Virgin: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

by Shanna Handel

  “Um. Why? Why two days?” I stand by the window. Unsure of where to go. What to do. Should I make a run for it? There is no way I’m going to be trapped here with this... spanking bodyguard... for two whole days. I’ve got to get out of here. He’s got his computer in his lap. He’s typing away. Ignoring me. I clear my throat. “Dante?”

  His gaze rises for a moment, skates over mine. Returns to his work. “Yes, honey?”

  Honey. It sounds so condescending when he says it. I snap back, “Sweetheart... I guess I’m just wondering why the hell you’ve got me locked up in this... tower with you. And why I have to be here for forty-eight hours.”

  He continues typing. Finally, he answers me, but his tone is distant. “When the shield goes up, the second it clicks into the iron bar below the roofline, it stays up. For forty-eight hours. No matter what.”

  “What? Why?” I’m trying to play it cool, but my gaze frantically searches the windows—the shield is still a few feet from reaching the roofline. The cranks make a whirring sound; it’s moving so slowly, surely I can find a way out of here before the darn thing clicks into place.

  “In our line of business, the real danger lies in the second attack, the falling action if you will.”

  “Falling action?” I’m half listening to him as I casually make my way toward the back door. His eyes are locked on the screen of his computer.

  “The story arc. You know—from your fireman book. What was it called, The Burning in Your Loins?’”

  My face catches on fire with the look he gives me. I freeze by the back door, fearful he’s somehow sensed my plan. The shield’s gone up by another foot.

  He continues his speech. “First you have exposition, then the rising action. Somehow there’s a crisis, then everything rises to a climax—when you think you have resolution, but then, bam. You’re hit with the falling action. And like I said, that’s when the real problems arise, the second attack. So, when the shield goes up, it’s a mandatory forty-eight-hour period. If nothing’s happened in that time, it comes down. If the coast isn’t clear, it stays up.”

  I’m by the back door. I’m reaching my hand out to the knob. My heart is beating so hard, I can hear the whoosh of blood in my ears. His back is to me but his words make me freeze.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  My fingers tremble, my hand instantly falls to my side.

  “Touch that door.”

  “I... I wasn’t.” I casually move away from the door, my gaze falling on the black box on the wall. The one he so painstakingly worked on when we first got here. The shield is inching so close to the roof, I’m losing time. There has to be something I can do to get out of here and away from him. Maybe if I could get the door to the black box open and find that switch and flip it to the off position. I’m studying the door as I inch closer to it—

  “Going somewhere?”

  A scream catches in my throat as I feel a tap on my shoulder from behind. I turn slowly to face a stony-faced Dante. He’s huge—like a wall, a human shield—and my eyes dart around him, looking for a way to get by.

  His hand goes to my waist. His other, my shoulder. He presses my back into the wall, my shoulder blades dig into the stone. His face is inches from mine. Anger is etched in every inch of his features. His words come out in a growl that weakens my knees. “Little girls who think they know best find themselves over the knees of much bigger men who know better.”

  Perspiration prickles on my skin. My heart hammers against the cage of my ribs. My breath comes in hard, fast bursts. He’s so close I feel the heat from his skin. His hand tightens on my waist—it’s massive, making me feel small, defenseless. His fingertips dig into my shoulder.

  But it’s his gaze that has my words refusing to form. Those green flashing eyes. Commanding me. Demanding my obedience.

  Making my pussy clench and pulse in my dampened panties.

  He gives my waist a squeeze. “Are you going to go and sit yourself down like a good girl? Or do you need a lesson in discipline?”

  My eyes tear away from his. I manage to whisper the words, “I’ll be good.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He releases me. Strides back over to the couch, not even bothering to glance behind him to see if I follow.

  He knows I’ll obey.

  The shield clicks into place.

  My feet move sheepishly as I trail behind him. I look for a place to sit, opting for the armchair furthest away from him. I plop down, willing the burning to leave my face. Wishing the moisture pooling between my thighs would stop. I clear my throat. Try to look unfazed. “So, let me get this straight. You and I are locked up in your house. Alone. For two days.”

