Cruel Daddy (Boston Mafia Doms)

by Bianca Cole

  I nod, taking the briefcase. “Thank you. Please ensure that the household staff has the room next to mine prepared for my future wife.”

  Olivia bows her head. “It’s already in hand, sir.”

  I nod. “Good.” I walk toward the limousine in front of my home. James is standing next to it with the door held open for me. I expect the best from my staff at all times.

  “Good morning, sir,” James says.

  Is it a good morning, though?

  I grit my teeth. “Morning,” I reply.

  The fact I’ve got to miss out on the torturing of a man who has screwed us over and leave it to my capo has got under my skin. I live to rule by an iron fist, and meeting my future wife is getting in the way of that.

  I hate being inconvenienced, but for some stupid reason, Fabio didn’t bother to accompany his daughter and doesn’t intend to be there when we marry in four days, leaving me to meet her.

  I slide into the back of my limo and sit forward with my hands clasped together. A sense of foreboding sweeps over me. I’m never uncertain about anything I do in life, but marrying Fabio Alteri’s daughter gives me second thoughts, and I haven’t even met her yet.

  Marriage is a necessity. My father believed that, but I don’t. If I want a successor, I can fuck any whore who is happy to carry my baby for a shit load of money. There’s nothing people won’t do if you pay the right money. I know that my empire needs a successor, but it’s not something that appeals to me—being a father.

  Maybe marrying Alteri’s daughter is, in the end, an ideal situation. I can play with her until I get bored, get her pregnant, and then she can look after my heir. There’s no time in my life for a woman or a child.

  The journey feels like it drags as I read my emails, noticing one from Fabio. His daughter wasn’t all too pleased by the arrangement, which makes me smile. A challenge is something I always relish, and it puts me at ease as we drive toward the private airstrip.

  We arrive before the plane has touched down. James parks on the airstrip tarmac. I wait for a few minutes before he talks through the intercom, “The plane has landed, sir.”

  I clear my throat. “Very well, I’ll stand outside.” It’s a warm summer’s day. I slip on my sunglasses, waiting for James to open the door to my limousine.

  He opens it, and I slide out as the plane rolls past me.

  I walk to the front of the vehicle and lean on the hood, crossing my arms over my chest. Aida Alteri is on that plane. My future wife. I feel my stomach twist at the thought of that word.

  The engines cut-off, and the staff put in place the steps to Fabio’s jet.

  A man appears at the top of the steps, shouldering a pink suitcase. He’s the bodyguard Fabio said would be coming with her just for the handover. I insisted that none of her staff will accompany her here in Boston. She will rely on the staff that I know and trust.

  As he descends the steps, my fiancé comes into view. It feels like time slows down as she shakes her dark brown hair that blows in the wind and looks around. Her attention lands on me for a moment, I can tell, even though she is wearing sunglasses.

  I watch with intrigue as she walks down the steps of the plane with a grace that surprises me. After the message I received from Fabio that his daughter wasn’t too pleased about the arrangement, I half expected her to be dragged down them kicking and screaming. Instead, she holds her head up high and barely looks at me.

  I’m not used to women keeping their eyes off of me the way she does. Once she makes it onto the concrete, she glances around as if trying to work out where she’s meant to go.

  I clench my jaw, wondering if this little virgin princess is trying to test my patience already. She sets eyes on me, and they linger for a short while as she takes in my appearance. Unfortunately, the sunglasses hide her reaction to me. I feel irritated as she does another glance to ensure I’m the man she’s here to meet.

  Once she makes the decision, she walks confidently toward the car without missing a step. Her head is held high, and I must admit I’m surprised by the confidence she exudes for a twenty-one-year-old woman who has been flown against her will across the Atlantic.

  She stops in front of the car, and I push off the hood, removing my sunglasses to get a good, close-up look at my property. I drag my eyes slowly down the sumptuous curves of her large breasts that are framed in a skin-tight pink cotton summer V-neck dress that dips low. Her hips are round and perfect for grabbing, and as I move my eyes back to her face, I admire her dark brown hair that cascades down to her waist. Also perfect for grabbing.

