. I close my eyes and just try to breathe. He won’t hurt me. I need to believe that. I need to believe there’s a way out of this other than death.

  As if reading my mind, he says in a calm voice, “It’s going to be alright.” His deep, baritone voice soot
hes me. It shouldn’t, but it does. I shouldn’t believe him. And yet, I do.

  “I’m gonna take my hand away, Elle. And you’re not going to scream.” I attempt to nod, but his grip on me is so tight that I can’t move. His hand slowly pulls back and the cool air makes it painfully obvious that I have spit all over my chin. I want to move my arms, but I’m pinned against the wall.

  I turn my head slowly and see his stern expression, daring me to scream. I swallow thickly and I can’t help the need to do just that. I have to try. I won’t be a good little victim for him. I have to try to get the fuck out of here. My body lunges away from him without my conscious consent. The movement makes my head spin.

  His large hand tightens around my throat. I struggle to breathe as my feet lift slightly off the ground. His blunt fingernails dig into the back of my neck as he shoves me against the wall. His force stuns me. But even more so, I'm shocked by the dark look in his eyes. It's a deadly look that tells me I shouldn't fuck with him. I'll regret it if I do.

  I don’t understand. I’m so confused. I remember glimpses of passion between us. What the fuck happened?

  My hands want to reach for my throat. It's a natural instinct as my breathing comes up short. But they’re pinned at my side by Vince's hip and his other hand. My eyes water, and I look back into his gaze to plead with him. I don't want to die. Not like this. Not now.

  He leans into me, and the scruff on his cheek rubs against my jaw. His lips are practically touching my ear. "I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart.” His breathing is unnervingly even. He’s calm. Too calm. “I don't want to, but I will. I won't hesitate if you keep this shit up.”

  I try to stay still. With everything in me, I try to obey him, but the need to fight against his hold wins out as my vision fades and my throat seems to close.