  “Yup.” His eyes are trained on his computer screen. His fingers dance over his keyboard, lightning fast.

  “And all my stuff is on the plane.”

  “Uh-huh.” His fingers pause, hovering over the keys for a moment as his brow furrows at something he reads.

  “And basically, everyone from the Parish is on the way to New York, right now.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” His fingers are tapping on the keyboard once more.

  “Oh. And our lives might be endangered because it looks like some thugs are currently warring with the brotherhood on the landing strip.”

  “You got everything right except that. We are in no danger whatsoever.”

  I let out a long breath. Slide further down into my chair. Wrap my fingers around the curved wooden arms as I try to wrap my mind around my new reality. “When did the others leave?”

  He glances at the black watch wrapped around his wrist. “Their flight was scheduled for after ours. But, seeing as you had absolutely no consideration for others and were late...” His eyes cut to me and he gives me a look that makes me think of his big hand slapping my bottom in the airplane bathroom. I cross my legs, shifting in my seat as he continues, “Their flights left first. Which was basically the entire Parish, as most of them are cousins or family members of you and Rockland, and so they were headed to Brett’s memorial. There’s a handful of families left, and the brothers who stayed back to patrol the island.”

  “Will those families be okay? The ones still on the island?”

  “I’m checking in with the brothers, now. Hopefully the action was concentrated just to the jet and the cargo we were loading.” He punches a few more keys on his computer. Picks up his phone and taps the screen. A moment later it gives a beep sound and he picks it up. Begins speaking in Greek. I know for a fact all the brothers in the Parish are fluent in both Greek and English, so the choice of language is specifically for one purpose; so that I have no idea what the hell is going on.

  I feel jittery, nervous. I can’t stand sitting still any longer. I stand. Pace around the room. Go to the bookshelf. It’s floor to ceiling, filled with colorful books... I’m drawn to it like a magnet. My fingertips glide over the smooth bindings. My eye catches the title he’d earlier mentioned. Pride and Prejudice. I take it from the shelf. It’s twice as thick as anything I’ve read. I open the pages. Sneak a look at Dante. He’s lost in his conversation, paying no attention to me. I press my nose into the spine and inhale the sweet scent that is found only in a book. The familiar smell instantly soothes my soul. I return to my chair.

  I peek at Dante. He’s seated comfortably. Deep in conversation. There’s little tension in his muscles. He’s got one long arm slung behind his head, his leg still crossed, computer balanced on his leg. He’s acting as if he’s catching up with an old friend. Not managing a war.

  He looks as if he’ll be awhile. I curl up in my seat. Turn to Chapter One. Mumble the first line aloud to myself, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” My eyes cut to Dante. I have to hold in a laugh. Single man; check. In the time he’d been at the Parish I’d never really even seen him speak to a woman other than in passing, or to accept a meal they’ve cooked him. Good-looking man. In possession of g
ood fortune; double check. Becoming third in the family ranks ensured the man had access to billions.

  So... according to Jane Austen, Dante must be in want of a wife. It’s a universal truth, is it not? I try to picture him... hard, harsh, no-nonsense Dante on one knee, proposing to a woman. Instead, I envision him, green eyes flashing, arms across his chest, one brow raised, demanding, ‘Marry me, woman.’ I can’t help it, a giggle bursts forth from my chest. My hand goes to my mouth. Maybe it’s nerves, a near death experience, or I’ve gone crazy, being locked up in this house surrounded by a ten-foot fence and landmines, but the giggle becomes a manic laugh.

  He eyes me. Raises a brow. My cue to quiet down. I swallow back my laughter, not wanting a reenactment of the bathroom scene. I don’t even want to begin to process the emotions that ran through me while he punished me. Those stern words, his eyes flashing at me in the mirror. The sting of his big hand slapping my bottom. His fingers around my wrists—his fingers tugging at my panties. The flush I feel is too much, the wetness between my legs too confusing. I push the memory from my mind.