  I feel my pants tighten at my crotch at the thought of breaking in this stunning virgin. There’s no doubt that Fabio Alteri was modest about his daughter’s beauty.

  She clears her throat. “I assume you are Milo?” She asks calmly. It’s as though I don’t affect her at all, but that will change soon enough.

  I memorize this cool and calm version of her, committing it to my memory. It won’t be long until her calm is shattered into a million pieces before my eyes.

  I turn my back on Aida and slip into the limousine without saying a word. She will learn in time that the only person asking questions around here is me. As I settle back into the Italian leather seat, I gaze out of the tinted window at her. She is standing on the tarmac, glancing around as if waiting to be told what to do.

  James will ask her to get inside. I want to observe my new fiancé before I engage in any conversation. If she expects small talk, she’ll never get it from me.

  James shuts the trunk and then speaks to Aida, “What are you doing, Miss. Alteri?”

  Aida shrugs.

  He jolts his head toward the car. “Please get in.”

  I watch her, knowing she can’t see me through the tinted glass. Her throat bobs as she stares at the door, looking uncertain about getting into a car with me. The woman is smart to be wary about entering enclosed spaces with me.

  “Miss?” James encourages her to get in.

  She only misses one more beat before walking confidently toward the door and sliding in opposite me. I keep my gaze on her, and she meets it with enough confidence to stir an unexpected feeling inside of me—desire. A sensation that is so often absent when it comes to the doormats I fuck.

  I feel the tightness in my pants increase as my cock pulses against the zipper, wanting to break free.

  My virgin is more beautiful and confident than I ever imagined. It will make breaking her in exciting. Let the games begin.

  3

  Aida

  I jolt awake as the plane touches the ground. My vision is hazy as my eyes open. I see my bodyguard, Aldo, sitting opposite me.

  My head is pounding from the drugs they pumped into me before the flight to ensure I didn’t fight my fate. In the space of one terrible day, it feels as though my life has gone from blissfully carefree to one big nightmare that I can’t wake up from.

  I groan as I lift my head which feels too heavy for my neck. My father has fallen further than I ever could have imagined from the man he once was.

  What would my mother think if she could see what he was doing to her only child?

  I know he always wished they’d had a boy, but I never thought him heartless enough to sell me to such a cruel man. The mafia world is so dark and twisted, and as time has gone on, my father has been driven by greed that can’t be satisfied.

  Aldo clears his throat. “Your fiancé will be meeting you here. I must say goodbye to you now, Miss. Alteri.”

  My brow furrows. “Aren’t you going to be my bodyguard here?” I ask. I don’t understand why my father sent him on the plane with me if he isn’t going to stay.

  He shakes his head. “Mr. Mazzeo’s orders. None of your original staff will accompany you here.”

  I swallow hard, feeling panic claw at me. The thought of being thrust into that man’s hands without anyone I know makes this more daunting. Milo Mazzeo’s infamous reputation is known far and wide. “Is there nothing you can do to c
onvince him?”

  Aldo shakes his head. “My life isn’t here in America, Miss. Alteri.”

  I grit my teeth as pain claws at my chest. Aldo never calls me Miss. Alteri. He has been my bodyguard since I was about six years old and has always called me Aida.

  “I see,” I reply, glancing out of the window onto the runway where the plane taxis in. “And Mr. Mazzeo will be meeting me here?”

  “Yes, he will.” There’s hesitation in Aldo’s voice as he glances around. “You didn’t hear me say this, Aida, but I’m so sorry this has to be your fate,” he apologizes in hushed tones.

  I meet his gaze, smiling as I look into his light blue eyes. “Thank you, Aldo, that means a lot to me.” I shake my head. “My father has lost sight of what family means.”

  Aldo nods swiftly. “Indeed. You stay strong, and you will make it through this. I know you will.”