  I pull the book in front of my face and Dante goes back to his call. I gather myself. Read the rest of the first page. Not half bad. Within a few minutes, I’m sucked into the story, the danger, the strangeness of the day dissolving around me.

  As with all good books, I’m lost in another world.

  I’m devouring the words, well into Chapter Two when there’s a tapping on my shoulder. I nearly jump out of the chair, the gesture pulling me back into Dante’s home. “Oh, you startled me.”

  “I thought you’d like an update.” He peers over my shoulder to see what book I’m reading. “Good choice.”

  I snap the book shut, placing it on the side table beside me. “What happened out there?”

  He takes a seat on the oversized ottoman before me. Our knees are almost touching. He says, “Everything’s okay. Looks like some ragtag team from the mainland caught wind of the cargo crate Rockland’s waiting on. Turns out there’s a high demand for unregistered weaponry.”

  “How’d they hear of it? I thought the brotherhood was sealed tight.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it. Shame, we’ll be down by one.”

  I swallow hard. Sometimes I forget how unforgiving our world is. “Is everyone from the family okay?”

  “All Bachmans are accounted for and doing well. I can’t say the same for the other group. There were a few casualties... as in all of them.”

  I hate the loss of life, but the words make me feel safer. Then I remember just how safe I really am. “So, we are unnecessarily on lockdown for forty-eight hours?”

  “We won’t know for sure, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Not with Rockland’s baby cousin. Good thing that’s a big book.” He stands, patting my knee. Tingles dance on my skin where his touch lingers. He goes back to his spot on the couch. His computer, his phone.

  Reminding me I don’t have my purse. Or my phone. Or any of my possessions. Not even a change of clothing. And I’m in need of a fresh pair of panties.

  I’m trapped here. With my bodyguard, my shadow. I’ve got to talk to Rockland. Tell him he’s made a mistake. That I can’t live like this. Being watched? Spanked? I clear my throat. Stand. “Can I borrow your phone? Call Rockland?”

  Dante eyes me warily.

  “Look—it’s not as if I’m going anywhere. What do you think I’m going to do? Order a taxi? Phone a friend to break me out of this prison?”

  “Fair enough.” He swipes his thumb across the screen to unlock it. Holds the phone out to me. “Two minutes.”

  “Thanks.” I take the phone from him, our fingers brushing. I look around the room. Try to find somewhere more private. The kitchen is open to the living room, a long bar with stools separating the two. I turn behind me and just past the fireplace is a hallway. I casually walk that way, ducking into the recesses, pressing Rockland’s code—one four one—into the screen. Relief washes over me when he answers. I hear Rockland’s voice on the other line. “Dante?”

  “No, it’s Adrianna.”

  “Sweetheart—I was so glad to hear you were safe. I apologize for the disruption this morning. I can’t wait to see you when you finally get here.”

  Hearing his voice makes a warmth fill my chest. But when I speak, my words are cold. “I think you have more to apologize for than the little shoot-out this morning, Rockland.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “The two-day lockdown? The babysitter you’ve stuck me with?”

  “You mean the man that guarded your life today?”

  “Why did you make that brute my watchdog?”

  “Why didn’t you obey him?”

  How had word gotten back to Rockland... and did he know about the... bathroom? The loving warmth I felt turns to an embarrassed burning that rises from my chest to my face. “That’s beside the point.”

  “I think it’s exactly the point.”

  I hiss into the phone, “Do you know how humiliating it is to be punished by a complete stranger?”

  His tone is harsh. “Would you rather it was I who punished you? We can arrange for it when you get here.”

  I groan in frustration. “You can be so infuriating sometimes.”

  “How? Looking out for your wellbeing? Keeping you safe?”

  “Just because you’re family you think you can—”

  “Stop right there, Adrianna. Let’s make one thing crystal clear. There is a hierarchy in place in the Parish as well as the Village. Of which I am the head. Anyone above you in that hierarchy, which is just about everyone, little cuz, has authority over you.”