  I draw in a deep breath. It’s an odd sentiment since the rest of my life is about to be tied to a man so utterly irreparable. I’m not sure what I’m going to make it through.

  The rest of my life?

  All I know that happiness is not what awaits me on that tarmac. Darkness and cruelty are about to become my reality, but I won’t cower to the man who has secured my hand in marriage.

  We roll past a limousine that has blacked-out windows. A young man stands by the door with it open, wearing a chauffeur’s uniform. I glimpse a sight of someone getting out, but I don’t get a good look at him.

  The plane comes to a stop in front of a private airport. It’s small, and there aren’t many planes. Aldo stands and gathers my belonging strewn around the plane for me, placing them in my little pink suitcase. I gaze out of the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the man I’m due to marry.

  “Are you ready?” Aldo asks.

  I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to meet Milo Mazzeo, particularly not under these circumstances. I don’t let my bodyguard know how scared I am and nod swiftly, holding my head up high.

  The last thing I want Aldo to report to my father is that I left the plane kicking and screaming. Life in Boston is my fate, and I will face it with dignity, even if I am scared.

  Aldo leads the way out of the plane and down the steps to the tarmac below. I slip my sunglasses on before stepping out into the fresh air and search for the man I’m due to wed. I notice him instantly, leaning against the hood of his limousine. I don’t stare as I focus on the metal steps, walking toward my hellish fate with as much style as I can muster.

  Aldo waits at the end and holds out a hand to help me off the last step. I take it, and he hands me my bag. “Keep in touch, Aida.”

  I grit my teeth to stop myself from getting emotional and give him a swift nod, taking my bag. Then, I focus my attention on the runway of the private airstrip. I scan it, making sure that the man standing by the limousine is indeed Milo. There’s no one else here.

  As I glance over at him and the car, I notice his jaw clench and shoulders tense. I glance one more time around the airstrip, wondering if it is irritating him. He stands a little straighter. I’ve heard too many stories about the man—stories that would send most people running in the opposite direction.

  As I focus on him, my heart skips a beat. He wears an expensive, tailored navy-blue suit that fits him like a second skin. His dark brown hair is neatly styled with a side-swept fringe that falls across his right eye, and he has a neatly trimmed and groomed beard. I can’t see his eyes which are shaded by a pair of dark black sunglasses.

  I can’t deny that he is attractive. Still, if everything I’ve heard about him is true, his beautiful exterior is merely a wrapping for a rotten interior. A man that has no good inside of him.

  I walk confidently toward the car. The driver is loading my cases into the trunk from the baggage handler. I clutch my handbag close to my side and wait for my fiancé to speak. Instead, he pushes off the hood of the car and removes his sunglasses.

  I watch as he steps closer to me. His eyes are ice blue, and he slowly drags them down my body in the most predatory way. He doesn’t speak as he moves his eyes back up my body with the same precise slowness, as if he’s taking in every inch of me. It makes me feel naked. When his eyes meet mine, I’m thankful I’m wearing sunglasses. The intensity in his gaze scares me.

  I clear my throat, trying to clear the tension from the air—tension that makes me sick to my stomach. “I assume you are Milo?” I keep my tone calm.

  Milo stares at me for a few arduous beats before turning and getting into the car.

  I don’t follow since he hasn’t said a word. The driver finishes placing the cases into the car’s trunk before slamming it down with a thud.

  “What are you doing, Miss. Alteri?” He asks.

  I shrug in response.

  He nods his head toward the door. “Please get in.”

  I swallow hard, feeling uncertain about getting into the back of a car with that man—a man that can’t even speak to me. He has no manners, but I’m not sure what I expected.”

  “Miss?” The driver pushes.

  I hesitate for one moment before walking toward the door and sliding into the back of the limo.

  Milo sits on the opposite side, staring at me with a look that sends shivers down my spine. He still doesn’t utter a word as I pull my sunglasses off and stow them inside my handbag.

  When I look back up, the intensity in his gaze is stronger. It feels like he is trying to intimidate me with all his quiet, self-righteousness.

  I stare back, wanting him to believe that I’m not some weak woman he can break. My father thinks I am, but he doesn’t know me.

  Milo has a reputation for cruelty, but I won’t let that reputation scare me. Finally, he looks away and out of the window, giving me a moment’s reprieve. He’s an asshole for not speaking to me.

  Why bother coming to meet me in the first place?

  The driver slams the door of the limousine, making me jump. I notice a whisper of a smirk on Milo’s lips at the first sign of fear from me. It irritates me more than I can put into words that I let a car door slamming shake me. The vehicle’s engine starts, and I gaze out of the window, keeping my eyes off the man that won’t even speak to me.

  I have too much self-respect to ask him another question. The guy isn’t going to answer me. Instead, I dig my cell phone out of my handbag and check my social accounts. A sadness tugs at my chest when I see a selfie of Gia and Siena at the beach—a beach I’m never going to see again. It was our favorite place to hang out.

  Gia and Siena were the only people on the island who didn’t give a shit who my family was. They accepted me, even though Aldo followed us around everywhere. My father didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye out of fear I’d try and run.

  I sigh heavily, forgetting who is sitting opposite me. Perhaps I would have tried to escape given a chance. I can feel Milo’s intense gaze burning a hole in me as I keep all my attention on my phone.

  He’s as much of a dick as I expected. At least he is attractive. I guess that’s one positive I can take from this that despite being married off to one of the cruelest men on the planet, at least he’s easy on the eyes.

  I almost laugh to myself at how ridiculous that is. There is no positive spin I can put on this utterly disturbing situation. My fiancé won’t even say a word to me, and I can only assume that’s because he wants to intimidate me. I hate the guy already, and he hasn’t even said anything.

  Will my hate grow when he finally does open his mouth?

  I get the feeling that Milo not speaking to me is a blessing. So instead of letting it irritate me, I count myself lucky that he hadn’t said a word yet.

  If I’m lucky, I won’t have to deal with him much since men like him are always busy with work. The briefcase of papers open on the seat next to him suggests he’s just like my father, working every waking minute. It’s the best I can hope for that my husband has no time to torment me.

  4

  Milo

 
I observe her for the forty-minute journey, taking in every quirk she has. Aida keeps her head down, flicking through her phone with her gaze fixed on it intently.

  She’s using it as a distraction from me, but I’m surprised she doesn’t look out of the window once.

  Aida is beyond beautiful. Her father was modest when he told me that she was pretty. Pretty isn’t the right word to describe the angel in front of me. She’s stunning.

  I can tell she is apprehensive but not half as frightened as I expected. I’m not sure whether that excites or annoys me. My reputation is certainly known in Sicily, and from Fabio’s warning, she knew the kind of man she was being sent to. So, why isn’t she scared?

  I’m not sure why I care. All I know is once we say I do in four days, I’m going to break this beautiful virgin. The innocent woman that stepped foot on American soil only forty minutes ago will be unrecognizable by the time I’m done with her. The limousine comes to a stop in front of my gates, and finally, Aida looks up for the first time.

  Our eyes meet, and it feels like an electric shock pulses through my entire body. It’s at that moment I realize I’ve stared relentlessly at Aida for the entire journey. Another human being hasn’t held my full attention like that ever. I clear my throat and look out of the window. It’s unlike me to be rattled by anyone.

  James parks in front of my home, which Aida gazes at with indifference. Most women are impressed with my home when I bring them here on rare occasions, but I guess my mafia princess is used to the high life. I dare say that Boston has nothing over the gorgeous shores of Sicily.

  I wait for James to open the door and help her out of the car. There’s something odd about this girl. I don’t particularly appreciate that nothing is going the way I’d expected.

  Aida stands in front of my home, still flicking through social media on her phone as I approach her. Social media irritates me more than I can put into words, but I guess Aida being fifteen years younger than me, has been pulled into the cult.