  “But I’m single, not incompetent. Why do I have to have a man domineering me?”

  “Protecting you. And your singlehood makes you all the more vulnerable.”

  “That’s so sexist!” Did I just hear Dante chuckle in the next room?

  “No, it’s not. It’s the way of the family.”

  I lower my voice, hissing into the phone, “Don’t you think it’s a little outdated? There’s a woman in charge now. Look at Tess! She’s practically the Bachman families’ personal banker. She handles all our transactions, accounting. Can’t I be treated like that?”

  “Tess has been a member of the Village for almost a decade. And she’s got a good ten years of age and life experience on you. You’re young, new to all of this, and judging by your recent actions—stealing back your documents, not remaining in a safe place when you’re told—you have a lot to learn. And Tess is still submissive to me, despite her power within the business.”

  I mumble into the phone, “I don’t need any man telling me what to do.”

  There’s a pregnant pause on the other line. The silence tells me whatever he’s about to say is going to hit me hard. But when his words come, they’re even heavier than I expected. His simple statement wrenches my insides as he says, “Then you don’t belong with the Bachmans.”

  My breath leaves my chest, pain twisting my stomach. “How can you say that, Rockland? Don’t you... want me with you?”

  “Of course I do, Adrianna. My love for you is only second that to Tess. But I love you enough to not let you get yourself into a situation that you are openly repulsed by. One that you can’t comply with. I would never encourage you to enter a pact that goes against your beliefs.”

  Repulsed is a strong word. I shift my weight, uncomfortable by how damp my panties were made by that spanking. Fear of leaving the family fills me, a white heat covers my face. His words have hit me hard and I’ve got to make amends. “You’re right. If I’m going to join the family, I have to stop questioning the rules. I want to be Bachman. I want to come to the Village. I can do this. Just give me a chance.”

  “Fair enough. But let me reiterate—since you don’t have a husband here Dante will be keeping an eye on you. And I’m sorry but you know precisely what that entails if you disobey him.”

  “But—”

  “The only but I want to hear is you
rs not having to be punished again. Besides, of all my men, Dante is the one I trust the most. The only one besides myself I would charge with ensuring your safety. He has total and full authority over you. So, deal with it. Now hurry up and get here already. I miss you like crazy.”

  We say goodbye. I can’t decide what’s more embarrassing—having Dante spank me in an airplane bathroom or having to have a conversation about it with my cousin. I hang up the phone. The screen goes dark.

  I emerge from the shadows. Dante’s no longer on the couch. He’s in the kitchen. Standing behind a high barstool that he’s moved to the center of the room. His hands rest on the back of the stool. His gaze is locked on mine.

  I approach warily. Why do I feel as if I’m walking into a trap? I hand him his phone. Thank him for the use of it.

  “How’s Rockland?” he asks.

  “Doing well. But I assume you’ve already spoken to him.”

  “I may have.”

  I raise a brow to him. “And tattle-taled on me?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “He asked. I answered.”

  “What’s the chair for?”

  “It’s your naughty chair.”

  An ice-cold tension rises from my center. He’s got to be kidding.

  “A naughty chair? I’m a grown woman!”

  “Are you?” His gaze is cutting. His face smug.

  “Yes. Look at me.” I brush my hands over my body.

  “Pull your skirt up.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Pull your skirt up.”

  I don’t want to obey. I want to run. But where would I go? And something about the set of his jaw tells me it’d be best if I follow his orders. Creeping heat melts the ice and rises in my skin. My knees weaken. I can’t believe I’m complying. But somehow, I’m grabbing the hem of my skirt. Inching it up until it’s around my thighs.

  “Now pull your panties down. Just until they’re right under the curve of your bottom.”

  My face burns. I stare at my feet and do as he commands. Holding my skirts up, I hook my fingertips in the waist of my simple white cotton panties. I tug them down, leaving them around the tops of my thighs. I feel so naughty. So childish. So... hot. His commanding tone, his authoritative stance... it has my nipples peaking beneath my bra. My pussy pulsing in my bunched-up panties.